Calder Jones also made his little speech, and so did Vavasor.
"Humph--well, yes, I'm pretty well, thank'ee.

Just move on, will you?
My mare can't stir here." Then some one else spoke to him, and he only grunted in answer.

Having slowly been assisted up on to his horse,--for he was over seventy years of age,--he trotted off to the hounds, while all the farmers round him touched their hats to him.
But his mind was laden with affairs of import, and he noticed no one.
In a whispered voice he gave his instructions to his huntsman, who said, "Yes, Sir William," "No, Sir William," "No doubt, Sir William." One long-eared, long-legged fellow, in a hunting-cap and scarlet coat, hung listening by, anxious to catch something of the orders for the morning.

"Who the devil's that fellow, that's all breeches and boots ?" said Sir William aloud to some one near him, as the huntsman moved off with the hounds.

Sir William knew the man well enough, but was minded to punish him for his discourtesy.