EGG
FILBOID STUDGE, THE STORY OF A MOUSE THAT HELPED
THE MUSIC ON THE HILL
THE STORY OF ST. VESPALUUS
THE WAY TO THE DAIRY
THE PEACE OFFERING
THE PEACE OF MOWSLE BARTON
THE TALKING-OUT OF TARRINGTON
THE HOUNDS OF FATE
THE RECESSIONAL
A MATTER OF SENTIMENT
THE SECRET SIN OF SEPTIMUS BROPE
"MINISTERS OF GRACE"
THE REMOULDING OF GROBY LINGTON
ACKNOWLEDGMENT

ESME

"All hunting stories are the same," said Clovis; "just as all Turf
stories are the same, and all--"

"My hunting story isn't a bit like any you've ever heard," said the
Baroness. "It happened quite a while ago, when I was about
twenty-three. I wasn't living apart from my husband then; you see,
neither of us could afford to make the other a separate allowance. In
spite of everything that proverbs may say, poverty keeps together more
homes than it breaks up. But we always hunted with different packs.
All this has nothing to do with the story."

"We haven't arrived at the meet yet. I suppose there was a meet," said
Clovis.

"Of course there was a meet," said the Baroness; all the usual crowd
were there, especially Constance Broddle. Constance is one of those
strapping florid girls that go so well with autumn scenery or Christmas
decorations in church. 'I feel a presentiment that something dreadful
is going to happen,' she said to me; 'am I looking pale?'

"She was looking about as pale as a beetroot that has suddenly heard
bad news.

"'You're looking nicer than usual,' I said, 'but that's so easy for
you.' Before she had got the right bearings of this remark we had
settled down to business; hounds had found a fox lying out in some
gorse-bushes."

"I knew it," said Clovis, "in every fox-hunting story that I've ever
heard there's been a fox and some gorse-bushes."

"Constance and I were well mounted," continued the Baroness serenely,
"and we had no difficulty in keeping ourselves in the first flight,
though it was a fairly stiff run. Towards the finish, however, we must
have held rather too independent a line, for we lost the hounds, and
found ourselves plodding aimlessly along miles away from anywhere. It
was fairly exasperating, and my temper was beginning to let itself go
by inches, when on pushing our way through an accommodating hedge we
were gladdened by the sight of hounds in full cry in a hollow just
beneath us.

"'There they go,' cried Constance, and then added in a gasp, 'In
Heaven's name,