n the party at Blairbinkie who, before we were at war,
talked _fervidly_ of what he should do for his country if trouble came.
I had not liked Hector Swankington the least little bit before that, but
when he said that, in the event of war, he would raise a troop at his
own expense, call it "Swankington's Horse" and lead it himself "wherever
the fighting was hottest," I thought I'd not done him justice. So I
listened to him and approved and encouraged the plan. And then the storm
burst and we all scattered. The other morning I met him in the Park when
I was taking my early walk. He asked if I would dine with him some
evening at the "Iridescent," and I said it was not a time for dining at
restaurants. "No," he agreed, "it certainly isn't now all the French
cooks are gone; and what an idiotic idea this is about reducing the
number of courses at dinner! Silly rot, I call it!"

I ignored this and asked, "What about 'Swankington's Horse'?"

"Oh! that's all off," he said huffily. "I wrote to the authorities about
raising the troop, asked what State recognition I should get, and
enclosed a drawing of the hat I meant to wear as leader--a ripping
scheme, turned up at one side and with a bunch of feathers. All the
answer I got was a few brief words of acknowledgment and a request to
set about it at once and report myself somewhere or other. Not a word of
the State recognition I was to receive, and the drawing of the hat
returned with 'Not approved' scrawled across it. So I've chucked the
whole business. And now don't let us talk of _that_ any more!"

I gave him my freezing look (you've never seen my freezing look,
dearest--it's _terrible_!) and I said with a little calm deadly manner
that I very, _very_ seldom use, "I've no wish to talk to you of
_that_--or of anything else--ever again." And I left him.

The party at Blairbinkie that scattered almost as soon as it assembled
was by way of being a farewell to the old place, for the Clackmannans
had virtually sold it to a Mr. Spragg, of Pittsburg. He was going to
have the old castle taken across in bits and set up again in
Pennsylvania; and he was taking all the family portraits, the mausoleum,
the old trees in the park and the stags at a valuation, as well as the
village itself with all its cottages and people, in order that the
castle might have its proper _setting_ out there. There were two more
things he wanted included in the bargain--a village idiot and a family
ghost ("here