“Well, my dear, that’s better than the hounds being mad about him, like the poor gentleman they’ve put into a statue. But talking of hounds, Frank, how badly they manage their foxes at Chaldicotes! I was out hunting all one day—”
“You out hunting!” said the lady called Mary.
“And why shouldn’t I go out hunting? I’ll tell you what, Mrs. Proudie was out hunting, too. But they didn’t catch a single fox; and, if you must have the truth, it seemed to me to be rather slow.”
“You were in the wrong division of the county,” said the gentleman called Frank.
“Of course I was. When I really want to practise hunting I’ll go to Greshamsbury; not a doubt about that.”
“Or to Boxall Hill,” said the lady; “you’ll find quite as much zeal there as at Greshamsbury.”
“And more discretion, you should add,” said the gentleman.
“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed Miss Dunstable; “your discretion indeed! But you have not told me a word about Lady Arabella.”
“My mother is quite well,” said the gentleman.
“And the doctor? By-the-by, my dear, I’ve had such a letter from the doctor; only two days ago. I’ll show it you upstairs to-morrow. But mind, it must be a positive secret. If he goes on in this way he’ll get himself into the Tower, or Coventry, or a blue-book, or some dreadful place.”