and worse management."

"Why what an ungrateful dog you are!" returned Sir Wynston, gaily,
turning his back upon the fire, and glancing round the spacious and
handsome, though somewhat faded apartment. "I was on the point of
congratulating you on the possession of the finest park and noblest
demesne in Cheshire, when you begin to grumble. Egad, Dick, all I can say
to your complaint is, that I don't pity you, and there are dozens who may
honestly envy you--that is all."

In spite of this cheering assurance, Marston remained sullenly silent.
Supper, however, had now been served, and the little party assumed their
places at the table.

"I am sorry, Wynston, I have no sport of any kind to offer you here,"
said Marston, "except, indeed, some good trout-fishing, if you like it. I
have three miles of excellent fishing at your command."

"My dear fellow, I am a mere cockney," rejoined Sir Wynston; "I am not a
sportsman; I never tried it, and should not like to begin now. No, Dick,
what I much prefer is, abundance of your fresh air, and the enjoyment of
your scenery. When I was at Rouen three years ago--"

"Ha!--Rouen? Mademoiselle will feel an interest in that; it is her
birth-place," interrupted Marston, glancing at the Frenchwoman.

"Yes--Rouen--ah--yes!" said mademoiselle, with very evident
embarrassment.

Sir Wynston appeared for a moment a little disconcerted too, but