The letter was not written from Murray’s Hotel, Lady Augustus having insisted on staying at certain lodgings in Orchard Street because her funds were low.  But on previous occasions they had stayed at Murray’s.  And her mamma, instead of being asleep when the letter was written, was making up her accounts.  And every word about Mistletoe had been false.  She had not yet secured her invitation.  She was hard at work on the attempt, having induced her father absolutely to beg the favour from his brother.  But at the present moment she was altogether diffident of success.  Should she fail she must only tell Lord Rufford that her mother’s numerous engagements had at the last moment made her happiness impossible.  That she was going to Lady Smijth’s was true, and at Lady Smijth’s house she received the following note from Lord Rufford.  It was then January, and the great Mistletoe question was not as yet settled.

Letter No. 3.

December 31.

My Dear Miss Trefoil,

Here I am still at Surbiton’s and we have had such good sport that I’m half inclined to give the Duke the slip.  What a pity that you can’t come here instead.  Wouldn’t it be nice for you and half a dozen more without any of the Dowagers or Duennas?  You might win some of the money which I lose.  I have been very unlucky and, if you had won it all, there would be plenty of room for hats and gloves,—­and for sending two or three Jacks about all the winter into the bargain.  I never did win yet.  I don’t care very much about it, but I don’t know why I should always be so uncommonly unlucky.

We had such a day yesterday,—­an hour and ten minutes all in the open, and then a kill just as the poor fellow was trying to make a drain under the high road.  There were only five of us up.  Surbiton broke his horse’s back at a bank, and young De Canute came down on to a road and smashed his collar bone.  Three or four of the hounds were so done that they couldn’t be got home.  I was riding Black Harry and he won’t be out again for a fortnight.  It was the best thing I’ve seen these two years.  We never have it quite like that with the U.R.U.

If I don’t go to Mistletoe I’ll send Jack and a groom if you think the Duke would take them in and let you ride the horse.  If so I shall stay here pretty nearly all January, unless there should be a frost.  In that case I should go back to Rufford as I have a deal of shooting to do.  I shall be so sorry not to see you;—­but there is always a sort of sin in not sticking to hunting when it’s good.  It so seldom is just what it ought to be.

I rather think that after all we shall be down on that fellow who poisoned our fox, in spite of your friend the Senator.

Yours always faithfully,
R.