He once came upon Velveteens in the act of burying a fox that he had trapped and knocked on the head--or, to be more accurate, Mrs. Talford, who was riding back from the Dairy Farm, saw the funeral going on, and told her husband. The man was a new keeper, who had been with him barely a month, and as a keeper was considered quite first-class. But there and then the Colonel went out, had the fox dug up, and made the man take it over to Sir John Lappington, riding himself all the way behind him to see that he did it. Through the main street of the village they went in procession, the men (for it was evening) turning out and hooting the unfortunate vulpecide; and when he had delivered his burden and apologised, the Colonel said: "Now you can go back and pack up your things; this is your last day in my service." His wages were paid that night, and in spite of all entreaties, the next day he left Colonel Talford and Bullshire for ever. It is a lovely morning as Tom rides up with his beauties in front of the house, and, saluting the host and hostess, tosses off the glass of sparkling ale that is handed to him. There had been a catch of frost on the Monday, and folks learned in weather-lore had predicted a hard time; but nothing came of it, for a shower of rain on Tuesday night had utterly routed the destroyer of sport; and on the Thursday at Wildmere it is as fine a hunting-day as one could wish--if anything perhaps a shade too warm. "We must give them a few minutes, Sir John," says Mrs. Talford to the Master, who has just arrived. "The Melton train is late, and there are always a few who honour us on this occasion by trying to cut us all down." "Certainly, Mrs. Talford," replies Lappington, smiling and taking out his watch. "We will give them a quarter of an hour; but you need not be so fearfully sarcastic about the Meltonians. I think it is generally the other way. If I remember rightly, I have seen a lady on a horse called Queen Bee who generally requires a great deal of cutting down, and I have heard it said that this same lady is impossible to beat." "Nonsense, Sir John; you know that if I do manage to get over the country it is all the Queen's doing, not mine. She's a dear, is not she? But come in and have something; my husband wants to see you about drawing the Copse first," rejoins Mrs. Talford, leading the way into the dining-room, and evidently pleased at the Master's flattery. In a quarter of an hour, the Melton detachment having come up, the signal is given to move, and a long cavalcade trot off for Ravenshill. A minute or two later two horses are seen cantering across the grass to catch up the hounds; one carries Colonel Talford, and the other (the redoubtable Queen Bee) his wife.