A large and motley native crowd were assembled on the edge of the ground, their brilliant red and yellow garments giving a touch of colour to the scene, and the game was already in full swing. As Verona accepted Mrs. Palgrave's invitation, she noticed that Dominga and Mr. Young appeared to have a great deal to say to one another; unquestionably they had not met for the first time to-day. On the contrary, as we know, Charlie Young and Miss Dominga were fast friends--little Charlie was constantly chaffed about his infatuation for "Red Chandos," and bore jokes and gibes with a good temper that discouraged and, at the same time, disarmed his tormentors. "I say, I can't tell you how surprised and delighted I was to find you at Mrs. Barwell's," he murmured, as he walked beside his enchantress. "Oh, my sister met her at home," rejoined Dom, in her most off-hand manner; "that is why we were asked to tea. Verona knows hundreds of swells. Do tell me what you think? Do you call her pretty?" "Oh, yes, uncommonly good-looking, but rather sad--a bit down on her luck, I should say." "People seem to think she will cut out everyone in Rajahpore." "Except you. No fear of that, darling." "Hush, Charlie, you really _must_ be careful----" "Well, tell me about your sister. Where has she been all this time?" "At home--living among all the grandees, and so rich--and having such a good time. But her friend died, and her money went to others--such an awful shame. She used to know Princes, and Dukes, and Lords." "Oh! then I'm afraid we can't do much for her in that line out here. Our nearest approach is the only son of a lord, who joined the regiment three days ago." "Oh, my! really. Who is he? Do tell me about him, Charlie, dear." "Well, his name is Fielder--the Honourable James Fitzalan Egbert Fielder, son and heir of Lord Highstreet, late of the Guards." "Why has he come out to India?" "I believe--this is strictly between you and me--he was sent out by his father because he got into some mess with a lady--he is a great lady's man. He wanted to marry a tremendously frisky widow, years older than himself. And so his people shoved him out here, to get him out of harm's way. That's the story. Of course, it may be a lie." "What is he like?" "Oh, not much to look at--sleek, well-groomed, drawling sort. A cool hand, I should imagine; says he is awfully keen on seeing active service. I don't fancy he is up to much of a rough campaign--more of a fine fellow strolling down Piccadilly. However, he has taken to us kindly, and professed himself delighted to join the regiment. Not like that chap who, when he was asked what the new corps was, said, 'I don't know, but you go from Waterloo--and they have green facings!'" "His family are old, I suppose?" enquired Dominga, to whom this anecdote was the purest Greek. "Old--oh, lord, yes! I expect they paddled over with the Conqueror."