“I say, though! that’s rather hard lines about the bird,” expostulated his brother, who had lagged behind, to pick up Crab. “What will Mrs. Redmond think, when she receives a surprisingly minute jack snipe, with Mr. Blake’s compliments?” “Oh! I’ll take down the woodcock myself this evening, and kill two birds with one stone, for I shall see Betty--not to speak of Belle, a belle that no one seems disposed to ring, in spite of her fine eyes, smart frocks, and fascinating manners.” “Talking of manners,” said his brother, “I wish Cuckoo could be sent to school.” “You may well say so! she’s an awful brat. The mother spoils her and gives her her head entirely.” “She ought to be sent to some good, strict establishment without delay.” “She ought,” assented Denis; “many things _ought_ to be done, if the coin were forthcoming. For instance, I ought to have been put into the Service--a cavalry regiment for choice--an only son and heir to a property, instead of being a pill!” “How soon will you take your degree?” “I don’t know. I hate the whole thing; sometimes I think I’ll enlist.” “If I were you, I would stick to my profession, it’s a very good one, and now you are four and twenty, Denis, it’s time you began to put your hand to the plough.” “I suppose the mater has been asking you to lecture me, eh?” said Denis in a surly voice. “No, indeed, she has not. She has the greatest faith in you, Denis. I am only speaking off my own bat.” “Then, in that case, please keep your bat out of my affairs. I don’t meddle with you, do I?” he enquired savagely. “You have never done anything for _me_ that I know of, and have no right to offer your opinion and advice. Advice is cheap.” “All the same, I intend to tell you that I am very sorry to see you idling about at home, instead of making a start, and Cuckoo growing up without any education at all,” returned his brother firmly. “Oh, she is not as bad as you think,” said Denis in a milder key. It would not suit him to have a row with George. “She does lessons three times a week with Betty Redmond; she and Betty are tremendous pals--and talk of an angel, here she comes!” At this moment, a roomy bath-chair, containing a substantial old lady, appeared looming down the road. At first it seemed to be rolling along of its own accord, but, on nearer inspection, a black hat was visible (though almost concealed by Mrs. Redmond’s bonnet, and enormous yellow boa). A slender young girl was the motive power, and pushing behind with might and main. It was getting dark, and faces were not seen very distinctly, but when Mrs. Redmond came near the two sportsmen, she imperatively called out, “Stop,” and waved Denis towards her, with her gigantic fur muff.