if you please. I am very much occupied
this morning."

"Yes, madam. It was something I heard and felt it my duty to tell you;
because, you see, ma'am, I think it is the duty of every honest--"

"Come, come, Morris, I have no time to listen to an oration from you
now. In two words, what had you to tell me?" interrupted the lady
impatiently.

"Yes, madam. It were about young Mr. Herman, ma'am."

"Mr. Brudenell, if you please, Morris. My son is the head of his
family."

"Certainly, madam. Mr. Brudenell."

"Well, what about Mr. Brudenell?"

"Yes, madam. You know he was away from home every day last spring and
summer."

"I remember; he went to fish; he is very fond of fishing."

"Certainly, madam; but he was out every day this autumn."

"I am aware of that; he was shooting; he is an enthusiastic sportsman."

"To be sure, madam, so he is; but he is gone every day this winter."

"Of course; hunting; there is no better huntsman in the country than Mr.
Brudenell."

"That is very true, madam; do you know what sort of game he is a-huntin'
of?" inquired the professor meaningly, but most deferentially.

"Foxes, I presume," said the lady, with a look of inquiry.

"Yes, madam, sure enough; I suppose they is foxes, though in female
form," said the professor dryly, but still respectfully.

"Whatever do you mean, Morris?" demanded the lady sternly.

"Well, madam, if it was not from a sense of duty, I would not dare to
speak to you on this subject; for I think when a man presumes to meddle
with things above his speer, he--"

"I remarked to you before, Morris, that I had no time to listen to your
moral disquisitions. Tell me at once, then, what you meant to insinuate
by that strange speech," interrupted the lady.

"Yes, madam, certainly. When you said Mr. Brudenell was a hunting of
foxes, I saw at once the correctness of your suspicions, madam; for they
is foxes."

"Who are foxes?"

"Why, the Miss Worthses, madam."

"The Miss Worths! the weavers! why, what on earth have they to do with
what we nave been speaking of?"

"Yes, madam; the Miss Worthses is the foxes that Mr. Brudenell is
a-huntin' of."

"The Miss Worths? My son hunting the Miss Worths! What do you mean, sir?
Take care what you say of Mr. Brudenell, Morris."

"Yes, madam, certainly; I won't speak another word on the subject; and I
beg your pardon for having mentioned it at all; which I did from a sense
of duty to your family, madam, thinking you