"If Harry don't come with us I shall stop in," said Claud to himself; and then aloud, "Close upon two. You'd like a turn with us, Harry, fishing or shooting?" "I? No. I'm tired with my walk, and I've got to do it again this evening." "No, you haven't," said Claud, sulkily; "you know you'll be driven back." "Oh, yes," said Garstang; "your uncle will not let you walk. Better come, Harry." "Thanks, no, sir; I'll stop and talk to Aunt and Kate, here." "No, my dear; we must not tire Kate out, she'll have to go and lie down this afternoon." "Oh, very well then, Aunt; I'll stop and talk to you and Uncle." "Then you'll have to come round the farms with me if you do," growled Wilton. "Thanks, no; I've walked enough through the mud for one day." "Let him have his own way, Claud, my lad," cried Garstang. "We must be off. See you down to dinner, I hope, Kate, my child?" She smiled at him. "Yes, I hope to be well enough to come down," she replied. "That's right; and we'll see what we can get to boast about when we come back. Come along, boy." Claud was ready to hesitate, but he could not back out, and he followed Garstang, the young men's eyes meeting in a defiant gaze. But he turned as he reached the door. "Didn't say good-bye to you, Mamma. All right," he cried, kissing her boisterously. "I won't let them shoot me, and I'll mind and not tumble out of the boat. I say," he whispered, "don't let him get Kate alone." "Oh, that's your game, is it?" said Harry to himself; "treats it with contempt. All right, proud step-father; you haven't all the brains in the world." He followed the gentlemen into the hall, and then stood at the door to see them off, hearing Garstang say familiarly: "Let's show them what we can do, Harry, my lad. It's just the day for the pike. Here, try one of these; they tell me they are rather choice." "Oh, I shall light my pipe," said the young man sulkily. "Wise man, as a rule; but try one of these first, and if you don't like it you can throw it away." Claud lit the proffered cigar rather sulkily, and they went off; while Harry, after seeing Wilton go round to the stables, went back into the hall, and was about to enter the drawing-room, but a glance down at his muddy boots made him hesitate. He could hear the voice of Mrs Wilton as she talked loudly to her niece, and twice over he raised his hand to the door knob, but each time lowered it; and going back into the dining-room, he rang the bell. "Can I have my boots brushed?" he said to the footman. "Yes, sir, I'll bring you a pair of slippers." "Oh, no, I'll come to the pantry and put my feet up on a chair."