to water, but a thousand can't make
him drink. There it is. If they haven't the spirit to enjoy it, the
fault shan't be mine;" and so she returned to the house.

At a little after eight her brother came down, and they had a sort of
scrap breakfast in his study. The tea was made without the customary
urn, and they dispensed with the usual rolls and toast. Eggs also
were missing, for every egg in the parish had been whipped into
custards, baked into pies, or boiled into lobster salad. The allowance
of fresh butter was short, and Mr. Thorne was obliged to eat the leg
of a fowl without having it devilled in the manner he loved.

"I have been looking at the quintain, Wilfred," said she, "and it
appears to be quite right."

"Oh--ah, yes," said he. "It seemed to be so yesterday when I saw
it." Mr. Thorne was beginning to be rather bored by his sister's
love of sports, and had especially no affection for this quintain
post.

"I wish you'd just try it after breakfast," said she. "You could
have the saddle put on Mark Antony, and the pole is there all handy.
You can take the flour bag off, you know, if you think Mark Antony
won't be quick enough," added Miss Thorne, seeing that her brother's
countenance was not indicative of complete accordance with her little
proposition.

Now Mark Antony was a valuable old hunter, excellently suited to
Mr. Thorne's usual requirements, steady indeed at his fences, but
extremely sure, very good in deep ground, and safe on the roads. But
he had never yet been ridden at a quintain, and Mr. Thorne was not
inclined to put him to the trial, either with or without the bag of
flour. He hummed and hawed and finally declared that he was afraid
Mark Antony would shy.

"Then try the cob," said the indefatigable Miss Thorne.

"He's in physic," said Wilfred.

"There's the Beelzebub colt," said his sister. "I know he's in the
stable because I saw Peter exercising him just now."

"My dear Monica, he's so wild that it's as much as I can do to manage
him at all. He'd destroy himself and me, too, if I attempted to ride
him at such a rattletrap as that."

A rattletrap! The quintain that she had put up with so much anxious
care; the game that she had prepared for the amusement of the
stalwart yeomen of the country; the sport that had been honoured by
the affection of so many of their ancestors! It cut her to the heart
to hear it so denominated by her own brother. There were but the two
of them left tog