y, and isn't even an honourable. I thought all her
daughters were to be princesses or duchesses or ranees or somethin'
imposin'."

Archie Fielding, gossip-in-chief of the Junior Sherwood Club, beat a
rousing tattoo on the table, and began to whistle Mendelssohn's "Wedding
March."

"Wonder if he will want me to be best man," he proceeded. "It'll be the
seventh time this season. Think I shall make a small charge for my
services for the future. Not to poor old Cecil, though. He's always
hard-up. I wonder what they'll live on. I'll bet Miss Ernestine hasn't
been brought up on cheese and smoked herrings."

"Which is Ernestine?" asked another member, generally known at the club
as "that ass Bray." "The little one, isn't it; the one that laughs?"

"The cheeky one--yes," said Archie. "I saw her ridin' in the Park with
Dinghra the other day. Awful brute, Dinghra, if he is a rajah's son."

"Shocking bounder!" said Bray. "But rich--a quality that covers a
multitude of sins."

"Especially in Lady Florence's estimation," remarked Archie. "She's had
designs on him ever since Easter. Ernestine is a nice little thing, you
know, but somehow she hangs fire. A trifle over-independent, I suppose,
and she has a sharp tongue, too--tells the truth a bit too often, don't
you know. I don't get on with that sort of girl myself. But I'll swear
Dinghra is head over ears, the brute. I'd give twenty pounds to punch
his evil mouth."

"Yes, he's pretty foul, certainly. But apparently she isn't for him. I'm
surprised that Cecil has taken the trouble to compete. He's kept mighty
quiet about it. I've met him hardly anywhere this season."

"Oh, he's a lazy animal! But he always does things on the quiet; it is
his nature to. He's the sort of chap that thinks for about twenty years,
and then goes straight and does the one and only thing that no one else
would dream of doin'. I rather fancy, for all his humdrum ways, he would
be a difficult man to thwart. I'd give a good deal to know how he got
over Lady Florence, though. He has precious little to recommend him as a
son-in-law."

At this point some one kicked him violently, and he looked up to see the
subject of his harangue sauntering up the room.

"Are you talking about me?" he inquired, as he came. "Don't let me
interrupt, I beg. I know I'm an edifying topic, eh, Archibald?"

"Oh, don't ask me to praise you to your face," said Archie, quite
unperturbed. "How are you, old chap? We are all gapi