“Not one,” said Cashel, with a laugh that rang through the house. “I never was happier in my life, though I’m crying inside all the time. I’ll have a try for you yet. Good-bye. No,” he added, turning from her proffered hand; “I daren’t touch it; I should eat you afterwards.” And he ran out of the room. In the hall was Bashville, pale and determined, waiting there to rush to the assistance of his mistress at her first summons. He had a poker concealed at hand. Having just heard a great laugh, and seeing Cashel come down-stairs in high spirits, he stood stock-still, and did not know what to think. “Well, old chap,” said Cashel, boisterously, slapping him on the shoulder, “so you’re alive yet. Is there any one in the dining-room?” “No,” said Bashville. “There’s a thick carpet there to fall soft on,” said Cashel, pulling Bashville into the room. “Come along. Now, show me that little trick of yours again. Come, don’t be afraid. Down with me. Take care you don’t knock my head against the fire-irons.” “But--” “But be hanged. You were spry enough at it before. Come!” Bashville, after a moment’s hesitation, seized Cashel, who immediately became grave and attentive, and remained imperturbably so while Nashville expertly threw him. He sat for a moment thinking on the hearth-rug before he rose. “_I_ see,” he said, then, getting up. “Now, do it again.” “But it makes such a row,” remonstrated Bashville. “Only once more. There’ll be no row this time.” “Well, you ARE an original sort of cove,” said Bashville, complying. But instead of throwing his man, he found himself wedged into a collar formed by Cashel’s arms, the least constriction of which would have strangled him. Cashel again roared with laughter as he released him. “That’s the way, ain’t it?” he said. “You can’t catch an old fox twice in the same trap. Do you know any more falls?” “I do,” said Bashville; “but I really can’t show them to you here. I shall get into trouble on account of the noise.” “You can come down to me whenever you have an evening out,” said Cashel, handing him a card, “to that address, and show me what you know, and I’ll see what I can do with you. There’s the making of a man in you.” “You’re very kind,” said Bashville, pocketing the card with a grin. “And now let me give you a word of advice that will be of use to you as long as you live,” said Cashel, impressively. “You did a very silly thing to-day. You threw a man down--a fighting-man--and then stood looking at him like a fool, waiting for him to get up and kill you. If ever you do that again, fall on him as heavily as you can the instant he’s off his legs. Drop your shoulder well into him, and, if he pulls you over, make play with the back of your head. If he’s altogether too big for you, put your knee on his throat as if by accident. But, on no account, stand and do nothing. It’s flying in the face of Providence.”