Jimmy Beckley had come over to spend the day at Abington. He had brought his sister Vera with him, not altogether without protest. The Grafton girls, he had explained to her, were always jolly pleased to see him, and he got on well with all of them; in fact they were topping girls, and he didn't yet know which of the three he liked best. If he went over alone he could take his pick, but if she went over with him, one, or perhaps two of them, would have to do the polite to her. He betted that they'd rather have him without her. Vera, however, had said that he was a conceited little monkey, and she was coming. So he had made the best of it, and being of less adamantine stuff than he liked to represent himself, he had driven her over in a pony cart, instead of riding, as he would have done if he had gone alone.

Grafton was in London for the day. Caroline and Vera wanted to talk together, and the other four played lawn tennis. But after a couple of sets Beatrix said it was too hot to play any more and went indoors. Jimmy looked after her with regret. For the moment he judged her to be the most attractive of all the Grafton girls, and had invented some amusing things to say to her. It seemed a pity to waste them on Barbara. He liked her, and she and he and Bunting had had a good deal of fun together at one time or another. But it had been boy's fun, in which she had naturally taken a subordinate part, as became one of her sex. She was hardly old enough to awaken a more tender emotion in his breast. He was beginning to feel that towards Caroline and Beatrix both, but was not yet sure which of them he should choose when he came to man's estate. Beatrix was the prettier of the two, but they were both very pretty, and Caroline responded rather more to his advances.

Barbara suggested a tournament between the three of them, but the boys didn't care about that, nor for a three-handed set. Eventually, after a short rest, and some agreeable conversation, Barbara found herself shelved, she did not quite know how, and Jimmy and Bunting went off to the gooseberry bushes; not without advice from Barbara not to make little pigs of themselves.

"It's a rummy thing," said Jimmy, "that girls of Barbara's age never quite know how to behave themselves. They think it's funny to be merely rude. Now neither of us would make a mistake of that sort. I suppose it's because they haven't knocked about as much as we have. They don't get their corners rubbed off."

"Oh, Barbara's all right," said Bunting, who respected Jimmy's opinions but did not like to hear his sisters criticised. "We say things like that to each other. She didn't mean anything by it. You didn't take it quite in the right way."

"My dear chap," said Jimmy, "you needn't make excuses. They're not wanted here. I know how to take a girl of Barbara's age all right. I'm not saying anything against her either. She's young; that's all that's the matter with her. In a few years' time any fellow will be pleased to talk to her, and I shouldn't wonder if she didn't turn out as well worth taking notice of as Caroline and Beatrix. I say, old chap, I'm sorry to hear about this business of B's. She seems rather under the weather about it. But she'll get over it in time, you'll see. There are lots of fellows left in the world. You won't have her long on your hands, unless I'm a Dutchman."

"It's rather a bore," said Bunting shortly. He had not known that Jimmy knew anything about this business of B's, and had not intended to refer to it. But as he did know, there would be no harm in discussing it with him. He rather wanted the opinion of another man on the subject. "I never saw the chap myself," he added. "But if the pater doesn't think it's good enough, that's enough for me."

"I say, old chap, you must get out of the way of calling your governor pater," said Jimmy. "It was all right at your private school, but it's a bit infantile for fellows of our age."

"Well, the Governor then," said Bunting, blushing hotly. "He saw the chap at the Bank, and told him he wasn't taking any. So the chap went away."

"What are they like on that bush?" asked Jimmy. "I don't care for this lot. Was there anything against the fellow? Ah, these are better. Not enough boodle, or something of that sort?"

"I don't think so," replied Bunting. "He's a rich chap, I think, and a sort of peer in his own country. 'Course I shouldn't care for one of the girls to marry a Frenchman myself."

"I haven't got that sort of feeling," said Jimmy. "It's rather vieux jeu. One of my aunts married a Frenchman; they've got a topping villa at Biarritz and I stayed with them last year. He's plus two at golf, and hunts and all that sort of thing. Just like one of us."

"I believe this chap is too," said Bunting. "Still if the Governor didn't care about it, it's enough for me."

"You said that before. You should get out of the way of repeating yourself, Grafton. It's the girl I'm thinking of. Rather hard luck on her, if she's in love with the fellow. However, there are lots of other fellows who'll be quite ready to take it on."

"You said that before. You should get out of the way of repeating yourself, Beckley."

"One up," admitted Jimmy. "I shouldn't let her mope if I were you. When girls are in that state they want amusing. She was quite lively at first this morning, and I was going to try and buck her up a bit after we'd played a set or two. But she went in before I could get to work. It comes over them sometimes, you know. I shouldn't wonder if she weren't having a good blub at this very moment. It takes 'em like that."

"You seem to know a lot about it for a man of your age."

"Well, I do know a bit. I don't mind telling you, Grafton, as we're pals, and I know it won't go any further, that I was jolly well struck on a girl last winter. Used to meet her in the hunting-field and all that. I'm not sure I didn't save her life once. She was going straight for a fence where there was a harrow lying in the field just the other side that she couldn't see. I shouted out to her just in time."

"How did you know the harrow was there?"

"'Cos it happened to be on our own place, fortunately, and I remembered it. 'Course it was nothing that I did, really, but she'd have taken a nasty toss, I expect, even if she hadn't killed herself. She went quite white, and thanked me in a way that—well it showed what she thought of it. I believe if I'd said something then—she—I don't think she'd have minded."

"Why didn't you?"

"Oh, I don't know. I suppose I wasn't quite ready."

"You're generally ready enough."

"Ah, you don't know how it takes you, Grafton. You wait till your time comes. That girl could have done anything with me, as long as it kept on. She came to a ball we had that night, and I'd picked up a bit then. I'd made up my mind that if I'd done her a good turn I'd get something for it."

"What did you get?"

"Ah, you want to know too much. But I don't mind telling you that I danced with her four times, and she chucked over a fellow in his third year at Oxford for me."

"Was that all you got?"

"No, it wasn't. But I shan't tell you any more. It wouldn't be fair to the girl. It's all come to an end now, but I'm not going to give her away."

"Do I know her?"

"I can't tell you that either. You might spot who it was, and that wouldn't be quite fair to her. Fact of the matter is I rather fancy I left off before she did. That's the sort of thing girls don't like having known."

"Why did you leave off?"

"Oh, I don't know. She promised to write to me when I went back to Eton,—there, I've let that out—and she didn't do it for I don't know how long. I was rather sick about it, and when she did write I answered her rather coldly. I thought she'd write again and want to know what the matter was. But she didn't. That cooled me off, I suppose, and when I came back this time—well, I found there were other girls I liked better."

"Oh then you've seen her; so she must live about here. Is it Maggie Williams? I thought she was rather a pretty kid when she was at your house the other day."

"Maggie Williams! My dear chap, what are you thinking about? She's an infant in arms. How could she have come to a dance at our house, and given me a carnation—there I've let that out. Maggie Williams! Why she gets ink on her fingers."

"I know she's thirteen because she told me so; and she's your parson's daughter; I don't see why she shouldn't have come to your ball."

"Well, she didn't anyhow; and I don't go in for baby-snatching. If I take to a girl she's got to know a bit."

"I don't know all the people about here yet. You might tell me whether I've seen her."

"No, my son. She wouldn't like it."

"I believe it's all swank. If she's grown up, and she let you kiss her, I expect it was just because she thought you were only a little boy, and it didn't matter."

"I never said I did kiss her."

"Well, you must have been an ass if you didn't."

"I didn't say I didn't either. But I don't mind telling you that I'd arranged a sitting-out place with a bit of mistletoe beforehand."

"You might tell me who it was."

"She's a very fine girl. Rides like a good 'un, and sticks at nothing. I don't say it's absolutely all over yet. I shall see what I feel about it next season. I like her best on a horse."

"Is it one of the Pembertons?"

"I've told you I shouldn't tell you who it was."

"Oh then it must be, or you'd have said no. They're all a bit too ancient for my taste."

"There's a lot of the kid in you still, Grafton. If you call Kate Pemberton ancient, I pity your taste. Still, if you're inclined to be gone on Maggie Williams, I dare say you would think Kate Pemberton ancient."

"You're an ass. I'm not gone on Maggie Williams. I only thought she was rather a nice kid. Was it really Kate Pemberton, Beckley? She is rather a topper, now you come to mention it."

"I don't say it is and I don't say it isn't. I say, I think we've made this bush look rather foolish. I vote we knock off now. How would it be if we went and routed B out and tried to cheer her up a bit?"

Bunting was doubtful about the expediency of this step, though he thanked his friend for the kind thought. "I'm leaving her alone a bit just now," he said. "To tell you the truth I'm not very pleased with her. She's not behaving very decently to the Governor."

"Well, I must say I rather sympathise with her there," said Jimmy, as they strolled across the lawn together. "I should always be inclined to take the girl's side in an affair of this sort. If one of my sisters ever comes across my Governor in that way, I think I shall back her up. But they're not so taking as yours; I expect I shall have the whole lot of them on my hands by and by."

"Oh, I don't think you will," said Bunting politely. "Of course your Governor is a good deal older than mine. He doesn't make a pal of you like ours does of us. That's why I don't like the way B is going on. It worries him. Of course he wouldn't have stopped it at all if he hadn't a jolly good reason. She ought to see that."

"My dear chap, you can't expect a girl to see anything when she's in that state. I know what I'm talking about. Give her her head and she'll come round all right in time."

"Do you think she will?"

"I'm sure of it. You tell your Governor to leave her alone, and pretend not to notice."

"All right, I will. Shall I say that's the advice of James Beckley, Esquire? I say, what about a round with a mashie?"

"I'm game," said Jimmy. "Don't you think it would do B good to fish her out and have a foursome? I'm sorry for that little girl."

"Oh, leave her alone," said Bunting. "Perhaps she'll play after lunch."

"Just as you like, old man. I only thought I might do something to make her forget her troubles for a bit. My advice to you is to go gently with her. I'll give you two strokes in eighteen holes and play you for a bob."