Breakfast was served long before the usual hour, that the gentlemen of our party might make an early start upon the fox hunt that Mr. Legare had arranged for that day.
While we were still at the table, Mrs. Legare bethought herself to hope that the gentlemen had rested well; when my brusque and thoughtless brother John said:
"No, indeed, my dear madam! We were 'fashed wi' a bogle' all night long."
"Sir?"
"He means, madam, that we could not by any means keep our door locked, and had finally to give up the attempt," explained Mr. Howard.
A deathly paleness overspread Mrs. Legare's face. I knew she regretted the question that she had been tempted to ask, and now she receded from the subject.
Mr. Legare, who had kept his eyes averted and turned a deaf ear to the disclosure, now adroitly changed the topic by speaking of the hunt.
The horses were neighing with impatience in the yard, and as soon as the gentlemen arose from the breakfast-table, they prepared themselves, mounted and rode off to their day's sport.
It proved a very successful chase, for they took the brush before twelve o'clock and returned with fine appetites to the excellent dinner set upon the table at two in the afternoon.
The evening was passed in quiet hilarity, and we separated at a comparatively early hour.