trast from one's lessons. Do you know Ingoldsby, Nell?"

"A--little--I have read some----"

"Ah, you like the sentimental best. There's Whyte Melville, then,
there's always something melancholy about him--'When the old horse
died,' and that sort of thing--makes you cry, don't you know. You all
like that. Certainly, if that dog-cart had been coming here it must have
come by this time."

"Yes, it must have come," Elinor admitted, with a little wonder at the
importance which he gave to this possible incident. "But there is
another train at two if you are very anxious to see this man."

"Oh, I'm not anxious to see him," said Mr. Compton, with a laugh, "but
probably he will want to see me. No, Nell, you will not expect me to
read poetry to you while we're away. There's quite a library at Lomond's
place. You can amuse yourself there when I'm shooting; not that I shall
shoot much, or anything that takes me away from my Nell. But you must
come out with us. There is no such fun as stumping over the moors--the
Jew has got all the turn-out for that sort of thing--short frocks and
knickerbockers, and a duck of a little breech-loader. She thinks she's a
great shot, poor thing, and men are civil and let her imagine that she's
knocked over a pheasant or a hare, now and then. As for the partridges,
she lets fly, of course, but to say she hits anything----"

"I should not want to hit anything," said Elinor. "Oh, please Phil! I
will try anything else you like, but don't make me shoot."

"You little humbug! See what you'll say when you get quite clear of the
old lady. But I don't want you to shoot, Nell. If you don't get tired
sitting at home, with all of us out on the hill, I like to come in for
my part and find a little duck all tidy, not blowzy and blown about by
the wind, like the Jew with her ridiculous bag, that all the fellows
snigger at behind her back."

"You should not let any fellow laugh at your sister, Phil----"

"Oh, as for that! they are all as thick with her as I am, and why should
I interfere? But I promise you nobody shall cut a joke upon my Nell."

"I should hope not, indeed," said Elinor, indignant; "but as for your
'fellows,' Phil, as you call them, you mustn't be angry with me, but I
don't much like those gentlemen; they are a little rude and rough. They
shall not call me by my Christian name, or anything but my own
formal----"

"Mrs. Compton," he said, seizing her in his arms, "you little duck!
they'll be