e in a big race is due to
the skilful handling of his jockey. During the afternoon she had been
meditating over the plan of her Easter campaign, and resolved to adhere
to her original determination. Most decidedly she would have nothing
to do with Commonstone and its gaieties, nor would she afford greater
favour to any revelries at the Rockcliffe camp; and most devoutly did
she wish that it was in her power to keep the rector's daughters
altogether at arm's length, now that she had seen this new cousinly
importation. At arm's length as much as possible the Misses Chipchase
should be held, she determined.

"That Miss Sylla," she muttered, "is just the sort of girl men always
lose their heads about; clever, too, if I mistake not. Well, I don't
mean to see more of her at the Grange than I am positively obliged to;
but keep her out altogether I can't. The Chipchase girls have grown up
with my own, and been always accustomed to come and go pretty much as
they liked. However," thought her ladyship, "the first thing to settle
undoubtedly is this ball;" and, as she and her daughter descended to
dinner, Lady Mary did fancy that, at all events, she had settled that.

"Ah, here you are at last," said the Squire, as they entered the
drawing-room; "dinner is already announced, my lady. Come along, Mrs.
Evesham, it's no use letting the soup get cold."

"How do you do, Mr. Beauchamp?" said Lady Mary, as a dark, good-looking
young fellow came forward to shake hands with her. "It seems I am
dreadfully late, and have only time now to say I am delighted that you
have found your way to Todborough. Perhaps you will take care of
Blanche." And then the hostess turned away to pair off her other
guests.

"I congratulate you, Lady Mary, on so favourable an augury," said
Pansey Cottrell, as he leisurely consumed his fish.

"Favourable augury! What can you mean?"

"Do you not see," returned Cottrell, in mock-tragical tones, "that we
are thirteen to dinner? Do you not know that Lionel Beauchamp is the
thirteenth? and do you not know what Fate has invariably in store for
the thirteenth at a dinner party?"

"Good gracious!" exclaimed Lady Mary; "why, they say it's hanging, do
they not?"

"Well, of late years they have rather qualified the sentence. Popular
opinion, I think, now inclines to the belief that the thirteenth, when
a man, will be either hung--or married."

"I suppose we are advancing in the science of augury as in a