own from town, like our friends
of the Roebury club, who made hunting their chosen pleasure, and
who formed, in number, perhaps the largest portion of the field;
officers from garrisons round about; a cloud of servants, and a few
nondescript stragglers who had picked up horses, hither and thither,
round the country. Outside the gate on the road were drawn up
a variety of vehicles, open carriages, dog-carts, gigs, and
waggonettes, in some few of which were seated ladies who had come
over to see the meet. But Edgehill was, essentially, not a ladies'
meet. The distances to it were long, and the rides in Cranby
Wood--the big wood--were not adapted for wheels. There were one or
two ladies on horseback, as is always the case; but Edgehill was not
a place popular, even with hunting ladies. One carriage, that of the
old master of the hounds, had entered the sacred precincts of the
field, and from this the old baronet was just descending, as Maxwell,
Calder Jones, and Vavasor rode into the field.

"I hope I see you well, Sir William," said Maxwell, greeting the
master. Calder Jones also made his little speech, and so did Vavasor.

"Humph--well, yes, I'm pretty well, thank'ee. Just move on, will you?
My mare can't stir here." Then some one else spoke to him, and he
only grunted in answer. Having slowly been assisted up on to his
horse,--for he was over seventy years of age,--he trotted off to the
hounds, while all the farmers round him touched their hats to him.
But his mind was laden with affairs of import, and he noticed no one.
In a whispered voice he gave his instructions to his huntsman, who
said, "Yes, Sir William," "No, Sir William," "No doubt, Sir William."
One long-eared, long-legged fellow, in a hunting-cap and scarlet
coat, hung listening by, anxious to catch something of the orders for
the morning. "Who the devil's that fellow, that's all breeches and
boots?" said Sir William aloud to some one near him, as the huntsman
moved off with the hounds. Sir William knew the man well enough, but
was minded to punish him for his discourtesy. "Where shall we find
first, Sir William?" said Calder Jones, in a voice that was really
very humble. "How the mischief am I to know where the foxes are?"
said Sir William, with an oath; and Calder Jones retired unhappy, and
for the moment altogether silenced.

And yet Sir William was the most popular man in the county, and no
more courteous gentleman ever sat at the bottom of his own tab