‘Uncle Regie, the hounds meet at the Bugle this morning, won’t you come and see them throw off?’ ‘Oh, let me come too!’ ‘And me!’ ‘And me!’ ‘My dear children,’ exclaimed their mother, ‘I can’t have the whole tribe of little ones and girls going galloping after your uncle. You will only hinder him.’ ‘No, no, Lily! the more Merrifields, the merrier the field. I’ll drill them well. How far off is this Bugle?’ ‘Not two miles over Furzy Common.’ ‘Oh! not so far, Hal!’ ‘That’s nothing. Who is coming?’ A general outbreak of ‘Me’s’ ensued, but mamma laid an embargo on Primrose, who must stay at home and ‘help her,’ while Gillian looked wistful and doubtful, knowing that more efficient help than the little one’s might be desirable. ‘You had better go, my dear,’ said her mother, ‘if you are not tired. I don’t like to send Mysie and Val without some one to turn back with them if your uncle and the boys want to go further.’ But whereas it was not nearly time to start, Uncle Reginald was dragged down to inspect all the live stock in the stable-yard, at their feeding-time, and went off with Val and Primrose clinging to his hands, and the general rabble surrounding him. Nothing could have been more alien to Dolores’s taste than going out to a meet on foot through mud and mire--she who hated the being driven out to take a constitutional walk on the gravel road or the paved path! But she had some hope that while all the others ran off madly, as was their wont, she might secure a little rational conversation with Uncle Reginald. So she came down in hat and ulster, and was rewarded with ‘That’s right, Doll; I’m glad to see they have taught you to take country walks.’ ‘It is all compliment to you, Uncle Regie,’ said Gillian. ‘She hates them generally.’ ‘Are we all ready? Where are Japs and Will?’ ‘Gone to shut up the dogs; and Hal is not coming.’ ‘Beneath his dignity, eh?’ ‘I think he has some reading to do,’ said Gillian. ‘Now mind, Reginald,’ said Aunt Lily, coming on the scene, ‘you are not to let those imps drag you farther than you like. It is a very different thing, remember, children, from going out with the hounds like a gentleman.’ ‘Yes, mamma,’ returned Fergus. ‘If you would only let me have the pony!’ ‘And send home the girls as soon as you find them in the way,’ she added. ‘All right,’ answered he, and off plunged the party; but Dolores soon found that she was not to be allowed much of Uncle Reginald’s exclusive society. He did begin talking to her about her father’s voyage, last letters, and intended departure from Auckland, but Valetta kept fast hold of his other hand, and the others were all round, every moment pointing out something--to them noticeable--and telling the story of some exploit, delighted when their uncle capped it with some boyish tales of Beechcroft, or with some droll, Irish story.