Plunging through a gap, I dashed into the open country.  Storm flung herself up to the stars over the first fence and I found myself seated on the wettest of wet ground, angry but unhurt; all the stragglers—­more especially the funkers—­agreeably diverted from pursuing the hunt, galloped off to catch my horse.  I walked to a cottage; and nearly an hour afterwards Storm was returned to me.

After this contretemps my mount was more amenable and I determined that nothing should unseat me again.  Not being hurt by a fall gives one a sense of exhilaration and I felt ready to face an arm of the sea.

The scattered field were moving aimlessly about, some looking for their second horses, some eating an early sandwich, some in groups laughing and smoking and no one knowing anything about the hounds; I was a little away from the others and wondering—­like all amateurs—­why we were wasting so much time, when a fine old gentleman on a huge horse came up to me and said, with a sweet smile: 

“Do you always whistle out hunting?”

Margot:  “I didn’t know I was whistling ...  I’ve never hunted before.”

Stranger:  “Is this really the first time you’ve ever been out with hounds?”

Margot:  “Yes, it is.”

Stranger:  “How wonderfully you ride!  But I am sorry to see you have taken a toss.”

Margot:  “I fell off at the first fence, for though I’ve ridden all my life I’ve never jumped before.”

Stranger:  “Were you frightened when you fell?”

Margot:  “No, my horse was ...”

Stranger:  “Would you like to wear the blue and buff?”

Margot:  “It’s pretty for women, but I don’t think it looks sporting for men, though I see you wear it; but in any case I could not get the blue habit.”

Stranger:  “Why not?”

Margot:  “Because the old Duke of Beaufort only gives it to women who own coverts; I am told he hates people who go hard and after today I mean to ride like the devil.”

Stranger:  “Oh, do you?  But is the ‘old Duke,’ as you call him, so severe?”

Margot:  “I’ve no idea; I’ve never seen him or any other duke!”

Stranger:  “If I told you I could get you the blue habit, what would you say?”

Margot (with a patronising smile):  “I’m afraid I should say you were running hares!”

Stranger:  “You would have to wear a top-hat, you know, and you would not like that!  But, if you are going to ride like the devil, it might save your neck; and in any case it would keep your hair tidy.”

Margot (anxiously pushing back her stray curls):  “Why, is my hair very untidy?  It is the first time it has ever been up; and, when I was ‘thrown from my horse,’ as the papers call it, all the hair-pins got loose.”

Stranger:  “It doesn’t matter with your hair; it is so pretty I think I shall call you Miss Fluffy!  By the bye, what is your name?”