finer thing done, Miss Coventry; if I live to a
hundred I shall never forget it;" and he looked as if he would have
added, "or you either."

Many were the exclamations, and much the conversation created by our
adventure. The ladies who had run away so gallantly were of course too
much agitated for the proposed boating excursion; so after sundry
restoratives at the hotel we ordered the carriages to return to town.
Cousin John gave "Frank" (as he calls him) a place in the back seat of
his phaeton, and he leaned over and talked to me the whole way home.
What a pleasant drive it was in the moonlight, and how happy I felt! I
was really sorry when we got back to London. Frank seemed quite
anxious to make Aunt Deborah's acquaintance; and I thought I shouldn't
wonder if he was to call in Lowndes Street very soon.

CHAPTER V.

When Aunt Deborah is laid up with one of _her_ colds she always has a
wonderful accession of "propriety" accompanying the disorder; and that
which would appear to her at the worst a harmless _escapade_ when in
her usual health and spirits becomes a crime of the blackest dye when
seen through the medium of barley-broth and water-gruel--these being
Aunt Deborah's infallible remedies for a catarrh. Now, the cold in
question had lasted its victim over the Ascot meeting, over our picnic
to Richmond, and bade fair to give her employment during the greater
part of the summer, so obstinate was the enemy when he had once
possessed himself of the citadel; and under these circumstances I
confess it appeared to me quite hopeless to ask her permission to
accompany Cousin John on a long-promised expedition to Hampton Races.
I did not dare make the request myself; and I own I had great
misgivings, even when I overheard from my boudoir the all-powerful
John preferring his petition, which he did with a sort of abrupt good
humour peculiarly his own.

"Going to take Kate out for another lark, aunt, if you have no
objection," says John, plumping down into an armchair, and forthwith
proceeding to entangle Aunt Deborah's knitting into the most hopeless
confusion. "Only some quiet races near town; all amongst ourselves,
you know--gentlemen riders, and that sort of thing."

Aunt Deborah, who is a good deal behindhand in all matters connected
with the turf, and who has set her face into a determined refusal when
she hears the word "racing," rather relaxes at the mention of
"_gentlemen_ riders," and replies gravely,