De guest.

   Guestwick manor, Thursday, October, 186—­

And then they went to see the pheasants.  “Now, I’ll tell you what,” said the earl.  “I advise you to take to shooting.  It’s the amusement of a gentleman when a man chances to have the command of game.”

“But I’m always up in London.”

“No, you’re not.  You’re not up in London now.  You always have your holidays.  If you choose to try it, I’ll see that you have shooting enough while you’re here.  It’s better than going to sleep under the trees.  Ha, ha, ha!  I wonder what made you lay yourself down there.  You hadn’t been fighting a bull that day?”

“No, my lord.  I hadn’t seen the bull then.”

“Well; you think of what I’ve been saying.  When I say a thing, I mean it.  You shall have shooting enough, if you have a mind to try it.”  Then they looked at the pheasants, and pottered about the place till the earl said it was time to dress for dinner.  “That’s hard upon you, isn’t it?” said he.  “But, at any rate, you can wash your hands, and get rid of the blood.  I’ll be down in the little drawing-room five minutes before seven, and I suppose I’ll find you there.”

At five minutes before seven Lord De Guest came into the small drawing-room, and found Johnny seated there, with a book before him.  The earl was a little fussy, and showed by his manner that he was not quite at his ease, as some men do when they have any piece of work on hand which is not customary to them.  He held something in his hand, and shuffled a little as he made his way up the room.  He was dressed, as usual, in black; but his gold chain was not, as usual, dangling over his waistcoat.

“Eames,” he said, “I want you to accept a little present from me,—­just as a memorial of our affair with the bull.  It will make you think of it sometimes, when I’m perhaps gone.”

“Oh, my lord—­”

“It’s my own watch, that I have been wearing for some time; but I’ve got another,—­two or three, I believe, somewhere upstairs.  You mustn’t refuse me.  I can’t bear being refused.  There are two or three little seals, too, which I have worn.  I have taken off the one with my arms, because that’s of no use to you, and it is to me.  It doesn’t want a key, but winds up at the handle, in this way,” and the earl proceeded to explain the nature of the toy.

“My lord, you think too much of what happened to-day,” said Eames, stammering.

“No, I don’t; I think very little about it.  I know what I think of.  Put the watch in your pocket before the doctor comes.  There; I hear his horse.  Why didn’t he drive over, and then he could have taken you back?”

“I can walk very well.”

“I’ll make that all right.  The servant shall ride Crofts’ horse, and bring back the little phaeton.  How d’you do, doctor?  You know Eames, I suppose?  You needn’t look at him in that way.  His leg is not broken; it’s only his trousers.”  And then the earl told the story of the bull.