ng towards the poker, and Joe as rapidly took up a
position behind the dressing-glass.

"Hush!" cried O'Shea, "there's some one at the door."

And a loud summons at the same time confirmed the words. With a ready
instinct Joe speedily recovered himself, and hastened to open it.

"Is your master at home?" asked a voice.

"Oh, Heathcote, is it you?" exclaimed O'Shea; "Just step into the
next room, and I 'll be with you in a second or two. Joe, show Captain
Heathcote into the drawing-room."

"I wondher what's the matter with him?" said Joe, confidentially, as
he came back. "I never see any one look so low."

"So much the better," said O'Shea, merrily; "it's a sign he's coming to
pay money. When a man is about to put you off with a promise, he lounges
in with an easy, devil-may-care look that seems to say, 'It's all one,
old fellow, whether you have an I O or the ready tin.'"

"There's a deal of truth in that," said Joe, approvingly, and with a
look that showed how pleasurable it was to him to hear such words of
wisdom.

CHAPTER XX. A DREARY FORENOON.

O'Shea swaggered into the room where Heathcote was standing to await
him, in the attitude of one who desired to make his visit as brief as
might be.

"How good of you to drive over to this dreary spot," began the Member,
jauntily, "where the blue devils seem to have their especial home. I 'm
hipped and bored here as I never was before. Come, sit down; have you
breakfasted?"

"Three hours ago."

"Take some luncheon, then; a glass of sherry, at least."

"Nothing--thanks--it's too early."

"Won't you have even a weed?" said he, opening a cigar-box.

"I 'm provided," said the other, showing the half of a still lighted
cigar. "I came over this morning, hoping to catch you at home, and make
some sort of settlement about our little transactions together."

"My dear fellow, you surely can't think it makes any matter between
_us_. I hope you know that it is entirely a question for your own
convenience. No man has more experience of what it is to be 'hit hard,'
as they say. When I first came out, I got it. By Jove! did n't I get
it, and at both sides of the head too. It was Mopus's year, when the
Yorkshire Lass ran a dead heat with Skyrocket for the Diddlesworth. I
stood seventeen to one, in thousands! think of that,--seventeen thousand
pounds to one against the filly. It was thought so good a thing that
Naylor--old Jerry, as they used to call him--offered me