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 irritable jerk, and, with the words, "I suppose that means dinner," gave his arm to his sister, and conducted her in silence to the dining-room. Nothing in the shape of conversation followed for a while, Mr Huntingdon having shut up his sister by a very curt reply to a question which she put on some commonplace subject, just for the sake of breaking through the oppressive stillness. At length, when the meal was half-way through, Mr Huntingdon exclaimed abruptly,-- "I can't understand for the life of me how that fool of a Dick ever managed to get poor Forester into such a scrape. I always thought the boy understood horses better than that." "I hope, Walter," ventured his sister in a soothing tone, "that the poor animal is not seriously, or at any rate permanently, damaged." "Nonsense, Kate," he exclaimed peevishly;--"but, pardon me, it's no fault of yours. Damaged! I should think so. I doubt if he will ever be fit to ride again. But I can't make it out quite yet, it's very vexing. I had rather have given a hundred pounds than it should have happened. And Dick, too; the fellow told the queerest tale about it. I should have thought he was telling a lie, only he was taking the blame to himself, and that didn't look like lying.--By-the-by, Amos, have _you_ been out riding this afternoon?" "Yes, father." "What horse did you ride?" "My own pony, Prince." "Did you meet Dick exercising the horses?" "No; I didn't see anything of him." "That is strange. Where were you riding to?" "I was off on a little business beyond the moor." "Beyond the moor! what can you have been wanting beyond the moor?" Amos turned red and did not reply.