“O you dance?” asked Teddy.

“All night, if you will play to me,” I replied.

“Ride?” said he.

“On a horse? Yes, my friend, I can even ride a horse.”

“Well, then, I say, d'you care to come to a ball at Seneschal Court, the Trevor-Hudson's place; meet next day, and that sort of thing? Dick and I are going. We'll be there about a week.”

“But I do not know the—the very excellent people you have named.”

“Oh, that's all right,” said Teddy. “They want a man or two. So few men dance nowadays, don't you know. I keep it up myself a little; girls get sick if I don't hop round with 'em now and then. Hullo, I see you've got a card from my mater, for the twenty-ninth. Don't go, whatever you do. Sure to be dull. The mater's shows always are. What did you think of that girl the other night? Ha, ha! Told you so; I know all about women. What's this book you're reading? French, by Jove! Pretty stiff, isn't it? Oh, o' course you are French, aren't you? That makes a difference, I suppose. Well, then, you'll come with us. Thursday, first. I'll let you know the train.”

“May I bring my Halfred?” I inquired.

“Rather. Looks well to have a man with you. I'd bring mine, only he makes a fuss if he can't have a bedroom looking south, and one can't insist on people giving him that. Au revoir, mos-soo.”

This was on Monday, so I had but little time for preparation.

Halfred was at once taken into consultation.

“I am going to hunt,” I said; “also to a ball; and you are coming with me. Prepare me for the ballroom and the chase. What do I require beyond the things I already have?”

“A pink coat and a 'ard 'at, sir,” said he, with great confidence. “Likewise top-boots and white gloves for to dance in, not forgettin' a pair o' spurs and a whip.”

“I shall get the hat, the coat, and the boots. Gloves I have already. You will buy me the spurs and the whip. By-the-way, have you ever hunted, Halfred?”

“Not exactly 'unted myself, sir,” said he, “but I've seed the 'unt go by, and knowed a lot o' 'unting-men. Then, bein' connected with hosses so much myself I've naterally took a hinterest in the turf and the racin'-stable.”

“You are a judge of horses?” I asked.

“Well, sir, I am generally considered to know something about 'em. In fact, sir, Mr. Widdup—that's the gentleman what give me the testimonial—he's said to me more nor once, 'Halfred,' says he, 'what you don't know about these 'ere hanimals would go into a pill-box comfertable.'”

“Good,” I said. “Find me two hunters that I can hire for a week.”

The little man looked me up and down with a discriminating eye.

“Something that can carry a bit o' weight, sir, and stand a lot o' 'ard riding; that's what you need, sir.”

Now, I am not heavy, nor had circumstances hitherto given me the opportunity of riding excessively hard, but the notion that I was indeed a gigantic Nimrod tempted my fancy, and I am ashamed to confess that I fell.

“Yes,” I said, “that is exactly what I require.”

“Leave it to me, sir,” he assured me, with great confidence. “I'll make hall the arrangements.” My mind was now easy, and for the two following days I studied all the English novels treating of field sports, and the articles on hunting in the encyclopaedias and almanacs, so that when Thursday arrived and I met my friends at the station I felt myself qualified to take part with some assurance in their arguments on the chase. We are a receptive race, we French, and the few accomplishments we have not actually created we can at least quickly comprehend and master.

Next door to us, in a second-class compartment, Halfred was travelling, and attached to our train was the horse-box containing the two hunters he had engaged. I had had one look at these, and certainly there seemed to be no lack of bone and muscle.

“Mr. Widdup and me 'ired 'em, sir,” said Halfred, “from a particular friend o' ours what can be trusted. Jumps like fleas, they do, he says, and 'as been known to run for sixty-five miles without stoppin' more'n once or twice for a drink. 'Ard in the mouth and 'igh in the temper, says he, but the very thing for a gentleman in good 'ealth what doesn't 'unt regular and likes 'is money's worth when he does.”

“You have exactly described me,” I replied.

But if I had the advantage over my two friends in the suite I was taking with me, Teddy Lumme certainly led the way in conversation. He was vastly impressed with the importance of our party (a sentiment he succeeded in communicating to the guard and the other officials); also with the respectability of the function we were going to attend, and with the inferiority of other travellers on that railway. This air of triumphal progress or coronation procession was still further increased by the indefatigable attentions of Halfred, who at every station ran to our carriage door, touched his hat, and made inquiries concerning our comfort and safety; so that more than once a loyal cheer was raised as the train steamed out again, and Dick even declared that at an important junction he perceived the Lord Alayor's daughter approaching with a basket of flowers. Unfortunately, however, she did not reach our carriage in time.

The glories of this pageant he was partaking in filled Teddy's mind with reminiscences of other scenes where he had played an equally distinguished part.

“I remember one day with the Quorn last year,” he remarked. “Devil of a run we had; seventy-five minutes without a check. When we'd killed, I said to a man, 'Got anything to drink?' It was Pluckham. You know Lord Pluckham, Dick?”

“His bankruptcy case went through our chambers,” said Dick, dryly.

“Dashed hard lines that was,” said Teddy. “He's a good chap, is Pluckham; kept the best whiskey in England. By Jove! I never had a drink like that. A man needs one after riding with the Quorn.”

And Teddy puffed his cigar and chewed the cud of that proud moment.

“Where are our horses, Teddy?” asked Dick. “Coming down by a special train?”

“Oh, they are mounting me,” said Teddy. “Trevor-Hudson always keeps a couple of his best for me. What are you doing?”

“Following on a bicycle,” replied Dick. “My five grooms and six horses haven't turned up.”

“My dear Shafthead,” said I, “I shall lend you one of mine.”

“Many thanks,” he answered, with gratitude, no doubt, but with less enthusiasm than I should have expected. “Unfortunately I've seen 'em.”

“And do you not care to ride them?” I asked, with some disappointment, I confess.

“Not alone,” said Dick. “If you'll lend me Halfred to sit behind and keep the beast steady I don't mind trying.”

“Very well,” I said, with a shrug.

This strain of a brutality that is peculiarly British occasionally disfigures my dear Dick. Yet I continue to love him—judge, then, of his virtues.

“Are they good fencers?” asked Lumme.

“I have not yet seen them with the foils,” I replied, smiling politely at what seemed a foolish joke.

“I mean,” said he, “do they take their jumps well?”

“Pardon,” I laughed. “Yes, I am told they are excellent—if the wall is not too high. We shall not find them more than six feet?”

But I was assured that obstacles of more than this elevation would not be met frequently.

“Do they take water all right?” asked the inquisitive Teddy again.

“Both that and corn,” I replied. “But Halfred will attend to these matters.”

English humor is peculiar. I had not meant to make a jest, yet I was applauded for this simple answer.

“Tell me what to look for in my hosts,” I said to Dick, presently.

“Money and money's worth,” he replied.

“What we call the nouveau riche?” I asked.

“On the contrary, what is called a long pedigree, nowadays—two generations of squires, two of captains of industry (I think that is the proper term), and before that the imagination of the Herald's Office. There is also a pretty daughter—isn't there, Teddy?”

“Quite a nice little thing,” said Lumme, graciously.

“I thought you rather fancied her.”

“I'm off women at present,” the venerable rouÉ declared.

Dick's grin at hearing this sentiment was more eloquent than any comment.

But now we had reached our destination. Halfred and a very stately footman, assisted by the station-master, the ticket-collector, and all the porters, transferred our luggage to a handsome private omnibus; then, Halfred having arranged that the horses should be taken to stables in the village (since my host's were full), we all bowled off between the hedge-rows.

It was a beautiful October evening, still clear overhead and red in the west; the plumage of the trees had just begun to turn a russet brown; the air was very fresh after the streets of London; our horses rattled at a most exhilarating pace.

“My faith,” I exclaimed, “this is next to heaven! I shall be buried in the country.”

“Those hunters of yours ought to manage it for you,” observed Dick.

Yet I forgave him again.

We turned through an imposing gateway, and now we were in a wide and charming English park. Undulating turf and stately trees spread all round us and ended only in the dusk of the evening; a herd of deer galloped from our path; rooks cawed in the branches overhead; a gorgeous pheasant ran for shelter towards a thicket. Then, on one side, came an ivy-covered wall over whose top high, dark evergreens stood up like Ethiopian giants. Evidently these were the gardens, and in a moment more we were before the house itself.

As I went from the carriage to the door I had just time and light to see that it was a very great mansion, not old, apparently, but tempered enough by time to inspire a kindly feeling of respect. A high tower rose over the door, and along the front, on either side, creepers climbed between the windows, and these gave an impression at once of stateliness and home.

By the aid of two servants, who were nearly as tall as the tower, we were led first through an ample vestibule adorned with a warlike array of spears. These, I was informed, belonged to the body-guard of my host when he was high sheriff of his county, and this explanation, though it took from them the romance of antiquity, gave me, nevertheless, a pleasanter sensation than if they had been brandished at Flodden. They were a relic not of a dead but a living feudalism, a symbol that a sovereign still ruled this land. And this reminded me of the reason I was here and the cause for which I still hoped to fight; and for a moment it saddened me.

But again I commit the crime of being serious; also the still less pardonable offence of leaving my two friends standing outside the doors of the hall.

Hastily I rejoin them; the doors open, a buzz of talk within suddenly subsides, and we march across the hall in single file to greet our host and hostess. What I see during this brief procession is a wide and high room, a gallery running round it, a great fireplace at the farther end, and a company of nearly twenty people sitting or standing near the fire and engaged in the consumption of tea and the English crumpet.

I am presented, received in a very off-hand fashion, told to help myself to tea and crumpet, and then left to my own devices. Lumme and Shafthead each find an acquaintance to speak to, my host and hostess turn to their other guests, and, with melted butter oozing from my crumpet into my tea, I do my best to appear oblivious of the glances which I feel are being directed at me. I look irresolutely towards my hostess. She is faded, affected, and talkative; but her talk is not for me, and, in fact, she has already turned her back. And my host? He is indeed looking at me fixedly out of a somewhat bloodshot eye, while he stuffs tea-cake into a capacious mouth; but when I meet his gaze, he averts his eyes. A cheerful couple; a kindly reception! “What does it mean?”

I ask myself. “Has Lumme exceeded his powers in bringing me here?” I remember that at his instigation Mrs. Trevor-Hudson sent me a brief note of invitation, but possibly she repented afterwards. Or is my appearance so unpleasant? In France, I tell myself, it was not generally considered repulsive. In fact, I can console myself with several instances to the contrary but possibly English standards of taste are different.

At last I venture to accost a gentleman who, at the moment, is also silent.

“Have you also come from London?” I ask.

“I? No. Live near here,” he says, and turns to resume his conversation with a lady.

I am seriously thinking of taking my departure before there is any active outbreak of hostilities, when I see a stout gentleman, with a very red face, approaching me from the farther side of the fireplace. I have noticed him staring at me with, it seemed, undisguised animosity, and I am preparing the retort with which I shall answer his request to immediately leave the house, when he remarks, in a bluff, cheerful voice, as he advances: “Bringin' your horses, I hear.”

“I am, sir,” I reply, in great surprise.

“Lumme was tellin' me,” he adds, genially. “Ever hunted this country before?”

And in a moment I find myself engaged in a friendly conversation, which is as suddenly interrupted by a very beautifully dressed apparition with a very long mustache, who calls my short friend “Sir Henry,” and consults him about an accident that has befallen his horse. But I began to see the theory of this reception. It is an Englishman's idea of making you—and himself—feel at home.

You eat as much cake as you please, talk to anybody you please, remain silent as long as you please, leave the company if you please and smoke a pipe, and you are not interfered with by any one while doing these things. To introduce you to somebody might bore you; you may not be a conversationalist, and may prefer to stand and stare like a surfeited ox. Well, if such are your tastes it would be interfering with the liberty of the subject to cross them. What was the use of King John signing the Magna Charta if an Englishman finds himself compelled to be agreeable?

This idea having dawned upon me and my courage returned, I cast my eyes round the company, and selecting the prettiest girl made straight at her. She received me with a smiling eye and the most delightful manner possible, and as she talked and I looked more closely at her, I saw that she was even fairer than I had thought.

Picture a slim figure, rather under middle height, a bright eye that sparkled as though there was dew upon it, piquant little features that all joined in a frequent and quite irresistible smile; and, finally, dress this dainty demoiselle in the most fascinating costume you can imagine. Need it be said that I was soon emboldened to talk quite frankly and presently to ask her who some of the company were? “Sir Henry” turned out to be Sir Henry Horley, a prosperous baronet, who scarcely ever left the saddle; the gentleman with the long mustache, to be Lord Thane, an elder son with political aspirations; while the man I had first accosted was no less a person than Mr. H. Y. Tonks, the celebrated cricketer.

“And now will you point out to me Miss Trevor-Hudson?” I asked. “I hear she is very beautiful.”

“Who told you that?” she inquired, with a more charming smile than ever.

“Her admirers,” I answered.

The girl raised her eyebrows, shot me the archest glance in the world, and pointing her finger to her own breast, said, simply:

“There she is.”

I said to myself that though my friend Teddy Lumme was “off women,” I, at any rate, was not.