"`But the gallant brewer, whose beer finds but little favour in this district, will learn that he has an extremely dangerous rival in our popular resident squire of the Denes--Sir Hilton Lisle, of sporting fame, who, to deal in vaticinations, we consider will be the right man in the right place.'" "He-ah, he-ah!" cried Sydney. "So he will." "Yes, my dear," said his aunt, smiling at the boy's enthusiasm; "the editor means well, but it is very vulgarly written, `of sporting fame.' Bah!" "But that's right, auntie. Uncle used to be very famous. Wasn't he Master of the Hounds six years ago?" "Yes, my dear, to his sorrow," said Lady Lisle, reprovingly. The steward shook his head, and looked up as he passed out, with studied deliberation, as if to let the lady see how marked was the resemblance between his action and that of the steward in Hogarth's picture "Marriage a la Mode," while the lady portion of his audience moved towards the other door. "Going out, auntie?" "Yes, my dear, for a short drive down the village. The pony-carriage will be round in a few minutes. I was going to the vicarage, but my first call will be at the Smarts'. I should like you to go with me." "Go with you, auntie?" said the boy, in a hesitating voice. "Yes, my dear. Do you not wish to go?" "I did, auntie, but after what Mr Trimmer said about the trout rising, and the May-fly--you see, they only come once a year." "Oh, very well, my darling; I suppose I must not object to your liking to fish. Isaac Walton was quite a poet." "Regular, auntie; and the Prince says fishing begets a love of Nature." "Who does, my dear?" "The Prince--the Principal, auntie. He's a regular dab at throwing a fly." Lady Lisle winced again but screwed up a smile, and made no allusion to the _dab_, which seemed to strike her in the face like a cold frog--tree frog--and made her wince. "You will be back to lunch, my dear?" "Well, no, auntie. You see, the May-fly only rise once a year, and I thought I'd make a long day of it." "Then tell Jane to cut you some sandwiches, and pray be careful not to fall in. You will bring us a dish of trout for dinner?" "Oh, yes, of course, auntie, if they rise." "Oh, Hilton, how late you are!" sighed the lady, and her stiff dress rustled over the carpet as she moved forward in a stately way, frowning, and then smiling with satisfaction, for her nephew darted to the door to throw it open, catching directly at the soft white hand extended to him and kissing it. Then, closing the door, he indulged in a frantic kind of dance, expressive of the most extreme delight, one, however, which came to a sudden end, the boy stopping short in a most absurd position as if suddenly turned to stone, for the door was quickly opened and a head was thrust into the room. CHAPTER THREE. FOUR PEOPLE'S SKELETONS. "Hi! You, Jane, what are you always listening at the door for?"