"Yes," he replied, nervously flicking a rose-bush with a twig he had picked up. "You see, it isn't ourselves exactly. Maud and I would rather like to, but our cook, she's Scotch, and a little strict in her notions." "And does she insist on your going to church every Sunday morning?" I inquired. "Well," he answered, "she thinks it strange if we don't, and so we generally do, just in the morning--and evening. And then in the afternoon a few of the village girls drop in, and we have a little singing and that sort of thing. I never like hurting anyone's feelings if I can help it." I did not say what I thought. Instead I said, "I've got that tweed suit I wore yesterday. I can put that on if you like." He ceased flicking the rose-bush, and knitted his brows. He seemed to be recalling it to his imagination. "No," he said, shaking his head, "I'm afraid it would shock her. It's my fault, I know," he added, remorsefully. "I ought to have told you." Then an idea came to him. "I suppose," he said, "you wouldn't care to pretend you were ill, and stop in bed just for the day?" I explained that my conscience would not permit my being a party to such deception "No, I thought you wouldn't," he replied. "I must explain it to her. I think I'll say you've lost your bag. I shouldn't like her to think bad of us." Later on a fourteenth cousin died, leaving him a large fortune. He purchased an estate in Yorkshire, and became a "county family," and then his real troubles began. From May to the middle of August, save for a little fly fishing, which generally resulted in his getting his feet wet and catching a cold, life was fairly peaceful; but from early autumn to late spring he found the work decidedly trying. He was a stout man, constitutionally nervous of fire-arms, and a six-hours' tramp with a heavy gun across ploughed fields, in company with a crowd of careless persons who kept blazing away within an inch of other people's noses, harassed and exhausted him. He had to get out of bed at four on chilly October mornings to go cub-hunting, and twice a week throughout the winter--except when a blessed frost brought him a brief respite--he had to ride to hounds. That he usually got off with nothing more serious than mere bruises and slight concussions of the spine, he probably owed to the fortunate circumstances of his being little and fat. At stiff timber he shut his eyes and rode hard; and ten yards from a river he would begin to think about bridges. Yet he never complained. "If you are a country gentleman," he would say, "you must behave as a country gentleman, and take the rough with the smooth."