We assembled at breakfast at the early hour of nine; the Jovial coming down in a shooting suit of marvellous fabrication and device, avowing his intention of going out “to look for ducks,” a pastime in which I cannot but think I was wise to decline joining him. The squire was off to his farm the instant he had swallowed his breakfast, not, however, without giving me a pressing and hospitable invitation to remain with him another day. This I felt compelled to refuse. I longed to be back at my quiet lodging once more; and, like all men who have not room for a great many ideas at a time, felt that I had now got hold of one which took entire possession of me. This was neither more nor less than a morbid desire to see Miss Merlin. I do not think either Rebecca or Jane regretted my departure. I am not a ladies’ man—I know it; nor can I bring myself greatly to regret that failure in my character. But they took leave of me with cordiality and politeness, Jane even offering to lend me a book, of which we had been talking, to read in the post-chaise. As I drew up the windows and drove away from the door, I could not sufficiently congratulate myself that I was not in that tall dog-cart, at the mercy of “Jovial Jem” and “Crafty Kate.” On my arrival at the Haycock, my first inquiry was for Miss Merlin. “She was gone to Castle-Cropper,” the waiter said. “Maid and things followed her yesterday. Gone to stay, sir? Yes, sir. Didn’t know for how long; but the groom rather thought as she wouldn’t be back under a fortnight.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XI THE SOAKINGTON FIELD-DAY