What was to be done with it if it were won?  “Get a fac-simile made, and an appropriate inscription,” recommended Lord Erymanth.  “Probably they would take that willingly.”

“But what would you do with it?” asked Harold.  “You can’t wear it.”

“I tell you it is an heirloom,” quoth Eustace.  “Have you no feeling for an heirloom?  I am sure it was your mother who sold it away from me.”

The sight of the belt, with Lord Erymanth’s lecture on it, inflamed Eustace’s ardour all the more, and we made extensive purchases of bows and arrows; that is to say, Eustace and I did, for Lady Diana would not permit Viola to join in the contest.  She did not like the archery set, disapproved of public matches for young ladies, and did not choose her daughter to come forward in the cause.  I did not fancy the matches either, and was certain that my mere home pastime had no chance with Hippo and Pippa, who had studied archery scientifically for years, and aimed at being the best lady shots in England; but Eustace would never have forgiven me if I had not done my best.  So we subscribed to the Archery Club as soon as we went home; and Eustace would have had me practise with him morning, noon, and night, till I rebelled, and declared that if he knocked me up my prowess would be in vain, and that I neither could nor would shoot more than an hour and a half a day.

His ardour, however, soon turned into vituperations of the stupid sport.  How could mortal man endure it?  If it had been pistol or rifle-shooting now, it would have been tolerable, and he should have been sure to excel; but a great long, senseless, useless thing like an arrow was only fit for women or black fellows; the string hurt one’s fingers too—­always slipping off the tabs.

“No wonder, as you hold it,” said Harold, who had just turned aside to watch on his way down to the potteries, and came in time to see an arrow fly into the bank a yard from the target.  “Don’t you see how Lucy takes it?”

I had already tried to show him, but he had pronounced mine to be the ladies’ way, and preferred to act by the light of nature.  Harry looked, asked a question or two, took the bow in his own hands, and with “This way, Eustace; don’t you see?” had an arrow in the outer white.

“Yes,” said Eustace, “of course, stupid thing, anybody can do it without any trouble.”

“It is pretty work,” said Harry, taking up the third arrow, and sending it into the inner white.

“Much too easy for men,” was Eustace’s opinion, and he continued to despise it until, being capable of perseverance of a certain kind, and being tutored by Harold, he began to succeed in occasionally piercing the target, upon which his mind changed, and he was continually singing the praises of archery in the tone (whispered Viola) of the sparrow who killed Cock Robin with his bow and arrow!