"Heaven forbid that I should interfere with her expressed wishes,"
said my father. "I suppose there's 'snug lying' in Siloam; and there's
one thing certain, that the company who occupy the premises are quite
unobjectionable. Kitty will be safer there. Lord! if the gentleman in
black, or the red lady of the seven hills attempted a felonious entry
on her bivouac, what a row the saintly inmates would kick up! It would
be a regular 'guard, turn out!' And what chance would scarlatina and
old clooty have? No, no, she'll be snug there in her sentry-box. What
a blessed escape from ruin! Mary, dear, make me another tumbler, and
d----n the gout!"--he had a sharp twinge. "I'll drink 'here's luck!'
Frank, go pack your kit, and instead of demolishing Selby Sly, see
Kitty decently sodded. Your mother, Constance, and myself will rumble
after you to town by easy stages. I wonder how aunt Catherine will
cut up. If she has left as much cash behind as she has lavished good
advice in her parting epistle, by--" and my father did ejaculate
a regular rasper--"I'll re-purchase the harriers, as I have got
a whisper that poor Dick was cleaned out the last meeting at the
Curragh, and the pack is in the market."


* * * * *

CHAPTER III.

"I have _tremor cordis_ on me."--_Winter's Tale_.

It is a queer world after all; manifold are its ups and downs,
and life is but a medley of fair promise, excited hope, and bitter
disappointment.