colonel entered. " Ah! Mary!" he said
blandly, " blooming and bright as ever! Come,
Mary! a kiss—- you know we are cousins."

"Ah, you wicked man!" returned Mary,
offering her cheek, " when will you get rid of
your wild soldier ways?"

"Pooh, my dear girl," said the colonel,
smoothing his cravat, "l am tamed now—- the
old pleasant devil is exorcised, and the rover is
turned into the slave of the ring—- eh, Loo?"

Mrs. Chutney was too busy writing even to
pretend to hear.

"There is a large slice of the—- a—- the
gentleman you named—- left for all that, colonel,"
replied Mary. "I saw an old friend of yours,
a few days ago—- Captain Peake. He came to
see a couple of little Indian orphans at Mrs.
Monitor's. He had tea in the drawing-room,
and," peeping through her fingers, " told such
tales of you, colonel."

"What the deuce could he tell," returned the
colonel, feigning to be a little alarmed. " He
knew very little of me, and—- ah—- oh! I remember
Peake, he commanded the Hastings in the
second China war."

"Did he? I should not have thought him
old enough for that. But, Mrs. Monitor will
never let, you inside the doors again. She thinks
you such a dangerous character!"

"Oh, she does?" said the colonel, complaisantly.
"Well, once it would not have been
easy to keep me out where I wanted to get in.
Loo, we must have Peake to dine some day.
Have vou finished your invitations? for I must
be off."

"I shall be ready directly," replied Mrs.
Chutney, sealing her notes. " There!"

The colonel took out his glasses to examine
the directions. " That's all right," he observed.
"I shall send the boy with this one to Deal.
Keep Mary to dinner, Loo." And, with a general
wave of the hand, Colonel Chutney departed.

"Ah, Mary," exclaimed Mrs. Chutney, " I
wish I could manage him as well as you do!"

"Loo dear," returned Mary, laying her hand
impressively on Mrs. Chutney's arm, " I have
one e-normous advantage over you."

"Pray, what is that?"

"I am not his wife. But, Loo, dear, I
have not seen you for three clays, and have not
been able to have a real talk since the morning
you left me at Mrs. Bullion's palazzo in Regent's
Park, and O, I had such an adventure." '

"An adventure?" repeated Mrs. Chutney.

"You shall hear." Her cousin's eyes
sparkled with fun and mischief. " I had not sat
five minutes before some one was announced by
the palazzo valet a name so utterly distorted
that I haven't a notion what it is, and there
entered a tall, aristocratic, well-dressed, good-
looking man."

"A stranger?"

"I never saw him in my life before. After
the first greetings he scarcely spoke to the
hostess, but addressed himself much too
exclusively to me". That did not embarrass me so
much; only while uttering common-places he
would look tenderly at me!"

"Your fancy, Mary, depend upon it,"
remarked Mrs. Chutney, gravely.

"Fancy or not, he shortened my visit; and
I bad hardly walked to the end of Portland-
place before I felt him coming after me."

"What nonsense!"

"The instinct was a true one," continued Miss
Holden, "for presently he was at my
lifting his hat gracefully, and turning all
sorts of compliments. Of course I felt, a little
frightened. Still I could not resist the fun of it,
somehow."

"You surely did not encourage him?"

"To the extent of asking him to be so very kind
as to call a cab for me, in order to get rid of him.

"And you did get rid of him?"

"Not altogether; for yesterday morning I
was returning from Kensington with, a book for
Miss Monitor, and, when near to the Old Palace,
my fashionable admirer suddenly presented
himself and addressed me again."

"Mercv, Mary!" cried Mrs. Chutney aghast,
"what, did he say?"

"Well, nothing worthy of death or bonds;
only that I had never been absent from his
mind, and all that, you know—- the usual formulary.
I fear I laughed."

"Oh, Mary!" interrupted Mrs. Chutney, in
a distressed tone, " how could you be so
imprudent! What will that gentleman think of you?"

"Nonsense, love," returned Miss Mary with
a saucy smile, " don't grudge me a little
harmless diversion. Remember what a dull life I
lead. And this man! Why, I shall never see
him again; if I do, trust, me to take care of
myself. Now put on your bonnet and let us take a
stroll in the gardens while the morning is cool."

CHAPTER II.

THE same bright morning which shone upon
the gorgeously furnished house in Richmond-
gardens, Bayswater, was lending more than
ordinary effect to the various costly buhl and
marqueterie tables, cabinets, and rich textures
displayed in the renowned show-rooms of Messrs.
Deal, Board, and Co., upholsterers, Piccadilly.

It was yet too early for any of their
distinguished customers to drop in. Mr. Adolphus
Deal—- who had become the head of the firm
on the death of the honest old cabinet-maker
his father—- had not yet appeared above the
visible horizon. He was an exaggerated
specimen of the modern fashionable tradesman who
incongruously combines the fine gentleman with
the eager shopkeeper. He had a profound belief
in himself as a man of taste, a man of business,
and a man of pleasure.

A few shopmen were dotted about, and a
grey-headed old clerk occasionally addressed a
remark to them through a pigeon-hole in an
enclosed desk where he was shut up like a
parrot in a cage.

"Half-past twelve!" he ejaculated, " and no
Mr. Deal. It would be better," coming out of
his box, his pen behind his ear—- "it would be
better if he left the concern to Board
altogether."

The shopman thus addressed, winked. " Don't