"Ah, you like the sentimental best. There's Whyte Melville, then, there's always something melancholy about him--'When the old horse died,' and that sort of thing--makes you cry, don't you know. You all like that. Certainly, if that dog-cart had been coming here it must have come by this time." "Yes, it must have come," Elinor admitted, with a little wonder at the importance which he gave to this possible incident. "But there is another train at two if you are very anxious to see this man." "Oh, I'm not anxious to see him," said Mr. Compton, with a laugh, "but probably he will want to see me. No, Nell, you will not expect me to read poetry to you while we're away. There's quite a library at Lomond's place. You can amuse yourself there when I'm shooting; not that I shall shoot much, or anything that takes me away from my Nell. But you must come out with us. There is no such fun as stumping over the moors--the Jew has got all the turn-out for that sort of thing--short frocks and knickerbockers, and a duck of a little breech-loader. She thinks she's a great shot, poor thing, and men are civil and let her imagine that she's knocked over a pheasant or a hare, now and then. As for the partridges, she lets fly, of course, but to say she hits anything----" "I should not want to hit anything," said Elinor. "Oh, please Phil! I will try anything else you like, but don't make me shoot." "You little humbug! See what you'll say when you get quite clear of the old lady. But I don't want you to shoot, Nell. If you don't get tired sitting at home, with all of us out on the hill, I like to come in for my part and find a little duck all tidy, not blowzy and blown about by the wind, like the Jew with her ridiculous bag, that all the fellows snigger at behind her back." "You should not let any fellow laugh at your sister, Phil----" "Oh, as for that! they are all as thick with her as I am, and why should I interfere? But I promise you nobody shall cut a joke upon my Nell." "I should hope not, indeed," said Elinor, indignant; "but as for your 'fellows,' Phil, as you call them, you mustn't be angry with me, but I don't much like those gentlemen; they are a little rude and rough. They shall not call me by my Christian name, or anything but my own formal----" "Mrs. Compton," he said, seizing her in his arms, "you little duck! they'll be as frightened of you as if you were fifty. But you mustn't spoil good company, Nell. I shall like you to keep them at a distance, but you mustn't go too far; and, above all, my pet, you mustn't put out the Jew. I calculate on being a lot there; they have a nice house and a good table, and all that, and Prestwich is glad of somebody to help about his horses. You mustn't set up any of your airs with the Jew." "I don't know what you mean by my airs, Phil."