brought up to him.  It is small wonder that Mrs. Short was looked upon as the head of the outraged party.  The Ten were only spoken of in whispers.  Three of them had been unable to come to time when the last figure was called, whereupon their partners were whisked off the scene without so much as being allowed to pay their respects to the hostess.  Besides these offences, there were other minor barbarisms too numerous to mention.

Although Mrs. Short’s party was all-powerful at Asquith, there were some who, for various reasons, refused to agree in the condemnation of Mr. Cooke.  Judge Short and the other gentlemen in his position were, of course, restricted, but Mr. Trevor came out boldly in the face of severe criticism and declared that his daughter should accept any invitation from Mrs. Cooke that she chose, and paid but little attention to the coolness resulting therefrom.  He was fast getting a reputation for oddity.  And the Celebrity tried to conciliate both parties, and succeeded, though none but he could have done it.  At first he was eyed with suspicion and disgust as he drove off to Mohair in his Hempstead cart, and was called many hard names.  But he had a way about him which won them in the end.

A few days later I ran over to Mohair and found my client with the colored Sunday supplement of a Chicago newspaper spread out before him, eyeing the page with something akin to childish delight.  I discovered that it was a picture of his own hunt ball, and as a bit of color it was marvellous, the scarlet coats being very much in evidence.

“There, old man!” he exclaimed.  “What do you think of that?  Something of a sendoff, eh?” And he pointed to a rather stout and important gentleman in the foreground.  “That’s me!” he said proudly, “and they wouldn’t do that for Farquhar Fenelon Cooke in Philadelphia.”

“A prophet is without honor in his own country,” I remarked.

“I don’t set up for a prophet,” said Mr. Cooke, “but I did predict that I would start a ripple here, didn’t I?”

I did not deny this.

“How do I stand over there?” he inquired, designating Asquith by a twist of the head.  “I hear they’re acting all over the road; that they think I’m the very devil.”

“Well, your stock has dropped some, I admit,” I answered.  “They didn’t take kindly to your getting the judge drunk, you know.”

“They oughtn’t to complain about that,” said my client; “and besides, he wasn’t drunk enough to amount to anything.”

“However that may be,” said I, “you have the credit for leading him astray.  But there is a split in your favor.”

“I’m glad to know that,” he said, brightening; “then I won’t have to import any more.”

“Any more what?” I asked.

“People from the East to keep things moving, of course.  What I have here and those left me at the inn ought to be enough to run through the summer with.  Don’t you think so?”