“They don’t go into the dew,” said Harold.  And as he was always out with the lark, even Dora seldom saw this practice; but there were always new holes very near the centre of the target, which Eustace said proved how true was his own aim.

Harvest came, and in the middle of it the great archery match of the year, which was held in the beautiful grounds of Mr. Vernon, the member for Northchester, a little way from the town.

“I suppose Harry may as well go,” said Eustace; “but he has not practised at all, so it will be of little avail.  Now if I had not grazed my hand, I should have scored quite as much as Miss Horsman last week.  It all lies in caring about it.”

And severe was his lecture to Harold against foolishly walking in and making his hand unsteady.  Yet, after all, when the carriage came to the door, Harold was not to be found, though his bow and arrows were laid ready with ours to be taken.  He endured no other apparatus.  The inside of his fingers was like leather, and he declared that tabs and guard only hampered him.  Lady Diana had yielded to her daughter’s entreaties, and brought her to see the contest, though only as a spectator.  As I stood shy and far from sanguine among the lady archers, I felt out of my natural place, and glad she was under her mother’s wing, she looked so fair and innocent in her delicate blue and white, and was free for such sweet ardour in our cause, all the prettier and more arch because its demonstrations were kept down with the strong hand of her mother.

Hippolyta and Philippa Horsman were in tightly-made short-skirted dresses, pork-pie hats, and strong boots, all black picked out with scarlet, like Hippo’s own complexion.  She was tall, with a good active figure, and handsome, but she had reached the age when the colouring loses its pure incarnadine and becomes hard and fixed, and she had a certain likeness to all those creatures whose names are compounded of tiger.  But she was a good-natured being, and of late I had begun to understand better her aspirations towards doing and becoming something more than the mere domestic furniture kind of young lady.

Her aberrations against good taste and reticence were, I began to understand, misdirected outbreaks of the desire to be up and doing.  Even now, as we ladies drew for our turn, she was saying, half sadly, “I’m tired of it all.  What good comes of getting this belt over and over again?  If it were rifle or pistol shooting it might be of use, but one could hardly organise a regiment of volunteers with the long bows when the invasion comes off.”

Wit about the Amazonian regiment with the long bow was current all the time we ladies were shooting, and Eustace was worrying me to such a degree, that nervousness made me perform ten degrees worse than usual, but that mattered little, for Hippolyta, with another of her cui bono sighs, carried off the Roman mosaic that was the ladies’ prize, telling Pippa that it should be hers when the belt was won.