"Depend on it, Mr. Humphries," said Harriet, "that sailors are the best people extant. They are all that is left of the romance of warfare. Like the knights of the Middle Ages, there is a simple reality about them that does not belong to the present time." "Harriet means to say, they are the only people who are not humbugs," said Evan Conway, translating his sister's remark. "It is very true, Miss Conway," said Mr. Humphries; who, it need not be said, did not understand one word that she had uttered; "I always liked sailors very much. Don't you think Miss Capel would be generally considered pretty?" "Undoubtedly, Mr. Humphries. I was sure your good taste would discover that." "They are bringing round the horses, Miss Conway. I wish we were to have the pleasure of your company." "It is a great temptation, Mr. Humphries; but another time. How well you look in your red coat--it is the most becoming dress--" "No--do you think so!" said Mr. Humphries, with a visible desire to vanish under the table. "No--I never noticed. I say, Miss Conway, I hope we shall have another duet this evening." "So do I. You cannot suppose I often meet with such a second; and I am very fond of music." "Come, Humphries," said Mr. Gage, stalking past them as he spoke; "there is your horse playing the deuce out yonder, standing so long." This was a summons he could not neglect; and after scrambling for his pocket handkerchief, which had dropped under his chair, Mr. Humphries quitted the room. "Oh, Harriet!" exclaimed Margaret, with a serious look, when the other ladies had disappeared in company with Mrs. Singleton. "Oh, little Puritan! what is the matter now?" returned Harriet, catching her round the waist, and whirling her in a rapid waltz round and round the large room. "How you do flirt," said Margaret, pausing, with her hand to her side. "You should be the last person to accuse me," said Harriet, laughing. "I asked you, if you would have the man. You declined the honour, and therefore it is no business of yours." "It is a business of some other persons, then," said Margaret, archly. "What other person?" "Mr. Gage." "You don't say so!" returned Harriet, crossing the room, and leaning through the deep oaken doorway, "Evan!" "At your service," returned her brother, coming in with the morning paper in his hand. "We mean to ride at two; and you may accompany us." "Thank you very much." "Will this be your first essay in horsemanship?" asked Margaret, smiling. "Ha! Miss Capel, you remember what I said to you. A great point that--I feel highly flattered by it." Margaret smiled quietly, and moved away. She had too much self-possession to be either flattered or pleased by his ironical civility. When they went upstairs to prepare for their ride, Harriet, whose ways were singularly independent, came into Margaret's room, half attired, and stood before the large glass arranging her habit. "Look here, Margaret," said she, "you should wear a waistcoat."