epressibly, and quite inappropriately to their role
as Green Coons. Freddy Alexander and Mr. Taylour bear-fought untiringly
for possession of the bones and the position of Corner Man; Mrs.
Carteret alone had a copy of the music that was to be practised, and in
consequence, the company hung heavily over her at the piano in a
deafening and discordant swarm. The two tall Hamiltons, hitherto
speechless by nature and by practice, became suddenly exhilarated at
finding themselves in the inner circle of the soldiery, and bubbled with
impotent suggestions and reverential laughter at the witticisms of Mr.
Taylour. Fanny Fitz and Captain Carteret finally removed themselves to a
grimy corner behind the proscenium, and there practised, _sotto voce_,
the song with banjo accompaniment that was to culminate in the hornpipe.
Freddy Alexander had gone forth to purchase a pack of cards, in the
futile hope that he could prevail upon Mrs. Carteret to allow him to
inflict conjuring tricks upon the audience.

"As if there were anything on earth that bored people as much as card
tricks!" said that experienced lady to Rupert Gunning. "Look here,
_would_ you mind reading over these riddles, to see which you'd like to
have to answer. Now, here's a local one. I'll ask it--'Why am dis room
like de Enniscar Demesne?'--and then _you'll_ say, 'Because dere am so
many pretty little deers in it'!"

"Oh, I couldn't possibly do that!" said Rupert hastily, alarmed as well
as indignant; "I'm afraid I really must go now--"

He had to pass by Fanny Fitz on his way out of the hall. There was
something vexed and forlorn about him, and, being sympathetic, she
perceived it, though not its cause.

"You're deserting us!" she said, looking up at him.

"I have an appointment," he said stiffly, his glance evading hers, and
resting on Captain Carteret's well-clipped little black head.

Some of Fanny's worst scrapes had been brought about by her incapacity
to allow any one to part from her on bad terms, and, moreover, she liked
Rupert Gunning. She cast about in her mind for something conciliatory to
say to him.

"When are you going to show me the cob that you bought at the Horse
Show?"

The olive branch thus confidently tendered had a somewhat withering
reception.

"The cob I bought at the Horse Show?" Mr. Gunning repeated with an
increase of rigidity, "Oh, yes--I got rid of it."

He paused; the twanging of Captain Carteret's banjo bridged the interval
imp