86 His Own Petard 



as if they were taking liberties in riding over their own 

 land. I heard old Lopdell complaining bitterly of the 

 way Perkinson had spoken to him, and Lopdell's a 

 thoroughly good old fellow. As for Bob, who used to be 

 a decent servant, he dare not call his soul his own.' 



' But what's to be done ? We accepted him, and we 

 can't ask him to go. Besides, he's just the sort of man 

 who w^ould take a delight in staying where he was not 

 wanted. And to think of the good time we used to have 

 with Herries, the best chap in the world ! 'Pon my word 

 the Grange doesn't look the same place. We can only 

 wait, and hope for the best, I suppose ! ' 



By this time the friends had reached the gates of 

 Hedworth's house, and trotted in to console themselves 

 with lunch, before taking the colts in hand and seeing 

 how the}^ framed for jumping. « 



CHAPTEE IT 



Matters did not improve as the season advanced. Per- 

 kinson became more and more unreasonable, and the 

 fields smaller and smaller. They never had been large, 

 for the Heatherley Hounds hunt an out-of-the way piece 

 of country, which had formerly been an outskirt of a 

 more important hunt ; but in those days it was rarely 

 that the latter came here, and so Sir Henry Herries's 

 father had obtained a cession of ground, built kennels, 

 and started the Heatherley. Hedw^orth, Charlton, and 

 some half-dozen of their friends had more than once 

 discussed the desirability of staying away altogether, but 

 they did not care to be driven from their sport by the 

 ill-breeding of Perkinson ; after all, they had subscribed 



