“Lord Greenleg was very anxious to hear what I thought of him. He only wants a hundred and thirty--asked me to give him an answer there and then, as he had another customer, but I thought I had better wait till I heard your opinion. Is the pony worth one hundred and thirty guineas? What do you say?” “I say, cut off the first figure, and that is about his value,” rejoined his nephew shortly. Mr. Pollitt looked blank. He rather liked buying ponies from lords, even at a high figure, but a hundred guineas too much was a stiff sum. He knew that he could rely on the young fellow’s opinion, for lazy as he seemed, lounging there in an easy chair, he could both buy a horse and ride a horse--which does not always follow. The languid-looking youth was a hard rider to hounds, and a finished polo player. “Then I suppose we shan’t mind the brown, eh, Mark?” said his uncle rather dolefully. “After all, it is getting late in the season, and his lordship has another offer.” “_Has_ he!” expressively. “Oh, then, that is all right.” “Your side played up well to-day, my boy!” “And were well beaten--two goals to four. Johnny Brind is no good as a back. He sits doubled up in his saddle, like an angry cat, and lets the ball roll out between his pony’s fore legs--and his language!” “That did not come as far as my ears. I saw you speaking to Lord Robert Tedcastle. You were at Eton with him--you might bring him home to lunch some Sunday; and that Italian prince, did you come across him?” anxiously. “No; I did not see him.” “I noticed you having a long talk with that young Torrens; what was he yarning about? He was nodding his head and waving his hands like a cheap toy.” “He was telling me of his plans. He and his brother are off to America next week, they are going on to Japan, Australia, and India. I say, Uncle Dan,” suddenly sitting erect, “I wish you would let _me_ travel for a couple of years and see the world.” A silence of nearly a minute, and then Mr. Pollitt burst out-- “Now, this is some stuff that young ass Torrens has been putting into your head. To see the world! What world? You see it at home. England is the world. You have the best of everything here--the handsomest women, finest horses, best food and drink, best----” he paused, and his nephew, who was nursing his leg, blandly suggested “climate.” “Climate be hanged! best society,” bawled Mr. Pollitt. “The fact of the matter is, you young chaps don’t know when you are well off. Travel--see the world--skittles!” “I know that I am exceedingly well off, thanks to you, Uncle Dan,” rejoined his nephew, quietly. “I have capital polo ponies, a first-rate stud of hunters, a splendid allowance--but a fellow can’t play polo, and hunt, and go to balls and theatres all his life; at least, that’s not _my_ idea of life. I have nothing to do, no profession, you know; you would not hear of my going into the service.”