‘It ought to be drawn,’ said Chiltern.

’Of course you know best, my Lord.  I wouldn’t touch it,—­never no more.  Let ’em all know what the Duke’s Wood is.’

‘This is Lord Silverbridge, the Duke’s son,’ said Chiltern laughing.

‘I beg his Lordship’s pardon,’ said Fowler, taking off his cap.  ’We shall have a good time coming some day.  Let me trot ’em off to Michaelmas Daisies, my Lord.  I’ll be there in thirty minutes.’  In the neighbouring parish of St Michael de Dezier there was a favourite little gorse which among hunting-men had acquired this unreasonable name.  After a little consideration the Master yielded, and away they trotted.

‘You’ll cross the ford, Fowler?’ asked Mrs Spooner.

’Oh yes, ma’am; we couldn’t draw the Daisies this afternoon if we didn’t.’

‘It’ll be up to the horses’ bellies.’

‘Those who don’t like it can go round.’

‘They’d never be there in time, Fowler.’

’There’s many a man, ma’am, as don’t mind that.  You won’t be one to stay behind.’  The water was up to the horses’ bellies, but, nevertheless, Mrs Spooner was at the gorse side when the Daisies were drawn.

They found and were away in a minute.  It was all done so quickly that Fowler, who had along gone into the gorse, had hardly time to get out with his hounds.  The fox ran right back, as though he were making for the Duke’s pernicious wood.  In the first field or two there was a succession of gates, and there was not much to do in the way of jumping.  Then the fox, keeping straight ahead, deviated from the line by which they had come, making for the brook by a more direct course.  The ruck of the horsemen, understanding the matter very well, left the hounds, and went to the right, riding for the ford.  The ford was of such a nature that but one horse could pass it at a time, and that one had to scramble through deep mud.  ‘There’ll be the devil to pay here,’ said Lord Chiltern, going straight with his hounds.  Phineas Finn and Dick Rabbit were close after him.  Old Fowler had craftily gone to the ford; but Mrs Spooner, who did not intend to be shaken off, followed the Master, and close with her was Lord Silverbridge.  ’Lord Chiltern hasn’t got it right,’ she said.  ‘He can’t do it among these bushes.’  As she spoke the Master put his horse at the bushes and then—­ disappeared.  The lady had been right.  There was no ground at that spot to take off from, and the bushes had impeded him.  Lord Chiltern had got over, but his horse was in the water.  Dick Rabbit and poor Phineas Finn were stopped in their course by the necessity of helping the Master in his trouble.

But Mrs Spooner, the judicious Mrs Spooner, rode at the stream where it was, indeed, a little wider, but at a place in which the horse could see what he was about, and where he could jump from and to firm ground.  Lord Silverbridge followed her gallantly.  They both jumped the brook well, and then were together.  ’You’ll beat me in pace,’ said the lady as he rode up alongside of her.  ’Take the fence ahead straight, and then turn sharp to your right.’  With all her faults, Mrs Spooner was a thorough sporstman.