was startled at seeing her nephew Walter in
front of her on foot, covered with mud, and leading his horse, which was
limping along with difficulty, being evidently in pain. His companion
was walking by his side, also leading his horse, and both were so
absorbed with their present trouble that they were quite unconscious of
her approach. Something plainly was much amiss. Walter had had a fall,
and his horse was injured; of this there could be no doubt. Could she
be of any service? She was just going to press forward, when she
observed Mr Huntingdon's groom coming from the direction of the house,
and, as her nephew did not walk as if he had received any serious
injury, she thought it better to leave him to put matters straight for
himself, knowing that young men are very sensitive about being
interfered with or helped when their pride has been wounded by any
humiliating catastrophe. So she turned aside into a small copse through
which was a short cut to the house, intending to go forward and be
prepared to render any assistance should Walter desire it.

None of the party had seen her, but she passed near enough to them on
the other side of a tall hedge to overhear the words, "Won't the
governor just be mad!" and then, "Here's a sovereign, Dick, and I'll
make it all straight for you with my father." What could have happened?
She was not long left in suspense; for her brother's voice in high
anger soon resounded through the house, and she learned from her maid,
who rushed into her room full of excitement, that Forester, Mr
Huntingdon's favourite hunter, had been lamed, and otherwise seriously
injured, and that Dick the groom, who had been the author of the
mischief, had been dismissed at a moment's notice.

Poor Miss Huntingdon's heart misgave her that all had not been quite
straightforward in the matter, and that the blame had been laid on the
wrong person. So she went down to dinner, at the summoning of the gong,
with a heavy heart. As she entered the drawing-room she saw her
brother, who usually advanced to give her his arm with all due courtesy,
sitting still in his easy-chair, hiding his face with the newspaper,
which a glance showed her to be turned the wrong way up. Amos also and
Walter were seated as far apart from their father and from each other as
was possible, and for a few moments not a word was spoken. Then,
suddenly remembering himself, the squire dismissed the paper from his
hand with an irritabl