“Come along, then! come along!” cried Paul Straddler, flourishing his dirty pen; “let’s set up a school for grown sportsmen. Now for the good boys. Master Bushey-heath says he’ll ride Master Bareacres a match across country—two miles say—for, for, how much?” asked he, looking up. This caused a pause, as it often does, even after dinner, and not the less so in the present instance, inasmuch as the promoters of the match had each a share in the risk. What would be hundreds in other people’s cases becomes pounds in our own. Flintoff and Straddler looked pacifically at each other, as much as to say, “There’s no use in cutting each other’s throats, you know.” “Suppose we say,” (exhibiting four fingers and a thumb, slyly to indicate a five pound note), said Heslop demurely, after a conference with Cuddy. “With all my heart,” asserted Straddler, “glad it was no more.” “And call it fifty,” whispered Heslop. “Certainly!” assented Straddler, “very proper arrangement.” “Two miles for fifty pounds,” announced Straddler, writing it down. “P. P. I s’pose?” observed he, looking up. “P. P.” assented Heslop. “Now, what next?” asked Paul, feeling that there was something more wanted. “An umpire,” suggested Mr. Smoothley. “Ah, to be sure, an umpire,” replied Mr. Straddler; “who shall it be?” “Sir Moses!” suggested several voices. “Sir Moses, by all means,” replied Straddler. “Content,” nodded Mr. Heslop. “It must be on a non-hunting day, then,” observed the Baronet, speaking from the bottom of his tea-cup. “Non-hunting day!” repeated Cuddy; “non-hunting day; fear that ‘ill not do—want to be off to town on Friday to see Tommy White’s horses sold. Have been above a week at the Park, as it is.” “You’ve been a fortnight to-morrow, sir,” observed the ticket-of-leave butler (who had just come to announce the carriage) in a very different tone to his usual urbane whisper. “Fortnight to-morrow, have I?” rejoined Cuddy sheepishly; “greater reason why I should be off.” “O, never think about that! O, never think about that! Heartily welcome, heartily welcome,” rejoined Sir Moses, stuffing his mouth full of muffin, adding “Mr. Pringle will keep you company; Mr. Pringle will keep you company.” (Hunch, munch, crunch.) “Mr. Pringle _must_ stop,” observed Mr. Straddler, “unless he goes without his man.” “To besure he must,” assented Sir Moses, “to be sure he must,” adding, “stop as long as ever you like. I’ve no engagement till Saturday—no engagement till Saturday.”