CHAPTER XV.
THE CHAMPION When Mrs.Errol remarked in her deep voice, that yet compassed the incomparable Yankee twang, that she guessed she wasn't afraid of any man that breathed, none of those who heard the bold assertion ventured to contradict her.
Lucas Errol was entertaining a large house-party, and the great hall was full of guests, most of whom had just returned from the day's sport.

The hubbub of voices was considerable, but Mrs.Errol's remark was too weighty to be missed, and nearly everyone left off talking to hear its sequel.
Mrs.Errol, who was the soul of hospitality, but who, nevertheless, believed firmly in leaving people to amuse themselves in their own way, had only returned a few minutes before from paying a round of calls.

She was wrapped in furs from head to foot, and her large, kindly face shone out of them like a November sun emerging from a mass of cloud.
There was a general scramble to wait upon her, and three cups of tea were offered her simultaneously, all of which she accepted with a nod of thanks and a gurgle of laughter.
"Put it down! I'll drink it presently.

Where do you think I've just come from?
And what do you think I've been doing?
I'll wager my last dollar no one can guess." "Done!" said Nap coolly, as he pulled forward a chair to the blaze.
"You've been bearding the lion in his den, and not unsuccessfully, to judge by appearances.

In other words, you've been to the Manor and have drunk tea with the lord thereof." Mrs.Errol subsided into the chair and looked round upon her interested audience.