ess seems to
have fallen asleep, I must e'en be master of the ceremonies, however
improper it may be. So I beg to present to you young Squire Thorncliff
Osbaldistone, your cousin, and Die Vernon, your accomplished cousin's
poor kinswoman."

The "accomplished cousin" finally decided to shake hands with mingled
awkwardness and an assumption of sulky indifference. This being done, he
immediately announced his intention of going to help the huntsmen couple
up the hounds, and so he took himself off.

"There he goes," said the young lady, following him with disdainful
eyes, "the prince of grooms and cock-fighters and blackguard
horse-racers. But truly there is not one of them to mend another!"

She turned sharply upon Frank.

"Have you read Markham?" she demanded.

Poor Frank had never even heard of that author. The girl held up her
hands in horror.

"Never to have heard of Markham--the Koran of this savage tribe--the
most celebrated author on farriery!" she cried. "Then I fear you are
equally a stranger to the more modern names of Gibson and Bartlett?"

"I am, indeed, Miss Vernon," answered Frank, meekly.

"And do you not blush to own it?" she cried. "Why, we will disown the
alliance. Then I suppose you can neither give a ball, nor a mash, nor a
horn?"

"I confess," said Frank, "I trust all these matters to my groom."

"Incredible carelessness!" she continued. "What was your father thinking
of? And you cannot shoe a horse, or cut his mane and tail. Or worm a
dog, or crop his ears, or cut his dew-claws; or reclaim a hawk or give
him casting-stones, or direct his diet when he is sealed! Or--"

Frank could only once for all profess his utter ignorance of all such
accomplishments.

"Then in the name of Heaven, Mr. Frank Osbaldistone, what _can_ you
do?"

"Very little to the purpose, I am afraid, Miss Vernon," answered Frank;
"only this--when my groom has dressed my horse I can ride him, and when
my hawk is in the field, I can fly him."

"Can you do this?" said Die Vernon, setting her horse to a rude gate
composed of pieces of wood from the forest, and clearing it at a bound.
In a moment Frank was at her side.

"There are hopes for you yet," she said. "I was afraid that you were a
very degenerate Osbaldistone. But what brings you to Cub Hall? I suppose
you could have stayed away if you had liked?"

"The Cubs of the Hall may be as you describe them," said Frank, looking
at his companion, "but I am convinced th