“It is not a local name. How he came by it I can’t tell you.”
She wondered vaguely if her host could tell, but wouldn’t. Swiftly she changed the conversation, with a glance at Lionel’s trim gaiters and breeches.
“I have brought a habit.”
“We can mount you,” said Lionel. “If you were staying on till August, we could give you a day with our buckhounds.”
“Oh, why, why didn’t I come to you in August? I have never been out with buckhounds. Tell me all about it.”
Lionel obeyed. The Squire slipped away, followed by Lady Pomfret. As soon as they were out of hearing, he whispered to his wife:
“A good start, my dear. And, mark me, she’ll make the running.”
“I think she will, Geoffrey.”
“Just as clever as they make ’em, Mary. Was it mere luck her pickin’ out a subject which the boy can talk really well about?”
“Oh, no.”