My father hunts a lot and shoots too."
"Do you hunt?" asked Isabel.
"Oh no, never! There's never any time. I go for rambles sometimes on
Sundays. Other days I am always busy. Fancy me hunting!" said Dinah, with
a little laugh.
"I used to," said Isabel. "They always said I should end with a broken
neck. But I never did."
"Are you very fond of riding?" asked Dinah.
"Not now, dear. I am not fond of anything now. Tell me some more, won't
you? What makes you so busy that you never have time for any fun?"
Again Dinah hesitated. "You see, we're poor," she said. "My mother and I
do all the work of the house and garden too."
"And your father is able to hunt?" Isabel's eyes opened. Her hand closed
upon Dinah's caressingly.
"Oh yes, he has always hunted," Dinah said. "I don't think he could do
without it. He would find it so dull."
"I see," said Isabel. "But he can't afford pleasures for you."
There was no perceptible sarcasm in her voice, but Dinah coloured a
little and went at once to her father's defence.
"He sends Billy to a public school. Of course I--being only a girl--don't
count. And he has sent us out here, which was very good of him--the
sweetest thing he has ever done. He had a lucky speculation the other
day, and he has spent it nearly all on us. Wasn't that kind of him?"
"Very kind, dear," said Isabel gently. "How long are you to have out
here?"
"Only three weeks, and half the time is gone already," sighed Dinah.
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