r surer card, boasting of his
feats as a marksman in the Bush, until Dora broke in, "Why, Eustace,
that was Harry; wasn't it, Harry?"

"Comme a l'ordinaire," muttered Dermot. Eustace made a little
stammering about the thing being so near that no one could tell, and
Dora referred again to Harold, who put her down with a muttered "Never
mind" under his beard.

What was to be done with it if it were won? "Get a fac-simile made,
and an appropriate inscription," recommended Lord Erymanth. "Probably
they would take that willingly."

"But what would you do with it?" asked Harold. "You can't wear it."

"I tell you it is an heirloom," quoth Eustace. "Have you no feeling
for an heirloom? I am sure it was your mother who sold it away from
me."

The sight of the belt, with Lord Erymanth's lecture on it, inflamed
Eustace's ardour all the more, and we made extensive purchases of bows
and arrows; that is to say, Eustace and I did, for Lady Diana would not
permit Viola to join in the contest. She did not like the archery set,
disapproved of public matches for young ladies, and did not choose her
daughter to come forward in the cause. I did not fancy the matches
either, and was certain that my mere home pastime had no chance with
Hippo and Pippa, who had studied archery scientifically for years, and
aimed at being the best lady shots in England; but Eustace would never
have forgiven me if I had not done my best. So we subscribed to the
Archery Club as soon as we went home; and Eustace would have had me
practise with him morning, noon, and night, till I rebelled, and
declared that if he knocked me up my prowess would be in vain, and that
I neither could nor would shoot more than an hour and a half a day.

His ardour, however, soon turned into vituperations of the stupid
sport. How could mortal man endure it? If it had been pistol or
rifle-shooting now, it would have been tolerable, and he should have
been sure to excel; but a great long, senseless, useless thing like an
arrow was only fit for women or black fellows; the string hurt one's
fingers too--always slipping off the tabs.

"No wonder, as you hold it," said Harold, who had just turned aside to
watch on his way down to the potteries, and came in time to see an
arrow fly into the bank a yard from the target. "Don't you see how
Lucy takes it?"

I had already tried to show him, but he had pronounced mine to be the
ladies' way, and preferred to act by the light of