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Todhetley, who sat on the left-hand of his host; Sir Thomas Rivers taking the foot of the table this year. "Mrs. West? Well, we heard she opened a girls' school up in London," breathed the Squire. "And what tale was that about his leaving a curse on the chimes? I never heard the rights of it." "Hush!" said the Squire cautiously. "Nobody talks of that here. Or believes it, either.
The parson was always invited and went; and sometimes a few of Captain Monk's personal friends were added. Christmas came round this year as usual, and the invitations to the dinner went out. One came to Squire Todhetley, a youngish man then, and one to my father, William Ludlow, who was younger than the Squire.
Todhetley has repeated to us in later years the very words that passed. "By George, yes!" put in a bluff and hearty fox-hunter, the master of the hounds, bending forward to look at the lad, for he was in a line with him, and breaking short off an anecdote he was regaling the company with. "I forgot you were there, Master Hubert. Quite time you went to bed." "I daresay!" laughed the boy.
It was quite true that every year at the conclusion of these feasts, the Vicar resolved never to attend another; but he was essentially a man of peace, striving ever to lay oil upon troubled waters, after the example left by his Master. Dinner. The board was full. Captain Monk presided, genial to-day; genial even to the parson. Squire Todhetley faced the Captain at the foot; Mr.
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