“Three brace of partridges only, and some wood-pigeons, sir,” responded the Duke.
“Very well indeed,” said his uncle approvingly. “I have frequently observed that for all it may not be real game, as we understand it, the wood-pigeon gives some of the hardest shots of all. What shot did you use?”
“Seven,” said the Duke.
This made Lord Lionel shake his head a little, and point out the advantages of a four or a five. His nephew, having listened politely, said that he would grant him an accidental shot at long distance with his heavier shot, but that a well-breeched and properly bored gun would shoot Number Seven better than any other. As the Duke was a very pretty shot, Lord Lionel allowed this to pass with no more than a glancing reference to newfangled fads, and asked him if he had taken one of his Purdeys out.
“No, a Manton,” said the Duke. “I have been trying Joseph Manton’s New Patent Shot.”
“I have bought my shot from Walker and Maltby any time these thirty years,” declared his lordship. “But the old ways will never do for you young men! I suppose you will tell me this New Patent has some particular virtue!”
“I think the shot is more compact, and it is certainly cleaner to handle,” replied the Duke.
“I hope, Gilly, that you did not get your feet wet?” said Lady Lionel. “You know, if you were to take a chill it will go straight to your throat, and I was thinking only the other day that I cannot recall the name of that very obliging physician who recommended electricity. You were only a child, so I daresay you might not remember, but it was very excellent, though your uncle disliked it very much.”
“Does Borrowdale not know that you are ready for dinner?” demanded Lord Lionel loudly. “It will be six o’clock before we sit down to it!”
“There was quite a fashion for electricity at that time,” pursued his wife placidly. “I am sure I know of a dozen persons who took the treatment.”