Since the regular hunting-season had begun, Harry’s neglect of his wife had not only grown more open than ever, but had been supplemented by sneers at her “refined tastes” and “poetry, prunes, prism” manners. She could not tell the cause of this change, and went on quietly in her own way, dutifully caring for his small comforts, and accepting his coarse snubs with the same placid indifference with which she had formerly taken his scanty thanks. When Christmas Day arrived it was spent just as Lilian had predicted. In the morning the ladies went to church, accompanied by Stephen and William. As there was no hunting, and Lady Braithwaite had insisted upon the grooms having a holiday, the other young men spent the afternoon in the stable and the billiard-room, wrangling more than usual. Wilfred had already remonstrated with George for teasing Harry. “You are always saying things to put his back up now. What do you do it for?” he asked. “I don’t care a straw what he says!” cried Harry, sullenly, who was flushed and excited long before the afternoon was over. “And, as for my not being ‘a person of authority,’ as he calls it, I have as much authority as anybody here.” “Over whom or over what, pray?” said George, tauntingly. “I don’t say you can’t manage a horse as well as--an hostler; but show me the man or woman on whom your word or your opinion has the slightest effect.” “Well, I like that!” burst out Harry, his face twitching with passion. “Don’t I manage my own wife--doesn’t she obey me, and quickly, too? Do you ever hear her contradict me or differ from my opinion? Answer me, or, by Jove, I’ll make you!” “Your wife doesn’t think your opinion worth differing from, and she obeys you as the shortest way of getting rid of your presence. Everybody knows that.” “I say, George, do shut up!” broke in Wilfred. “Can’t you see you are only irritating him against his poor little wife, who has quite enough to put up with from him already? What on earth are you driving at? Can’t make you out lately!” “Don’t interfere with your infernal preaching!” shouted Harry. “So my wife has enough to put up with from me already! Very well, she’ll have more than enough, then, before long, if she doesn’t get rid of her confoundedly cold tragedy-queen airs, I can tell her! I’ll show her and you too if I’m not master of my own wife!” And Harry flung away the cigar-end he had been biting, and swung himself out of the yard, unable to control himself any longer. Wilfred turned to his brother. “Why the dickens did you badger the boy like that? He’ll only go and let off his ill-temper on poor little Annie, and perhaps take to proving his authority with his fists or his boots, the hulking bully!” “Well, the sooner he does, and disgusts her thoroughly, and makes her throw him over altogether, the better for her.” Wilfred looked at his brother keenly. “I say, George, you’re not playing square.”