brightened, and the people--all going uphill--were disposed to be merry, and two one-armed sailors sat in the sun by the side of the road singing ballads and shouting, 'Good luck to you, ladies!' so that my spirits gradually rose. I didn't see how I could help enjoying myself. 'I always think it's such a frightful charge for admission to the Grand Stand,' said Mrs. Bangley Coffin, as we walked up the arboreal approach to it. 'A sovereign! Of course, they have to do it, you know, to keep the mob out; but really, when one thinks of it, it is too much!' I thought this a real kindness of Mrs. Bangley Coffin, because if I had not known it was so much I might have let Mr. Bangley Coffin pay for my ticket too. It was about this time that Mr. Bangley Coffin disappeared. He launched us, as it were, upon the crowded terrace in front of the Grand Stand, where at every turn the Misses Bangley Coffin expected to see a man they knew. He remained semi-detached and clinging for about a quarter of an hour, coming up with an agreeable criticism upon a particular costume, darting off again to talk to a large, calm man with an expansive checked shirt-front and a silk hat well on the back of his head, who carried a notebook. Then, once, Mrs. Bangley Coffin addressed him, thinking him behind her. 'Joey, love!' said she. 'Joey, love!' said she again, turning her head. But Joey was utterly and wholly gone. I believe he explained afterwards that he had lost us. 'There!' said Mrs. Bangley Coffin, with incisiveness; 'now we must see somebody we know! Pet, isn't that Sir Melville Cartus?' It was, and Sir Melville came up in response to Mrs. Bangley Coffin's eyeglass and bow and smile, and made himself extremely agreeable for about four minutes and a-quarter. Then he also took off his hat with much charm of manner and went away. So did a nervous little Mr. Trifugis, who joined us for a short time. He said he was on the Fitzwalters's drag, and it was so uncommon full he had apprehensions about getting back. Whose drag were we on? and didn't we think it was drawing near the halcyon hour of luncheon? 'Nobody's,' said Mrs. Bangley Coffin, pointedly. 'We came by train this year. Joey is suffering from a fit of economy--the result of Surefoot's behaviour at the Derby. It is about time for luncheon.' Whereat Mr. Trifugis dropped his eyeglass and looked absently over his left shoulder, blushing hard. Then he screwed the eyeglass in again very tight, looked at us all with amiable indefiniteness, took off his hat, and departed. 'Little beast!' said Mrs. Bangley Coffin, candidly; 'there's not the slightest reason why he couldn't have given us all luncheon at the Lyric enclosure.'