ISABELLA.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLV, Issue 21, 23 November 1910, Page 54

ISABELLA.

By

DAVID GRAY.

Author of “ Gallops.”

THAT S all,” said Mr. Parsons Scott. He waved his hand at the groom, directing him to take the horse which was loose in the paddock back to tlie stable. “I liey are a good lot,” observed Mr. Carteret. He had been putting in the morning inspecting Mr. Scott’s hunters Parsons Scott had an ofliee in town, at which an office-boy might sometimes Ibe found. Scott’s personal attention was devoted io the purchase, education, and sale of hunters. As a prudent grandparent had provided him with an income, iie was able to live in the country with comfort and to maintain the town office and his horse business as well. “I'm glad you like them,” replied Scott, referring to Mr. Carteret’s commendation of his horses. Carteret’s opinion was able in this field. “Yes.” repeated Carteret; “they are B good lot. They are better than Harrington’s and better than Brown’s. But I really don’t think there is anything that •will do for me. As I told you, 1 want something like old Elevator—something that jumps exceptionally big and sure.'* “The only other thing which 1 have is a mare that came yesterday from Canada,” observed Scott. “1 haven’t had her out yet. I got her in a. trade, and probably something is the matter with her; 'but they say sjie can jump. Bring out Isabella!” he called to the groom—“the new chestnut mare.” “Did you give her that name?” inquired Mr. Carteret. “No,” said Scott; “1 shouldn’t name • horse Isabella.” “I don’t know,” observed Mr. Carteret. “I thought you might be growing sentimental. It s a pretty name for a gentle mare.” “Stuff!” said Scott. “Quite an animal,” observed Mr. Carteret, as the mare trotted into the paddock. “Sporty-looking, isn't she? White blaze and stockings, and a piece out of tier ear. She is uneonrmonly well made,” he went on; “but her head is coarse, and she carries it too knowingly for a picture horse.” “Yes,” said Scott- “I am sorry about •the nick in her ear. It takes a hundred off her value. But she is a mare with a lot of character —the kind that can look out for herself and you, too.” Carteret nodded. “Turn her at the Jump,” he said to the groom. In the paddock there was a made jump, with wings, over which horses could he chased without a rider on their backs. The bars were about five feet high when Carteret spoke. “Tbat’iz too high to start with.” said Scott. "She is just off the car.’ The groom, who had started to drive the horse, stopped. , “Let it down to four feet,” .Scott Continued. • “Y’csj sir.” he said. Before he reached the jump Scott called him back. Isabella was trotting leisurely into the wings of her own accord. “Look!” said Scott. The mare reached the jump, popped over it, gave a whisk of her closely docked tail, and began placidly to graze. “That’s a very remarkable horse,”’ observed Carteret. “She likes it,” said Seott. “But the bars up to six feet,” he called. The groom adjusted the bars ami ■herded Isabella around in front of the wings again. She looked languidly at the jump, and started for it at a slow" eanter. She cleared it as easily as before, and Went to cropping tufts of grass again. Parsons Scott swelled visibly with pride. “She just plays over six feet,” he Baid. “H's chocolate-drops for her, Carty,” he continued. “This is a horse.” “1 think it is,” said Mr. Carteret, rather humblv for him. "Is-t’s try seven feet.” ’ J “Please, sir,” said the groom, “we ean t put the bars up no higher.” “Well, never mind,” said Carteret. "Scotty,” he continues!, “J think this •ae will do. 1 might as Well tell

you the truth. I’m looking for something for a— ’’ He hesitated. “I'm looking for a lady’s hunter, and I want a natural big jumper, something that can’t make a mistake. If this mare is only sound—” “She is sound,” Seott broke in. “1 might as well tell you the truth, too She is a perfect lady’s hunter. I got her somewhat reasonably because she kicked a man’s buggy to pieces. He was an idiot who left her tied in a village street in fly-time. A traction-engine came past, and the buggy melted awav. 1 shouldn’t exactly guarantee her to drive, but you can see yourself she’s gentle as a kitten. She’s a perfect pet for a girl.” “I didn’t say it was for a girl,” observed Mr. Carteret. Seott looked at him, but made no reply. He picked up a green apple that lay by the paddock fence and held it out to the mare. Isabella came forward

promptly and took it. “Look!” he said. “She'll eat out of your hand.” “That is very affectirg,” said Mr. Carteret. ‘ “She will probably come round to driving in time,” observed Seott. “Suppose we see her under saddle.” “I should like to see' her under saddle,” said Mr. Carteret. Seott spoke to the groom, and he led Isabella into the stable. While they waited, the two sat on the top board of the paddock fence and discussed the question of price. ”1 think that mare,” observed Scott, “is easily worth a thousand dollars. She’d bring that on her jumping alone, and—” “But I tell you that’s too much,” said Mr. Carteret; “My commission doesn’t authorise me to spend so much; and yet, 1 want the 'horse.” “I was about to say,” continued Scott, “when you interrupted me, that on account of the buggy affair 1 would sell her for exactly—” He stopped. There

was a clatter in the stable, and somersaulting through the air out of the doorway shot Scott’s groom, followed by Isabella, who'trotted to a spot where' t,he grass was tender and began to graze. Scott jumped down from the fence. “What have you got under that mare’s saddle?” he bawled at the groom. “Nothing, sir,” said the man, who wae picking himself up. “From the way he came off,” observed Mr. Carteret, “there might be- a springboard, or almost anything of that kind.” Scott paid no attention to the joke. He went over to Isabella, who fed on. undisturbed at his approach. Taking the saddle oil, he looked for nail-points and objects of a sharp or lumpy nature. There was nothing there. Saddle and leather pad were in perfect repair. “You must have done something to her,” said Scott. “I'll ride her myself.” The groom acquiesced obediently. Seott mounted, and Isabella stood meekly till he was on and had both feet home in the stirrups. “Now,” he said, “I shall move her around the paddock, slowly at first.” He spoke to Isabella, telling her to “(let on;” and then, placidly and more in sorrow than in anger, the mare gave three bucks. The first was a large one, but Scott hung on. With the second, which was larger, he was on her withers. On the third buck sue shook out all reefs and sent him crashing through the top board of the paddock fence. He landed outside, surprised but uninjured. “I have been to all the Wild West Shows,” observed Mr. Carteret from the

fence; “I think you have the best bucker 1 ever saw. Are you hunt?” “I shall fix that mare,” said Scott, gloomy’ with rage. He called to the man: “Bring out a harness-bridle with a cheekrein, and some strong eord.” He climbed back over the fence. “Look at her!” he said. The mare had gone back to the plot of tender grass. The episode seemed to have stirred no evil passions in her. “She certainly is a mare of character,” observed Mr. Carteret, thoughtfully. Scott watched her in silence until the groom came out with the bearing-rein and string; then he approached Isabella and proceeded to arrange the apparatus, and Isabella made no remonstrance. “Do you see,” said Scott, “how you can get her head down now?” “No,” said Mr. Carteret, doubtfully. There was something in Isabella's resourceful calm which impressed him and made him uncertain of everything. Scott mounted, and clucked to Isabella to start. Then a curious thing happened.

She made no attempt to fight the bear-ing-rein and buyk. She lifted her fore legs and reared rather slowly until she was perpendicular. “Look out! She’s going over!” said Mr. Carteret. : As lie spoke she dropped over on her back. •- ' Seott had anticipated her actions. He slid off before she came down, and rolled himself out of her way. He arose hastily’, and, with such dignity as a man can command who has been rolling in the soil of -his paddock, said to the groom, “Y'ou may take the mare to the stable.” Then he climbed the top of the paddock fence and sat down beside Carteret. “Carty,’ he said after a long silence, “I had always believed that a horse that was cheeked up couldn’t rear.” Carteret tapped the fence boards thoughtfully with his ratan stick. “Old man,” he said, “as we go on in life we lose many of our young beliefs.” I here was a long silence. Seott made no answer. “I think,” he observed presently, “that a trap just now turned into the driveway.” They could see the house from where they sat, and they watched and waited. In a few moments they saw Williams, the indoor man. come out and hurry down the walk towards the stables. “Y'ou might brush yourself,” suggested Mr. Carteret. “A man who sells horses ought not to be found at his own stables with so much mud on the back of his coat.” “Brush me,” said Scott. “Who is it?” he called to the man as he approached. “Mr. Henderson Lamppie, sir,” said the man. Seott jumped down from the fence and twisted his moustache for a moment. “I don’t think I can stand him to-day,” he said, as if speaking to himself. Air. Carteret also came down from the fence. “Old man,” he said. “1 ought to be going.” Scott looked at him in surprise. “But you said you’d stop for lunch,” he said plaintively, “arid it is almost ready.” “I know,” said Mr. Carteret; “lint I forgot about an appointment. I must hurry.” ' “Carty,” said Scott, “if you leave me alone with Henderson Lamppie, it never can be the same between us.” “Well,” said Carteret, “if you-put it that way, I shall have to stay’ - ; but'l may not be very civil.” “You can be what you please,” said Scott. “Tell Mr. Lamppie,” he said tri the man, “that we 'are at the stables. But another place at lunch, and make my excuses for not going up to the house to meet him. Carty,” added Scott, after the man had gone, “what an odious little beast that fellow is!” “The most odious,” said Air. Carteret. “Carty,” said Scott, “don't you think it strange that a girl like Elizabeth Heminway should stand having him about? Those Dago diplomats are bad enough, but Lamppie is worse.” “That thought has occurred to me,” said Mr. Carteret. “Carty,” said Scott, “I feel that we ought to do something to save Elizabeth Heminway. One of us ought to marry her.” _ Carteret laughed softly. ‘That thought, too, has occurred to me,” he said; “but not the part of it which introduces you.” “Well, ride up, then,” said Scott. “Go out in front. I”ll give you the panel first.” “It is foolish,” said Carteret, slowly, “to ride for a fall when you know the landing is hard.” “Falls be hanged!” said Scott. “If white men like you are going to funk, probably some Dago or Chinee will marry her. or Lamppie.” “Very probably,” said Mr. Carteret. “It is apt to be that way.” “Well something ought to be done,” said Scott.” “That’s true,” said Carteret. “We might begin by murdering Lamppie,” suggested Scott. “Why not put him on Isabella?” said Mr. Carteret. “It’s more lawful.” “That might be better,” said Scott. “He’s coming.” Carteret glanced at the approaching ' figure, and then looked gravely at a mudpuddle about fifty feet beyond the paddock fence. “Do you think,” he said, “that she could buck him over the fence into that?” “I think she could,” said Scott; “but probably she wouldn’t; she’s too contrary.” “Probably not,” said Mr. Carteret, with n sigh. “Hallo, you chaps!” called out Mr. Lamppie, when he eame within hearing distance. “I say, Scotty, have you a good one for me? I'in in a hurry, and

fan't look the string over, birt I want Jhe best you’ve got —something that can lake care of himself.” Scot cariM' down from the fence and greeted Mr. Ijimppie. “We have just b«*en looking at the biggest juniper I have. She is likewise, in my opinion, the most capable of looking out for her•elf.” “Is that so, Carty?” said Mr. Lamp* pie. “It is,” said Mr. Carteret. “Trot her out,” said Lamppie. “That’s what I’m looking for.” Scot called to the stable: “Bring out Isabella again.” ‘‘Under saddle, sir?” asked the man. ‘‘l'd rather see her stripped first,” said Lamppie. “You see, I can tell at a glance whether there is any use seeing her jump.” The groom came out with Isabella. “Not a bad-looking mare,” said pie. He turned to Carteret. “What do you think. Carty?” “I don't think,” said Mr. Carteret, severely; “I know.’’ “Quite right,” said Lamppie. affably; ‘•you are quite right.” Lamppie was uncomfortable when he talked horse before Mr. Carteret, who was eminent in these matters, and he tried to put himself more at ease by being patronising. “As I said, you are quite right,” he went on; ‘‘she is dooced good-looking. Now the Question is, Can she jump as I like to have them?” ‘‘You are the only who can decide that,” said Scott. The bars were standing at six feet. “Send her over,” lie said to the groom. - ‘‘But, I say.” interrupted Lamppie, “You’re not going to start her in at six feet?” ‘‘Why not” said Scott, with surprise In his tone. “She plays over six feet.” The words were scarcely spoken before Isabella cantered into the wings and popped over the jump with several inches to spare. ‘‘That is astounding.” said Lamppie, “truly astounding!” “I'm sorry.” said Scott, “that we can’t put the bars up higher: but if you want to ride her over the paddock fence, you may. It's not more than seven feet six.” Lamppie looked around, and his eye fell on the broken board in the paddock fence. “You haven't been sending her ©ver that?” he said in amazement. “That is one of Scott's reckless acts,” said Carteret. “He was riding the mare in the paddork, and the first thing I knew, by Jove! he’d taken the fence. It's not surprising that he broke the top board, because he held on to her head shockingly. You know, Scott has bad hands.’’ Lamppie looked at the jump in wonder. •‘’Did the mare go down?” he asked. “No,** said Mr. Carteret; “she never staggered.” ‘‘That is the boldest jump.'' said J.amppie. “that I ever heard about.” “Lamppie. you are right.'* said Mr. Carteret. “You’d better get up on her back.” he continued, “and try her over something yourself. You needn’t select such a tall obstacle; but she won’t go down with you.” ‘l’m afraid I haven’t time,’’ replied Lamppie. doubtfully. He looked at his watch. “No. 1 haven't.'* he added. “I ought to be going now.” When Lamppie knew that Mr. Carteret was watching him take a jump, the space between himself and the saddle, which, in fact, was not inconsiderable, seemed at least four feet. He would come down somewhere in front of the saddle, and. to make matters worse, would hoist himself into his seat by the reins. “No.” he repeated. “I haven't time; but.” he continued, turning to Scott. Tin g »ing to take that jnare on your say-so and at your own price.” ‘•But.’’ said Scott, “I haven't said any •say-so.' ami I don't intend to. You make a mistake to buy a horse without riding her. You see. to be honest. 1 don't think she’d suit you.” There was a moral struggle going on within Scott, and the right triumphed. “She buck'.” lie said. Mr. Carteret looked away in disgust. “Fudge!” said Lamppie. “I don’t mind a little playful bucking. It’s rather pheasant to go prancing about a bit.” ‘‘ft is, isn t it?’’ said Carteret. “It'i the luxury of riding.” He looked at the broken •board in the fence and smiled sweetly at Lamppie. “She bucks a good deal,'* said Scott. Lamppie looked shrewdly at Scott and then at Carteret. “I see his game,” he said to himself: “he wants (arty to buy the mare.” Then he said aloud: “That's all right. I'll take her.” “Mind, I've warned you.” said Scott. *You had better try her first.” “‘No time.” said Lamppie “I'll Scud After her tomorrow.”

“I think,” began Mr. Carteret, slowly, from on top of the fence—“l think, lamppie,” he went on, "‘that you are funking. She’s a bad horse. You’d better try her before you buy.'* Lamppie naturally was now sure that Carteret wanted her. He looked knowingly at him and laughed. “Sorry I took her away from you. Carty.” he cried. “By-by, boys!” He waved his hand and was off. “Well,” said Mr. Carteret, after he was out of ear-shot, “we didn’t have any fun, but Isabella will have some. Why did you try to spoil the sale of your high performer?” .Scot looked dismally at Carteret. “It is all right.” he said, “to kill a man fairly, but to sell him dynamite sticks for eream candy is mean." “You are childish,” said Mr. Carteret, “and will never succeed in the horse business. As it is. do you suppose any one will believe that we have not unloaded Isabella on Lamppie? If you must pay the piper, why not dance?” “I'm afraid there's something in what you say,” said Scott, sadly. “But we might have a small drink in celebration because he didn’t stop to lunch.” “That’s a reasonable excuse,” said Mr. Carteret, and they went to the house. The next day Scott had Isabella led by a groom eleven miles to Lamppie’s establishment and delivered in good order. The day following he received Lamppie’s cheque. In the same mail came a letter from a ranch which he supported in Montana. His agent, it appeared, had contracted bad habits, and the property was vanishing. This letter made it necessary for Scott to set cut for Montana at once. Accordingly, on the third day after the delivery of Isabella, he started on his journey. As he was boarding the train the tele-graph-operator rushed out with a message. “This- has just come.” he said. Scott tore open the telegram. It said: I. has begun with L. Collar-bone and shoulder-blade this morning. C.C. “Whew!" said Scott, softly. He got on the car, and ran into Eliot Peabody. “Has someone left you a fortune?” said Peabody, pleasantly. “No,” said Scott. “Why?” “You look so happy.” answered Peabody. “It is very bad news,” said Scott, “very regrettable.” Then he sat down and read the telegram again. Seott got back a month later, and went to work at his hunters. Tlie first person outside his own establishment whom he saw was Mr. Carteret. Scott was schooling over some low fences, which were happily screened from the house of the man who owned them by a thick wood, when he saw Carteret hacking along the road. He went out to the road and joined him. "What a good-looking horse.” said Mr. (arteret, "but he's got a spavin coining. I’m afraid.” “Nonsense!” said Seott. But lie dismounted and anxiously examined the suspected leg. "Well.’ he said, “if it's a spavin it’s a spavin, and it can't be helped.” "When did you get back?” asked Carteret. "Yesterday,” Scott replied. Carteret looked at him gravelv. “Have you heard about the mare?” he said. "What mare?” said Scoth. He was still studying the prospects of spavin. “The chestnut one, Isabella," said Carteret. “I got your telegram." said Seott. “It was too bad about Lanippie's collarbone.’’ “That was the beginning.” observed Carteret. “Did he ride her again?” asked Scott. “I never thought Lamppie was that kind of fool.” “No,” (arteret answered. “She has been working with others. They ve had some drag-hounds at Newport—” “Did they furnish sport?” interrupted Seott. “I don’t know,” said Carteret; “I was afraid to go there. But 1 think Isabella furnished some sport. You see.” Mr. ( arteret continued. "I was going to Newport just after you left for the West, and then 1 changed my mind. I got a line from Elizabeth Heminway asking me there to stop with them.” “You did!” exclaimed Scott. “Why didn’t you go? How is that girl going to be saved if you refuse to do your duty?” “Haven’t you had a letter from her?’’ asked Carteret. “No,” said Scott, wonderingly. “Why?” “Haven’t you heard?” said Carteret. “Heard what?” demanded Seott. “Why, it aeema,” said Mr. Car-

teret, slowly, “that I was not the only person commissioned to look for a lady’s hunter. Lamppie was buying a horse for Miss Heminway when you sold him Isabella.” Scott’s jaw dropped. “I didn’t sell him the horse as much as you did,” he said. “That is, of course, untrue,” replied Mr. Carteret; “but I am afraid that Lamppie takes your view of it.” “Was her letter severe?” asked Scott. Carteret shook his head. “That is what seared me.” he said. “It was sweet and gentle. I suspect that she wants me to ride that horse.” Scott laughed. “So you didn’t go?” he asked. “I went to Lenox instead." said Carteret. “I was there three days. The second day a man came up from Newport who is attached to the French embassy. He had his arm in a sling and his knee in a rubber bandagjb. He |had been hunting Isabella. I left and went up to Bar Harbour. When the boat got there, they carried somebody ashore who hadn’t been visible on the trip. It was what’s-his-name—yon know him—one of the secretaries of the British embassy. He is a good man on a horse. He had been breaking Isabella for Miss Heminway. He told me all about it. Isabella caught him with a back roll and loosened his ribs. This chap said that two horsetamers belonging to some of the Latin legations were also laid up as the result of breaking Isabella to oblige Miss Hemin way. I left Bar Harbour in a day or two and went up to town. In the club I met Crewe and the British first secretary. They were talking about a young Spanish man who bad been witching Miss Heminway with his horsemanship. He had concussion of the brain, and they doubted whether he'd pull through.” Carteret paused. “Is that all?” said Scott. “I think it is enough." said Mr. Carteret. “It has strained diplomatic relations with the powers, and though it has thinned out many undesirable admirers, it has ruined our prospects.” “1 am afraid that it has not helped you," said Seott. “I am sure that Lamppie remembered that I warned him not to buy the mare.” Carteret looked at Scott with contempt. “I'm coining to lunch,” he said, and rode off. When Carteret arrived, Scott was reading a letter. He looked up as (arteret came in. “It is all right,” he said. “We are forgiven.” “To what do you refer?” asked Mr. Carteret. Seott handed him the note. “It is a very sweet and noble letter,” said he. "She appreciates our innocence in the matter.” “From Elizabeth?" asked Carteret, as he took it. Scott nodded. “She says she wants to keep the mare, much as one might preserve an historic battle-ground or the sword that slew a king.” Carteret read the letter. “She asks you down to Long Island for Sunday,” lie said. “Are you going?” “I am.” said Seott. “She has asked me also.” sail Carteret. “I found a note iron} her when I got home.” “You are going, aren’t you?" said Scott. “I am in doubt,” said Carteret, slowly. “I am suspicious. 1 have known Elizabeth Heminway for a good many years. She is forgiving and noble, but I think she would like to see us riding Isabella.” “Rubbish!” said Scott. “She can’t make us get up on a horse we don’t want to ride, and she can’t trick us into it, because we know the mare. She might have her painted, but she can’t put back the piece out of her ear.” “No," said Carteret, uneasily; “I suppose not. But Elizabeth is a woman of some intellect. I wouldn’t mind the spill, but she would have a erosd around, and I don’t fancy being made' a Roman holiday for Lamppie and a lot of Dagos.” "You’ll go,” said Scott. “I suppose I shall have to,” said Mr. Carteret. “Are we going to have any lunch?” Carteret and Scott arrived at Miss Heurinway’s on Saturday afternoon. Miss Heminway lived with an aunt, or rather she had aunt live with her. Her character and fortune fitted her to lead a somewhat original life and to assume much of the independence of action of a man. She had her own hunters, drivinghorses. dogs, zoological garden’ pets, to say nothing of a large and ever-diversi-fied corps of personal attaches. All these

she regulated according to her own view*. Carteret and Seott had an extremely happy time. They were the only guests, and the subject of Isabella was not introduced. Once Mr. Lamppie’e unfortunate accident slipped into the conversation, but Miss Heminway laughed, and looking meaningly at her friends, said: “I am willing to let bygones be bygones. Are you?” Carteret and Scott laughed delightedly, and said that they were more than willing. W hat pleased them especially was the double meaning of the remark, which they took to imply that I-amppie was a bygone thing in Miss Heminway’s estimation. Both walked with her, singly and together, on Sunday morning; but in the afternoon their joy clouded. Almost a dozen people came to luncheon, and as many more appeared soon after. As a natural consequence a kind of horse show ensued on the side lawn were the jumps were. Among those who came was Lamppie. His collar-bone had knit and his shoulder was out of bandages, but he wore a silk handkerchief about his neck as a sling in which he rested his arm. He answered all inquiries as to his condition cheerfully and in detail, but he seemed to receive neither the sympathy nor the notice of Miss Heminway. Scott observed this promptly. “She is done with Lamppie," he whispered to Carteret. “It looks that way,” Mr. Carteret answered. He never was very positive in any of his statements about Miss Heminway’s probable acts. After the company had seen Miss Heminway’s fourteen hunters, and a new four had been hooked up and sent around the drive, and the ponies had been led out, and the St. Bernard puppies and two racoons and the Japanese monkey, Mr. Lamppie cheerfully inquired if there were not something more. “There is one more horse,” replied Miss Heminway. “It’s a chestnut mare. But I’ve had her only a week, and I don’t know whether she will jump or not. However, we can see.” Miss Heminway spoke to her head man, and in a few moments n stable-boy came across the turf, leading a good-looking, powerfully-made chestnut mare. As soon as it came near, Scott nudged Carteret with his elbow, and at the same moment Carteret nudged Seott with his. “Look,” whispered Scott; “they have tried to paint out the blaze on her face and her two white stockings in front.” “Yes,” said Mr. (arteret—his eyes were very quick—“and they have tried to sew up the notch in her ear.” The point of one ear was drawn together in an unnatural fashion, and close inspection showed that a piece was gone from the tip and tile edges were sewn together. At short range the chestnut dye on the mare’s face and legs was apparent to eyes accustomed to horses. “She’s very jjoodl looking,” observed Crewe to Miss Heminway. “I like her,” replied Miss Heminway. “She devilish good-looking," ptit in Lamppie. "The question is," said Miss Hemin way, “will she jump? 1 don’t want her to try anything high, but I should like to see her ridden over the bars at about three feet. Danny Foster,” she continued, “is the only bov at the stable 1 let ride her, and he is away this afternoon, so that somebody with good hands will have to ride her for me." There was a heavy silence. Miss Heminway looked at C ; rewe. “Won’t you?" she said. “Why,” said Crewe, “I should be glad to. but I’m ashamed to ride before Carty and Scott, who are distinctly the only men present with truly good hands. Besides, they are slopping in the house, and riding your horses is by right their —” he hesitated, and then said—“privilege.” “I don’t care," said Miss Heminway; “only somebody get up and ride." No one made a move. “Come on, Carty,” she said, sharply, “ride the mare and stop this nonsense. You are coy as a girl asked to sing.” Carteret pulled his straw hat over his eyes and tapped his leg thoughtfully with his ratan stick. “Elizabeth,” he said, “you are a fine woman, but you have missed it this time. In the first place your Titian red is very badly put on, and your surgery on the ear is abominable; a seamstress could do better.” “What do you mean?" demanded Miss Heminway. “Don’t try to force a poor joke," said Mr. Carteret, severely. Miss Heminway turned to Seott. “Will you do me a small favour?” she said. “Anything in tfia world,” Seott aa>

swered. "except ride that mare.” He Laughed knowingly. A whisper ran through the group of onlookers, and then a laugh. Miss Hemingway turned her back upon both Scott and Carteret. Mr Lamppie was standing before her. “Mr Lamppie,” she said, “if you are not afraid, will you kindly show my mare over that jump?” Lamppie bowed. “I have only one good arm.” he said, “and you know I am not considered much of a horseman by Carty and Scott, but I shall be truly happy to try.” He started for the horse, and at the same moment Scott and Carteret started too. "Elizabeth." said Mr Carteret, quietly, "you mustn't let him ride that brute. His shoulder has only just healed.” “Please mind your own affairs,” said Miss Heminway, severely. Scott had rushed forward in the attempt to seize Lamppie before he was in the saddle: but, regardless of what was supposed to be his injured arm, he scrambled up. and kicking his heels into the mare, galloped off. “Mr Seott,” called Miss Heminway, severely, "will you kindly not interfere with Mr Lamppie’” Scott turned and meekly rejoined Mr Carteret. "Look!’’ exclaimed Miss Heminway. “I don't care to look,” said Mr Carteret. His back was turned to the horse. “I don't want to see a murder.” But Scott looked. He saw the chestnut mare carry Lamppie into the wings of the jump at an even canter, clear the bars in an easy manner, and come jogging back to the spectators. There was a burst of applause. "Has she killed him?” asked Mr Carteret. “Carty,” said Scott, "it is all over with us.” Mr Carteret turned around. Lamppie was bowing to Miss Heminway. "Shall I take her over again?” he asked. “She goes like a sweet dream.” “If you will, please,” replied Miss Heminway. Mr Carteret watched the mare and Lamppie repeat their performance. He lighted a cigarette and inhaled a long puff of smoke. "Lamppie wins by a block,” he said softly. "How do you suppose they did it?” said Scott. Carteret's reply was interrupted by Lamppie. “I say, Carty,” he called out, “don’t you ehaps want a turn on this mare? She's a lovely ride: nothing to be afraid of.” “I am very much obliged to you,” said Mr Carteret. "I'll not ride.” "Mell,” said Miss Heminway, sweetly, “if there are no more animals and things to be seen, we might go in and have tea.” The party went into the house, but Carteret and Scott disappeared. They went out a back door and proceeded to the stables. It happened that Fredericks, Miss Heminway's head man.' had formerly been employed by Mr Carteret. Carteret had given him up much as an orchidfancier might semi a lady his choicest air-plant. When the two men entered the stable, Fredericks greeted them obsequiously. There was a queer look in his eyes, but ho was very grave liecause Carteret was grave. “Fredericks,” said Mr Carteret, “we want to see that mare.” "X cry good, sir,” said Fredericks, and he took them down the stable to a box stall. He opened the doors and showed them the mare. A stable-boy was scrubbing her legs with some ehemieal preparation, and they were becoming white. "This part, of the job.” said Carteret, pointing with his stick to the mare’s legs, “you did very badly. I should like to know, however, how you got Isabellato go so kindly in so short a time. I consider that a very remarkable achievement, Fredericks.” “Thank you sir.” said Fredericks. He bowed very low. and his cap concealed his face, but it could not conceal the quivering of his large frame. "1 beg pardon, sir,” he gasped, and fil’d out of the stall, apparently in a convulsion. “I am afraid,” said Seott. "that if wo were Fredericks We should feel as he does. I want to know, though, what he used.” Fredericks returned shortly, nnuh mortified and with many apologies for his breach of manners. “I’m goin’ to tell you, sir.” he said, “if I lose me place. Come this way, eir.” He led them to another box-stall, which was at the end of the passage, opened the door, and stood aside for them to pass through. They entered

the box. looked at the horse before them, and then at each other. “W ell,” said Mr Carteret, “it is easy when you know how.” They were in the presence of Isabella. In shape, size, and colour the other mare was her counterpart; but that this only was Isabella they knew now by her eye, by her expression, and by her simplicity of character. She was trying to get her nose into Scott’s pocket, and failing in that, she nipped his hand with her lips. “She’s tod fat,” said Scott. There was nothing else which occurred to him to say. “So she is, sir,” said Fredericks. “No exercise,” said Carteret; “the diplomats’ gave out.” “I was three weeks finding that other mare.” said Frederick's. “She’s pretty near a match, sir.” “Did you cut the tip of her ear and then sew it up?’’ demanded Carteret. “Not I, sir,” said Fredericks. “No, sir. That was Xliss Hemin way’s friend Dr. Anderson, the surgeon, sir. He did it with instruments and cocaine and surgeon’s needles, sir. and Mr Lamppie helped him and held the cocaine-hottie.” “They all knew about it,” said Mr Carteret. “Thank you. Fredericks,” he added: “we.sha’n’t tell on you.’’ They walked in silence back to the house. At the door Carteret spoke. “I told you,’’ he said, “that Elizabeth Heminway was a remarkable woman.” “You did,” said Scott. “I knew we ought not to have come.” “You said that too,” said Scott. “And you made me come,” said Carteret. “I did.” Scott replied. “Well,” demanded Carteret, “what are you going to do about it?” “What is there to do about it?” said Scott. There was a long silence. Carteret fapned his leg thoughtfully with his ratan stick. “What is there to do about it?” Scott said again. •Carteret made no answer, but onened the door and went in, and Scott followed.’