However, Sir Hugh bustled about to have his guest properly looked
after; and when Lionel had got into dry clothes and swallowed some bit
of warmed-up dinner, he went into the drawing-room, where they were all
of them playing poker--all of them, that is to say, except Lord
Fareborough, who, in a big easy-chair by the fire, was nursing his
five-and-twenty ailments, and no doubt inwardly cursing those people for
the chatter they were keeping up. They stopped their game when Lionel
entered, to hear the news; and when he had told his heartrending tale,
Lady Adela's brother lazily called to her:
"I say, Addie, there's a chance for you to try that terrier of yours. If
he's as intelligent as you say, send him out with the Billies to-morrow,
and see if he can find the stag for them."
"Why, of course," Lady Adela instantly responded. "Mr. Moore, I have
just become possessed of the wisest little terrier in the whole world, I
do believe. He only arrived this evening; but he and I have been friends
for a long time; I bought him only yesterday from a shepherd down the
strath. Oh, I must show you the letter that came with the dog. Georgie,
dear, would you mind running into my room and bringing me a letter you
will find on the dressing-table?"
Miss Georgie was absent only a couple of seconds; when she returned she
handed Lionel the following epistle, which was written on a rather
shabby sheet of paper.
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