"Ten! Twenty!" continued the voice of Fate. "Thirty! Thank you, my lord. Fifty! Two hundred and fifty bid for him. Run him down once more. Take care!" And Sir Henry found himself jostled against his new friend Picard, who, having made the last bid with an assumption of great carelessness, seemed in danger of becoming the actual proprietor of this desirable purchase. "Make me a wheeler, I think," said he, as the horse was led back to the stable, and another brought out to elicit a fresh burst of competition, all the more lively, perhaps, that the Leicestershire nobleman had put such a reserve price on his stud as precluded the sale of anything but a hack he didn't like. "Rather light for harness," observed Sir Henry, with a certain covert approval of his friend's extravagance. "I suppose they _are_ to be sold?" he added, on further reflection. "I conclude so, of course," replied the other, though he well knew they were _not_, and had been bidding pompously for some half-dozen with the comfortable conviction that there was nothing to pay for his whistle. "It's a long price," resumed the baronet, as he took Picard's arm to saunter leisurely in the direction of Belgravia. "At least, it makes them very dear when you come to match them. That's the worst of having too good a team." "Oh! I don't know," said Picard loftily. "I always find it cheapest, in the long run, to drive the best horses, though I do have to give thundering prices now and then, I admit. Still, things must begin to look up for us soon. We Southern proprietors can't be always on the shady side of the hedge; and we've had a rough time of it enough, in all conscience." They were already at the gate, and it appeared this "Southern proprietor" had no intention of buying any more horses to-day. Sir Henry hazarded a pertinent, or, as he himself considered it, an _im_pertinent, inquiry. "Have you much property," said he, "in the South? And do you get anything from it?" "Not, perhaps, what _you_ would call much, in actual value," answered his companion; "but for extent, of course, unlimited." He waved his arm as Robinson Crusoe might, while describing his circle: "From the centre all round to the sea." "But American property," he added, "is so difficult to define. Halloo! here's our friend Vanguard." That gentleman was indeed strolling leisurely into the yard, apparently with no particular object, for he strolled out again willingly enough at the invitation of his two friends. "It's rather early for the park," observed Picard, as the three crossed to the shady side of the street, "and too late for St. James's Street. What shall we do with ourselves for the next half-hour?" "Go and look at the Serpentine--see if it's still there," said Frank, who seemed in unusually high spirits, though his manner was somewhat restless. "If that bores you, there's always the British Museum. It's cool, and, I've been told, very solitary."