joined. "They belong
to the old school; he belongs to the new."

"One or two rather need a jolt, but we'll let it go. I want to watch
Dick's game; he's been playing well and using a new stroke."

They went to the billiard-room and stayed until the party broke up.
Then, as the Dryholm car rolled up to the steps, Dick said to Mordaunt:
"You got the wrong time, after all. I compared my watch with Hodson's.
His was a presentation from the farmers' club, you know; the latest
thing in watches, and he declares it's accurate."

"It's not very important."

"In a way, it is important," Dick objected. "If I'd been here soon
enough, I'd have urged their choosing Jim." He paused and looked at
Mordaunt hard. "It's curious, but I imagined Hodson was embarrassed
when he said they meant to ask Watson. Why should they ask the fellow?
He's not our sort."

"After all, Jim is not our sort."

"Rot!" exclaimed Dick. "Bernard is satisfied and I'd sooner trust him
than Hodson. In fact, Bernard's a better judge than anybody in
Hodson's stodgy lot."

Mordaunt shrugged, but was glad the rattle of the engine covered his
silence and the driver looked up as if to see if he were coming. He
got into the car and pondered as he drove back to Dryholm. Dick's
manner was curious and his annoyance was plain Mordaunt wondered
whether he suspected something. Still, except perhaps for Herries, the
hunt committee were tactful; he did not think they would enlighten Dick.

CHAPTER X

BERNARD PONDERS

It was getting dark in the hall at Langrigg and Jim, who had just
returned from the marsh, sat in the hollow of the big fireplace. Rain
beat upon the windows, outside which the trees tossed their naked
branches against the lowering sky, and a cold wind wailed about the
ancient walls. Oak logs snapped in the grate and Carrie sat on the rug
in the flickering light. She was toasting muffins, and a silver teapot
and some cups stood on the low table in front of Mrs. Winter. Now the
days were getting cold and short, tea by the hearth was a popular
function. Carrie buttered a muffin and gave it Jim on the end of the
fork.

"Jake must wait for the next. I can't toast the things fast enough for
him," she said. "They're quite nice if you eat them hot, but they're
not like the flapjacks I made in the woods. After all, we had some
pretty good times on the new line; hadn't we, Jim? Mother doesn't
know; she wasn't there."

"I was not," sa