sake of my brother's society, I had
very little of that.

The hunt had gone by last week--what a treat it would be if some one
would meet with a little accident and be carried in here!

Behold, I heard a step at the back door, and the loud call of
'Kitty! Kitty!' There stood Charlie, as usual covered with clay
nearly up to the top of his gaiters--clay either pale yellow, or
horrid light blue, according to the direction of his walk. He was
beginning frantically to unbutton them, and as he beheld me he cried
out, 'Kitty! he's coming!' and before I could say, 'Who?' he went
on, 'Old Newton. His fly is working through the mud in Draggletail
Lane. The driver hailed me to ask the way, and when I saw who it
was, I cut across to give you notice. He'll stay the night to a
dead certainty.'

What was to be done? A wild hope seized me that, at sight of the
place, he would retain his fly and go off elsewhere for better
accommodation.

Only, where would he find it? The nearest town, where the only
railway station then was, was eight miles off, and he was not likely
to plod back thither again, and the village inn, five miles away,
was little more than a pot-house.

No, we must rise to the occasion, Betsey and I, while Charlie was
making himself respectable to receive the guest. Where was he to
sleep? What was he to eat? A daintily fed, rather hypochrondriacal
old bachelor, who seldom stirred out of his comfortable house in
London. What a guest for us!

The council was held while the gaiters were being unbuttoned. He
must have my room, and I would sleep with Betsey. As to food, it
was impossible to send to the butcher; and even if I could have
sacrificed my precious Dorking fowls, there would have been scant
time to prepare them.

There was nothing for it but to give him the pork chops, intended
for our to-morrow's dinner, and if he did not like them, he might
fall back upon poached eggs and rashers.

'Mind,' called Charlie, as I dashed into my room to remove my
properties and light the fire, so that it might get over its first
smoking fit,--'mind you lock up the cat. He hates them like
poison.'

It was so long before the carriage appeared, that I began half to
hope, half to fear, it was a false alarm; but at last, just as it
was perfectly dark, we heard it stop at the garden gate, and Charlie
dashed out to open the fly door, and bring in the guest, who was
panting, nervous--almost terrified, at a wild dri