anny Wood; and, as he and his pursuers so headed,
Retributive Justice, mounted on a large brown horse, very red in the
face, and followed by a string of hounds and daughters, galloped
steadily toward the returning sinners.

It is probably superfluous to reproduce for sporting readers the exact
terms in which an infuriated master of hounds reproves an erring flock.
Sir Thomas, even under ordinary circumstances, had a stirring gift of
invective. It was currently reported that after each day's hunting Lady
Purcell made a house-to-house visitation of conciliation to all
subscribers of five pounds and upwards. On this occasion the Master,
having ordered his two daughters home without an instant's delay,
proceeded to a satiric appreciation of the situation at large and in
detail, with general reflections as to the advantage to tailors of
sticking to their own trade, and direct references of so pointed a
character to the mental abilities of the third delinquent, that that
gentleman's self-control became unequal to further strain, and he also
retired abruptly from the scene.

Nora and Muriel meanwhile pursued their humbled, but unrepentant, way
home. It was blowing as hard as ever. Muriel's hair had only been saved
from complete overthrow by two hair-pins yielded, with pelican-like
devotion, by a sister. Nora had lost the Tam-o'-Shanter, and had torn
her blue serge skirt. The foxy mare had cast a shoe, and the colt was
unaffectedly done.

"He's mad for a drink!" said Muriel, as he strained towards the side of
the bog road, against which the waters of a small lake, swollen by the
recent rains, were washing in little waves under the lash of the
wind--"I think I'll let him just wet his mouth."

She slackened the reins, and the thirsty colt eagerly thrust his muzzle
into the water. As he did so he took another forward step, and
instantly, with a terrific splash, he and his rider were floundering in
brown water up to his withers in the ditch below the submerged edge of
the road. To Muriel's credit it, must be said that she bore this
unlooked-for immersion with the nerve of a Baptist convert. In a second
she had pulled the colt round parallel with the bank, and in another she
had hurled herself from the saddle and was dragging herself, like a
wounded otter, up on to the level of the road.

"Well you've done it now, Muriel!" said Nora dispassionately. "How
pleased Sir Thomas will be when the colt begins to cough to-morrow
mornin