d and reproachful.

"Tony!" said she, imitating his tone of voice to perfection, "there's
your friend getting impatient. Good-bye."

As the spanking team whirled past, Skeffy had but a second or two
to catch a glance at the veiled and muffled figure that reclined so
voluptuously in the corner of the carriage; but he was ready to declare
that she had the most beautiful eyes in the world, and "knew what to do
with them besides." "You 're in love with her, Tony," cried he, fixing
a steadfast stare on the pale and agitated features at his side. "I see
it, old fellow! I know every shade and tint of that blessed thing they
miscall the tender passion. Make me no confessions; I don't want them.
Your heart is at her feet, and she treats it like a football."

Tony's cheeks grew purple.

"There's no shame in that, my boy. Women do that with better men than
either of us; ay, and will continue to do it centuries after you and I
shall be canonized as saints. It's that same contempt of us that
makes them worth the winning; but, I say, why is the fellow drawing up
here?--Is he going to bait his beast?"

"No," muttered Tony, with a certain confusion; "but we must get down and
walk here. Our road lies by that path yonder: there 's no carriage-way
up to our 'chateau;'" and he gave a peculiar accent to the last word.

"All right," said Skeffy, gayly. "I 'm good for ten miles of a walk."

"I 'll not test your powers so far; less than a quarter of an hour will
bring us home. Take down the luggage, and I 'll send up for it," said he
to the driver.

"What honest poor devils you must be down here!" said Skeffy, as he saw
the carman deposit the trunks on the road and drive off. "I 'd not like
to try this experiment in Charing Cross."

"You see there is some good in poverty, after all," said Tony, laughing.

"Egad, I've tried it for some years without discovering it," said
Skeffy, gravely. "That," continued he, after a brief pause, "it should
make men careless, thoughtless, reckless if you like, I can conceive;
but why it should make them honest, is clean beyond me. What an appetite
this sharp air is giving me, Master Tony! I'll astonish that sirloin or
that saddle of yours, whichever it be."

"More likely neither, Skeffy. You 're lucky if it be a rasher and eggs."

"Oh, that it may be," cried the other, "and draught beer! Have you got
draught beer?"

"I don't think we have any other. There's our crib,--that little cabin
under the