Two servants immediately showed themselves, and evinced some surprise at Johnny’s appearance.  “Has the gentleman hurt himself, my lord?” asked the butler, looking at the blood upon our friend’s face.

“He has hurt his trousers the worst, I believe,” said the earl.  “And if he was to put on any of mine they’d be too short and too big, wouldn’t they?  I am sorry you should be so uncomfortable, but you mustn’t mind it for once.”

“I don’t mind it a bit,” said Johnny.

“And I’m sure I don’t,” said the earl.  “Mr Eames is going to dine here, Vickers.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And his hat is down in the middle of the nineteen acres.  Let three or four men go for it.”

“Three or four men, my lord!”

“Yes,—­three or four men.  There’s something gone wrong with that bull.  And you must get a boy with a pony to take a note into Guestwick, to Mrs Eames.  Oh dear, I’m better now,” and he put down the tumbler from which he’d been drinking.  “Write your note here, and then we’ll go and see my pet pheasants before dinner.”

Vickers and the footman knew that something had happened of much moment, for the earl was usually very particular about his dinner-table.  He expected every guest who sat there to be dressed in such guise as the fashion of the day demanded; and he himself, though his morning costume was by no means brilliant, never dined, even when alone, without having put himself into a suit of black, with a white cravat, and having exchanged the old silver hunting-watch which he carried during the day tied round his neck by a bit of old ribbon, for a small gold watch, with a chain and seals, which in the evening always dangled over his waistcoat.  Dr Gruffen had once been asked to dinner at Guestwick Manor.  “Just a bachelor’s chop,” said the earl; “for there’s nobody at home but myself.”  Whereupon Dr Gruffen had come in coloured trousers,—­and had never again been asked to dine at Guestwick Manor.  All this Vickers knew well; and now his lordship had brought young Eames home to dine with him with his clothes all hanging about him in a manner which Vickers declared in the servants’ hall wasn’t more than half decent.  Therefore, they all knew that something very particular must have happened.  “It’s some trouble about the bull, I know,” said Vickers;—­“but bless you, the bull couldn’t have tore his things in that way!”

Eames wrote his note, in which he told his mother that he had had an adventure with Lord De Guest, and that his lordship had insisted on bringing him home to dinner.  “I have torn my trousers all to pieces,” he added in a postscript, “and have lost my hat.  Everything else is all right.”  He was not aware that the earl also sent a short note to Mrs Eames.

   Dear madam [ran the earl’s note],—­

Your son has, under Providence, probably saved my life.  I will leave the story for him to tell.  He has been good enough to accompany me home, and will return to Guestwick after dinner with Dr Crofts, who dines here.  I congratulate you on having a son with so much cool courage and good feeling.

   Your very faithful servant,