the runaway ponies; but having done so, he left his companion to take the lead in replying to Mrs. Churchill’s civilities.  And when she finally begged to know their names, in order that her husband might also express his gratitude, it was the unprepossessing one who produced his card, and, having written an address upon it, gave it to her, saying that it would serve for both.  He and his friend were fond of long walks, he added, neither of them being used to London life, and that was the cause of their being so fortunate as to have been of use to the ladies.  He ended this little speech with an elaborate bow, his companion raised his hat, and they parted.

The ponies went home quietly enough, and Helen took care to look after her driving.  She handed the card to Mary, who read on it, “Mr. Bailey,” and an address, which Helen said was probably that of a lodging.

“I should like to know who the other is,” she added; “he was very much the nicest looking.  I must get my husband to call to-morrow, and then we shall know more about them.”

Mary did not say much on the subject.  Love at first sight may be fairly owned as a possibility, but it would be ridiculous to say that Mary Wynter had proved its reality.  The thin end of the wedge, perhaps, had wounded her, and a succession of blows would easily drive it deep into her heart, or her fancy, as the case might be.  Perhaps, too, it was more tempting to think of a stranger so attractive without being able to give him a name, than it would have been if he had to be recognized as Mr. Thomas Brown or Mr. John Robinson.

However that might be, she did not find her enjoyment of the day at all interfered with by the morning’s incident.  She and Helen paid some visits, then dined out, and finally arrived rather late at a house where there was a great evening gathering.  This house was one at which she had not before been a guest, and she was full of lively curiosity about the people she was to meet there.  The hostess was fond of collecting together all sorts of stray oddities, and of trying to further a scheme of universal brotherhood by mixing up in her drawing-room a most motley crowd, including all classes, from the ultra fine lady to the emancipated slave.  It was not, perhaps, very amusing to the portion of her guests who found themselves lost in a sea of unknown faces, through which no pilot guided them; yet people went to her, partly because she was grande dame, and partly as to a lion show.  Mrs. Churchill thought her country girl would be amused by one visit to this lady, and Mary was delighted at the prospect of seeing the possessors of various well-known names.

The rooms were very full when they arrived; and when, after considerable exercise of patience and perseverance, they had struggled in and got to a corner where they could breathe, and speak to each other, Helen said,

“Well, my dear, I hope you will find the sight worth the scramble—­it is fuller than usual to-night, I think; and if I followed my own inclinations, I should try to slip round to a little room I know, where there are seldom many people, and rest there.  But that would not be fair to you.”