Whereupon, Aunt Patience gave her head handkerchief a vigorous wrench, and went her way--the good old soul--even then considering how she should best set about preparing a genuine surprise for her young master in the shape of daily feasts for a dozen guests. I will not stop here to detail the character of this preparation or to dwell upon its success. It is enough to say that Tom Tunison praised Aunt Patience to the skies; and, as if this were not sufficient to make her happy, he produced a big clay pipe, three plugs of real "manufac terbacker," which was hard to get in those times, a red shawl, and twelve yards of calico. The fortnight that followed the arrival of Tom's guests was one long to be remembered, not only in the [v]annals of the Rockville Hunting Club but in the annals of Rockville itself. The fair de Compton literally turned the heads of old men and young boys, and even succeeded in conquering the critics of her own sex. She was marvelously beautiful, and her beauty was of a kind to haunt one in one's dreams. It was easy to perceive that she had made a conquest of Tom, and I know that every suggestion he made and every project he planned had for its sole end and aim the enjoyment of Miss Carrie de Compton. It was several days before the minor details of the contest, which was at once the excuse for and the object of the visit of Tom's guests, could be arranged, but finally everything was "[v]amicably adjusted," and the day appointed. The night before the hunt, the club and the Jasper county visitors assembled in Tom Tunison's parlor for a final discussion of the event. "In order," said Tom, "to give our friends and guests an opportunity fully to test the speed and bottom of their kennels, it has been decided to pay our respects to 'Old Sandy'." "And pray, Mr. Tunison, who is 'Old Sandy'?" queried Miss de Compton. "He is a fox, Miss de Compton, and a tough one. He is a trained fox. He has been hunted so often by the inferior packs in his neighborhood that he is well-nigh [v]invincible. He is so well known that he has not been hunted, except by accident, for two seasons. He is not as suspicious as he was two years ago, but we must be careful if we want to get within hearing distance of him to-morrow morning." "Do any of the ladies go with us?" asked Jack Herndon. "I go, for one," responded Miss de Compton, and in a few minutes all the ladies had decided to go along, even if they found it inconvenient to participate actively in the hunt. "Then," said Tom, rising, "we must say good night. Uncle Plato will sound 'Boots and Saddle' at four o'clock to-morrow morning." "Four o'clock!" exclaimed the ladies in dismay. "At four precisely," answered Tom, and the ladies with pretty little gestures of mock despair swept upstairs while Tom brought out cigars for the boys.