ely believe his own good fortune, even when he
found himself seated next to her as the general rustle subsided, and
might accept the delightful certainty that she would be there by his
side for the next two hours at least.

He forgot to consult his _menu_; he had no very distinct idea of what
he ate or drank, or what was going on around him, at least as long as
Mabel talked to him. They were just outside the radius of the big
centre lamp, and that and the talk around them produced a sort of
semi-privacy.

The spoony young man was at Mabel's right hand, to be sure, but he
had been sent in with the keen-faced young lady who came from Girton,
where it was well known that the marks she had gained in one of the
great Triposes under the old order, would--but for her sex--have
placed her very high indeed in the class list. Somebody had told the
young man of this, and, as he was from Cambridge too, but had never
been placed anywhere except in one or two walking races at Fenner's,
it had damped him too much for conversation just yet.

'Have you been down to Chigbourne lately?' Mabel asked Mark suddenly,
and her smile and manner showed him that she remembered their first
meeting. He took this opportunity of disclaiming all share in the
treatment of the unfortunate gander, and was assured that it was quite
unnecessary to do so.

'I wish your uncle, Mr. Humpage, thought with you,' he said ruefully,
'but he has quite made up his mind that I am a villain of the deepest
dye;' and then, encouraged to confide in her, he told the story of the
old gentleman's furious entry and accusation.

Mabel looked rather grave. 'How could he get such an idea into his
head?' she said.

'I'm afraid _my_ uncle had something to do with that,' said Mark, and
explained Mr. Lightowler's conduct.

'It's very silly of both of them,' she said; 'and then to drag _you_
into the quarrel, too! You know, old Mr. Humpage is not really my
uncle--only one of those relations that sound like a prize puzzle when
you try to make them out. Dolly always calls him Uncle Anthony--he's
her godfather. But I wish you hadn't offended him, Mr. Ashburn, I do
really. I've heard he can be a very bitter enemy. He has been a very
good friend to papa; I believe he gave him almost the very first brief
he ever had; and he's kind to all of us. But it's dangerous to offend
him. Perhaps you will meet him here some day,' she added, 'and then we
may be able to make him see how mistake