explanations.

"Tom," said Tizzy, addressing her father across the table, "I hope
you had a good run to-day." It did seem odd to me that young lady
should call her father Tom, but such was the fact.

"Well; pretty well," said Mr. O'Conor.

"And I hope you were up with the hounds."

"You may ask Mr. Green that. He at any rate was with them, and
therefore he can tell you."

"Oh, he wasn't before you, I know. No Englishman could get before
you;--I am quite sure of that."

"Don't you be impertinent, miss," said Kate. "You can easily see,
Mr. Green, that papa spoils my sister Eliza."

"Do you hunt in top-boots, Mr. Green?" said Tizzy.

To this I made no answer. She would have drawn me into a
conversation about my feet in half a minute, and the slightest
allusion to the subject threw me into a fit of perspiration.

"Are you fond of hunting, Miss O'Conor?" asked I, blindly hurrying
into any other subject of conversation.

Miss O'Conor owned that she was fond of hunting--just a little; only
papa would not allow it. When the hounds met anywhere within reach