in a riding-habit. Miss Lucy, however, it appeared, did not hunt or even ride. She had had riding-lessons several times, she said; but was too nervous to go on with them; whereon her father observed that Lucy drove very well notwithstanding, and that she would drive the colonel in her pony-carriage next morning to the meet with pleasure. Mr. Peevor went on to express his extreme regret at not having a hunter to lend Yorke. He had a serviceable hack in his stable, he said, for the use of his friends when they were good enough to come and see him, although he did not ride himself; but he was afraid it would not do for hunting, although it was a very good sort of horse. The colonel, of course, was a fox-hunter, and no doubt had plenty of it in India; whereon Yorke was fain to confess that he had never been at a cover-side in his life, his sporting experience having so far been limited to pig-sticking; but added, incidentally, that it was part of his plan for the winter to job a horse or two, and join some friends in taking a hunting-box in the shires. The conversation now became quite animated; and on his admitting to the question put by Mr. Peevor — who said what a pity it was he could not have some hunting while staying at "The Beeches" — that his boots and other hunting-appurtenances were with his luggage, Miss Catherine ventured to suggest that very tolerable hunters could always be hired at the neighbouring town of Castleroyal; and Mr. Peevor following up the idea, it was arranged that one of the stable-men should drive over in the tax-cart the first thing in the morning, with instructions for a horse to be sent for him to the meet, whither Miss Lucy would drive him in her pony-carriage, while Mrs. Peevor was to take Catherine in the landau. The matter was indeed arranged almost before Yorke could say anything, and not without misgivings on his part; for although it would be pleasant enough to escort Miss Catherine, he did not much fancy making his first appearance on an untried hack. But Mr. Peevor seemed so delighted at the idea, saying that he would write to the stable-keeper himself to send his very best horse — it was worth Bytheday's while, he said, to oblige him, for he paid a pretty large bill there every year — that there was no backing out of it. And Mr. Peevor repeated the order to the butler about the despatch of the tax-cart so many times during dinner, as to suggest a doubt whether orders given in this household were very strictly obeyed.
Mrs. Peevor's two little girls came in to dessert, Minnie and Lottie, whose acquaintance Yorke now made for the first time. Minnie had a chair by her mamma, while Miss Lucy took Lottie on her lap and peeled a pear for her. Then the wine was handed round — claret, port, brown sherry, and two kinds of dry. Mrs. Peevor took a glass of port wine, which her husband took the opportunity of mentioning by the way had been prescribed by the doctor; the other ladies took none, and the gentlemen were soon left to discuss their wine alone.
"What are you taking, colonel?" said Mr. Peevor, moving down to his end of the table; "I am not allowed much wine myself just now — I've got a touch of gout flying about me; but I like to see my friends enjoy their glass. Sherry, eh? Ah, don't drink that wine; it's a fair wine enough, I admit, but let me help you to some of this; you will find this a really tolerable glass of sherry, I believe:" and Mr. Peevor proceeded to recount at length how, through the kindness of a friend who was always on the look-out to do a good turn in that way, he had been fortunate enough to come into the possession of a parcel of very rare wine which a large number of connoisseurs had also been on the look-out to secure; and indeed Yorke was a sufficiently good judge to perceive that his host did not exaggerate the excellence of the article. The conversation indeed took an altogether objective turn, turning on the various commodities in view from where they were sitting, to each of which a long story was attached, the end always being that the thing in question — a carved screen or a bronze or a piece of china, for the room was crowded with such ornaments — had come into the present owner's possession at a high price. "I make a point of putting aside a trifle every year," said Mr. Peevor, apologetically, "for little purchases of this sort; it improves the look of the house, you know, and gives one occupation." The pictures Colonel Yorke must look at to-morrow, in better light: he made a point of buying four or five pictures a year; it was a man's duty to encourage art, and then it made the visits to the Royal Academy so interesting if you went there with an object. Yorke thereon observed that his host was to be envied his life passed so usefully and agreeably, and surrounded by the comforts of such a happy home; but Mr. Peevor did not accept this cheerful view of his position, remarking sadly that there were many anxieties connected with a
