ave been terrible for you," put in Ussher, who had a habit of
conversational reversion, "but I bet it was no joke in the tool-house!
How an intelligent woman like you, Christine, could dream of making a man
spend the night in that hole, just for the sake of--"

"But I thought it was Mr. Riatt's own choice," said Nancy gently.

"You wouldn't think so if you could have felt the place," Ussher
continued. "And what difference did it make? Who was there to talk? Every
one knows that their being there was just an unavoidable accident--"

"Oh, if it had been an accident!" said Nancy, and it was as if a little
venomous snake had suddenly wriggled itself into the conversation. Every
one turned toward her, and her brother asked sternly:

"_If_, it had been an accident, Nancy? What the deuce do you mean by
_if_?"

Nancy shook her small head. "I express myself badly," she said. "English
rhetoric was left out of my education."

"You manage to convey your ideas, dear," said Laura.

"I was trying to say that if poor, dear Christine had not been so
unfortunately the one to hit the horse in the head, and start him off--"

Wickham pricked up his ears. "Oh, I say, Miss Fenimer," he exclaimed,
"did you really hit the horse?"

"Certainly, I did, Mr. Wickham."

"But what did you do that for?"

Christine did not trouble to answer this question. Hickson, who had been
suffering far more than any one, rushed to the rescue.

"Miss Fenimer did not do it on purpose, Wickham. She happened to be
standing--"

"Oh, is that what your sister meant?" said Christine, as if a sudden
light dawned on her. "Tell me, Nancy darling, do you really think I hit
the horse on purpose, so as to have an uninterrupted evening with Mr.
Riatt? How you do flatter men! It's a great art. I'm afraid I shall never
learn it."

For the first time, Riatt found himself looking at her with a certain
amount of genuine admiration. This was very straight fighting. "They have
the piratical virtues," he thought, "courage, and the ability to give and
take hard blows."

Mrs. Almar was not to be outdone. "Well," she said, "I may as well be
honest. I can imagine myself doing it, for the right man. And we should
have had an amusing evening of it, which was more than we had here, I can
tell you. We were very dreary. Mr. Wickham tried to relieve the monotony
by a game of piquet, but I'm afraid he did not really enjoy it, for he
has not asked me to play since." And she cast a