these young men are on it," concluded Miss Mangles, with her usual
decision. One privilege of her sex she had not laid aside--the privilege
of jumping to conclusions. Netty glanced beneath her dark lashes in the
direction indicated by Miss Mangles's inexorable finger; but some of the
young men happening to look up, she instantly became interested in the
Russian race-card which she could not read.

"It is very sad," she said.

Miss Mangles continued to look at the young men severely, as if making
up her mind how best to take them in hand.

"Don't see the worst of 'em here," muttered Mr. Mangles, dismally. "It
isn't round about the grand-stand that young men come to grief--on the
turf. That contingent is waiting to be called up into the boxes, and
reformed--by the young women."

Netty looked gently distressed. At times she almost thought Uncle Joseph
inclined to be coarse. She looked across the lawn with a rather wistful
expression, eminently suited to dark blue eyes. The young men below were
still glancing up in her direction, but she did not seem to see them.
At this moment Wanda and Martin returned to their box. Wanda was
preoccupied, and sat down without noticing the new-comers. Several
ladies leaned over the low partitions and asked questions, which were
unintelligible to Netty, and the news was spread from mouth to mouth
that the Prince Bukaty was not hurt.

Joseph P. Mangles looked at the brother and sister beneath his heavy
brows. He knew quite well who they were, but did not consider himself
called upon to transmit the information.

"Even the best people seem to lend their countenance to this," said Miss
Mangles, in an undertone.

"You are right, Jooly."

But Miss Mangles did not hear. She was engaged in bowing to Paul Deulin,
who was coming up the steps. She was rather glad to see him, for the
feeling had come over her that she was quite unknown to all these
people. This is a feeling to which even the greatest are liable, and it
is most unpleasant. For the heart of the celebrated is apt to hunger
for the nudge of recognition and the surreptitious sidelong glance which
convey the gratifying fact that one has been recognized. Paul Deulin
would serve to enlighten these benighted people, and some little good
might yet be done by a distinct and dignified attitude of disapproval
towards the turf.

"One would scarcely expect to see you here, Mr. Deulin," she said,
shaking hands, with a playful shake of the