emy with wonder and amazement,
then, with a gesture of utter gratitude, he said--

"Acton, I can never tell you how much I owe you for saving my mother's
life, but will you shake hands?"

Acton looked at Bourne, whose face beamed with admiration and gratitude,
and then he put out his hand. In that moment, so honourable to them
both, the feud was stamped out for ever. Fresh as he was from as
glorious a deed as any Amorian had ever done, he realized that he had
been a blackguard towards Bourne the moment Phil begged him to shake
hands.

Phil murmured almost inarticulate words of gratitude; but Acton, more
than a trifle disturbed at his own thoughts, interrupted hastily--

"Say no more about it, please, Bourne. You'd have done as much for any
one."

"Your hands are bleeding," said Phil, with immense concern.

"Nothing at all. I think the reins cut them."

Mrs. Bourne _would_ bind them. "Of course!" said she. "How blind of me
not to see that this gentleman is one of your schoolfellows, Phil."

"Mother," said Phil, "this is John Acton."

"I've heard Phil talk about your wonderful win at Aldershot. I suppose
you're great friends?"

The "great friends" looked on the ground rather guiltily, but Phil cut
in with--

"I say, Acton, you must come and have tea with mother and me in my den.
Can you?"

Acton said quietly, "All right, Bourne. Thanks, awfully." Then he added
under his breath to Phil, "If I can come as a friend?"

"On that condition," said Phil, "I'd like you to come."

The trio walked back along the road--a happy trio they were, too--and a
melancholy procession of injured horses and an angry coachman closed
their rear. The tea in Bourne's room was very successful, and I should
fancy that Hinton did more hard thinking and hard staring when he saw
Acton amicably seated with his feet under Bourne's table than he ever
did before. The minute he had permission, he flew down the corridor, and
exploded bombshell after bombshell among wondering Amorians.

"Acton and Bourne teaing together like two birds on a bough!" he gasped.

"That would be a funny sight," said Cherry. "Birds don't take tea."

"Write an epilogue, Fruity. Teaing together as friendly as Grim and I
might."

"Only that," said W.E. Grim, with a genial wink, "my opinion is, that
Hinton's been on the drink, and seen double."

Incredulity and wonder were the dominant notes among Amorians for the
next two hours.

Acton and Phil walked to the s