As they started off for
Shugborough Springs, the little covert on John Runce's farm which
was about four miles from Rufford Hall, Sir John asked the Major to
get on another animal. "You've had trouble enough with her for one
day, and given her enough to do." But the Major was not of that way
of thinking. "Let her have the day's work," said the Major. "Do her
good. Remember what she's learned." And so they trotted off to
Shugborough.
While they were riding about the park Morton had kept near to Miss
Trefoil. Lord Rufford, being on his own place and among his own
coverts, had had cares on his hand and been unable to devote
himself to the young lady. She had never for a moment looked up at
her lover, or tried to escape from him. She had answered all his
questions, saying, however, very little, and had bided her time.
The more gracious she was to Morton now the less ground would he
have for complaining of her when she should leave him by-and-by. As
they were trotting along the road Lord Rufford came up and
apologized. "I'm afraid I've been very inattentive, Miss Trefoil;
but I dare say you've been in better hands."
"There hasn't been much to do;--has there?"
"Very little. I suppose a man isn't responsible for having foxes
that won't break. Did you see the Senator? He seemed to think it
was all right.
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