andwiches and drinking champagne. They were talking of fishing,
with reference to Walter's approaching visit to a water which all four
of them had once fished together.

"It is rather sad, you know," said Humphrey. "Remember what a good time
we had, Jim? It'll never happen again. I hate a wedding. It'll be you
next."

Jim looked at him inscrutably. "Or Dick," he said.

Dick put down his glass. "I'm not a starter," he said. "I must go and
see that Walter doesn't forget to change his tie."

The Squire and Mrs. Clinton and Lord Conroy were in a group together on
the lawn. Lord Conroy, bluff and bucolic, was telling Mrs. Clinton about
his own marriage, fifteen years before. "Never thought I should do it,"
he said, "never. There was I, forty and more, but sound, Mrs. Clinton,
mind you, sound as a bell, though no beauty--ha, ha! And there was my
lady, twenty odd, as pretty as paint, and with half the young fellows in
London after her. I said, 'Come now, will you have me? Will you or won't
you? I'm not going near London,' I said, 'not once in five years, and I
don't like soup. Otherwise you'll have your own way and you'll find me
easy to get on with.' She took me, and here we are now. I don't believe
there's a happier couple in England. I believe in marrying, myself. Wish
I'd done it when I was a young fellow, only then I shouldn't have got my
lady. I'm very glad to see my niece married to such a nice young fellow
as your son--very glad indeed; and my sister tells me there's likely to
be another wedding in both families before long--eh? Well, I mustn't be
too inquisitive; but Jim's a nice young fellow too, a very nice young
fellow, though as obstinate as the devil about this Radical kink he's
got in his brain."

"Oh, he'll get over that," said the Squire. "It isn't sense, you know,
going against the best brains in the country; I tell him we're not _all_
likely to be wrong. And he's got a stake, too. It don't do to play old
Harry with politics when you've got a stake."

"Gad, no," assented Lord Conroy. "We've got to stand together. I'm
afraid your brother's against us, though, eh, Mrs. Clinton?"

"Oh, Herbert!" said the Squire. "He's a lawyer, and they can always make
white black if it suits 'em."

Mrs. Clinton flushed faintly, and Lord Conroy said, "He's a very rising
man, though, and not so advanced as some. He told me a story just now
about a judge and one of those Suffragettes, as they call 'em, and I
haven't heard