“’Tis the devil and all,” she thought, “that my Lord Kilcroney is so free with his bottle; he might be of use here. If my Lady Selina thinks she can fling off Sir Jasper as easy as she has her Colonel, she is mighty mistaken. Such a chance doesn’t come a woman’s way twice! Silly child, and him with an old score to pay off--and their starting off by night and all--why, what ails the creature, to be up to such cantrips?” thought Pamela. She bit into her bread-and-butter, and then flung the slice away from her. “Well, drunk or sober, my Lord will be better than nobody.” Upon this decision Pamela shook the crumbs from her skirt, set a hand on each hip, and holding her white chin very high in the air, made a bee line for the snuggery whence loud sounds of mirth proclaimed the presence of convivial company. Here she found my Lord, with a long clay pipe in one hand, and cool tankard in the other, hilariously setting the tune to a roaring chorus consisting of a lumpish young squire, a land surveyor and the local doctor. My Lord was more than exhilarated, as Pamela saw at the first glance. He went on melodiously chanting and beating time, while the others, staring at the handsome girl, fell dumb, and young Squire Pitt, all one purple blush, began bashfully to draw himself out of his chair. “My Lord--my Lord Kilcroney!” began Pamela with an unwonted sense of discomfiture, “I crave a word apart with your Lordship.” But before she could make her voice heard, she was unceremoniously thrust aside by Mr. Landlord himself. “And, craving _your_ pardon,” he chided, “this is no place for young gals. Doctor Dawson, sir, you’re wanted.” A dark man in a scratch wig, with a long bony face, and a restless protruding jaw, jumped up from his corner, and came forward. “What’s happened?” quoth he, feeling about his pockets with big knuckly hands that made Pamela shudder. “Why, will you step outside, sir. Gentleman hurt through the leg.” “Odds my bones, I’ve left it at home. You’ll have to send little Jimmy for my instrument-case. What’s happened, I say?” The landlord wagged his head slyly, pinching his lips together, and made a thrusting gesture with his right forefinger; then he tapped the same finger on the side of his rubicund nose. The doctor gave a short laugh; and, with a not altogether steady step, suffered himself to be led down the passage. Lord Kilcroney imitated the double gesture with his pipe-stem and sprang to his feet. “Now, glory be to God,” said he, “if I had known there was such a diversion on hand----” Here he seemed suddenly to become aware that Miss Pounce’s presence in the snuggery portended something distinctly unusual. As he stared at her with a flicker of returning acuteness in his amiable eye, she seized the opportunity. “For God’s sake, my Lord, give me a moment apart.”