And now the climax comes not with tongue-lolling sheep-fleecewolves, ears on top remorselessly pricked for slaughterof the bleating imitated lamb, here a fang pointing to nethermostpit not of stomach but of Acheron, tail waving in derisionof wool-bearers whom the double-rowed desiring mouthsoon shall grip, food for mamma-wolf and baby-wolf, papa-wolflooking on, licking chaps expectant of what shall remain;and up goes the clamour of flocks over the country-side, andup goes howling of shepherds shamefully tricked by Æsop-fableartifice or doggish dereliction of primary duty; for awatch has been set through which the wolf-enemy brokepaws on the prowl; and the King feels this, and the Government,a slab-faced jubber-mubber of contending punies,party-voters to the front, conscience lagging how far behindno man can tell, and the country forgotten, a lout dragginghis chaw-bacon hobnails like a flask-fed snail housed safely,he thinks, in unbreakable shell soon to be broken, and noman's fault, while the slow country sinks to the enemy, shipsbursting, guns jammed, and a dull shadow of defeat on awar-office drifting to the tide-way of unimagined back-stopson a lumpy cricket-field of national interests. But this was aclimax revealed to the world. The Earl was deaf to it. LadyCharlotte dumbed it surprisingly.Change the spelling, puta for u and n for b in the dumbed, and you have the wayMorsfield mouthed it, and Matey swimming with Brownyfull in the Harwich tide; head under heels up down they goin Old Ocean, a glutton of such embraces, lapping softly on apair of white ducks tar-stained that very morning and nomistake.
"I have you fast!" cried Matey.
"Two and two's four," said Browny.She slipped. "Arefour," corrected he, a tutor at all times, boys and girls takenin and done for, and no change given at the turnstiles.
"Catch as catch can," was her next word. Plop went awave full in the rosy mouth. "Where's the catch of this?"stuttered the man.
"A pun, a pun!" bellowed the lady. "But not by four-in-handfrom London."
She had him there. He smiled a blue acquiescence. Sothey landed, and the die was cast, ducks changed, and thegoose-pair braving it in dry clothes by the kitchen fire.There was nothing else to be done; for the answer confessedto a dislike of immersions two at a time, and the hair clammywith salt like cottage-bacon on a breakfast-table.
Lord Ormont sat with the jewelsseized from the debating, unbeaten sister's grasp.
"She is at Marlow," he opined.
"Was," put in Lady Charlotte.
The answer blew him for memory.
"Morsfield's dead," his lordship ventured; "jobbed by a foilwith button off."
"And a good job too."
Lady Charlotte was ever on the crest-wave of the moment'shumour. He snicked a back-stroke to the limits, shaking the sparsehair of repentance to the wind of her jest. But the unabashed onecontinued.
"I'll not call on her."
"You shall," said he.
"Shan