THE AUTHORITY.
It is ten years since Mr. Hall did the Bullshire country the honour of becoming a resident, and in that time he has managed to assert himself considerably, and may now be considered "no small pumpkins." At least the Hall family look on themselves in that light, and surely they must be the best judges.
Hall père is a good-natured open-handed sportsman, who rides the best horses, smokes the best cigars, and drinks the best wine that money can procure, but who has the misfortune to consider himself an authority on sport and hunting, and is also afflicted with a weakness for seeing his lucubrations in print.
Mrs. Hall, on the other hand, affects the evangelical rôle, and is forever establishing crèches, forming night-schools, and endeavouring to lead the young men of Bullshire in the way that they should go. She is also of a literary turn of mind, and has published more than once under the auspices of the S.P.C.K. Her latest effort was not quite a success, owing, she says, to "bitter and unchristian hostility."
She had spent much time on the completion of a "sporto-religious" novel—"one that anybody might read without a blush," as she put it; and when finished she called it "A Heavenly Hunt, or Hints by the Way."
Harold Lappington and a few kindred spirits, however, were unkind enough to parody the book; and a week afterwards was distributed broadcast throughout the country, "Running a Ring, or Hints on Matrimony."
The joke was too good not to be appreciated, and one may safely say that the only person who did not see it was Mrs. Hall herself. Even her husband laughed at her, and talked grandiloquently about writing on subjects that she did not understand.
It was for a long time a mystery to the members of the Hunt how the accounts of their sport got into the papers, and Sir John tried in vain to discover the reporter. Marvellously accurate were the descriptions of the run, names of places, distances, what each particular hound did, where Tom made his cast for better or for worse, and the various incidents or accidents of the chase were all set forth without an error. So men came to the conclusion that it must be some one of the hard-riders, and consequently were more puzzled than ever. Everybody was accused in turn—the Doctor, the Parson, even Mrs. Talford; but all denied the soft impeachment.
When the matter was alluded to at the hunt-dinner by Sir John, it was noticed that Mr. Hall did not look quite as if he was enjoying his dinner, and whispers of "It's old Hall; look at him," passed from one to the other.