"Nothing rash, but something dashed low," answered her brother. "To-day," he continued, "I received a letter from a gentleman whom it appears I've met several times in the country, Major O'Grady, of the Seventy-Third. He has evidently quite forgotten the fact that I am in any way connected with Harry Penthouse, or interested in Herbert Hemming, and after several pages of reference to some exciting rubbers we have had together (I really cannot recall them to mind), he casually tells me the inner history of Hemming's leaving the service." "Ah, I thought so," sighed Mrs. Travers. "Thought what, my dear sister?" asked Pollin, shortly. The good lady was somewhat confused by the abruptness of her brother's manner, and her guard was forgotten. "That the inner history," she replied, "is that Captain Hemming was requested to resign his commission." "You have jumped the wrong way, Cordelia," said the gentleman, with a disconcerting smile, "for the regiment, from the colonel to the newest subaltern, and from the sergeant-major to the youngest bugler, are, figuratively speaking, weeping over his departure." Mrs. Travers seemed to dwindle in her chair. "Then why did he retire?" she asked, in a thin whisper. "Because Harry Penthouse wolfed all his money. At first he borrowed a hundred or so, and lost it gambling. Hemming got a bit shy, but thought, of course, that some day it would all be paid back. He wanted to help the boy, so, after a good deal of persuasion, endorsed his note for a large sum, and the note was cashed by a Jew who had helped Penthouse before. The Jew was honest, but he came a cropper himself, and could not afford to renew the note. Penthouse had only enough left to carry him stylishly over his two months' leave, so Hemming had to stump up. O'Grady says he didn't get so much as a 'Thank you' from the young bounder." For several minutes the lady kept a stunned silence. Presently she braced herself, and laughed unmusically. "I have heard a very different story," she said, "and I believe from a better authority than this Major O'Brady." "O'Grady," corrected Pollin, "and a very dear friend of mine--cousin to Sir Brian O'Grady." The good fellow's imagination was getting the bit in its teeth by this time, and his mind was turning toward the quiet of his club, and a nip of something before dinner. "You have your choice between Major O'Grady's story and Harry Penthouse's," said the lady. "And I choose O'Grady's," replied the gentleman, "because I know Penthouse and I know Herbert. Herbert is a good soldier and a good sort, and Harry is a damned overgrown, overfed cad." He stole away without farewell, abashed and surprised at his own heat and breach of etiquette. After her brother's departure Mrs. Travers sought her daughter. She wanted to know all the particulars of Hemming's visit.