CHAPTER VIII.

THE WAGER BOATS.

Tuesday morning rose, bright and propitious: a contrast to the two
previous days arranged for the boat-race. All was pleasure, bustle,
excitement at Hartledon: but the coolness that had arisen between the
brothers was noticed by some of the guests. Neither of them was disposed
to take the first step towards reconciliation: and, indeed, a little
incident that occurred that morning led to another ill word between
them. An account that had been standing for more than two years was sent
in to Lord Hartledon's steward; it was for some harness, a saddle, a
silver-mounted whip, and a few trifles of that sort, supplied by a small
tradesman in the village. Lord Hartledon protested there was nothing of
the sort owing; but upon inquiry the debtor proved to be Mr. Percival
Elster. Lord Hartledon, vexed that any one in the neighbourhood should
have waited so long for his money, said a sharp word on the score to
Percival; and the latter retorted as sharply that it was no business of
his. Again Val was angry with himself, and thus gave vent to his temper.
The fact was, he had completely forgotten the trifling debt, and was as
vexed as Hartledon that it should have been allowed to remain unpaid: but
the man had not sent him any reminder whilst he was away.

"Pay it to-day, Marris," cried Lord Hartledon to his steward. "I won't
have this sort of thing at Calne."

His tone was one of irritation--or it sounded so to the ears of his
conscious brother, and Val bit his lips. After that, throughout the
morning, they maintained a studied silence towards each other; and
this was observed, but was not commented on. Val was unusually quiet
altogether: he was saying to himself that he was sullen.

The starting-hour for the race was three o'clock; but long before that
time the scene was sufficiently animated, not to say exciting. It was a
most lovely afternoon. Not a trace remained of the previous day's rain;
and the river--wide just there, as it took the sweeping curve of the
point--was dotted with these little wager boats. Their owners for the
time being, in their white boating-costume, each displaying his colours,
were in highest spirits; and the fair gazers gathered on the banks were
anxious as to the result. The favourite was Lord Hartledon--by long odds,
as Mr. Shute grumbled. Had his lordship been known not to possess the
smallest chance, nine of those fair girls out of ten would, nevertheless,
h