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Full text of "TheCompleteMemoirsOfGeorgeSherston"

Yeomanry. Reluctantly confessing that I wasn't, I
added that Yd been thinking about it; which was
true, and the thought had filled me with unutterable
alarm. When we rose from our chairs the Colonel
drew my attention to the oil-paintings which adorned
the walls. These were portraits of his past and present
hunters—none of whom, apparently, "knew what it
was to put a foot wrong". Among many other relics
and associative objects which he showed us was a large
green parrot which he "had bought from a sailor
five-and-twenty years ago". He had taught the
bird to ejaculate "Tear 'im and eat Jim", and other
hunting noises. Finally, with a certain access of
grand seigneur dignity, he waved to us from his front
doorstep and vanished into the house, probably to
write a letter to his old friend at the War Office.

Ill

Ar NINE o'clock next morning my cold fingers
were making their usual bungling efforts to tie a
white stock neatly; but as I had never been shown
how to do it, my repeated failures didn't surprise me,
though I was naturally anxious not to disgrace the
Rectory on my first appearance at a meet of the
Ringwell Hounds. The breakfast bell was supplemen-
ted by Stephen's incitements to me to hurry up;
these consisted in cries of "Get-along-forrid" and
similar hunt-servant noises, which accentuated my
general feeling that I was in for a big day. While
I was putting the final touches to my toilet I could
hear him shouting to the two Scotch terriers who were
scuttling about the lawn: (he was out there having
a look at that important thing, the weather).
Fully dressed and a bit flurried, I stumped down-

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