glad to see him, and liked him and thought him handsome, she was beginning to wish he would go, merely because she did not know what to talk about, and would not give him a chance to choose his own subject.  As neither of us were inclined to carry the analysis of matrimony any farther, nor to dispute the opinions of Mr. Currie Ghyrkins as quoted by his niece, there was a pause.  I struck in and boldly changed the subject.

“Are you going to see the polo this afternoon, Miss Westonhaugh?  I heard at the hotel that there was to be a match to-day of some interest.”

“Oh yes, of course.  I would not miss it for anything.  Lord Steepleton is coming to tiffin, and we shall ride down together to Annandale.  Of course you are going too; it will be a splendid thing.  Do you play polo, Mr. Griggs?  Mr. Isaacs is a great player, when he can be induced to take the trouble.  He knows more about it than he does about tennis.”

“I am very fond of the game,” I answered, “but I have no horses here, and with my weight it is not easy to get a mount for such rough work.”

“Do not disturb yourself on that score,” said Isaacs; “you know my stable is always at your disposal, and I have a couple of ponies that would carry you well enough.  Let us have a game one of those days, whenever we can get the ground.  We will play on opposite sides and match the far west against the far east.”

“What fun!” cried Miss Westonhaugh, her face brightening at the idea, “and I will hold the stakes and bestow the crown on the victor.”

“What is to be the prize?” asked Isaacs, with a smile of pleasure.  He was very literal and boyish sometimes.

“That depends on which is the winner,” she answered.

There was a noise among the trees of horses’ hoofs on the hard path, and presently we heard a voice calling loudly for a saice who seemed to be lagging far behind.  It was a clear strong voice, and the speaker abused the groom’s female relations to the fourth and fifth generations with considerable command of the Hindustani language.  Miss Westonhaugh, who had not been in the country long, did not understand a word of the very free swearing that was going on in the woods, but Isaacs looked annoyed, and I registered a black mark against the name of the new-comer, whoever he might be.

“Oh! it is Lord Steepleton,” said the young girl.  “He seems to be always having a row with his servants.  Don’t go,” she went on as I took up my hat; “he is such a good fellow, you ought to know him.”

Lord Steepleton Kildare now appeared at the corner of the lawn, hotly pursued by his breathless groom, who had been loitering on the way, and had thus roused his master’s indignation.  He was, as I have said, a fine specimen of a young Englishman, though being Irish by descent he would have indignantly denied any such nationality.  I saw when he had dismounted that he was tall and straight, though not a very heavily built man.  He carried his head high, and looked every inch a soldier as he strode across the grass, carefully avoiding the pegs of the tennis net.  He wore a large gray felt hat, like every one else, and he shook hands all round before he took it off, and settled himself in an easy chair as near as he could get to Miss Westonhaugh’s hammock.