Let him have that farm;
he has lost his self-respect, and that is worth a great many farms. For
my part, I pity the poor wretch. Let him try to annoy you; your wife
will try, against him, to make you happy, my own beloved; and I think I
may prove as strong as Mr. Bassett," said she, with a look of
inspiration.
Her sweet and tender sympathy soon healed so slight a scratch.
But they had not done with "Splatchett's" yet. Just after Christmas Sir
Charles invited three gentlemen to beat his more distant preserves.
Their guns bellowed in quick succession through the woods, and at last
they reached North Wood. Here they expected splendid shooting, as a
great many cock pheasants had already been seen running ahead.
But when they got to the end of the wood they found Lawyer Wheeler
standing against a tree just within "Splatchett's" boundary, and one of
their own beaters reported that two boys were stationed in the road,
each tapping two sticks together to confine the pheasants to that strip
of land, on which the low larches and high grass afforded a strong
covert.
Sir Charles halted on his side of the boundary.
Then Wheeler told his man to beat, and up got the cock pheasants, one
after another. Whenever a pheasant whirred up the man left off beating.
The lawyer knocked down four brace in no time, and those that escaped
him and turned back for the wood were brought down by Bassett, firing
from the hard road.
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