When his hounds went,
old age came, and it came like an illness, bewilderingly,
unexpectedly. Dick's long, straight legs began to give at the knees,
and his square shoulders learned the hollow curve of the back of his
armchair, and submitted to it. His long sight, that had outlived the
infliction of spectacles for reading, was failing him; he had twice
tally-ho'd away a yellow cur-dog, at less than a field's distance.
"No, Mangan, I'll be damned if I go out to make a fool of myself and
the hounds!" he said, when reproached by the Doctor for staying at
home. "The sooner I'm put down like an old hound, the better!"
Dr. Mangan had been equal to the occasion, and had assured Dick that
Bill Kirby was "lost altogether" for want of his counsels, and that
the whole field were saying the Major was the only man to show sport,
and that he knew the way a fox'd run, as well as if he was inside him!
"In company with another old gander, I suppose!" says poor Dick, with
tears in his eyes, being both moved and cheered by his own jest.
The Doctor's presence was partly a reassurance and partly a menace, to
Major Dick. There had been, from time to time, further opportunities
for the investment of the Doctor's "spare ha'pence" in "something
solid and safe, like land." Aunt Bessie Cantwell's money, for
instance, had, on her demise, all come Dr.
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