with her sweetest
smile.

"You remember your promise to me, Mr. Price?"

"Surely, Mrs. Houghton. Your nag can jump a few, no doubt."

"Beautifully. Mr. Houghton bought him from Lord Mountfencer. Lady
Mountfencer couldn't ride him because he pulls a little. But he's a
perfect hunter."

"We shall find him, Mrs. Houghton, to a moral; and do you stick to me.
They generally go straight away to Thrupp's larches. You see the little
wood. There's an old earth there, but that's stopped. There is only one
fence between this and that, a biggish ditch, with a bit of a hedge on
this side, but it's nothing to the horses when they're fresh."

"Mine's quite fresh."

"Then they mostly turn to the right for Pugsby; nothing but grass then
for four miles a-head."

"And the jumping?"

"All fair. There's one bit of water,--Pugsby Brook,--that you ought to
have as he'll be sure to cross it ever so much above the bridge. But,
lord love you, Mrs. Houghton, that horse'll think nothing of the
brook."

"Nothing at all, Mr. Price. I like brooks."

"I'm afraid he's not here, Price," said Sir Simon, trotting round the
cover towards the whip, who was stationed at the further end.

"Well, Sir Simon, her as we killed came from the holt, you know," said
the farmer, mindful of his reputation for foxes. "You can't eat your
cake and have it too, can you, Sir Simon?"

"Ought to be able in a covert like this."

"Well, perhaps we shall. The best lying is down in that corner. I've
seen a brace of cubs together there a score of times." Then there was
one short low, dubious, bark, and then another a little more confirmed.
"That's it, Sir Simon. There's your 'cake.'"

"Good hound, Blazer," cried Sir Simon, recognising the voice of his
dog. And many of the pack recognised the well-known sound as plainly as
the master, for you might hear the hounds rustling through the covert
as they hurried up to certify to the scent which their old leader had
found for them. The holt though thick was small and a fox had not much
chance but by breaking. Once up the covert and once back again the
animal went, and then Dick, the watchful whip, holding his hand up to
his face, holloaed him away. "Gently, gentlemen," shouted Sir Simon,
"let them settle. Now, Mr. Bottomley, if you'll only keep yourself a
little steady, you'll find yourself the better for it at the finish."
Mr. Bottomley was a young man from London, who was often addressed
after this fashion, was alway