When the sermon was concluded Sir Guy shut the window down again, and we took our departure, much edified, as may easily be imagined, by the lessons of meekness and humility which we had received in so becoming a manner. From church we invariably proceeded to the kennel, where a stout, healthy-looking keeper paraded the Baronet's pointers and setters for the inspection of the ladies. Here Sir Guy took entire possession of me once more.
"Don't be alarmed, my dear," said he, as a great bull-headed, black-and-white brute, surnamed Don, came blundering up and tried to put his muddy paws on my dress. Sir Guy's affectation of the "paternal," and his odious way of calling one "my dear," provoked me intensely; and I gave Don such a crack over his double nose with my parasol as broke the ivory handle of that instrument, and completely quelled all further demonstrations of affection from the uninteresting brute. Sir Guy was charmed.
"Hit him hard," said he; "he's got no friends. What a vixen it is! How she punished my near leader the other day! I _love_ that girl!"
The latter sentence, be it observed, was spoken _sotto voce_, and required, as indeed it received, no reply.
"What interesting creatures!" exclaimed Miss Molasses, indicating an old pointer lady, who went swinging by with all the appearance of having lately brought up a large and thirsty family. "Do tell me, can that dog really _catch_ a hare?"
The keeper's face was a study; he was apparently a humorous individual. But Miss Molasses addressed her remarks to Frank Lovell; and Frank, as in duty bound, replied. That girl was evidently making up to him, and, thinking he was fond of field-sports, pretended to take an interest in everything connected with those pursuits for his sake.
"Come and see the tame pheasants, Miss Coventry," said Sir Guy. I knew what this meant: I knew it would entail a _tête-à-tête_ walk with my aversion, and I cast an imploring look at Frank, as much as to say, "_Do_ save me." He caught my meaning in an instant, and skilfully interposed. Of course, as he accompanied us, so did Miss Molasses; but Frank and I lingered a little behind the rest of the party, made a wrong turn in the shrubbery, and found ourselves, I never knew exactly how, taking a long walk all alone in the waning twilight. I don't know what Aunt Deborah would have said to such proceedings, and I am quite sure Lady Horsingham would have been unspeakably shocked; but these Sunday walks were the custom of the country at Scamperley--and, after all, it was not my doing, and consequently not my fault.