Mr. Masters, when he closed his door, looked up the street and down the street and then again went across to the Bush.  Mr. Runciman was still there, and was standing with a letter in his hand, while one of the grooms from Rufford Hall was holding a horse beside him.  “Any answer, Mr. Runciman?” said the groom.

“Only to tell his lordship that everything will be ready for him.  You’d better go through and give the horse a feed of corn, and get a bit of something to eat and a glass of beer yourself.”  The man wasn’t slow to do as he was bid;—­and in this way the Bush had become very popular with the servants of the gentry around the place.  “His lordship is to be here from Friday to Sunday with a party, Mr. Masters.”

“Oh, indeed.”

“For the end of the shooting.  And who do you think he has asked to be one of the party?”

“Not Mr. Reginald?”

“I don’t think they ever spoke in their lives.  Who but Larry Twentyman!”

“No!”

“It’ll be the making of Larry.  I only hope he won’t cock his beaver too high.”

“Is he coming?”

“I suppose so.  He’ll be sure to come.  His Lordship only tells me that there are to be six of ’em on Saturday and five on Friday night.  But the lad there knew who they all were.  There’s Mr. Surbiton and Captain Battersby and Sir George are to come over with his lordship from Rufford.  And young Mr. Hampton is to join them here, and Larry Twentyman is to shoot with them on Saturday and dine afterwards.  Won’t those two Botseys be jealous; that’s all?”

“It only shows what they think of Larry,” said the attorney.

“Larry Twentyman is a very good fellow,” said the landlord.  “I don’t know a better fellow round Dillsborough, or one who is more always on the square.  But he’s weak.  You know him as well as I, Mr. Masters.”

“He’s not so weak but what he can keep what he’s got.”

“This’ll be the way to try him.  He’d melt away like water into sand if he were to live for a few weeks with such men as his Lordship’s friends.  I suppose there’s no chance of his taking a wife home to Chowton with him?” The attorney shook his head.  “That’d be the making of him, Mr. Masters; a good girl like that who’d keep him at home.  If he takes it to heart he’ll burst out somewhere and spend a lot of money.”

The attorney declined Mr. Runciman’s offer of a glass of beer and slowly made his way round the corner of the inn by Hobb’s gate to the front door of Hoppet Hall.  Then he passed on to the churchyard, still thinking of the misery of his position.  When he reached the church he turned back, still going very slowly, and knocked at the door of Hoppet Hall.  He was shown at once by Reginald’s old housekeeper up to the library, and there in a few minutes he was joined by the master of the house.  “I was over looking for you an hour or two ago,” said Reginald.

“I heard you were there, Mr. Morton, and so I thought I would come to you.  You didn’t see Mary?”