"I don't quite know," said Dermott, who had been Gerald's nearest neighbour. "He was so offended by our gibes about the danger of his society that he walked rather wide of me. He kept down at the very foot of the hill most of the time, almost out of sight."
"I hope he hasn't shot himself," said the Admiral rather anxiously.
"Never fear!" said I. "That will not be his end. Here he is."
Sure enough, Gerald appeared at this moment. He was empty-handed.
Simple and primitive jests greeted him.
"Hallo, old man, what have you shot—eh? Where is your little lot?"
Gerald smiled seraphically.
"You'll find it down there," he said—"in that patch of bracken, Standish. I left it for you to bring up. Rather heavy for me."
"What on earth have you shot?" we cried involuntarily.
"A sheep," said Gerald calmly.