'The wind's in the west, and I never do like a westerly
wind.'
'A little to the north,' said her husband, looking round the
compass.
'My dear,' said the lady, 'you never know where the wind comes
from. Now don't you think of taking off your comforter, I won't
have it.'
Tregear was riding his friend's favourite hunter, a thoroughbred
bay horse, very much more than up to his rider's weight, and
supposed to be peculiarly good at timber, water, or any well-
defined kind of fence, however high or broad. They found a covert
near the kennels, and killed their fox after a burst of a few
minutes. They found again, and having lost their fox, all declared
that there was not a yard of scent. 'I always know what a west
wind means,' said Mrs Spooner.
Then they lunched, and smoked, and trotted about with an apparent
acknowledgement that there wasn't much to be done. It was not
right that they should expect much after so good a thing as they
had had yesterday. At half-past two Mr Spooner had been sent home
by his Providence, and Mrs Spooner was calculating that she would
be able to ride her horse again on the Tuesday.
Pages:
832
833
834
835
836
837
838
839
840
841
842
843
844
845
846
847
848
849
850
851
852
853
854
855
856