d to keep within
reasonable distance of hounds when they ran. It was fortunate for
Christian that Judith, now sixteen, and far from a feather-weight, had
renounced her share in "Harry," and had established a right in the
grey mare. Judith was a buccaneer. Charles, the coachman, (in
connection with the commandeering of the grey mare, which he resented)
had said of her to his respected friend, Mr. Evans: "Ah, ah! That's
the young lady that'll get her whack out of the world!"

And Mr. Evans' reaping-hook nose had sniffed assent.

Yet, though Judith was averted, the Christmas holidays always held the
menace of brothers to be reckoned with as rival claimants for Harry.

"The boys, darling!" "Unselfishness, darling!" "After the holidays, my
child!"

Lady Isabel was of the school that inculcated self-denial for its
daughters, but never for its sons; (whether from a belief that such
was inherent in the male sex, or from a fear that the effort would be
misplaced, it is difficult to say). Christian was ever quick to
respond to the call for martyrdom, but that the Twins should both
maltreat and despise the venerable Harry, added a poignancy to
renunciation that placed it almost beyond attainment. On this day of
festival, happily, renunciation was not exacted; other attractions had
absorbed the Twins, and Christian's rights were unchallenged.

Therefore, it was that the youngest Miss Talbot-Lowry, perched on old
Harry's broad back, and looking of about the same size in relation to
it as the "Wran" to the holly-bush, was now blissfully discussing
hound-puppies with her trusted friend, Father David, and was asking
nothing more that life could offer.

Dr. Mangan, meantime, waited, with a permissive smile, for the moment
to make his "little girl" known to the young ladies from Mount Music,
and to their cousin, young Larry Coppinger. He was in no hurry, and he
had often had occasion to agree with Milton (though he had been quite
unaware of so doing) in thinking that they also serve who only stand
and wait.

CHAPTER VIII

It may be permissible to introduce a meet of hounds at or about the
end of a chapter, but I feel sure that the ensuing run must be given
elbow-room. Alarming to many though this statement may be, yet it may
be said that its foundations are laid in truth and equity, and in the
necessities of this history may be found the justification of the
chapter.

The Quarry Wood had not failed. Larry's fox had be