f my
pocket-handkerchief into my mouth that I might not laugh outright.

"Fine morning, Lady Horsingham," observed the Squire, as if he had
come all that distance at this early hour on purpose to impart so
valuable a piece of information--"fine morning, but cold," he
repeated, rubbing his hands together though the perspiration stood on
his brow. "I don't recollect a much finer morning at this time of
year," he resumed, addressing Cousin John after a pause, during which
he had ceremoniously shaken hands with each of us in succession.

"Will you have some breakfast?" asked Lady Horsingham, whose cold and
formal demeanour contrasted strangely with the nervous excitement of
her visitor.

"No, thank you--if you please," answered the Squire in a breath. "I
breakfasted before I left home. Early hours, Lady Horsingham--I think
your ladyship approves of early hours--but I'll ask for a cup of tea,
if you please." So he sat down to a weak cup of lukewarm tea with much
assumed gusto and satisfaction.

It was now time for Cousin Amelia to turn her battery on the Squire;
so she presently attacked him about his poultry and his garden and his
farm, the honest gentleman's absent and inconsequent replies causing
my aunt and John to regard him with silent astonishment, as one who
was rapidly taking leave of his senses; whilst I who knew, or at least
guessed, the cause of his extraordinary behaviour began heartily to
wish myself back in Lowndes Street, and to wonder how this absurd
scene was going to end.

"Your dahlias must have suffered dreadfully from these early frosts,"
said Cousin Amelia, shaking her ringlets at the poor man in what she
fancies her most bewitching style.

"Beautifully," was the bewildered reply, "particularly the
shorthorns."

"You never sent us over the Alderney calf you promised, Mr. Haycock,"
pursued the lady, now adroitly changing her ground. "I begin to think
you are not to be depended on."

"You do me injustice, Miss Horsingham; indeed you do," broke out the
Squire in a white heat and with a deprecating glance at me. "I assure
you I sent over a very fine cutting, with a pot and everything,
directions for matting it in winter and transplanting after a year. If
you never got it I'll discharge my gardener; I will, upon my word."

"I have got such a Cochin China to show you," persisted his tormentor,
determined to renew the charge. "When you've finished breakfast I'll
take you to the poultry-yard if you