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Updated: August 23, 2024
Nor was the bright honest face beneath the hat anything to him now; for it was an honest face, though misfortunes which had come had somewhat marred the honesty of the heart. At first the conversation was about indifferent things, Killancodlem and Mrs. Jones, Crummie-Toddie and Reginald Dobbes.
What was the use of so perfecting Crummie-Toddie as to make it the best bit of ground for grouse and deer in Scotland, if the men who came there failed by their own incapacity to bring up the grand total of killed to a figure which would render Dobbes and Crummie-Toddie famous throughout the whole shooting world? He had been hard at work on other matters.
Dogs had gone amiss, or guns, and he had been made angry by the champagne which Popplecourt caused to be sent down. He knew what champagne meant. Whisky-and-water, and not much of it, was the liquor which Reginald Dobbes loved in the mountains. "Don't you call this a very ugly country?" Silverbridge asked as soon as he arrived.
If this were done in his time the beauty of the world would be over. Reginald Dobbes was a man of about forty, strong, active, well-made, about five feet ten in height, with broad shoulders and greatly-developed legs. He was not a handsome man, having a protrusive nose, high cheek-bones, and long upper lip; but there was a manliness about his face which redeemed it.
"Is not this nicer than shooting with Mr. Dobbes?" she asked. "A great deal nicer. Of course I am bound to say so." "But in truth, I want to find out what you really like. Men are so different. You need not pay me any compliment; you know that well enough." "I like you better than Dobbes, if you mean that." "Even so much is something." "But I am fond of shooting."
This was unfortunate, because it recalled Tregear to the Duke's mind. "We saw very few people whom we knew," he said. "I've been shooting in Scotland with Silverbridge, and Gerald, and Reginald Dobbes, and Nidderdale, and that fellow Tregear, who is so thick with Silverbridge." "Indeed!" "I'm told that Lord Gerald is going to be the great shot of his day," said Lady Cantrip.
All these little troubles, his experience in the "House," the necessity of snubbing Tifto, the choice of a wife, and his battle with Reginald Dobbes, were giving him by degrees age and flavour. Lady Mabel had fluttered about him on his first coming, and had been very gracious, doing the part of an old friend. "There is to be a big shooting to-morrow," she said, in the presence of Mrs. Jones.
Silverbridge did go over to Killancodlem; and presently there came back a man with a cart, who was to return with a certain not small proportion of his luggage. "It's hardly honest, you know," said Reginald Dobbes. Killancodlem Mr. Dobbes was probably right in his opinion that hotels, tourists, and congregations of men are detrimental to shooting.
That was on Wednesday. Popplecourt and Nidderdale ought to have made their appearance on that morning, but had telegraphed to say that they would be detained two days on their route. Tregear, whom hitherto Dobbes had never seen, had left his arrival uncertain. This carelessness on such matters was very offensive to Mr. Dobbes, who loved discipline and exactitude.
Jones, "who comes down to Crummie-Toddie without staying a day or two with me, will never be my friend any more. I do not hesitate to tell you, Lord Silverbridge, that I call for your surrender, in order that I may show my power over Reginald Dobbes. Are you a Dobbite?" "Not thorough-going," said Silverbridge.
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