t morning, and very busy.

He had been round to the stables and seen the four horses that had
arrived the night before, and bullied the coachman because he had said
that one of them had a splinter in its leg, and that the mare meant for
Miss Rea had rather a nasty look about the eye.

"You're an ass, Thomas," he said.

The man touched his hat, and Sir Hampton walked half across the
stable-yard.

"Er-rum!" he ejaculated, half turning; and the coachman came up,
obsequiously touching his hat again.

"Those horses, Thomas, were examined by a veterinary surgeon."

"Yes, sir," said the man.

"Er-rum! And I chose them and examined them myself."

"Yes, sir."

"You've made a mistake, Thomas."

"Very like, sir," said the man. "Very sorry, sir."

Sir Hampton did not respond, but gave a sharp glance round the very
new-looking stable-yard and buildings, saw nothing to find fault about;
and then, clearing his throat, went into the garden as the coachman
winked at the groom, and the groom raised a wen upon his cheek by the
internal application of his tongue.

"Er-rum!--Sanders!" cried the knight.

And something that had worn the aspect of a huge boa constrictor in cord
trousers, crawling into a melon-frame, slowly drew itself back, stood
upright, and revealed a yellow-faced man with a scarlet head and
whiskers.

Perhaps it is giving too decided a colour to the freckles which covered
Mr Sanders's face to say they were yellow, and to his hair to say it
was scarlet; but they certainly approached those hues, "Er-rum!
Sanders, come here," said Sir Hampton.

Sanders leisurely closed the melon-frame and raised the light a few
inches with a piece of wood, and then slowly approached his master, to
stop in front of him and scrape his feet upon a spade.

"Er-rum! I'm going to inspect the grounds this morning, Sanders," said
Sir Hampton.

Sanders, head gardener, nodded; for he was a man so accustomed to deal
with silent objects that he seldom spoke, if he could possibly help it;
but here he was obliged.

"Shall I want a spade?"

"No; certainly not."

"Nor a barrow?"

"No!" sharply.

"Maybe ye'll like me to bring a billhook?"

"Er-rum! No. Yes; bring a billhook."

The gardener went slowly off to his tool-house, and returned as
leisurely; Sir Hampton the while fiercely poking vegetables about with
his stick--stirring up cabbages, as if angry because they did not grow--
beet, for having too much top-onions, for