"No--I never do," returned Harriet. "And what can you hit with the pistol?" "A wine-glass at sixteen paces." "How often?" "Sometimes. What can you hit?" "A--why--a--" "A hay-stack, I suppose. Tell somebody to bring me the cream." "Have you heard Fornasari?" asked Mr. Elliot. "No. What is he like?" "Oh, very fine really! You would be delighted!" "What is fine?" asked Harriet impatiently. "I want to know the sort of singer; and you call him fine!" Mr. Elliot never having heard of a definition, was naturally silent under this attack. "Have you been to town lately?" asked Harriet. "Yes. I am only just returned." "Have you seen the new marbles then?" "The--I beg your pardon." "The marble from Xanthis in the British Museum?" "I don't quite--I believe they took me once to the Museum when I was a boy in the Christmas holidays, along with the pantomimes." "Ah! it is not now in the same place with the pantomimes; we have changed all that," said Harriet. "I say, Hubert, my Skye terrier caught a rat yesterday out walking." "No, did he? I wish I had been there," said Hubert, "Why did not you let me walk with you?" "It was before you came home. Don't you know you were only just in time for dinner." "So I was. What did you win of me, Miss Capel?" "Nothing," said Margaret, "I would not bet at all." "I was so sorry for your determination," said George Gage, across the table to Margaret, "it would have been such a pleasure to lose to you." And upon this gallant speech, he and Harriet exchanged one of their singular glances. "You did not care which horse won, did you?" asked Hubert. "Yes, I did," said Margaret, "but I knew that one would not win." "Which was it?" "Hyacinth. It was such a pretty name." "And how did you contrive to form so correct an estimate of Hyacinth's merits?" asked George Gage. "Oh! I knew nothing about it," said Margaret. "Harriet told me." "Miss Conway has the advantage of a friend behind the scenes," said George coolly; and then another glance flashed across the table from Harriet's splendid eyes. Mr. Elliot mentioned the name of the person to whom Hyacinth belonged--made some remark upon the fore-foot of the animal, and then was silent; naturally thinking that he had instructed the company enough for one while. When Margaret returned to the drawing-room, she found her head so very much worse, that she was obliged to tell Elizabeth, in confidence, that she did not think she would be able to go to the ball. She said this with her eyes full of tears; partly on account of the delicate white crape dress, which was laid out in her room with its pretty garniture of lilac primroses. Elizabeth was all kindness. She would not hear of her giving up the ball, but took her into her own sitting-room, and tried every remedy that her ingenuity could suggest. At last, while bathing her forehead with eau de Cologne, she exclaimed, "My dear child, I hope that foolish Harriet has not been persuading you to smoke."