morrow and the next day;" but as Yorke looked round the spacious and well-lighted room, which opened into a good-sized dressing-closet, most luxuriously furnished and fitted with every comfort, and with the walls almost covered with pictures, it seemed to him that no apology was needed. In none of his previous visits had he been so sumptuously billeted, for bachelors in big houses seldom get the best rooms.
The dinner which followed was a very elaborate one, handsomely served, and altogether superabundant for the party of six who sat down to it, not without further apologies on the part of the master of the house for its simplicity, on the score that Yorke must be looked upon as an old friend, to be treated without ceremony. Except himself none of them did much justice to it, possibly because they had lunched well at two, and partaken heartily of tea, cake, and muffins, at five o'clock, for such he afterwards discovered to be the custom of the house.
The conversation (kept up for the most part by the host) at first turned mainly upon Yorke himself; and, accustomed as he had been whilst on furlough to be petted and made much of, he could not help feeling quite uncomfortable at the continual references on the part of his host to Victoria Crosses, cavalry charges, gallantry displayed in the mutiny, and the general superiority of Indian officers to the rest of the military world. Not that Mr. Peevor knew much about these things; his knowledge of them, indeed, was evidently of the vaguest and most general kind, and but that his manner seemed guiltless of humour, Yorke might have fancied that he was secretly poking fun at him; and it was with difficulty that the guest succeeded in turning the conversation from India and military exploits to the inmates of the house. So much, however, Yorke gleaned incidentally while the conversation ran in military channels, that Mr. Peevor had an only son in the —th Hussars — "but only a lieutenant," as his father explained apologetically, adding that he had never served out of the kingdom. "Being an only son, I could not of course wish him to run any risks from foreign climates." Fred, it appeared, was expected home in a day or two, when Mr. Peevor observed he would have the honour and privilege of making Colonel Yorke's acquaintance; and the young ladies, who had so far taken no share in the conversation, being somewhat in awe of the stranger, although Miss Lucy's bright eyes twinkled with fun at Yorke's evident distress under her father's compliments, brightened up as their brother's visit was spoken of. It was such a treat to have Fred at home; he could so seldom get away from his regiment.
They seemed to have a very pretty place here, Yorke presently observed, by way of filling up a pause in the conversation.
Yes, it was a pretty little place, admitted his host, but small, you know; only about two hundred and fifty acres, including gardens and everything.
Was there any game on it? Yorke fancied he had seen something that looked like a cover on the way up.
Yes; there was a fair show of pheasants for the quantity of ground. Mr. Peevor did not shoot himself, but liked to be able to give a day's sport to a friend. The shooting, however, was nearly over for this year; there were merely enough birds left to keep up the stock; but next year he intended to lay down a fresh supply, and he hoped the colonel would do them the honour to come down early in October, when Mr. Peevor would make up a shooting-party to meet him.
So his host did not shoot himself. The next thing was to find out what amusements the young ladies affected. Miss Maria, the eldest, it appeared from the brief replies extracted, did not care about anything in particular, although she liked taking a walk after breakfast if the weather was fine; but on her father observing that they were seldom in the country at this season when the leaves were falling — falling leaves were so very unhealthy — Miss Catherine, taking courage, observed that this was how they always missed the hunting.
"Then you are fond of hunting?" said Yorke, turning to her with more interest in his manner than he had been able as yet to assume.
"It is the only thing worth doing in the winter," replied the young lady with enthusiasm; "but one seldom gets a chance of a good thing: usually one has to put up with the Brighton harriers, which is not very lively work; but we are going to stay here till Christmas this year, and so there will be some real hunting. The Southby-westershire hounds have their first meet in this part of the world to-morrow; it will be so nice."
"And you too are fond of hunting, I suppose?" said Yorke, turning to Miss Lucy, whose pretty little figure, he thought, was just of a kind to show to advantage
