The huntsman, glancing round and seeing all was unobjectionable as far as his hope and belief went, pulled a watch out of his fob, and observed that “the Squire will be here in seven minutes three-eighths.”
“Can you time him to a second?” said Mark smiling.
“Ay,” replied Will, “it doesn’t require a gauge to do that with his rules.”
As a distant clock was striking, the bell rung at the kennel door.
“I said so,” remarked the huntsman, and upon opening it he lifted his hat, and in walked our worthy master.
“Now for my frock,” said he, and one as white as snow was brought by old Mark, who was sensitively jealous of the privilege of assisting the Squire to make his kennel toilet.
When attired he proceeded to the boiling-house, examined the boiling flesh, coppers, and everything belonging to that department. Then turning into the feeding-room, he looked at the troughs and expressed himself satisfied with the perfect order that all things were in belonging to this.
In going to the lodging rooms, Will Sykes said, “How would you like to have them drawn, sir?”
“Each hound singly,” replied the Squire, “and the entry first.”
It was some little time before it came to my turn; but when my name was called out I sprang, and as soon as I made my appearance, the Squire took a piece of biscuit from his pocket and throwing it to me, said “Here Ringwood, beauty,” and caressed me kindly.