'Wych Hazel,' said Mr. Falkirk from under his brows, 'what is
your plan?--if you are capable of such a thing.'

'My plan is to unfold my capabilities, sir,--for your express
benefit, Mr. Falkirk. We will beat the bush in every
direction, and run down any game that offers.'

Mr. Falkirk turned his chair half away, and looked into the
fire. Then slowly, but with every effect of expression, he
repeated,--


'A creature bounced from the bush,
Which made them all to laugh,
"My lord," he cried, "A hare! a hare!"
But it proved an Essex calf.'


'Yes,' said Wych Hazel with excellent coolness,--'men do make
such little mistakes, occasionally. But this time I shall be
along. Good night, sir.'


CHAPTER III.

CORNER OF A STAGE COACH


'Miss Hazel!--Dear Miss Hazel!--Dear _me_, Miss Hazel!--here's the
morning, ma'am,--and Gotham, and Mr. Falkirk!'