"Oh, no, to be sure," answered Lily, good-humouredly; "I dare say they are all very clever; only papa sometimes tells _me_ that one wants but few tools if one knows one's work; but perhaps he only means girls' work. Very likely you are right about yours." Old John now came forward very respectfully, but with a particular twinkle in his eye which I understood. Said he, "As you are encumbered with so many traps, master, maybe I had best take your gun. You can't carry every thing useful and not useful." Craven handed him the gun without any objection, and we set off. From the moment that I saw him relinquish his gun, his real weapon, for the sake of all those unnecessary adjuncts, I gave up any lingering hope of him, and followed in very low spirits. Once in the fields, the prospect of rejoining my master a little revived me; but even in this I was disappointed: he had gone over the open country, while Craven preferred remaining in the plantations. Still, old John's company was a comfort to me, and when the first bird was descried, I made a capital set at it. Craven took back his gun; but while he was looking in the wrong pocket for the right shot, John brought down the partridge. "A fine bird," said Craven. "If it had not been for this awkward button, I should have had him." "You'll soon have another opportunity," said John; "suppose you get loaded first." Craven loaded; but something else was wrong about his contrivances, and before he was ready, John had bagged the pheasant. At last Craven got a shot, and missed it. He said it was John's fault for standing in the way of his seeing me. "Well, I shan't be in the way any longer," said John; "for I was to go back to my work if I was not wanted, after having shown you the plantations. So good morning, master, and good luck next time." The next time, and the next, and the next, no better success. Bird after bird rose, and flew away before our noses, as if in sheer ridicule of such idle popping, till I felt myself degraded in the eyes of the very partridges. Half the morning we passed in this way, wasting time and temper, powder and shot; and the birds, as I well knew, despising us for missing them, till my patience was quite exhausted, and I longed to go home. Still, I remembered Lily's parting injunctions, and resolved to be game to the last myself, even if we were to have no other game that day. I also reflected that no one was born with a gun in his hand, and that Craven might not have had opportunity of acquiring dexterity; that there was a beginning to everything, and that it was the business of the more experienced to help the ignorant. So I continued to be as useful to him as I possibly could. Suddenly, after a particularly provoking miss, Craven exclaimed: "It is all your fault, you stupid dog; you never turn the bird out where one expects it. If you knew your business, I could have bagged dozens."