’Now, I know what you want to ask me, Aunt Shorne.  Isn’t it about my Papa?  He’s not come, and he won’t be able to come for a week.—­Glad to be with Cousin Rosey?  I should think I am!  She’s the nicest girl I ever could suppose.  She isn’t a bit spoiled by Portugal; only browned; and she doesn’t care for that; no more do I. I rather like the sun when it doesn’t freckle you.  I can’t bear freckles, and I don’t believe in milk for them.  People who have them are such a figure.  Drummond Forth has them, but he’s a man, and it doesn’t matter for a man to have freckles.  How’s my uncle Mel?  Oh, he’s quite well.  I mean he has the gout in one of his fingers, and it’s swollen so, it’s just like a great fat fir cone!  He can’t write a bit, and rests his hand on a table.  He wants to have me made to write with my left hand as well as my right.  As if I was ever going to have the gout in one of my fingers!’

Sir George Lowton observed to Hamilton Jocelyn, that Melville must take to his tongue now.

‘I fancy he will,’ said Hamilton.  ’My father won’t give up his nominee; so I fancy he’ll try Fallow field.  Of course, we go in for the agricultural interest; but there’s a cantankerous old ruffian down here—­ a brewer, or something—­he’s got half the votes at his bidding.  We shall see.’

‘Dorothy, my dear child, are you not tired?’ said Lady Racial.  ’You are very hot.’

’Yes, that’s because Rose would tear along the road to get here in time, after we had left those tiresome Copping people, where she had to make a call.  “What a slow little beast your pony is, Dorry!”—­she said that at least twenty times.’

‘Oh, you naughty puss!’ cried Rose.  ’Wasn’t it, “Rosey, Rosey, I’m sure we shall be too late, and shan’t see a thing:  do come along as hard as you can"?’

’I ‘m sure it was not,’ Miss Dorothy retorted, with the large eyes of innocence.  ’You said you wanted to see Nick Frim keeping the wicket, and Ferdinand Laxley bowl.  And, oh! you know something you said about Drummond Forth.’

‘Now, shall I tell upon you?’ said Rose.

‘No, don’t!’ hastily replied the little woman, blushing.  And the cavaliers laughed out, and the ladies smiled, and Dorothy added:  ’It isn’t much, after all.’

‘Then, come; let’s have it, or I shall be jealous,’ said the Squire.

‘Shall I tell?’ Rose asked slily.

’It ‘s unfair to betray one of your sex, Rose,’ remarked the sweetly-smiling lady.

‘Yes, Lady Racial—­mayn’t a woman have secrets?’ Dorothy put it with great natural earnestness, and they all laughed aloud.  ’But I know a secret of Rosey’s,’ continued Miss Dorothy, ’and if she tells upon me, I shall tell upon her.’

‘They’re out!’ cried Rose, pointing her whip at the wickets.  ’Good night to Beckley!  Tom Copping ‘s run out.’

Questions as to how it was done passed from mouth to mouth.  Questions as to whether it was fair sprang from Tom’s friends, and that a doubt existed was certain:  the whole field was seen converging toward the two umpires.