There was a short pause of commiseration.

“There’s a barrow t’other side the hedge,” said the boy. “If the gentleman’s servant would wheel along the paths, he could keep nigh us, and we could lift it over the stiles, and that.”

“The wery thing,” said Mr. Weller, who was a party interested, inasmuch as he ardently longed to see the sport. “The wery thing. Well said, Smallcheek; I’ll have it out in a minute.”

But here a difficulty arose. The long gamekeeper resolutely protested against the introduction into a shooting party, of a gentleman in a barrow, as a gross violation of all established rules and precedents.