RESENTLY the men retired to smoke, and for an hour or two I had to tear myself from the smiles of Miss Trevor-Hudson.

The smoking-room opened into the billiard-room, and some played pool while the rest of us sat about the fire and discussed agriculture, the preservation of pheasants, and, principally, horses, hounds, and foxes. A short fragment will show you the standard of eloquence to which we attained. It is founded, I admit, more on imagination than memory, but is sufficiently accurate for the purpose of illustration. As to who the different speakers were you can please your fancy.

First Sportsman. “Are your turnips large?”

Second Sportsman. “Not so devilish bad. Did you go to the meet on Tuesday?”

First Sportsman. “Yes, and I noticed Charley Tootle there.”

Third Sportsman. “Ridin' his bay horse or his black?”

First Sportsman. “The bay.”

Fourth Sportsman. “Oats make better feeding.”

Second Sportsman. “My man prefers straw.”

First Sportsman. “Did you fish this summer?”

Third Sportsman. “No; I shot buffaloes instead.”

First Sportsman. “Where—Kamchatka or Japan?”

Third Sportsman. “Japan. Kamchatka's getting overshot.”

Fifth Sportsman. “Do you supply your pheasants with warm water?”

Second Sportsman. “I am having it laid on.”

Fifth Sportsman. “What system do you use?”

Second Sportsman. “Two-inch pipes attached by a rotatory tap to the conservatory cistern.”

Fifth Sportsman. “Sounds a devilish good notion.”

First Sportsman. “Now, let me tell you my experience of those self-lengthening stirrups.”

Fifth Sportsman. “Do you supply your pheasants with warm water?”

Second Sportsman. “I am having it laid on.”

Fifth Sportsman. “What system do you use?”

Second Sportsman. “Two-inch pipes attached by a rotatory tap to the conservatory cistern.”

Fifth Sportsman. “Sounds a devilish good notion.”

First Sportsman. “Now, let me tell you my experience of those self- lengthening stirrups.”

And so on till the booming of a gong summoned us to dress for dinner.

“Well,” said Dick, as we went to our rooms, “you looked as though your mind was being improved.”

“It is trying to become adjusted,” I replied.

On our way we passed along the gallery overlooking the hall, and suddenly I was struck by the contrast between this house and its inhabitants: on the one hand the splendid proportions and dignity of this great hall, dark under the oak beams of the roof, fire-light and lamp-light falling below upon polished floor and carpets of the East; the library lined with what was best in English literature, the walls with the worthiest in English art; on the other, my heavy-eyed host full of port and prejudices, and as meshed about by unimaginative limitations as any strawberry-bed. Possibly I am too foreign, and only see the surface, but then how is one to suspect a gold-mine beneath a vegetable garden?

At dinner I found myself seated between Lady Thane and Miss Rosalie Horley. Lady Thane, wife to the nobleman with the long mustache, had an attractive face, but took herself seriously. In man this is dangerous, in woman fatal. I turned to my other neighbor and partially obtained my consolation there. She was young, highly colored, hearty, and ingenuous, and proved so appreciative a listener as nearly to suffocate herself with an oyster-patÉ when I told her how I had burgled Fisher. The remainder of my consolation I obtained from the prospect, directly opposite, of Miss Trevor-Hudson. She was sitting next to Teddy Lumme, and if it had not been for his express declaration to the contrary I should have said he was far from insusceptible to her charms. Yet, since I knew his real sentiments, I did not hesitate to distract her glance when possible.

After dinner a great bustling among the ladies, a great putting on of overcoats and lighting of cigars among the men, and then we all embarked in an immense omnibus and clattered off to the ball. This dance was being held in the county town some miles away, so that for more than half an hour I sat between Dick and Teddy on a seat behind the driver's, my cigar between my teeth, a very excellent dinner beneath my overcoat, and my heart as light as a sparrow's. On either side the rays of our lamps danced like fire-flies along the woods and hedge-rows, but my fancy seemed to run still faster than these meteor companions, and already I pictured myself claiming six dances from Miss Trevor-Hudson.

But now other lights began to appear, twinkling through trees before us, and presently we were clattering up the high street of the market-town. Other carriages were already congregated about the assembly rooms at the Checkered Boar, a crowd of spectators had gathered before the door to stare at visions of lace and jewelry, the strains of the band came through an open window, and altogether there was an air of revelry that I suppose only visited the little borough once a year. Inside the doors, waiters with shining heads and ruddy faces waved us on up and down stairs and along passages, where, at intervals, we met other guests as resplendent as ourselves, till at last we reached the ballroom itself. This was a long, low room with a shining floor, an old-fashioned wall-paper decorated with a pattern of pink roses, and a great blaze of candles to light it up. It was evident that many generations of squires must have danced beneath those candles and between the rose-covered walls, and this suggestion of old-worldness had a singularly pleasant flavor.

In a recess about the middle of the room the orchestra were tuning up for another waltz; at one end the more important families were assembling; at the other, the lesser. Need I say that we joined the former group?

In English country dances it usually is the custom to have programmes on which you write the names of your partners for the evening. I now looked round to secure one particular partner, but she was not to be seen. The waltz had begun; I scanned the dancers. There was Shafthead tearing round with Miss Horley, his athletic figure moving well, his good features lit by a smile he could assume most agreeably when on his best behavior. There was the stout Sir Henry revolving with the more deliberate pomp of sixty summers. But where were the bright eyes? Suddenly I spied the skirt of a light-blue dress through the opening of a doorway. I rushed for it, and there, out in the passage, was the misogamist Lumme evidently entreating Miss Trevor-Hudson for more dances than she was willing to surrender. For her sake this must be stopped.

“I have come to make a modest request,” I said. “Will you give me a dance—or possibly two?”

With the sweetest air she took her programme from the disconcerted, and I do not think very amiable, Teddy, and handed it to me.

“I have taken three, seven, and fourteen,” I said, giving it back to her.

“Fourteen is mine,” cried Teddy.

“Not now, I said, smiling.

“I had booked it,” said he.

“Your name was not there,” I replied. “And now, Miss Hudson, if you are not dancing this dance will you finish it with me?”

She took my arm, and the baffled despiser of women was left in the passage.

This may sound hard treatment to be dealt out to a friend, and, indeed, I fear that though outwardly calm, and even polite to exaggeration, my indignation had somewhat run away with me. Had I any excuse? Yes; two eyes that, as I have said, were bright as the dew, and a smile not to be resisted.

She danced divinely, she let me clasp her hand tenderly yet firmly, and she smiled at me when she was dancing with others. I noticed once or twice when we danced together that Lumme also smiled at her, but I was convinced she did not reply to this. In fact, his whole conduct seemed to me merely presumptuous and impertinent. How mine seemed to him I cannot tell you.

He had secured the advantage of engaging several dances before I had time to interfere, and also possessed one other—a scarlet evening-coat, the uniform of the hunt. But I glanced in the mirror, and said to myself that I did not grudge him this adornment, while as for my fewer number of dances, I found my partner quite willing to allow me others to which I was not legally entitled. In this way I obtained number thirteen, to the detriment of Mr. Tonks, and was just prepared to embark upon number fourteen when Lumme approached us with an air I did not approve of.

“This is my dance,” he said, in a manner inexcusable in the presence of a lady.

“Pardon,” I replied. “It is mine.”

Miss Hudson looked from one to the other of us with a delightfully perplexed expression, but, I fear, with a little wickedness in her brown eye.

“What am I to do?” she said, with a shrug of her shoulders.

“It is my dance,” repeated Teddy, glaring fixedly at me.

I shrugged my shoulders, smiled, and offered her my arm to lead her away.

“I am sorry, Mr. Lumme,” said the cause of this strife, sweetly, “but I am afraid Mr. D'Haricot's name is on my programme.”

Teddy made a tragic bow that would have done credit to a dyspeptic frog, and I danced off with my prize. At the end of the waltz he came up to me with a carefully concocted sneer.

“You know how to sneak dances, moshyour,” he observed. “Do you do everything else as well?”

I kept my temper and replied, suavely, “Yes, I shoot tolerably with the pistol, and can use the foils.”

“Like your cab-horses?” sneered Teddy, taking no notice, however, of the implied invitation to console himself if aggrieved. “I'm keen to see how long you stick on top of those beasts.”

“Good, my friend,” I replied, “I take that as a challenge to ride a race. We shall see to-morrow who first catches the fox!”