"Is the park as big as
that, Tom?"
He laughed. "That isn't much. But you'll see it all for yourself," he
added. Then he rushed off into wondering how his dogs were. "And, oh,
you'll ride with the hounds, Polly!"
Just then some rabbits scurried across the wood, followed by several
more pattering and leaping through the grass.
"Oh, Tom, see those rabbits!" cried Polly, excitedly.
"Yes, the warrens are over yonder," said Tom, bobbing his head in the
right direction.
"What?" asked Polly, in perplexity.
"Rabbit-warrens; oh, I forgot, you haven't lived in England. You seem
so much like an English girl, though," said Tom, paying the highest
compliment he knew of.
"Well, what are they?" asked Polly, quite overcome by the compliment
coming from Tom.
"Oh, they are preserves, you know, where the rabbits live, and they are
not allowed to be hunted here."
"Oh, do you ever hunt rabbits?" cried Polly, in horror, leaning out of
her side of the big coach to see the scurrying little animals.
"Not often," said Tom, "we mostly ride after the fox. You'll ride with
the hounds, Polly," he cried with enthusiasm. "We'll have a hunt while
you're here, and we always wind up with a breakfast, you know. Oh,
we'll have no end of sport." He hugged his long arms in huge
satisfaction.
And away--and away over the winding road and underneath the stately
trees, rolled the big coach, to be followed by the other carriages,
like a dream it seemed to Polly, and more than ever, when at last they
stopped in front of a massive pile of buildings with towers and arches
and wings.
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