r himself among the dogs to the
centre of the hearthrug. "Be hanged to these dogs! I declare I don't
know am I more plagued with dogs or daughters! Lucy!"

Lady Purcell dutifully disinterred her attention from a catalogue of
Dutch bulbs.

"When I get in to-morrow I'll go call on that Local Government Board
Inspector who's staying in Drinagh. They tell me he's a very nice fellow
and he's rolling in money. I daresay I'll ask him to dinner. He was in
the army one time, I believe. They often give these jobs to soldiers. If
any of you girls come across him," he continued, bending his fierce
eyebrows upon his family, "I'll trouble you to be civil to him and show
him none of your infernal airs because he happens to be an Englishman! I
hear he's bicycling all over the country and he might come out to see
the hounds."

Rosamund, the eldest, delivered herself of an almost imperceptible wink
in the direction of Violet, the third of the party. Sir Thomas's
diplomacies were thoroughly appreciated by his offspring. "It's time
some of you were cleared out from under my feet!" he told them.
Nevertheless when, some four or five years before, a subaltern of
Engineers engaged on the Government survey of Ireland had laid his
career, plus fifty pounds per annum and some impalpable expectations, at
the feet of Muriel, the clearance effected by Sir Thomas had been that
of Lieutenant Aubrey Hamilton. "Is it marry one of my daughters to that
penniless pup!" he had said to Lady Purcell, whose sympathies had, as
usual, been on the side of the detrimental. "Upon my honour, Lucy,
you're a bigger fool than I thought you--and that's saying a good deal!"

It was near the beginning of September, and but a sleepy half dozen or
so of riders had turned out to meet the hounds the following morning, at
Liss Cranny Wood. There had been rain during the night and, though it
had ceased, a wild wet wind was blowing hard from the north-west. The
yellowing beech trees twisted and swung their grey arms in the gale.
Hats flew down the wind like driven grouse; Sir Thomas's voice, in the
middle of the covert, came to the riders assembled at the cross roads on
the outskirts of the wood in gusts, fitful indeed, but not so fitful
that Nora, on the distrained foxy mare, was not able to gauge to a
nicety the state of his temper. From the fact of her unostentatious
position in the rear it might safely be concluded that it, like the
wind, was still rising. The riders hud