To talk of fortunes and fortune-tellers might have been too direct a mode of attack. So thought one who was never mistaken in her calculation, and turning rapidly to a little black dog which sat wagging his tail at Lady Goodman's side, Miss Ferret, with masterly presence of mind, said, as if continuing the previous conversation, "Well, it shall be submitted, as Miss Robinson _will have it so_, to Mr. Hartland. Oh! here he is! Come here, Duke--shew yourself to this gentleman. Mr. Hartland, Miss Robinson and I have had almost a duel about this little animal, which she declares is not of the true Norfolk breed; while I maintain that it is; and moreover that the first of the kind was brought here by my poor uncle Jacob Ferret, who got him at Arundel Castle, and carried him, when a puppy, many a weary mile in his bosom. Now I think _my_ informa tion decisive; Miss Robinson however will not yield; but to settle the dispute, she says that you shall be umpire." Mr. Hartland looked evidently highly gratified, and proceeded directly to an examination of Duke's mouth, Lady Goodman laughing _à gorge deployée_ at the ready witted Ferret and the confusion of Miss Robinson, who, all astonishment at our diplomatist's facility of invention, was completely nonplused. To have contradicted Miss Ferret's statement, however, would only have made matters worse, and proved still more unequivocally to Mr. Hartland that he had been the subject of discussion; so quietly acquiescing, she waited in silence for judgment to be pronounced. "Miss Robinson is quite right," said Mr. Hartland. "Duke is a beautiful creature, but all his ancestors are not from Arundel." "Well, well, needs must, and I give up," answered Miss Ferret; "but it is enough to provoke a saint that Miss Robinson is always right, and I am always wrong. I firmly believe that she bribes all our judges." Her next _coup d'essai_ was at the card-table. She had accomplished the point of involving Miss Robinson and Mr. Hartland in a descant upon all manner of spaniels, pointers, pugs, and poodles, which ramified into sundry other topics, and she now thought it high time to look after Sir Roger, for whom she soon arranged a rubber of whist; and after manoeuvring for some time, set down the Baronet and an excellent player who lived in his neighbourhood, against the pair whom she determined to bring together in a partnership of a more durable continuance. "Come, my dear," said she, "Lady Goodman always makes me her _aide de camp_. I am beating up for recruits. Here are Sir Roger and Mr. Gresham ready: Mr. Hartland will play, I know; but unless _you_ are kind enough to take a hand, we shall be badly off. Do you begin, and I will cut in by and by. I know that you are not fond of cards, but you are always fond of obliging."