Big Game

by H. B. Marriott Watson

BIG GAME

By H. B. MARRIOTT WATSON.

"SHE'S as cross as two sticks at your going," observed Delia to her sister, Lady Molly Calverley. "I could tell from the way she banged the door."

"Let her," said Molly indifferently, as with one leg crossed on the other in the privacy of her room she laced her boots. "Evelyn's nothing to do with me now I'm nearly nineteen."

Delia, who was only sixteen, regarded her with admiration. "You wouldn't dare to go away on your own and leave her?" she suggested interrogatively.

It was in a way a challenge, but a mild, respectful challenge, and Molly saw no difficulty in taking it up. "I shouldn't mind at all," she said. "I've been in a cab by myself before now."

"No; you weren't; you were with Cicely," said blunt Eilean. Molly deigned to take no notice, but went on with her dressing.

"Oh, Molly, do you think you'll fall down?" inquired Marjorie, with the eager curiosity of her eight years.

"Of course she won't, duffer!" said Eilean. "You don't fall down on real ice, only on rinks."

Molly straightened herself languidly. "Do you think I'd better wear my picture-hat, or the one with fur?" she asked vaguely of the family.

"Oh, the picture one, Molly, do—please!" screamed little Marjorie.

"Fur, I should say," said Eilean. Delia seemed to ponder; as she was nearest to Molly in years, it was her opinion that had greatest weight; but ere she could deliver it, twelve-year-old Cicely entered.

"Evelyn says you're to be quick, or she'll go without you," she said pertly.

"If you talk to me like that, I'll box your ears, you saucy thing!" said Molly angrily, as she fitted on her picture hat.

"Oh, Molly, lovely!" said Marjorie ecstatically.

"That ought to knock them," said Eilean critically.

"Eily, you mustn't say such things," reproved her sister.

"It looks sweetly pretty," said Delia. "You'll be getting married some of these days, Molly."

Molly shrugged her shoulders, as she nodded to Eilean to hand her her fur-coat. "Marriage," she said sententiously, "isn't everything. If I married at all, it would be a man with plenty of money and a position."

"And a handsome man," added Eilean.

"With lots of dogs," suggested Marjorie.

"Would you marry him if he wasn't in love with you?" inquired curious Cicely. "I wouldn't."

"Oh, you're a child. You don't understand," said Molly. "Love's not everything. It's only stuff that they feed schoolgirls on, like you. Is that Evelyn calling?" she asked anxiously. "Tell her I'll be down in a moment."

She donned the coat hastily, added some finishing touches to her toilet, and ran out of the room with a farewell nod.

"She does talk rot," observed Eilean. "I believe she'd be glad to get anyone."

Molly with her eldest sister drove, up to the Skating Club and alighted. At the door they encountered two or three people, and Evelyn stopped to greet one of them. She rejoined Molly presently with a little air of excitement.

"Lady Cecilia says her brother is coming," she said in a friendly voice to her sister.

"Her brother!" said Molly.

"Yes, the Duke of Staunton, you know. He's just come back from Africa, shooting big game."

"And now he's big game himself, I suppose," said Molly.

"If you can think of nothing less vulgar to say, perhaps you'd better not speak at all," said her sister severely as they passed in.

The skaters were in full flight, and a goodly number of spectators were gathered in knots or seated in chairs, comfortably watching the sport; and very soon both Molly and her sister were speeding gracefully along the ice. Evelyn was an admirable skater, and Molly was not ashamed of her own prowess. As they glided smoothly along, Molly became aware of a commotion behind her, and she glanced round. What she saw was a tall, vigorous young man in a short coat, rocking vaguely about on the ice, with his arms in the air like semaphores. He dodged three skaters by a miracle, and then, getting in a straight line, sailed beautifully down the room till he reached the bend. At this point it seemed that he would fly off into the wall, but he dug his heels down, came to a wavering pause, and stood bobbing uneasily to regain his balance. His face was pink with his exertions, but he wore a grim, determined expression, and was seemingly unaware that there were any onlookers. What they thought and said did not appear to give him any concern. Carefully launching himself again, he started on a new tack, and came careering along towards Molly.

Ere he was half-way to her she saw the danger, and was curving gently away when the unexpected happened—his feet went up and out behind, and with two giant strides he had reached her, grabbed wildly in the air, and seized her. The next moment they were both on the floor of ice. Molly had sat down hard, and could have cried with vexation, as well as with the shock. But ere this calamity could fall she was assisted to her feet by someone, and found herself standing with her hands in his, thanking him vaguely. The young man was being rolled away somewhere in the background.

"Really, people shouldn't be allowed——" she began, and suddenly recognised her rescuer. She had met him before.

"That's quite true; they shouldn't," he said gravely, and added: "I hope you are not hurt."

"Oh, no," said Molly with a sublime loftiness. "Thank you very much. If you don't mind taking me to the edge."

He took her without further words, and placed her in a seat, unobtrusively seeing to her comfort. Then with a salutation he left her. Molly sat fuming inwardly. It was disgraceful that creatures like that awful person should be allowed in decent skating-rinks. She was mortified by her discomfiture and wanted to go home. In the distance she spied Evelyn, who was now approaching.

"Molly, who was that you were talking to?" she asked.

Molly was not in an amiable mood, and, moreover, she detested Evelyn's surveillance; so she said indifferently: "Oh, an acquaintance of mine."

"An acquaintance!" echoed Evelyn, raising her eyebrows.

"Yes, a man named Messiter," pursued Molly coolly. "He picked me out of a canoe in the summer at the Towers."

"Ah, I remember," said her sister after a pause. "I don't approve of such introductions," she added; "you don't know who he is from Adam."

"At all events, he was the only person decent enough to pick me up just now," burst out Molly indignantly.

"Pick you up! Indeed! If you can't keep your feet, it would be wise not to come here at all," said Evelyn.

"I did keep my feet," said poor Molly angrily; "it was a brute of a man knocked me down."

"My dear, you can't afford to be knocked down by men——" Evelyn was beginning icily when she was interrupted by a voice—

"Lady Mary, the Duke wishes to apologise. May I have the pleasure of introducing him to you?"

Evelyn and Molly looked round sharply, and there was Mr. Messiter, with his calm, undecipherable face, and behind him the vigorous young man in the short coat, now without his skates. His full-coloured face was smilingly apologetic.

"Will you forgive me, Lady Mary?" he asked, without waiting for further formalities. "I hadn't the remotest idea I was going to hit you. You see, I haven't been on the ice since I was a schoolboy."

"It was of no consequence," said Molly aloofly.

Evelyn was a more than interested audience, but as she was not known to either of the men, she simply stood and waited. What would have happened it is impossible to say, but at that moment a new voice intervened.

"Oh, it's you, my dear. I wondered who it was," said Lady Cecilia from the ice. "Did Edward hurt you?" That was the opportunity for the formal introductions, and presently Evelyn and Messiter were engaged in talk, while the Duke devoted his attention to Molly.

"It was too bad," he said. "If I had to run into anyone, I might have run into someone else—that stout woman in blue and thingamy, for instance."

Molly felt disposed to laugh, but she maintained her piqued attitude. "I don't see that it would have been any better for her than for me," she answered.

"Oh, I don't care about her," he observed frankly. "It reminds me of when I was in Colorado, shooting bear, and I knocked an old squaw into a water-butt, and——"

"Thank you, I'm not an old squaw," said Molly coldly.

He laughed. "I should think not." Nothing seemed to upset his complacency. "Cissy," he called across to his sister, "what about this famous Club and tea? Skating's a poor sort of business, ain't it?" he asked of Molly.

"I'm extremely fond of it," she returned.

"You'll come, won't you, Lady Evelyn?" Lady Cecilia was saying. "I'm giving my brother and Mr. Messiter tea in my Club, where we occasionally allow undistinguished members of the other sex. You'll come and have tea too?"

Evelyn looked brilliant. "Certainly, with pleasure," she answered; "tea fits my mood to a 't' after all this exercise." She smiled at the Duke, who, noticing another handsome girl, crossed to her.

Mr. Messiter turned to Molly.

"Is it peace and goodwill?" he inquired.

"It's our duty, I suppose," she said, relaxing, "but I find it hard sometimes to live up to it."

"So do I," he confessed, "awful."

Lady Cecilia showed a disposition to move, and the party streamed to the exit, where, the carriages being called, they drove to the Club. The Duke took possession.

"Oh, don't let's have any of those wretched cakes, Cissy," he said. "Can't they give us some sandwiches or something? Messiter wants Scotch tea."

Messiter hastened to disclaim any desire for this, and the Duke said good-humouredly: "Well, I do. Can't I have Polly and Scotch, Cissy?"

Lady Cecilia gave the order, and they chattered until the waiter brought the tea-things. Evelyn was very bright and witty, and Lady Cecilia was absent-mindedly gracious.

"Are you sure you've got what you want, my dear?" she asked of Molly.

Molly assured her that she had. "I never get what I want," said Mr. Messiter in his deliberate way. "That's what keeps me happy."

"Happy!" said Molly in surprise.

"Yes; there is only one golden rule for happiness—always have something beyond your reach. I have now."

"What is it?" she asked, smilingly interested.

"A goal at which I shall never arrive."

"Then you'll be disappointed, and that means unhappiness," remarked wise Molly.

"I shan't know it, you see," he answered. "I shall always hope to arrive."

"But you said you never would," she said in perplexity; "and if you know you never will, you know you won't."

"That sounds right," he observed thoughtfully. "You shed new light on the subject. But I mustn't allow you to depress me. I am incorrigibly hopeful, and in consequence I shall go on hoping till the grave closes over me; and when it yawns, I shall still have the goal unreached."

Molly protested. There seemed somehow to be a flaw in this argument, but she could not quite make it out. "But you say you won't, and then you will," she declared.

He nodded as he sipped his tea. "That's the advantage of being a complex person. You have your cake and eat it." It was too perplexing, and Molly fell back on more intelligible ground.

"What sort of goal is it?" she asked. "Politics?"

"Heaven forbid!" he said fervently.

"Painting?" she queried again.

"No. I know I never could paint decently," he replied.

"But you said——" began Molly, and giving it up, stopped.

"By Jove!" said the Duke, his eye caught by the head of a moose over the doorway. "That's a beast Scott-Wilton shot along with me. I know the ugly phiz. I say, Cissy, I'll give you some things for this pub of yours, if you like. I've got some stuffed snakes and a mummy and some things that would suit."

He turned abruptly in his awkward way to stare round the hall, and kicked the table with his foot. Two cups and the cream-jug went over with a crash, and the contents flowed over on Evelyn's dress.

"Hang it!" said the Duke. "What a clumsy fool I am!" and, rising precipitately to offer his services, sent the whole table flying.

Lady Cecilia gave vent to an exclamation of alarm and annoyance, but Evelyn, who had materially suffered, said nothing. Her colour was still bright. Messiter elevated his eyebrows at Molly.

"It's all big-game shooting," he murmured.

"Well he's only shot a few tea-cups," said Molly derisively.

"You forget Lady Evelyn," said he.

"Oh, she's not——" Molly paused.

"All women are big game, you know," he said sententiously.

Molly pondered this. "To be shot?"

"To be shot at," he amended. "They're rarely hit. But they are captured sometimes, and then they adorn halls and drawing-rooms like this."

Molly laughed. "Isn't it generally supposed that it's the other way round?" she asked.

"Oh, we both hunt," he said mildly. "But women never get wounded; men do. They get positively gored sometimes. That makes them happy."

"Happy!" she echoed.

"Yes; we like risks."

"Women take risks too," said Molly firmly. Her companion was looking at Evelyn, who was exchanging sallies with the Duke and his sister.

"Do tell me about your big-game shooting, Duke," said Evelyn sweetly.

"Oh, well, you just go out and shoot them, you know," said the Duke vaguely.

"It's so easy, you see," murmured Messiter to Molly, with a nod towards the Duke.

A little later Evelyn rose to go, and the sisters took their departure in the brougham.

"The Duke seems very nice and bright," observed the elder in her pleasantest tone.

"Oh, Evelyn, your dress!" cried Molly.

"Oh, I don't think it's much hurt," said Evelyn philosophically. "Of course, it was very clumsy, only I suppose he's got out of the way of being at tea-parties. Lady Cecilia's bringing him to call," she added complacently.

Lady Cecilia did. They arrived about a week later, and the Duke got on famously with Lady Templeton, whose feather-head did not notice his lapses. He talked on this occasion a good deal to Molly, who, now that she had forgotten her grievance against him, was amused by his inconsequence.

"He asked me if I read 'books and things,' and when I said 'No' very demurely, he confided to me that he hated women who did." Thus did Molly confide to that old family friend and confidant, the Hon. Roger Martin, commonly called "Tiggy."

"He ought to have found out whether you did before hating," pronounced Tiggy, shaking his head.

"But that was the joke, Tiggy. If I'd said 'Yes,' what would he have said?"

"Said he liked 'em," suggested Tiggy.

"No; he would have said: 'Oh, really, well, I shouldn't mind your sort o' books, I know.' Oh, I know the Duke, Tiggy. He's a duck."

Mr. Martin looked serious. "They're not the same thing, dukes and ducks, you know," he observed, "though they appear to be alike. The problem appears to formulate itself somewhat thus: Do dukes want ducks or ducats? I don't know. Some do."

"Some do what? You are stupid, Tiggy. I can't understand a word you say."

"It is mystifying," confessed Mr. Martin, rubbing his eyeglass. "When they go to America, they get both."

"The Duke only goes to America to shoot," replied Molly.

"Duck shooting?" queried Tiggy in his most aggravating manner.

"No; big-game shooting," said Molly shortly.

"Ah, well, it might even be called that, when one comes to think of it," said Mr. Martin thoughtfully.

"Why, that's just what Mr. Messiter said!" exclaimed she.

"Mr. Messiter! And pray who is Mr. Messiter?" inquired Tiggy politely.

"Oh, he's a friend of the Duke's."

"Big-game shooting too?" inquired Mr. Martin.

"No; he—I don't know what he does, but he can't swim."

"That's bad and sad. Perhaps he's a cripple?" suggested Mr. Martin.

"No; he's not," said Molly decidedly. "He's quite straight, and a good figure, and—and rather good-looking; and, oh, it was he pulled me out of the river—you remember."

"Ah, I seem to recall—and he only hunts small game," mused Tiggy. "What a pity, with such qualifications! After all, it isn't necessary to swim in order to start as a hunter."

Molly took refuge from this unintelligible irony in a dignified retreat. Tiggy was all very well when he admired you, and assisted you, and did the thousand things he had been accustomed to do since they were all small children; but Tiggy became tiresome when he was in these moods. Molly banged the library door on him.

But it was easily seen presently that the Duke had abandoned big game; and if he could not be said to be after small game, he was certainly devoting a good deal of his time to Lady Templeton's second daughter, a fact which Evelyn was the first to perceive. Now, Evelyn, with all her faults of hardness and coldness—indeed, possibly because of them—was essentially practical. It cost her a wrench to abandon her big game when she saw the quest was hopeless, but she heroically did so, and devoted her skill to keeping the hunt in the family. What she privately thought of the Duke's taste, and what she privately said to Molly, are of no consequence here; it is her acts that count.

"It is evident he's set his heart on buttercups and primroses, and that sort of thing," said she sneeringly to her mother, "and Molly must be talked to."

"What am I to say to her?" inquired Lady Templeton feebly. "She's only eighteen; and she doesn't know about things."

"So much the better," said Evelyn. "There will be no ridiculous obstacles. She'll take her medicine in jam."

Lady Templeton looked uncomfortable. "It's rather vulgar to call it medicine," she expostulated.

"Of course, I meant chocolate," said Evelyn, shrugging her shoulders. "Anyway, she mustn't be allowed to be a fool."

"I think he's a nice fellow," said Lady Templeton, buoying herself up.

"Certainly he is; only dull and stupid, and rather lacking in taste. But taste's cheap enough. He can buy taste. All Park Lane does."

It was, however, as must appear, a matter of some delicacy, for though her mother and her sister knew how the Duke was shaping, and even Molly herself had suspicions, it was hardly possible to broach the subject in the open family. He came a good deal, and a dinner-party was given in his honour, to which his friend, Mr. Messiter, who had become acquainted with the house, was also invited. On this occasion the Duke was taken possession of by Lord Templeton, who was a dull, estimable man, with no sense of what was expected of him. Consequently Molly found herself in a corner of the drawing-room with Messiter.

"If there's one thing," remarked he, with his eyes complacently directed on his friend, "I dislike about the Duke, it is his persistency."

"But isn't that a virtue?" asked Molly.

"It may be a vice," he declared. "The Duke does not know when he's beaten. He's a true-born Englishman in that; the only awkward part about it is that other people do."

"But—but," said puzzled Molly, "why is he defeated?"

"I don't say he is," returned Mr. Messiter coolly. "I only hope he is. You see, he goes out shooting lions and tigers, and he thinks the same method will apply to everything else. He takes big-bore guns with him. In fact, as you may possibly have noticed, they're all bore."

Molly could not quite understand this; she did not know if he were making a joke, but his face was quite grave.

"I think his stories are very interesting," she remarked with a snubbing air.

"So do I," he answered calmly. "Too decidedly interesting. He's too interesting a fellow altogether. Look how Lord Templeton's interested in him."

The Duke's eyes were wandering from his host, and had already reached their corner twice; but Messiter sat on unperturbed. He seemed to be enjoying himself.

"The Duchess, when there is one," he went on, "will be a very happy woman. I believe the family jewels are of enormous value—ropes of pearls, and opals and diamonds."

"How awfully nice!" said Molly, her eyes glistening.

He regarded her, "Yes, isn't it? And two fine houses, and one hundred thousand a year, they say."

"Opals," said Molly, who had been thinking, "are unlucky unless you're born in October."

"Are they?" he rejoined, and paused. "When were you born, Lady Mary?"

Molly was guilty of a quick blush. "Oh—in—in October," she stammered.

Messiter said nothing, for at that moment the Duke, having emancipated himself, bore down heavily upon them.

"Lady Mary, will you come out with your sister and Lady Templeton in my motor-car?" he asked in his cheery way.

Molly hesitated. "If—if it's arranged," she said.

"Oh, we've fixed it all up," he responded. "Messiter, there's room for you too."

"Thanks," said Messiter languidly. "But I don't know your driving. Besides, I'm engaged."

"It was really very rude of him," explained Molly to her sisters next day, when the dinner was being discussed. "He didn't wait to hear when it was."

"Is the Duke going to drive himself, Molly?" inquired Cicely.

"Of course he is, duffer!" said Eilean; but Molly was talking privately with Delia.

"I believe he'll upset them," said Cicely confidently.

"Oh, he wouldn't do such a thing," said Marjorie indignantly.

"I wonder if they'll go to Brighton," mused Eilean. "If I had a car, I'd go to Brighton for lunch and back for dinner every day."

"What would you do if you were a Duchess, Eily?" inquired Marjorie.

Eilean contemplated the possibility with half-closed eyes. "I'd buy ten bracelets, all of different kinds of stones," she asserted. "Also about six pendants, and, of course, lots of rings. And I'd have——"

"Do have a carriage and six horses, Eily," pleaded Marjorie excitedly.

"Nonsense! I'd only have motors," said Eilean scornfully. "I'd have lots."

"I'd have a dress for every day in the year," said Cicely, "and evening ones too. And I'd have——" she broke off, for some of the conversation between Molly and Delia reached her.

"Real jewels, Molly?" she asked with interest.

It was not a question worth answering. Molly proceeded with her relation,

"Oh, Molly!" said Delia with real awe.

"Are you going to have them all?" inquired Marjorie in her customary state of ecstasy.

"You are a duffer! They're the Duke's," volunteered Eilean.

"But Molly can have them if she likes," protested Marjorie. "I know she can. I heard Parker say so. He said 'the young lady could turn him round her paw.'"

"Don't repeat such disgusting things," said Delia sternly, but looked at her elder sister with increased respect and wonder.

"Molly!" she said. Molly was conscious of a blush.

"Oh, Molly!" repeated Delia. "Do you think?" She left off and glanced at the younger children, who were all agog. "You'd better go away," she said severely. "We don't want you gaping like pigs."

Delia put her arm through Molly's and drew her away. "Molly," she whispered, when she was out of earshot of the others, "do you think you'll take him?"

Her voice almost pleaded. But Molly had an access of crossness.

"How can I tell?" she said shortly. "He's not asked me."

"But he will; I know he will," said Delia triumphantly.

There seemed to be some reason in Delia's confidence, as Molly was aware, and as she became increasingly aware when the Duke called next time. Evelyn stage-managed the call, and so it fell that the Duke and Lady Molly were left together by an accident.

"I'm glad you liked the motor drive," said the young man for the third time. He was neither original nor sensitive. "I've got a better car than that now, and I hope you'll come out on it."

Molly expressed a hope that she would.

"Do you remember when I upset you?" said the Duke with his customary bluntness.

"Certainly I do," said Molly with a little asperity.

He laughed. "I know I'm a clumsy beggar; but if I'd known it was you, I'd have sat down before."

"Did you do it on purpose?" asked Molly sharply.

"Purpose! Oh, well, no. I saw something in front of me and grabbed at it, you know. But if I'd known——"

"It's very kind of you," said Molly, experiencing a curious resentment of this complacency.

"But what I wanted, I suppose," said the Duke more thoughtfully, "was someone to catch hold of—a partner, so to speak." He saw his way now, quite as if he had been a man in a novel. "And if I could get hold of a partner I wanted, I'd pretty soon——"

"There'll be plenty of partners at Mrs. Stuart-Cockburn's dance," said Molly, rising quickly.

She was angry, and without realising it she wanted to stop him. The best thing that occurred to her was to ring for the man to take away the unnecessary tea-things.

"Let me see; you like Scotch tea, don't you?" she asked, turning to him. "I'm afraid we've been forgetful. Parker, will you bring the whisky and the soda?"

The Duke was disconcerted, and showed it. He took the whisky-and-soda without comment, but that ring seemed to have been the signal for Evelyn's reappearance. She thought it was all over. But it was not quite.

"Did the Duke——" she paused as she put half a question to her sister in a coldly amiable way,

"The Duke had a whisky-and-soda, to which he seems attached, and went," said Molly curtly.

"He probably was not quite ready. He's very awkward," Evelyn told her mother. "Molly showed bad temper over it. Perhaps we've been mistaken. She's flung herself too obviously at him."

But there was something to hope for from the dance which came off the following week. Both the Duke and Mr. Messiter attended it, and there was not only a conservatory, but a long picture-gallery. The following afternoon a little party was gathered in the library, while Molly recounted her adventures.

"Do do it again, Molly," cried little Marjorie. "Show us how he dances again."

"Oh, Molly, he wasn't like that, surely!" protested Delia.

"My dear girl, he was, I assure you. You would have thought I was an elephant he was trying to lift off the ground. And he tore Evelyn's flounce, but she only smiled. It was like this."

Molly, in the highest of spirits, dissembled her dainty lightness and began to execute some laborious but well-intentioned manœuvres. She rolled into Eilean, caught at Cicely, and painfully reached the middle of the room. Then she floundered in achieving a clumsy turn of the waltz and kicked out her foot. Her shoe flew into the air, as the door opened and Tiggy's voice was audible.

"This is where I generally hang out."

The shoe struck someone, as it seemed in the face, and Molly uttered an exclamation of alarm.

"I'm awfully sorry," she said in confusion. "I was——"

She did not complete her sentence; but Marjorie did.

"She was showing us how the Duke danced," she said shrilly; "it is so funny." Mr. Messiter laughed softly; he had picked up the shoe.

"I'm awfully sorry," said Molly contritely.

"Well, it wasn't the Duke's boot, you see," said Messiter gravely. Tiggy turned his eyeglass from one to the other.

"I'm glad to find in my old age that you're all growing so studious," he said, glancing at the bookshelves. "Mr. Messiter was anxious to see this haunt of ancient peace. You see its attractions, Messiter." Tiggy passed in. "Eilean, I suspect you of having tampered with this bookcase of books on primitive sociology. What have we there?"

Molly was near the door and anxious to escape, but her stockinged foot kept her waiting. "Did you—have you—I mean, my shoe dropped somewhere," she said to Messiter.

"It dropped on my nose," said he.

"You'd better put some beef on your eye," said Cicely, scrutinising him anxiously; "it'll be black."

"Thank you so much. Will you get me some?" he said politely. Both Cicely and Marjorie dashed away on this errand of mercy.

"Cook, we want some beef!" they yelled as they rushed into the kitchen. "Molly's blackened Mr. Messiter's eye."

Molly lingered. Where was her shoe? At the other end of the library Tiggy lectured Delia and Eilean. "Did you—did you see my shoe?" she called in embarrassment.

Mr. Messiter put his hand in his pocket and drew something out. As he looked at her, there was that in his gaze which she had never noticed before. He seemed no longer the cool man she had hitherto known.

"I have here a shoe," he said quickly and in a low voice, "which I should like to try on, with the privilege of marrying the lady whom it fitted."

"Oh, it would fit lots," said Molly faintly.

"Will you let me begin with you?" he pleaded.

Molly hesitated; her heart was throbbing fast. Then she put out her foot slowly and ever so little a way. But it was sufficient for the experiment.

Copyright, 1906, by H. B. Marriott Watson, in the United States of America.