Sir Austin Feverel, a thorough
good Tory, was no game-preserver, and could be popular whenever he
chose, which Sir Males Papworth, on the other side of the river, a
fast-handed Whig and terror to poachers, never could be. Half the
village of Lobourne was seen trooping through the avenues of the park.
Fiddlers and gipsies clamoured at the gates for admission: white smocks,
and slate, surmounted by hats of serious brim, and now and then a
scarlet cloak, smacking of the old country, dotted the grassy sweeps to
the levels.

And all the time the star of these festivities was receding further and
further, and eclipsing himself with his reluctant serf Ripton, who kept
asking what they were to do and where they were going, and how late
it was in the day, and suggesting that the lads of Lobourne would be
calling out for them, and Sir Austin requiring their presence, without
getting any attention paid to his misery or remonstrances. For Richard
had been requested by his father to submit to medical examination like a
boor enlisting for a soldier, and he was in great wrath.

He was flying as though he would have flown from the shameful thought of
what had been asked of him. By-and-by he communicated his sentiments
to Ripton, who said they were those of a girl: an offensive remark,
remembering which, Richard, after they had borrowed a couple of guns
at the bailiff's farm, and Ripton had fired badly, called his friend a
fool.

Feeling that circumstances were making him look wonderfully like one,
Ripton lifted his head and retorted defiantly, "I'm not!"

This angry contradiction, so very uncalled for, annoyed Richard, who was
still smarting at the loss of the birds, owing to Ripton's bad shot, and
was really the injured party. He, therefore bestowed the abusive epithet
on Ripton anew, and with increase of emphasis.

"You shan't call me so, then, whether I am or not," says Ripton, and
sucks his lips.

This was becoming personal. Richard sent up his brows, and stared at his
defier an instant. He then informed him that he certainly should call
him so, and would not object to call him so twenty times.

"Do it, and see!" returns Ripton, rocking on his feet, and breathing
quick.

With a gravity of which only boys and other barbarians are capable,
Richard went through the entire number, stressing the epithet to
increase the defiance and avoid monotony, as he progressed, while Ripton
bobbed his head every time in assent, as it were