Just at that moment, Nora walked quietly into the dining-room to ask the gentlemen whether they meant to go for a ride by-and-by in the cool of the evening. ‘For if you do, papa,’ she said in explanation, ‘you know you must send for Nita to the pasture, for Mr Noel will want a horse, and you’re too heavy for any but the cob, so you’ll have to get up Nita for Mr Noel.’ Tom Dupuy glanced at her suspiciously. ‘I suppose since your last particular friend fell over the gully that night at Banana Garden,’ he said hastily, ‘you’ll be picking up next with a new favourite in this fine-spoken, new-fangled, haw-haw, English fellow!’ Nora looked back at him haughtily and defiantly. ‘Tom Dupuy,’ she answered with a curl of her lip (she always addressed him by both names together), ‘you are quite mistaken—utterly mistaken. I don’t feel in the least prepossessed by Mr Noel’s personal appearance.’ ‘Why not? Why not?’ Tom inquired eagerly. ‘I don’t know by what right you venture to cross-question me about such a matter; but as you ask me, I don’t mind answering you. Mr Noel is a shade or two too dark by far ever to take my own fancy.’ Tom whistled low to himself and gave a little start. ‘By Jove,’ he said, half aloud and half to himself, ‘that was a Dupuy that spoke that time, certainly. After all, the girl’s got some proper pride still left in her. She doesn’t want to marry him, _although_ he’s a brown man. I always thought myself, as a mere matter of taste, she positively preferred these woolly-headed mulattoes!’ JOHN HULLAH.