"Oh, it is all right," Gifford responded politely. "The drive is not
very long."

"A mile?" The man's musical inflection jarred on Gifford, who began to
wonder whether their companion could be a professional singer. One of
their own class he certainly was not.

"I presume you gentlemen are going to the Hunt Ball?" he asked.

"Yes," Gifford answered.

"Rather a new departure having it in a private house," the man said.
"Quite a sound idea, I have no doubt Morriston will do us as well--much
better than we should fare at the local hotel or Assembly Rooms."

"Are you going?" They were the first words Kelson had uttered since the
start, and the slight surprise in their tone was not quite complimentary.
It must have so struck the other, seeing that he replied with a touch of
resentment:

"Yes. Why not?"

"No reason at all," Kelson answered, except that I don't remember to have
seen you out with the Cumberbatch."

"I dare say not," the other rejoined easily. "It is some years since I
hunted with them. I'm living down in the south now, and when I'm at home
usually turn out with the Bavistock. Quite a decent little pack, _faute
de mieux_; and Bobby Amphlett, who hunts them, is a great pal of mine."