hen at her, then away. He
seemed to fear alike accepting or refusing to play; suddenly he made
his decision.

"I'll play."

He started instantly away to the dressing-rooms; a few minutes later,
when he rode onto the field, Harriet was conscious that, in some way,
Eaton was playing a part as he listened to Avery's directions. Then
the ball was thrown in for a scrimmage, and she felt her pulses quicken
as Avery and Eaton raced side by side for the ball. Eaton might not
have played polo before, but he was at home on horseback; he beat Avery
to the ball but, clumsy with his mallet, he missed and overrode; Avery
stroked the ball smartly, and cleverly followed through. But the next
instant, as Eaton passed her, shifting his mallet in his hand, Harriet
watched him more wonderingly.

"He could have hit that ball if he'd wanted to," she declared almost
audibly to herself; and the impression that Eaton was pretending to a
clumsiness which was not real grew on her. Donald Avery appointed
himself to oppose Eaton wherever possible, besting him in every contest
for the ball; but she saw that Donald now, though he took it upon
himself to show all the other players where they made their mistakes,
did not offer any more instruction to Eaton. One of the players drove
the ball close to the barrier directly before Harriet; Eaton and Avery
raced for it, neck by neck. As before, Eaton by better riding gained a
little; as they came up, she saw Donald's attention was not upon the
ball or the play; instead, he was watching Eaton closely. And she
realized suddenly that Donald had appreciated as fully as herself that
Eaton's clumsiness was a pretense. It was no longer merely polo the
two were playing; Donald, suspecting or perhaps even certain that Eaton
knew the game, was trying to make him show it, and Eaton was watchfully
avoiding this. Just in front of her, Donald, leaning forward, swept
the ball from in front of Eaton's pony's feet.

For a few moments the play was all at the further edge of the field;
then once more the ball crossed with a long curving shot and came
hopping and rolling along the ground close to where she stood. Again
Donald and Eaton raced for it.

"Stedman!" Avery called to a teammate to prepare to receive the ball
after he had struck it; and he lifted his mallet to drive the ball away
from in front of Eaton. But as Avery's club was coming down, Eaton,
like a flash and apparently without lifting his mallet