wager immediately demanded what he meant
by displaying that article in the presence of ladies. A few minutes
afterwards Lord Hartledon entered, smoking, and was allowed to enjoy his
cigar with impunity. Good-tempered Val's delicate lips broke into a
silent smile as he marked the contrast.

He lounged on the sofa, doing nothing, in his idle fashion; Lord
Hartledon continued to watch the clouds. On the previous Saturday night
the gentlemen had entered into an argument about boating: the result was
that a match on the river was arranged, and some bets were pending on it.
It had been fixed to come off this day, Monday; but if the rain continued
to come down, it must be postponed; for the ladies, who had been promised
the treat, would not venture out to see it.

"It has come on purpose," grumbled Lord Hartledon. "Yesterday was as fine
and bright as it could be, the glass standing at set fair; and now, just
because this boating was to come off, the rain peppers down!"

The rain excepted, it was a fair vision that he looked out upon. The room
faced the back of the house, and beyond the lovely grounds green slopes
extended to the river, tolerably wide here, winding peacefully in its
course. The distant landscape was almost like a scene from fairyland.

The restless dowager--in a nondescript head-dress this morning, adorned
with an upright tuft of red feathers and voluminous skirts of brown net,
a jacket and flounces to match--betook herself to the side of Lord
Hartledon.

"Where d'you get the boats?" she asked.

"They are kept lower down, at the boat-house," he replied, puffing at his
cigar. "You can't see it from here; it's beyond Dr. Ashton's; lots of
'em; any number to be had for the hiring. Talking of Dr. Ashton, they
will dine here to-day, ma'am."

"Who will?" asked Lady Kirton.

"The doctor, Mrs. Ashton--if she's well enough--and Miss Ashton."

"Who are they, my dear nephew?"

"Why, don't you know? Dr. Ashton preached to you yesterday. He is Rector
of Calne; you must have heard of Dr. Ashton. They will be calling this
morning, I expect."

"And you have invited them to dinner! Well, one must do the civil to this
sort of people."

Lord Hartledon burst into a laugh. "You won't say 'this sort of people'
when you see the Ashtons, Lady Kirton. They are quite as good as we are.
Dr. Ashton has refused a bishopric, and Anne is the sweetest girl ever
created."

Lady Maude, who was drawing, and exchanging a desultory