patronage and
control, prepared to enjoy himself at last. He had had a bad time of it
so far, for he was in the black-books of almost every youth in the room,
and had been posted as a defaulter in whatever corner he had tried to
hide from his creditors.

"It's awful having a pretty sister," said he confidentially to his
companion; "gets a fellow into no end of a mess. I wish I was your
brother instead."

"Thank you," said the young lady, laughing.

"Oh, I didn't mean that," said Tom. "You're good enough looking, I
think. But I don't see why Rosalind can't pick her own partners,
instead of me having to manage it for her. Look out! if that chap
opposite sees me he'll kick--put the ferns between. There she is next
to Roger. Like her cheek, bagging the best place. Do you see that kid
there grinning at the fellow with the eye-glass? That's my young
sister--ought to be in bed instead of fooling about here. Ah, I knew
it! she's planted herself opposite the grapes. If we don't look out we
shan't get one. That's my governor coming in; looks rather chippy,
don't he? I say, lean forward, or he'll see me. He's caught me in the
supper-room five or six times already this evening. By the way, where's
old Ratty? Do you know Ratty, Miss Isabel? No end of a scorch. Just
the chap for you. I'll introduce you. Hullo! where is he?" added he,
looking up and down the table cautiously. "Surely he's not going to
shirk the feed? Never mind, Miss Isabel; I'll work it round for you if
I can."

Miss Isabel expressed her gratitude with a smile, and asked Tom how he
liked living at Maxfield.

"Oh, all right, now I've got a football and can go shooting in the
woods. I have to pay up for it though with lessons, and--(thanks; all
right; just a little more. Won't you have some yourself while it's
here?)--Armstrong makes us stick at it. I say, by the way, do you
remember that fellow who died? (Don't take any of that; it's no good.
Wire in to a wing of the partridge instead.) Eh, do you?"

"Whom? What are you talking about?" asked she, bewildered.

"Ah, it doesn't matter. He died twenty-one years ago, before Roger was
born. I thought you might have known him."

"Really, Tom, you are not complimentary. You can't expect me to
remember before I was born."

"What! aren't you twenty-one?" asked Tom, staring round at her. "Go on;
you're joking! No? Why, you look twice the age! This chap, you know,
would have been the