"I should be very sorry indeed to put the Duke to any unnecessary expense," said Lord Chiltern solemnly,—still fearing that the Duchess was only playing with him. It made him angry that he could not imbue other people with his idea of the seriousness of the amusement of a whole county.
"Do not think of it. We have pensioned poor Mr. Fothergill, and he retires from the administration."
"Then it'll be all right," said Lord Chiltern.
"I am so glad," said his wife.
"And so the great Mr. Fothergill falls from power, and goes down into obscurity," said Madame Goesler.
"He was an impudent old man, and that's the truth," said the Duchess;—"and he has always been my thorough detestation. But if you only knew what I have gone through to get rid of him,—and all on account of Trumpeton Wood,—you'd send me every brush taken in the Brake country during the next season."
"Your Grace shall at any rate have one of them," said Lord Chiltern.
On the next day Lord and Lady Chiltern went back to Harrington Hall. When the end of August comes, a Master of Hounds,—who is really a master,—is wanted at home. Nothing short of an embassy on behalf of the great coverts of his country would have kept this master away at present; and now, his diplomacy having succeeded, he hurried back to make the most of its results. Lady Chiltern, before she went, made a little speech to Phineas Finn.
"You'll come to us in the winter, Mr. Finn?"
"I should like."