At that moment Mrs.
Hoopington and the Major entered the hall.
"The Major is going to draw our covers to-morrow," announced the
lady, with a certain heavy satisfaction. "Smithers is confident
that we'll be able to show him some sport; he swears he's seen a fox
in the nut copse three times this week."
"I'm sure I hope so; I hope so," said the Major moodily. "I must
break this sequence of blank days. One hears so often that a fox
has settled down as a tenant for life in certain covers, and then
when you go to turn him out there isn't a trace of him. I'm certain
a fox was shot or trapped in Lady Widden's woods the very day before
we drew them."
"Major, if any one tried that game on in my woods they'd get short
shrift," said Mrs. Hoopington.
Norah found her way mechanically to the tea-table and made her
fingers frantically busy in rearranging the parsley round the
sandwich dish. On one side of her loomed the morose countenance of
the Major, on the other she was conscious of the scared, miserable
eyes of Vladimir. And above it all hung THAT. She dared not raise
her eyes above the level of the tea-table, and she almost expected
to see a spot of accusing vulpine blood drip down and stain the
whiteness of the cloth. Her aunt's manner signalled to her the
repeated message to "be bright"; for the present she was fully
occupied in keeping her teeth from chattering.
"What did you shoot to-day?" asked Mrs. Hoopington suddenly of the
unusually silent Vladimir.
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