been the "unhappy cause of all this discord." The bay pony was
always an object of envy to Cecil, and in his heart he was determined
to ride him before leaving Billabong. Particularly he coveted him for
the ride into Cunjee. It was bad enough, he considered, to be condemned
to Brown Betty in the paddocks, but she was certainly not stylish
enough to please him when it came to a township expedition. So he had
sauntered out when the horses were being saddled, and delicately hinted
to Jim that he might ride Bobs.

Jim, wrestling with Garryowen's girth, had found it the easiest way out
of the difficulty to avoid hearing the hint--which he considered "like
Cecil's cheek," and as nothing short of Norah's own command would have
induced him to accede to it, silence seemed the better plan. Cecil had
waited a moment until his head came up from under the saddle flap, and
repeated his remark.

"Afraid not," said Jim, driven to bay, and speaking shortly to cover
his annoyance. "Norah's going to ride him herself." He led Garryowen
off to tie him under the shade of the pepper trees, and did not return
to saddle Bobs until Cecil had retreated to the house, looking very
black.

This little incident--which Jim had not thought is necessary to report
to Norah--had slightly marred the harmony of the early morning. But
Jim's unfailing good humour make it hard to keep up a grievance, and if
Betty were not exactly stylish, her paces were good enough to make her
rider enjoy the trip into Cunjee, especially as Wally and Norah were in
the best of spirits and kept things going with a will. Then had come
lunch at the Andersons', an occasion which called all Cecil's reserve
powers into play. Mrs. Anderson was pretty and smart, and he assumed
his best society manner in talking to her, monopolized most of the
conversation and flattered himself on making a distinct impression on
his country hostess. Possibly he would have been pained had he heard
Mrs. Anderson's remark to her husband while putting on her hat after
lunch.

"Did you ever see such a contrast, Jack?" she asked--"that conceited
boy, and those nice Grammar School youngsters--they're so jolly and
unaffected!" To which the doctor had responded that if he had his way
he'd boil Cecil, and it was time she had that veil fixed--and had led
her forth, protesting that "half the pins weren't in!"

Cecil, however, knew nothing of these comments, and was very well
satisfied with himself as they wal