He met her mischievous gaze. "Nancy," he said, "if you had said that on the bench they would have put it in the papers—with headlines; as it is, I've a good mind to commit you for contempt of court."
The divided groups began to congregate. The Squire came round the corner very well pleased with himself. In spite of his preoccupation he had shot quite up to his form. And his good-humour was confirmed at the discovery that Hammond-Watt could be classed as a doubtful no longer, for he had killed more birds than anybody, and killed them clean, and that Bobby Trench had also given a fair account of himself. The day had begun well, and the fact that Sir Herbert had only shot two pheasants, one of which had got away, and George Senhouse had shot none, although, as is the unaccountable way of driven birds, they had come over him more thickly than over any one else, did not avail to dash his satisfaction. He led the way to the next stand, down a woodland ride, in high good-humour, walking with great strides, which Lady Birkett, who accompanied him, found some difficulty in keeping up with. "I hope Herbert will pick up," he said, laughing good-humoredly at his brother-in-law's misfortune. "Now I'm never very much away from my form, either above or below. Funny thing—form! Even when I'm worried to death about things it don't seem to make much difference to my eye."
But when the next drive was over, and he had only shot two pheasants, neither of them clean, and a rabbit, he said, "It's all this infernal worry. No man on earth, I don't care who he is, can shoot straight if he's got something weighing on his mind."
Lady Birkett was consolatory. "My dear Edward, don't think about it," she said. "It will all come right."
"I wish I thought so," said the Squire. "I think if I had that woman here I'd put a charge of shot into her."
During the course of the morning the twins came together to compare notes. "Humphrey is shooting quite well," said Joan, "but, all the same, if he had fallen in with my suggestion we should have scooped twenty-four shillings. I reckon it up after every drive and tell him the result. I am hoping that he will be so pleased with himself that he will offer to settle up at the end of the day of his own accord."
"Don't make it too much," advised Nancy. "Ten shillings in our pockets are better than twenty in his."
"Bobby Trench offered to take over the arrangement," said Joan.
Nancy threw back her fair hair. "It's a pity to waste an opportunity," she said, "but of course you can't accept a tip from him."
"My dear, as if I would!" exclaimed Joan. "But he's very pushing. It's difficult to keep him at a distance. I think I shall go and stand with Mr. Wilkinson. He's a dear old thing, and I think he'd be flattered."