venerated--'

'Quite true,' cried Aunt Catherine, with spirit. 'You know you had no
business there, lecturing a set of men old enough to be your
grandfathers, and talking them all to death, no doubt.'

'Well, Aunt Kitty, if oppression maddens the wise, what must it do to
the foolish?'

'If you only allow that it was foolish--'

'No; I had rather know whether it was wrong. I believe I was too
eager, and not respectful enough to the old squire: and, on reflection,
it might have been a matter of obedience to my father, not to interfere
with the prejudices of true-born English magistrates. Yes, I was
wrong: I would have owned it sooner, but for the shell he fired over my
head. And for the rest, I don't know how to repent of having protested
against tyranny.'

There was something redeeming in the conclusion, and it was a comfort,
for it was impossible to retain anger with one so gently,
good-humouredly polite and attentive.

A practical answer to the champion was not long in coming. He
volunteered the next day to walk to Northwold with Mrs. Frost and Mary,
who wanted to spend the morning in selecting a house in Dynevor
Terrace, and to be fetched home by-and-by, when Mrs. Ponsonby took her
airing. Two miles seemed nothing to Aunt Catharine, who accepted her
nephew's arm for love, and not for need, as he discoursed of all the
animals that might be naturalized in England, obtained from Mary an
account of the llamas of the Andes, and rode off upon a scheme of an
importation to make the fortune of Marksedge by a manufacture of Alpaca
umbrellas.

Meantime, he must show the beautiful American ducks which he hoped to
naturalize on the pond near the keeper's lodge: but, whistle and call
as he would, nothing showed itself but screaming Canada geese. He ran
round, pulled out a boat half full of water, and, with a foot on each
side, paddled across to a bushy island in the centre,--but in vain.
The keeper's wife, who had the charge over them, came out: 'Oh, my
Lord, I am so sorry! They pretty ducks!'

'Ha! the foxes?'

'I wish it was, my Lord; but it is they poachers out at Marksedge that
are so daring, they would come anywheres--and you see the ducks would
roost up in the trees, and you said I was not to shut 'em up at night.
My master was out up by Beech hollow; I heerd a gun, and looked out; I
seen a man and a boy--I'd take my oath it was young Hodgekin. They do
say Nanny Hodgekin, she as was one of the Blacketts,