s very unhappy for a few minutes, and then
again forgot it in his excitement.

"Now, Mr. Price," said Mrs. Houghton in a fever of expectation. She had
been dodging backwards and forwards trying to avoid her husband, and
yet unwilling to leave the farmer's side.

"Wait a moment, ma'am; wait a moment. Now we're right; here to the
left." So saying Mr. Price jumped over a low hedge, and Mrs. Houghton
followed him, almost too closely. Mr. Houghton saw it, and didn't
follow. He had made his way up, resolved to stop his wife, but she gave
him the slip at the last moment. "Now through the gate, ma'am, and then
on straight as an arrow for the little wood. I'll give you a lead over
the ditch, but don't ride quite so close, ma'am." Then the farmer went
away feeling perhaps that his best chance of keeping clear from his too
loving friend was to make the pace so fast that she should not be able
quite to catch him. But Lady Mountfencer's nag was fast too, was fast
and had a will of his own. It was not without a cause that Lord
Mountfencer had parted with so good a horse out of his stable. "Have a
care, ma'am," said Price, as Mrs. Houghton canoned against him as they
both landed over the big ditch; "have a care, or we shall come to grief
together. Just see me over before you let him take his jump." It was
very good advice, and is very often given; but both ladies and
gentlemen, whose hands are a little doubtful, sometimes find themselves
unable to follow it. But now they were at Thrupp's larches. George
Scruby had led the way, as becomes a huntsman, and a score or more had
followed him over the big fence. Price had been going a little to the
left, and when they reached the wood was as forward as any one.

"He won't hang here, Sir Simon," said the farmer, as the master came
up, "he never does."

"He's only a cub," said the master.

"The holt cubs this time of the year are nigh as strong as old foxes.
Now for Pugsby."

Mrs. Houghton looked round, fearing every moment that her husband would
come up. They had just crossed a road, and wherever there was a road
there, she thought, he would certainly be.

"Can't we get round the other side, Mr. Price?" she said.

"You won't be any better nor here."

"But there's Mr. Houghton on the road," she whispered.

"Oh-h-h," ejaculated the farmer, just touching the end of his nose with
his finger and moving gently on through the wood. "Never spoil sport,"
was the motto of his life, and to h