THE HAUGHTYSHIRE HUNT. 13 



Fitzsquancler, in his own little den upstairs, where long 

 tumblers, cork-screws, and boxes of cigars seemed to form an 

 important part of the furnishing of the room. These young 

 gentlemen, fresh from their Alma Mater, had determined upon 

 favouring The Chase with their presence over the so-called 

 festive season, and making things generally lively in the 

 ancestral hall now reigned over — at least nominally — by 

 Septimus Binkie, Esq. 



I say nominally reigned over by that excellent citizen — for, 

 as my readers will have perhaps divined for themselves, Mrs. 

 Septimus, if not exactly wearing the — well, in these latter 

 days, I suppose we should call it the ' bifurcated garment ' — 

 at all events, to every intent and purpose, was the moving 

 spirit in the place. Mr. Binkie had long ceased to contend for 

 the command of the establishment, and like a wise General 

 retired at discretion — retired with bands playing and colours 

 flying, be it understood, but retired, and that unmistakably, 

 from a position which was no longer tenable. He was the 

 nominal master of the house, but in point of fact he only 

 played viola to Mrs. Binkie's first fiddle in the domestic 

 orchestra. 



" Sep," exclaimed the lady suddenly, " I do believe there's 

 someone driving up from the lodge gates — someone coming 

 to call " 



"Is there indeed, my dear. What a nuisance, just as 

 we were all sitting here so comfortably, too." 



" Sep," this time in sharper tones, " don't be more ridiculous 

 than you can help. Isn't that the very thing we've come 

 to live here for ? Isn't that the way to get to know all 

 the nobs?" (A strict regard for veracity will not permit 



