As Mr. Rivett senior stood waiting for his wife at the foot of the terrace steps, wrapped in his old-fashioned linen duster and pulling on a pair of worn driving gloves, Edgerton, in white from head to foot, came across the lawn, the youthful antithesis of the older man—tall, powerfully built, his smooth skin and short, thick hair burned by the summer sun—a graceful, leisurely figure agreeable to see on anybody’s lawn. "Good morning!" he said pleasantly, stopping on the gravel drive. "Good morning, Mr. Edgerton. Are the young people amusing themselves?" "I think so—thoroughly." "You came a cropper?" "I sometimes do." "You are amusing yourself?" "I always do." "So do I," nodded Rivett, buttoning his gloves. "Never was bored in my life—poor compliment to oneself, Mr. Edgerton, to find life a bore." Edgerton smiled and stood with his left hand in his coat pocket, looking out at the flat field beyond, where half a dozen young people on lively ponies swung their mallets and cantered leisurely about in pretense of practice. Presently Diana, Christine, and Inwood swung their ponies, and came driving pell-mell down the field after the ball. "Your cousins seem to be up to anything," commented Rivett. "They were bred to everything worth while." "Oh! Is polo worth while, as you call it?" "Do you wish to start such a complex discussion?" asked Edgerton, laughing. "No; my wife will be here in a moment.... You’re looking very pale, young man," he added abruptly. "Did that pony hurt you?" "A little.... Mr. Rivett, do you need my services any longer?" "I don’t _need_ anybody’s services," said the little man dryly. "I never _needed_ anybody in all my life—except my wife. There’s no such thing as a necessary man. No man ever lived who couldn’t be replaced.... What’s the matter?" Edgerton said slowly: "I thought I’d go back to town and hunt up a job." "Why?" "Because there’s no reason for my being here. There never was any reason. You knew it when I asked you to take me, but I didn’t—because I didn’t know you and your family." "That’s a compliment, isn’t it?" "It’s just the truth. I’m glad my cousins are with you.... I’d like to go back now." "Tired of us?" "You don’t have to ask that." "More compliments," said Rivett. "What is wrong, then?" "I am." "Hadn’t noticed it." Edgerton smiled faintly. "More compliments? ... Mr. Rivett, I want to go to town and hunt up a job, and get in the game. That’s all." "Can’t you wait a month and see us through the October shooting?" Edgerton stepped nearer. "I would, merely because you ask me, but I can’t. I just want to get away quietly, and not bother anybody.... I’ve broken my arm." Mr. Rivett swung sharply and his eye-glasses glittered. "Which?" he demanded. "The left.... I’ll just run down to town and have it fixed up. Don’t say anything about it until I’ve left." "Won’t you stay here and let us look after you?"