"Thank you," I say to Sir Mark, with a beaming smile. "I shall feel quite safe and happy in my mind with you. At heart I believe I am a coward, so feel it pleasant to know there will be help at hand if the ponies prove refractory." "You had better take a groom with you, Phyllis," says my husband, shortly. "Oh, no, thank you. It will be quite unnecessary Sir Mark, I know, it as good as two or three grooms in a case of emergency." "Nevertheless, I think you had better have a groom. Those ponies are generally skittish after an idleness. I shall tell Markharm to accompany you." "Pray do not give yourself the trouble," I reply, obstinately: "I shall not need him. You do not think there is any cause for fear, do you, Sir Mark!" "I think not. I think I am a match for your ponies at any moment," returns he, smiling. "In my opinion grooms are a mistake in a small carriage" murmurs Lady Blanche, addressing the table generally. "There is something unpleasant in the fact that they are close behind one's back ready to hear and repeat every idle word one may chance to utter." Her smile as she says this is innocence itself. "I fully agree with you," answer I, equitably; "though Sir Mark and I are above uttering anything idle." Marmaduke frowns, and the conversation ends. Meantime, the others have been eagerly discussing their plans. Sir George Ashurst has obtained a promise from Dora to take the seat beside him on his dog-cart. Harriet has decided on the open carriage, and declares her intention of calling and taking up mamma. Lord Chandos alone has had no part in the discussion. Just then the door opens to admit Bebe, fresh and gay as usual. Positively we have all forgotten Bebe. "Late--late--so late!" says she, laughing. "Yes, Marmaduke, I know it is actually shocking. Don't say a word, dear; your face is a volume in itself. Good-morning, every body. Phyllis _you_ don't look formidable. I shall have my chair near you." The men rise and somebody gets her a seat. "Bebe, we forgot you," cry I, contritely. "Where shall we put you now?" "Put me?" says Babe, regarding her chair. "Why, here, I suppose." "No, no; about our drive to the Wishing Well, I mean we have just been arranging everything, and somehow you got left out." "I have still two seats at the back of my trap." says Ashurst; "will you accept one, Miss Beatoun? Ami Chandos can have the other." The faintest possible tinge of color rises to Bebe's cheek. "A back seat! Oh, Sir George, is that all you can offer me? I was never so insulted in my life. It is positively unkind. Marmaduke, why did not you look after my interests in my absence?" "I don't know how it happened. First come first served I suppose" "The unkindest cut of all. 'Duke, you are ungenerous, or else in a bad temper; which? However. I forgive you."