“I daresay I would,” answered old Tom frankly. In those robust days gentlemen used stronger language than in the present feeble time, and nobody was at all shocked at either Mr. Shapleigh’s remark or Jack Blair’s commentary. There was a jovial good humour about old Tom which took the sting out of his most outrageous speeches. But as the talk about racing flowed on, Elizabeth Blair grew paler and paler. Jack Blair’s fever was upon him, and Skelton, whether consciously or not, was fanning the flame. Skelton said, in a very modest way--for he was too great a man in the community to need to be anything but modest--that his interests in racing being much greater than ever, as he was then on the spot, he should double his subscription to the club. As it was known that his subscription was already large, this created a flutter among the gentlemen. “Of course I can’t double _my_ subscription in the debonair manner of Mr. Skelton,” said Blair with an easy smile, “but I don’t mind saying that I shall raise it very considerably.” At that moment Mrs. Blair caught Skelton’s eyes fixed on her pityingly--so she imagined--and it spurred her to show him that she was not an object of commiseration, and that Jack Blair had no domestic rod in pickle for him on account of that last speech. “Now, if you change your mind,” she said playfully to her husband, “don’t lay it on your wife, and say she wouldn’t let you, for here I sit as meek as a lamb, not making the slightest protest against any of these schemes, which, however, I don’t pretend to understand in the least.” “My dear,” cried Blair, his face slightly flushed with wine and excitement, “don’t try to pretend, at this late day, that you do not dragoon me. My subjugation has been county talk ever since that night you slipped out of the garden gate and rode off with me in search of a parson.” A magnetic shock ran through everybody present at this. Blair, in saying it, glanced maliciously at Skelton. _That_ paid him back for Oriole beating Miss Betsy, and Jack-o’-Lantern romping in ahead of Paymaster, and various other defeats that his “horse or two” had met with from the black and yellow. In an instant the talk began again very merrily and promptly. Blair looked audaciously at his ease, but Skelton was not a whit behind him in composure. He turned, smiling, to Sylvia, and said: “How all this talk must bore you!” Sylvia felt furious with Blair. They had not asked Skelton there to insult him. Therefore she threw an extra softness into her smile, as she replied: “It is very nice to talk about something else occasionally. I long to hear you talk about your travels.” “My travels are not worth talking about,” answered Skelton in the same graceful way; “but I have some very pretty prints that I would like to show you. I hope you will repeat your interesting visit of some years ago to Deerchase--some time soon.”