“You are flattering us, I feel certain,” said the young lady, blushing slightly, yet wearing a pleased smile at this catalogue raisonné; “of course I know that the comparison only applies to English country houses of the third or fourth class.
“Those of the county magnates, like Chatsworth and at Eaton, must be as far in advance of ours, as these are superior to the cottages in which people lived in pioneer days. However, there is the nine o’clock bell for breakfast; we are punctual also at one for lunch, which may or may not be needed to-day.”
The big bell clanged for about five minutes, during which visitors and members of the household were seen converging towards the massive portico of the façade of the Hall. It was a distinctly imposing edifice, built of a neutral-tinted freestone, a material which throughout the ages has always lent itself easily to architectural development.
Hollywood Hall, standing as it did on the border of a river stocked with trout, and centrally situated in a freehold estate of thirty thousand acres of fertile land, might fairly be quoted as an object lesson in colonising experience, as well as an example of the rewards occasionally secured by the roving Englishman.
The breakfast room though large appeared well filled, as Blount and his fair companion joined the party. Certain neighbours had ridden over, after the informal manner of the land, in order to break the journey to Hobart and spend a pleasant hour in the society of the girls of Hollywood Hall. Truth to tell, the sex was predominant, the proportion of the daughters of the house being largely in excess of the men. Tall, graceful, refined, distinctly handsome, they afforded a notable instance of the favouring conditions of Australian life. They possessed also the open air accomplishments of their class. Hard to beat at lawn tennis, they could ride and drive better than the average man, following the hounds of a pack occasionally hunted in the neighbourhood.
The merry tones and lively interchange of badinage which went on with but little intermission during the pleasant meal proved their possession of those invaluable gifts of the budding maid—high health and unfailing spirits, with a sufficient, though not overpowering, sense of humour.
The squire, a well-preserved, fresh-looking, middle-aged man, sitting at the head of his table with an expression of mingled geniality and command, as the contest of tongues waned, thought it well to suggest the order of the day. “I feel sorry that I am obliged to drive to an outlying farm on business, which will occupy me the greater part of the day. So you will have, with the assistance of Mrs. Claremont, to amuse yourselves.”
“I think we can manage that,” said the youngest daughter, a merry damsel of sixteen. “Captain Blake is going to drive Laura and me over to Deep Woods. Mother says we can ask them to come over to dine, as we might have a little dance afterwards.”
“So that’s one part of the programme, is it? you monkey,” said the host; “I might have known you had some conspiracy on foot. However, if your mother approves, it’s all right. Now, does any one care about fishing, because the trout are taking the fly well, and I heard that snipe were seen at the Long Marsh yesterday; they’re a week earlier this year”—this to the son and heir of the house; “what were you intending to arrange?”
“Well, sir, I thought of driving over to see Joe and Bert Bowyer—they’re just back from the old country—been at Cambridge, too. I’ve got a fairish team just taken up. Mr. Blount with two of the girls, and Charlie could come. It’s a fine day for a drive; perhaps the boys will come back with us.”