"That is very true, madam; do you know what sort of game he is a-huntin' of?" inquired the professor meaningly, but most deferentially.
"Foxes, I presume," said the lady, with a look of inquiry.
"Yes, madam, sure enough; I suppose they is foxes, though in female form," said the professor dryly, but still respectfully.
"Whatever do you mean, Morris?" demanded the lady sternly.
"Well, madam, if it was not from a sense of duty, I would not dare to speak to you on this subject; for I think when a man presumes to meddle with things above his speer, he—"
"I remarked to you before, Morris, that I had no time to listen to your moral disquisitions. Tell me at once, then, what you meant to insinuate by that strange speech," interrupted the lady.
"Yes, madam, certainly. When you said Mr. Brudenell was a hunting of foxes, I saw at once the correctness of your suspicions, madam; for they is foxes."
"Who are foxes?"
"Why, the Miss Worthses, madam."
"The Miss Worths! the weavers! why, what on earth have they to do with what we nave been speaking of?"