36 THE HAUGHTYSHIRE HUNT. 



light morning breeze. Servants were walking hunters about 

 a little farther up one of the lanes converging on the piece 

 of grass, and everyone was chatting amicably to his immediate 

 neighbour, when our three friends appeared on the gay little 

 scene. At almost the same moment, the Huntsman, with the 

 jjack all about his horse's heels, trotted round the corner of 

 the opposite lane, and a general move took place as the cry of 

 "Hounds, gentlemen, please, hounds!" caused everyone to 

 sidle his horse out of the way. The pack was soon on the 

 green, some of the hounds lying down, some taking a roll over, 

 whilst cries from the Whips of " Steady there, Prodigal ! " 

 "Have a care. Harmony!" rose over the voices discussing 

 the merits and demerits of the last good run, and the price of 

 Piussian oats, as compared with the home-grown and Scotch 

 article, and completely snuffed out Mrs. Barege's sneering 

 comments upon the cut of Miss Comely' s new habit. 



Almost before Sir Tommy had had time to direct his most 

 languishing glance at Miss Comely's pretty face and figure, a 

 further commotion announced the arrival of the Duke of 

 Haughtyshire, driving a splendidly appointed mail phaeton 

 with yellow wheels, bright steel pole chains, and drawn by a 

 pair of hog-maned, bay cobs, which the Duke gave (or owed) 

 six hundred guineas for. 



To be quite candid respecting that most excellent noble- 

 man, he was just a trifle — what shall we call it ? — well, 

 vague, respecting ready-money payments, and but for his 

 eldest son and heir, Lord Gravity, who kept his respected 

 father straight, not only in financial matters, but also at 

 the shrine of Cupid, where the Duke was an ardent devotee, 

 things might have ' gone sideways ' at the Castle. Lord 



