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Page 2
Hunters were all very well, but had he no hobbies? No, he had not; the
_bona fide_ country gentleman never had hobbies. They were kept by
amateur gentlemen retired from business to the suburbs. Here Sir Peter
observed that talking of hobbies, old Mr. Tyson had a perfect--er--mania
for orchids; he spent the best part of his life in his greenhouse. Mr.
Nevill Tyson thought he would rather spend his in Calcutta at once.
A dark lean man who had arrived with Tyson was seen to smile frequently
during the above dialogue. Miss Batchelor caught him doing it and turned
to Tyson. "Captain Stanistreet seemed rather amused at the notion of your
being a fine old country gentleman."
"Stanistreet? I daresay. But he knows nothing about it, I assure you. He
has the soul of a cabman. He measures everything by its distance from
Charing Cross."
"I see. And you--are all for green fields and idyllic simplicity?"
He bowed, as much as to say, "I am, if you say so."
Miss Batchelor became instantly self-possessed.
"You won't like it. Nothing happens here; nothing ever will happen. You
will be dreadfully bored."
"If I am bored I shall get something to do. I shall dissipate myself in a
bland parochial patriotism. I can feel it coming on already. When I once
get my feet on a platform I shall let myself go."
"Do. You'll astonish our simple Arcadian farmers. Nothing but good old
Tory melodrama goes down here. Are you equal to that?"
"Oh yes. I'm terrific in Tory melodrama. I shall bring down the house."
She turned a curious scrutinizing look on him.
"Yes," said she, "you'll bring down the house--like Samson among the
Philistines."
He returned her look with interest. "I should immensely like to know,"
said he, "what you go in for. I'm sure you go in for something."
She looked at her plate. "Well, I dabble a little in psychology."
"Oh!" There was a moment's silence. "Psychology is a large order," said
Tyson, presently.
"Yes, if you go in deep. I'm not deep. I'm perfectly happy when I've got
hold of the first principles. It sounds dreadfully superficial, but I'm
not interested in anything but principles."
"I'm sorry to hear it, for in that case you won't be interested in me."
She laughed nervously. She was accustomed to be rallied on her
attainments, but never quite after this fashion.
"Why not?"
"Because I haven't any principles."
She bent her brows; but her eyes were smiling under her frown.
"You really mustn't say these things here. We are so dreadfully literal.
We might take you at your word."
Tyson smiled, showing his rather prominent teeth unpleasantly.
"I wish," said she, "I knew what you think a country gentleman's duties
really are."
"Do you? They are three. To hunt hard; to shoot straight; and to go to
church."
"I hope you will perform them--all."
"I shall--all. No--on second thoughts I draw the line at going to church.
It's all very well if you've got a private chapel, or an easy chair in
the chancel, or a family vault you can sit in. But I detest these modern
arrangements; I object to be stuck in a tight position between two
boards, with my feet in somebody else's hat, and somebody else's feet
in mine, and to have people breathing down my collar and hissing and
yelling alternately, in my ear."
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