“No; I 've bad enough of it,” said Charles, impatiently, as he drew out his cigar-case,--trying to cover his irritation by searching for a cigar to his liking. “I 'm your man, Inch-o'-brogue,” broke in Agincourt; for it was by this impertinent travesty of the name of his borough he usually called him. “What, isn't the pocket-money all gone yet?” said the other, contemptuously. “Not a bit of it, man. Look at that,” cried he, drawing forth a long silk purse, plumply filled. “There's enough to pay off the mortgage on an Irish estate, I 'm sure!” While these freedoms were being interchanged, Charles Heathcote had left the room, and strolled out into the garden. Mrs. Morris, affecting to go in search of something for her work, took occasion also to go; but no sooner had she escaped from the room than she followed him. Why was it, can any one say, that May Leslie bestowed more than ordinary attention on the game at this moment, evincing an interest in it she had never shown before? Mr. O'Shea had given the young Marquis immense odds; but he went further, he played off a hundred little absurdities to increase the other's chances,--he turned his back to the table,--he played with his left hand,--he poked the balls without resting his cue,- -he displayed the most marvellous dexterity, accomplishing hazards that seemed altogether beyond all calculation; for all crafty and subtle as he was, vanity had got the mastery over him, and his self-conceit rose higher and higher with every astonished expression of the pretty girl who watched him. While May could not restrain her astonishment at his skill, O'Shea's efforts to win her praise redoubled. “I'll yield to no man in a game of address,” said he, boastfully: “to ride across country, to pull a boat, to shoot, fish, fence, or swim-- There, my noble Marquis, drop your tin into that pocket and begin another game. I 'll give you eighty-five out of a hundred.” “Is n't he what Quackinboss would call a 'ternal swaggerer, May?” cried Agincourt. “He is a most brilliant billiard-player,” said May, smiling courteously, with a glance towards the recess of the window, where Layton was leaning over Clara's chair and reading out of the book she held in her hand. “How I wish you would give me some lessons!” added she, still slyly stealing a look at the window. “Charmed,--only too happy. You overwhelm me with the honor, Miss Leslie, and my name is not O'Shea if I do not make you an admirable player, for I've remarked already you have great correctness of eye.” “Indeed!” “Astonishing; and with that, a wonderfully steady hand.” “How you flatter me!” “Flatter? Ah, you little know me, Miss Leslie!” said he, as he passed before her.