n. 'My father won't give up his
nominee; so I fancy he'll try Fallow field. Of course, we go in for
the agricultural interest; but there's a cantankerous old ruffian down
here--a brewer, or something--he's got half the votes at his bidding. We
shall see.'

'Dorothy, my dear child, are you not tired?' said Lady Racial. 'You are
very hot.'

'Yes, that's because Rose would tear along the road to get here in time,
after we had left those tiresome Copping people, where she had to make a
call. "What a slow little beast your pony is, Dorry!"--she said that at
least twenty times.'

'Oh, you naughty puss!' cried Rose. 'Wasn't it, "Rosey, Rosey, I'm sure
we shall be too late, and shan't see a thing: do come along as hard as
you can"?'

'I 'm sure it was not,' Miss Dorothy retorted, with the large eyes of
innocence. 'You said you wanted to see Nick Frim keeping the wicket,
and Ferdinand Laxley bowl. And, oh! you know something you said about
Drummond Forth.'

'Now, shall I tell upon you?' said Rose.

'No, don't!' hastily replied the little woman, blushing. And the
cavaliers laughed out, and the ladies smiled, and Dorothy added: 'It
isn't much, after all.'

'Then, come; let's have it, or I shall be jealous,' said the Squire.

'Shall I tell?' Rose asked slily.

'It 's unfair to betray one of your sex, Rose,' remarked the
sweetly-smiling lady.

'Yes, Lady Racial--mayn't a woman have secrets?' Dorothy put it with
great natural earnestness, and they all laughed aloud. 'But I know a
secret of Rosey's,' continued Miss Dorothy, 'and if she tells upon me, I
shall tell upon her.'

'They're out!' cried Rose, pointing her whip at the wickets. 'Good night
to Beckley! Tom Copping 's run out.'

Questions as to how it was done passed from mouth to mouth. Questions
as to whether it was fair sprang from Tom's friends, and that a doubt
existed was certain: the whole field was seen converging toward the two
umpires.

Farmer Broadmead for Fallow field, Master Nat Hodges for Beckley.

It really is a mercy there's some change in the game,' said Mrs. Shorne,
waving her parasol. 'It 's a charming game, but it wants variety a
little. When do you return, Rose?'

'Not for some time,' said Rose, primly. 'I like variety very well, but I
don't seek it by running away the moment I've come.'

'No, but, my dear,' Mrs. Shorne negligently fanned her face, 'you will
have to come with us, I fear, when we go. Your uncle accompanies us. I
really t