“It is very kind of you to say so,” he said, feeling that no compliment that had ever been paid him was so much worth having. Then a luminous idea occurred to him. “I wonder if, some day, you would let me paint you a little picture?” he asked, almost timidly. “I really could not think of such a thing,” his companion replied. “Your time is too valuable to be wasted in that way.” “I shall paint one, nevertheless,” he replied. “In return, perhaps, you will instruct me in the ways of the Midlandshire hunt?” “I shall be delighted,” she answered. “You must make Kitty come too.” Godfrey promised to do so, but for once in his life he was ungallant enough to think that he could dispense with his sister’s society. Presently Miss Devereux’s cart was announced and Kitty and Godfrey accompanied her to the front door. She kissed Kitty and then held out her hand to Godfrey. “Good-bye, Mr. Henderson,” she said. “Remember that the hounds meet at Spinkley Grove on Thursday, at eleven o’clock, when you will be permitted an opportunity of making the acquaintance of the Master and the Hunt.” “I shall be there without fail,” he answered, as he helped her into the cart and arranged her rug for her. She thereupon nodded to the groom, who left the ponies’ heads and jumped on to the step behind as the cart passed him, with an adroitness that was the outcome of long practice. A moment later the vehicle had turned the corner of the drive and was lost to view. “Well?” said Kitty as they turned to go in. “Well,” Godfrey replied. “You like her?” “Very much indeed,” he answered, and as they passed down the hall together he made an important decision to himself. “Provided she will have me,” he said, “I think I have found my wife.” CHAPTER IV More than a month had elapsed since Godfrey had made his début as a recognised member of the Midlandshire Hunt. It is also necessary to state that during that period he had seen a good deal of pretty Miss Molly Devereux, who, faithful to the promise she had given him, had shown him a large amount of the country, with the fences, hedges, and ditches thereof. She was also the person who was mainly responsible for the large sum of money he had spent on horseflesh during that time. As a matter of fact, this impressionable young man was head over ears in love, and to prove it, he neglected his work, imperilled his neck, and, as his mother remarked, ran an almost daily risk of coming to an early grave through waiting about on the outskirts of damp coverts, to say nothing of the long, wet rides home on wintry evenings. “I can not understand why you do it,” said the old lady, who, by the way, was not nearly so obtuse as she pretended to be. “When you first came home from abroad, you declared that the hunting would never possess sufficient attraction to take you out on a damp day. Now you are never happy unless you are in the saddle.”