Edna answered civilly, but Bessie soon perceived that Mrs. Grant's conversation was not exactly to her taste. She spoke in a loud voice, and as most of her remarks were about her boy Jem, as she called him, his extraordinary cleverness and good luck at polo, and his merits as a son and officer, it was extremely desirable that they should not be overheard, but Mrs. Grant seemed quite indifferent to the amused looks of the ladies round her, and her broad, good-natured face beamed with smiles as Jem made a fine stroke and won the goal. "He rides better than any of the men," she exclaimed proudly. "I'll back my boy against any of them. Oh, look, Miss Sefton, Singleton has hit the ball away--no, Jem is galloping after him, he means to carry it. Yes--no--yes! they are through! Bravo, Jem, bravo!" and Mrs. Grant clapped her hands excitedly. In spite of her uneasiness, it was impossible for Bessie not to become first interested and then absorbed in the game, and for a little while she forgot all about The Grange. She had never seen polo played before, and she was carried away by the excitement of that fascinating but perilous game; the mad rush of the horses across the grass, the quick strokes of the players, the magnificent riding, and the ease and grace with which the officers guided their ponies and leaned over their saddles to strike the ball; the breathless moment when young Singleton rode alone with all the others pursuing him wildly; no wonder Bessie felt enthralled by the novelty of the sight. She uttered a little scream once when the horses and riders all crushed together in a sort of confused melee. "Is any one hurt?" she exclaimed in much distress; but Edna and Mrs. Grant only laughed. "You must come with me and have some tea," observed Mrs. Grant, when the match was over. "My lodgings are just by." Edna hesitated for a moment, and Bessie touched her arm. "It is already five," she whispered. "Do you see those dark clouds? We shall have a thunder-shower soon; I think it would be better to start for home." "And be caught in the rain," replied Edna, with a shrug. "And we have no umbrellas nor waterproofs. No, Bessie; we must take refuge at Mrs. Grant's until the shower is over. Come along; don't make a fuss. I do not want to go any more than you do, but it is no use getting wet through; we cannot help it if we are late for dinner." And so saying, Edna again joined the talkative Mrs. Grant.