‘I really don’t remember; have we, Anne?’ says her ladyship.

Lady Anne produces a piece of paper whereon the names of the invited guests are inscribed, glances down it, and says ‘No.’

‘How dreadful.’

‘It’s a pity,’ says Anne.

‘Not too late yet,’ suggests Chubby.  ’Little Mrs Lippingcott is so awfully pretty and dances quite beautifully.  It would be a shame if she wasn’t asked.’

‘Well; I will write now if you like,’ says his mother, ready to do anything her ‘dear’ boy wishes.  ’They only came back a week ago, I suppose, that is how they were forgotten.’

‘And if I see them I’ll say something pretty that will make up, what!’

‘Do you really think you could?’ says Dalrymple, from the other side of the table.

‘Don’t doubt it for a moment,’ replies Chubby, ’Miss Seaton I know will verify my statement.’

When all the older folk have been packed off, the dog-cart appears and with it the ‘awfully good animal,’ which of course has to be admired, and viewed from all points, before the owner sees fit to start.  Lippa, of course, has the place of honour, by the driver, much to Jimmy’s disgust.  There is no need to go into details of the show, all of which are more or less alike, with dogs of all sizes and breeds, barking in different keys, pigs grunting and squeaking, horses neighing, cows mooing, cocks crowing, ducks quacking; boys yelling out the price of catalogues, men requesting people to ‘walk up,’ and inspect their wares, which are all warranted to be the very best of their kind; and besides all this two brass bands which play two different tunes at the same time.  If a deaf man suddenly recovered his hearing at a cattle show, I am sure he would wish himself deaf again.  However, some people enjoy cattle shows, I do not, but that is neither here nor there.

Lord Dadford, J.P. for the county and owner of some fine short horns, is surrounded by gaitered and pot-hatted men, who all appear to be talking at once.  Helmdon conducting Philippa and his sister with the ever constant Jimmy, carefully fights shy of his father.

‘What luck to have met you,’ he exclaims as they run up against a pretty woman, Mrs Lippingcott of course, and forthwith they launch into an eager conversation with humble apologies from him and earnest entreaties that she will grace the ball with her appearance, and with any one who may be staying with her.

‘Oh, how do you do, Miss Seaton?’ makes Lippa turn, who is in earnest conversation with Dalrymple, and see Harkness standing before her.  She would have liked to give vent to a naughty little expression, but she merely bows saying—­

‘I had no idea of meeting you here, isn’t it a lovely day?’

‘Beautiful,’ he replies, ’I am stopping with the Lippingcotts for a few days; really the country is quite delightful after London.’

‘Delicious,’ replies Lippa, moving on leaving Harkness gazing at her and Dalrymple; is that young beggar going to cut him out, it looks uncommonly like it.  Lucky fellow he is, thinks the Captain, winning over that race last month when the odds were dead against him, and now—­