"I suppose so," Hallett answered. "But," he added, "it is too soon to talk about that with poor Slaney not yet in his grave."
"Oh, nobody cares about Slaney. The king is dead, long live the king—that's my motto, and' Slaney was a confounded Radical, hand and glove with the working man. I'm a working man myself, but I ain't a Radical." Lord Horace talked excitedly and rather thickly. Elsie looked at him, and drew her delicate eyebrows together in a frown.
"I think we had better walk on to the Humpey," she said. "Ina will be wondering what has become of us all."
"Yes, come along, and have a refresher, and talk over things," said Lord Horace. "It's a beastly ride from the Bean-tree. I went over to see if some of those selectors wouldn't get their meat from me—might as well turn an honest penny, you know; and I wanted to hear the news about Moonlight. Macpherson and his men are mad at his having given them the slip, and are scouring the country till they find his hiding-place. They're mad, too, against poor Slaney, for not letting them nab Moonlight at the bank. By Jove, that was a neat trick, and I like old Slaney, though he was a beast. I like him for havin' stood on the square to Moonlight. But come along, and let us talk it over. It's canvassin' I'm thinking of. I canvassed once for my brother-in-law Waveryng—before he was Waveryng, you know—got him in too with singing comic songs—I'm first rate at 'em. By Jove, Waveryng isn't half as grateful as he might be, or he'd do something for me now."
Lord Horace spurred his horse and cantered on executing a series of Alpine calls to which there came a response from the house in the shape of a faint "Coo—ee."
Frank Hallett did not mount, but walked beside Elsie, who was silent and looked worried.
"I forgot," said Frank abruptly. "I've got a note for you from Mrs. Jem. She wants you to come over next week,
