net or not according as
things go, and that we call him Foxmaster-General. It would be just
the thing for Mr. Finn."

"There would be a salary, of course," said Phineas.

"Then I suppose that nothing can be done," said Lord Chiltern.

"My dear Lord Chiltern, everything has been done. Vested interests
have been attended to. Keepers shall prefer foxes to pheasants, wires
shall be unheard of, and Trumpeton Wood shall once again be the glory
of the Brake Hunt. It won't cost the Duke above a thousand or two a
year."

"I should be very sorry indeed to put the Duke to any unnecessary
expense," said Lord Chiltern solemnly,--still fearing that the
Duchess was only playing with him. It made him angry that he could
not imbue other people with his idea of the seriousness of the
amusement of a whole county.

"Do not think of it. We have pensioned poor Mr. Fothergill, and he
retires from the administration."

"Then it'll be all right," said Lord Chiltern.

"I am so glad," said his wife.

"And so the great Mr. Fothergill falls from power, and goes down into
obscurity," said Madame Goesler.

"He was an impudent old man, and that's the truth," said the
Duchess;--"and he has always been my thorough detestation. But if you
only knew what I have gone through to get rid of him,--and all on
account of Trumpeton Wood,--you'd send me every brush taken in the
Brake country during the next season."

"Your Grace shall at any rate have one of them," said Lord Chiltern.

On the next day Lord and Lady Chiltern went back to Harrington Hall.
When the end of August comes, a Master of Hounds,--who is really a
master,--is wanted at home. Nothing short of an embassy on behalf of
the great coverts of his country would have kept this master away at
present; and now, his diplomacy having succeeded, he hurried back to
make the most of its results. Lady Chiltern, before she went, made a
little speech to Phineas Finn.

"You'll come to us in the winter, Mr. Finn?"

"I should like."

"You must. No one was truer to you than we were, you know. Indeed,
regarding you as we do, how should we not have been true? It was
impossible to me that my old friend should have been--"

"Oh, Lady Chiltern!"

"Of course you'll come. You owe it to us to come. And may I say this?
If there be anybody to come with you, that will make it only so much
the better. If it should be so, of course there will be letters
written?" To this question, however, Phineas Finn ma