"Oh, there are Lucy, and papa, and mamma," cried Maria, "I will ask mamma to take her to the Pump-room." "Lucy never rides now," said Hargrave, "or we would not consent to leave her at home, either. The Pump-room on such a day as this--it makes my head ache to think of it." So saying, he threw down his gloves and whip, laid aside his hat, and took up the paper. The party were at a stand still. Hargrave looked seriously annoyed, and Caroline verging upon a storm. "What shall I do?" said Selina, in a perplexed tone, looking from one to the other. "Go and find your habit," said Hargrave. "But it is so shabby," she said, looking fearfully at Caroline. "You know Miss Lesly is above such trifles, besides, she can decide that." "But there is no hat." "There is one hanging up in the hall that looks like a lady's hat, for it has strings, try that." "That old thing, covered with dust?" "I dare say she will put up with it, if you will only find it, if not I am afraid we must stay at home." "What shall I do?" she whispered to Caroline, in a trembling voice. "Do as you like," she retorted, angrily, and aloud, as she turned to the window. "Do come," said Selina, turning again to Hargrave, "Caroline never likes waiting with her hat on, it makes her head ache." "I am sorry to hear it," replied the inexorable Hargrave, without moving. "Well, here's a fix, all about nothing," cried Maria. "I am sorry you think so," said Hargrave. "Come, come, do not look like a methodist parson, while we are wasting all the sunshine. I have half a mind to gallop off by myself, and make the neighbours stare. Come, Selina, do go and get your habit, for I see Henry is determined to make Mabel a Guy--for the old hat is only fit for a bonfire. I did intend being charitable with it, on the last fifth of November, but I forgot it luckily." Thus urged, Selina at length retreated to find her habit, which, when produced, was found to be in very good condition. But Maria's description of the hat had been more truthful, for the dust of repeated house-cleanings seemed to have settled on its unlucky beaver; and Maria, having climbed up to reach it from its peg in the hall, threw it down in disgust, raising a cloud of dust which threatened to soil her new habit. Hargrave, however, who was now entirely restored to good humour, seized it as it fell, and began brushing it with great vigour. As he did so, the door bell rang, and, before he had time to retreat, Mr. Stokes entered, whip in hand. "Just in time, I hope, Colonel," he cried, "if I may be allowed to join your party--a ride--why it is the very thing--I see four side-saddles, and I am sure you cannot monopolise four ladies--may I go?" Hargrave being in a compliant mood, replied gaily--