Fermor dropped from his wall, half impatient,
half pleased—impatient of the gaucherie which
this awkward fashion of introduction must bring
about, pleased at this one more instance of a
universal homage.

"This is Captain Fermor," said Hanbury,
taking him by the arm, "our friend that we
have known so long, and yet haven't known.
Ha, ha!"

Fermor gave his calmest, saddest, Town bow,
from Iong training exquisitely graduated to
the suitable inflection of homage. Rustics might
strive in vain after such manners.

They walked on together. The elder girl
spoke in a voice firm and musical, but it was
decided in key.

"Mr. Hanbury is right," she said; "we do
know you, and we have talked of you."

Fermor smiled. He took out his humility
mask (for he carried all his " properties" in his
pocket), and said,

"What time misspent, I fear! What useful
moments abused!"

( A good stroke, that would have filled the
social pit and boxes on a crowded Town stair
with wonder and delight.)

"Ah!" answered the elder girl, "but we have
so little to talk of here."

This was the result of the effect on her, and
the captain looked at her suspiciously. But on
the younger it had clearly produced the right
Town effect, for she was looking up with a
compounded feeling of half awe and half surprise.

There is always a process of election. Even on
meeting people but for ten minutes, preference
of some kind, even the most superficial, there
must be; and so Captain Fermor chose the
younger girl on the spot, as being softer and,
above all, more reverent.

They walked together for a half hour, four in
a line. But Captain Fermor was the officiating
minister of that little congregation. He preached
the sermon, they listened devoutly. He had
some tact in the management of the common
counters of talk, and could shift and change his
bits of foil with the skill of a conversational
juggler; at least his bits of wit were so new to
his company, that there was, at least, the
element of curiosity.

There were a few topics at which they had been
looking through, mere pastoral—or rather say
provincial—glasses, and for which he now lent
them his more worldly lorgnette. In a gentlemanly
way he lifted his eyes and sneered
mildly, yet not ill naturedly, at what was
about them. He worked the ?? ??? plentifully.
He put his personality through all moods and
tenses for them.

Yet presently he began to see that his little
arrows were shooting past the elder girl. He
said, " They persecute me to know this person
and that. I declare, if you were to know
all I suffer, and the worry I have to endure—
But I don't want it. In Town, of course,
there I lay myself out for it—I get interest for
my money. In fact, I'm a different being
altogether. But here I have made it a sort of rule.
If you don't draw the line somewhere, you
know—"  When he had got so far, he found
the eldest Miss Manuel sayng something in
a low voice to John Hanbury.

But there was reverence in the large eyes
of the softer girl which indemnified him. He
remarked, too, with a sort of pleasure, how
beside him on this occasion "that boor," as he
christened him, seemed to sink down into a
lower Yahoo sort of grade. Among corresponding
Yahoos, i.e. at Mess, such might have a
sort of elevation, but on a proper ground it
would be different. It was so, indeed, to a certain
degree. He artfully kept the talk upon the
higher social tablelands, where Hanbury could
scarcely breathe, and he really contrived to be
amusing—because half biographical—on the
topic of Town parties and dinners, and some
notable men whom he had met. Hanbury the
honest, the admired, was almost reduced to
silence. Fermor, too, had not forgotten the
"outrage," as he considered it, on " that boor's" part,
and several times when Mr. Hanbury struck in
with some rough and hearty, and, perhaps, too
universal a choir of praise, he quietly, and with
the half superiority of pity, set him right.

The elder Miss Manuel did not seem to take
so much interest in this exhibition. She
presently broke in on the personal current of
Captain Fermor' s life (he was giving them a
sort of psychological analysis, "No one quite
understands my mind," he said, with his agreeable
smile, as if speaking of another person
altogether. " Some think me proud, some say I
am so indifferent; but neither of these classes
know me really. It would take years of study
to know me properly—one side of my character,
even—and even then, &c."), and it was just at this
point, not, however, rudely, and in the middle of
a sentence, that Miss Manuel struck in eagerly:
"Well, about the Baron—do tell us? I am
dying to hear."

This was an opening for John Hanbury to ride
in on his great horse, which he did with a genuine
ardour and enthusiasm. It was like the fresh
air of daybreak after the candles and hot close
vapours of a ball-room.

"To be sure," he said. " I know you will be
all interested to hear of the Baron. He is down
for a little training—down at Bardsley—out every
day on the downs. Had a letter to-night about
him. Sure to carry all before him. There won't
be such a horse in."

The two sisters looked eager: even the softer
faced, who had stayed a fev seconds behind with
Fermor's psychology, was now busy with the
Baron.

"Nice darling creature!" she said, with a
sort of dreamy rumination.

"Fine old fellow!" said John, taking a different
view of him. "And he shall have the honour of
carrying you the day before, to give him an
artificial courage."