in his useless footsteps.  The chief note of his character was that intolerable vanity which so often marks men who have nothing whatsoever about which to be vain.  Also he had a great idea of his rights and what was due to him, which he appeared to consider included, upon what ground I could not in the least understand, the reversal of all the Ragnall properties and wealth.  I do not think I need say any more about him, except that he bored me to extinction, especially after his fourth glass of port.

Perhaps, however, the son was worse, for he asked questions without number and when at last I was reduced to silence, lectured me about shooting.  Yes, this callow youth who was at Sandhurst, instructed me, Allan Quatermain, how to kill elephants, he who had never seen an elephant except when he fed it with buns at the Zoo.  At last Mr. Smith, who to Scroope’s great amusement had taken the end of the table and assumed the position of host, gave the signal to move and we adjourned to the drawing-room.

I don’t know what had happened but there we found the atmosphere distinctly stormy.  The ample Mrs. Smith sat in a chair fanning herself, which caused the barbaric ornaments she wore to clank upon her fat arm.  Upon either side of her, pale and indeterminate, stood Polly and Dolly each pretending to read a book.  Somehow the three of them reminded me of a coat-of-arms seen in a nightmare, British Matron sejant with Modesty and Virtue as supporters.  Opposite, on the other side of the fire and evidently very angry, stood Lady Ragnall, regardant.

“Do I understand you to say, Luna,” I heard Mrs. A.-S. ask in resonant tones as I entered the room, “that you actually played the part of a heathen goddess among these savages, clad in a transparent bed-robe?”

“Yes, Mrs. Atterby-Smith,” replied Lady Ragnall, “and a nightcap of feathers.  I will put it on for you if you won’t be shocked.  Or perhaps one of your daughters——­”

“Oh!” said both the young ladies together, “please be quiet.  Here come the gentlemen.”

After this there was a heavy silence broken only by the stifled giggles in the background of Mrs. Scroope and the canon’s fluffy-headed wife, who to do her justice had some fun in her.  Thank goodness the evening, or rather that part of it did not last long, since presently Mrs. Atterby-Smith, after studying me for a long while with a cold eye, rose majestically and swept off to bed followed by her offspring.

Afterwards I ascertained from Mrs. Scroope that Lady Ragnall had been amusing herself by taking away my character in every possible manner for the benefit of her connections, who were left with a general impression that I was the chief of a native tribe somewhere in Central Africa where I dwelt in light attire surrounded by the usual accessories.  No wonder, therefore, that Mrs. A.-S. thought it best to remove her “Twin Pets,” as she called them, out of my ravening reach.