and took them with him for a stroll round the gardens and little park, which, from its fine and plentiful timber, justified the name of "The Woodlands" that had been given to the house. It was a fine summer's morning, and a quiet walk and meditative pipe under the shade of the wide-spreading trees was very agreeable to Mr. Bouncer and his canine pets. When he had brought his stroll to an end, and was passing by the house, he saw that he was furtively watched, from the window of the study, by a young man, whom he judged, and rightly so, to be Mr. Winstanley. Little Mr. Bouncer thought to himself, "I will go in and try to make friends with him." But when he had put Huz and Buz in their stable, and had returned to the house, he found the study deserted. Winstanley had seen him coming, and had crept out of doors into the garden through the open window.
The morning newspapers were on the table; so Mr. Bouncer concluded that he would have a look at them, and that, while he was doing so, young Winstanley would probably return. The atmosphere was warm, the chair was comfortable, the pipe that he had been smoking had exercised a soothing influence, and Mr. Bouncer found that the "Times" leader on the political crisis in Moldavia failed to convey to his mind any other feelings than those that invited slumber. He read dreamily through the well-phrased lines of exquisite English, and had just succeeded in dismissing Moldavia and its crisis to the realms of forgetfulness, when he was roused from his forty winks of sleep by some one entering the room.
This some one was no other person than Dr. Dustacre, who shut the door behind him, and made a low bow to little Mr. Bouncer.
