* *

Louisa Mebbin's pretty week-end cottage, christened by her "Les
Fauves," and gay in summertime with its garden borders of tiger-lilies,
is the wonder and admiration of her friends.

"It is a marvel how Louisa manages to do it," is the general verdict.

Mrs. Packletide indulges in no more big-game shooting.

"The incidental expenses are so heavy," she confides to inquiring
friends.

THE STAMPEDING OF LADY BASTABLE

"It would be rather nice if you would put Clovis up for another six
days while I go up north to the MacGregors'," said Mrs. Sangrail
sleepily across the breakfast-table. It was her invariable plan to
speak in a sleepy, comfortable voice whenever she was unusually keen
about anything; it put people off their guard, and they frequently fell
in with her wishes before they had realized that she was really asking
for anything. Lady Bastable, however, was not so easily taken
unawares; possibly she knew that voice and what it betokened--at any
rate, she knew Clovis.

She frowned at a piece of toast and ate it very slowly, as though she
wished to convey the impression that the process hurt her more than it
hurt the toast; but no extension of hospitality on Clovis's behalf rose
to her lips.

"It would be a great convenience to me," pursued Mrs. Sangrail,
abandoning the careless tone. "I particularly don't want to take him
to the MacGregors', and it will only be for six days."

"It will seem longer," said Lady Bastable dismally.

"The last time he stayed here for a week--"

"I know," interrupted the other hastily, "but that was nearly two years
ago. He was younger then."

"But he hasn't improved," said her hostess; "it's no use growing older
if you only learn new ways of misbehaving yourself."

Mrs. Sangrail was unable to argue the point; since Clovis had reached
the age of seventeen she had never ceased to bewail his irrepressible
waywardness to all her circle of acquaintances, and a polite scepticism
would have greeted the slightest hint at a prospective reformation.
She discarded the fruitless effort at cajolery and resorted to
undisguised bribery.

"If you'll have him here for these six days I'll cancel that
outstanding bridge account."

It was only for forty-nine shillings, but Lady Bastable loved shillings
with a great, strong love. To lose money at bridge and not to have to
pay it was one of those rare experiences which gave the card-table a
glamour in her eyes whi