issed his birds. There are certain phases of mind
in which a man can neither ride nor shoot, nor play a stroke at
billiards, nor remember a card at whist,--and to such a phase of mind
had come both Crosbie and Dale after their conversation over the
gate.

They were not above fifteen minutes late at the trysting-place, but
nevertheless, punctual though they had been, the girls were there
before them. Of course the first inquiries were made about the game,
and of course the gentlemen declared that the birds were scarcer
than they had ever been before, that the dogs were wilder, and their
luck more excruciatingly bad,--to all which apologies very little
attention was paid. Lily and Bell had not come there to inquire after
partridges, and would have forgiven the sportsmen even though no
single bird had been killed. But they could not forgive the want of
good spirits which was apparent.

"I declare I don't know what's the matter with you," Lily said to her
lover.

"We have been over fifteen miles of ground, and--"

"I never knew anything so lackadaisical as you gentlemen from London.
Been over fifteen miles of ground! Why, Uncle Christopher would think
nothing of that."

"Uncle Christopher is made of sterner stuff than we are," said
Crosbie. "They used to be born so sixty or seventy years ago." And
then they walked on through Gruddock's fields, and the home paddocks,
back to the Great House, where they found the squire standing in the
front of the porch.

The walk had not been so pleasant as they had all intended that
it should be when they made their arrangements for it. Crosbie
had endeavoured to recover his happy state of mind, but had been
unsuccessful; and Lily, fancying that her lover was not all that he
should be, had become reserved and silent. Bernard and Bell had not
shared this discomfiture, but then Bernard and Bell were, as a rule,
much more given to silence than the other two.

"Uncle," said Lily, "these men have shot nothing, and you cannot
conceive how unhappy they are in consequence. It's all the fault of
the naughty partridges."

"There are plenty of partridges if they knew how to get them," said
the squire.

"The dogs are uncommonly wild," said Crosbie.

"They are not wild with me," said the squire; "nor yet with Dingles."
Dingles was the squire's gamekeeper. "The fact is, you young men,
nowadays, expect to have dogs trained to do all the work for you.
It's too much labour for you to walk up