"Oh Tom, you shouldn't have done that," says Mrs. Talford, as soon as they have settled on to the line again. "They were hunting beautifully."
"Don't mean anyone to get in front of the Queen, Mrs. Colonel, this time," is all he vouchsafes as they gallop down a lane, thereby saving their horses, and nicking in again at the corner. A holloa from the right, close in front of the hounds, shows the rest of the field that the end is approaching, and the Melton detachment are riding their hardest to catch the Bullshire lady; but the only men who have as yet succeeded are Mr. Halston, the Master, and old Simms.
"It's over the brook, for a hundred, sir," shouts Tom, and he is right. With a splash that sends the water sparkling high in the air, the whole pack dash in, and are away on the other side racing in view.
"Surely she's not going to ride at that," men say to each other as Mrs. Talford catches her mare by the head.
But she is; and, with Sir John on the one side and the Parson on the other, she skims over like a bird. Old Tom's horse is done, and refuses, but being crammed at it again just gets over with a scramble. The rest ride at it in a body, some in, some over; some think better of it and turn back; but before any but the leading quartet are well over, Sir John's "who-whoop" rings out clear and loud, and tells them that they have again been beaten by "only a woman."
THE LADY WHO HUNTS AND DOES NOT RIDE.
If anyone could be found rash enough to hint to Mrs. Polson that in the hunting-field she was, to say the least of it, rather a bore than otherwise, the look of undisguised astonishment with which that individual's remarks would be met, ought, if he had any right feeling, to convince him that he was wrong; and that, if there was a woman in this world who was a useful addition to the Hunt, and who, wherever and whenever she thought proper to grace the scene, was always rapturously welcomed, that woman was Mrs. Polson, wife of Joseph Polson, Esq., M.P., better known as The Right Hon. J.P.