“He do be a changed man, that, for sure,” Mr. Pank observed.
“And for that matter,” Mr. Craske put in, “his wife be a changed woman. I mind when she used to come in for groceries for Madame, always looking a little tired, almost sulky-like, as though there were nothing in life worth caring about. Now, I do call her one of the best-looking women in these parts. It’s worth going a mile to see her and Mrs. Gregory together, either on horseback or out with the beagles.”
“They say,” the innkeeper began——
“Hush!” Rawson interrupted. “I believe he’s coming in.”
Mr. Johnson had hesitated at the corner and glanced at his watch. Instead of taking the turn to the Great House he swung towards the inn, and, pausing for a moment outside to look down the breech of his gun, entered with a cheery greeting. Rawson at once stood up. The newcomer good-humouredly waved him back to his seat.
“Don’t let me disturb any one,” he begged, finding a convenient corner for his gun and relapsing into the easy-chair which had been discreetly vacated by Mr. Craske. “I’ll take a warming drink, if you please, Mr. Pank. A wineglassful of sloe gin, if you have it, and if any of you gentlemen will join me, I shall be proud. I forgot my flask this morning.”
“You’ve been out along with Mr. Gregory, sir?” Rawson enquired.
“We’ve been after snipe on the mere side. Good sport, but chilly. I’ve shot snipe in China before now, but they don’t seem in such a hurry as these Norfolk devils. Mr. Gregory wiped my eyes more than once.”
“Mr. Gregory’s a fine shot at what I may call the irregular birds,” the butler ventured, “snipe and woodcock and suchlike. You’ll pardon me saying so though, sir, I’d rather see you at the pheasants. I’ve noticed the last twice that the Squire’s put you at the awkward corners.”
“Well, well,” Mr. Johnson admitted, “it’s a great life, this, if I could only learn to stick on a horse. Mr. Foulds, you’ll have to keep your eye open for another one up to my weight. I had to miss a day’s hunting last week.”