views about a lawn
meet at Briarwood, and a hunting breakfast for rich and poor.

"It shall be done, my boy," answered the Squire heartily. "It's just
the sort of thing you ought to do to make yourself popular. Lady June
is a charming woman, you know, thoroughbred to the finger-nails; but
she has kept herself a little too much to herself. There are people old
enough to remember what Briarwood was in your grandfather's time. This
day week you say. I'll arrange everything. We'll have such a gathering
as hasn't been seen for the last twenty years."

"Vixen must come with you," said Rorie.

"Of course."

"If papa is well and strong enough to hunt."

"My love, there is nothing amiss with me--nothing that need trouble me
this day week. A man may have a headache, mayn't he, child, without
people making any fuss about it?"

"I should like you to see Dr. Martin, papa. Don't you think he ought to
see the doctor, Rorie? It's not natural for him to be ill."

"I'm not going to be put upon half-rations, Vixen. Martin would starve
me. That's his only idea of medical treatment. Yes, Vixen shall come,
Rorie."

CHAPTER VIII.

Glas ist der Erde Stolz und Glueck.

The morning of the Briarwood Meet dawned fairly. Roderick watched the
first lifting of the darkness from his bed-room window, and rejoiced in
the promise of a fine weather. The heavens, which had been so
unpropitious upon his birthday, seemed to promise better things to-day.
He did not desire the traditional hunting morning--a southerly wind and
a cloudy sky. He cared very little about the scent lying well, or the
actual result of the day's sport. He wanted rather to see the kind
familiar faces round him, the autumn sunshine lighting up all the glow
and colour of the picture, the scarlet coats, the rich bay and brown of
the horses, the verdant background of lawn and shrubberies. Two huge
marquees had been erected for the commonalty--one for the
school-children, the other for the villagers. There were long tables in
the billiard-room for the farming class; and for the quality there was
the horse-shoe table in the dining-room, as at Roderick's birthday
dinner. But on this occasion the table was decorated only with hardy
ferns and flowers. The orchids were not allowed to appear.

Roderick noticed the omission.

"Why, where are the thing-um-tites, mother?" he asked, with some
surprise; "the pitcher-plants and tropical what's-its-names?"

"I did not think there wa