It was the first day of the season of my lord's hounds meeting there, and the handsome Mrs.Springwheat had had as much trouble in overhauling the china and linen, and in dressing the children, preparatory to breakfast, as Springwheat had had in collecting knives and forks, and wine-glasses and tumblers for his department of the entertainment, to say nothing of looking after his new tops and cords.

'The Hill,' as the country people call it, was 'full fig'; and a bright, balmy winter's day softened the atmosphere, and felt as though a summer's day had been shaken out of its place into winter.

It is not often that the English climate is accommodating enough to lend its aid to set off a place to advantage.
Be that, however, as it may, things looked smiling both without and within.
Mrs.Springwheat, by dint of early rising and superintendence, had got things into such a state of forwardness as to be able to adorn herself with a little jaunty cap--curious in microscopic punctures and cherry-coloured ribbon interlardments--placed so far back on her finely-shaped head as to proclaim beyond all possibility of cavil that it was there for ornament, and not for the purpose of concealing the liberties of time with her well-kept, clearly parted, raven-black hair.

Liberties of time, forsooth! Mrs.Springwheat was in the heighday of womanhood; and though she had presented Springwheat with twins three times in succession, besides an eldest son, she was as young, fresh-looking, and finely figured as she was the day she was married.

She was now dressed in a very fine French grey merino, with a very small crochet-work collar, and, of course, capacious muslin sleeves.