“What’s that Hermione was saying?” asked Sir Hugh, when he had shut the door.

“She only told me that she wanted to speak to me.”

“She has always got some cursed secret,” said Sir Hugh.  “If there, is anything I hate, it’s a secret.”  Now this was hardly fair, for Sir Hugh was a man very secret in his own affairs, never telling his wife anything about them.  He kept two banker’s accounts, so that no banker’s clerk might know how he stood as regarded ready money, and hardly treated even his lawyer with confidence.

He did not move from his own chair, so that, after dinner, his uncle was not next to him.  The places left by the ladies were not closed up, and the table was very uncomfortable.

“I see they’re going to have another week after this with the Pytchley,” said Sir Hugh to his brother.

“I suppose they will—­or ten days.  Things ain’t very early this year.”

“I think I shall go down.  It’s never any use trying to hunt here after the middle of March.”

“You’re rather short of foxes, are you not?” said the rector, making an attempt to join the conversation.

“Upon my word I don’t know anything about it,” said Sir Hugh.

“There are foxes at Clavering,” said Archie, recommencing his duty.  “The hounds will be here on Saturday, and I’ll bet three to one I find a fox before twelve o’clock, or, say, half-past twelve—­that is, if they’ll draw punctual and let me do as I like with the pack.  I’ll bet a guinea we find, and a guinea we run, and a guinea we kill; that is, you know, if they’ll really look for a fox.”

The rector had been willing to fall into a little hunting talk for the sake of society, but he was not prepared to go the length that Archie proposed to take him, and therefore the subject dropped.

“At any rate I shan’t stay here after to-morrow,” said Sir Hugh, still addressing himself to his brother.  “Pass the wine, will you, Harry; that is, if your father is drinking any.”

“No more wine for me,” said the rector, almost angrily.

“Liberty Hall,” said Sir Hugh; “everybody does as they like about that.  I mean to have another bottle of claret.  Archie, ring the bell, will you?” Captain Clavering, though he was further from the bell than his elder brother, got up and did as he was bid.  The claret came, and was drunk almost in silence.  The rector, though he had a high opinion of the cellar of the great house, would take none of the new bottle, because he was angry.  Harry filled his glass, and attempted to say something.  Sir Hugh answered him by a monosyllable, and Archie offered to bet him two to one that he was wrong.

“I’ll go into the drawing-room,” said the rector, getting up.

“All right,” said Sir Hugh; “you’ll find coffee there, I daresay.  Has your father given up wine?” he asked, as soon as the door was closed.

“Not that I know of,” said Harry.