"Oh, Sir Hilton!" "Don't deny it! Saw more. You gave him one. Now, look here, both of you. You, Jane, are a very nice, respectable girl, and I like you. Mark, here, is a very good fellow, and if some time you two think of getting married, I don't say I will not give you both a hundred pounds to start life with--" "Oh, Sir Hilton!" "If I've got it. But no more of this. It looks bad, and is not respectful to your employers. You both know, I suppose, that if her ladyship saw half what I noted just now you would be dismissed, Jane, and I'm afraid, Mark, I should have to part with you." "I beg--" "That will do--not another word. Breakfast, Jane--quick, please." "Yes, Sir Hilton!" and Jane drew a breath full of relief, as she hurried through the door. "Heigh--ho--ha--hum!" yawned the baronet, placing his hands in his pockets and looking down in a dreamy way at the breakfast-table. Then he took out and opened his hunting watch, and closed it with a snap. "E-lev-en o'clock," he said. "Her ladyship send for you, Mark?" "Yes, Sir Hilton. Brought round the pony-carriage." "Oh! Gone out?" "Yes, Sir Hilton." "What are you waiting for?" "Morning's paper, Sir Hilton," said the man, obsequiously, as he drew a sporting-print from his pocket and held it out meaningly turned down at a particular spot. "What's that?" said the baronet, glancing at one line, and then, turning angrily, "Take it away!" he cried. "Beg pardon, Sir Hilton. Tilborough first Summer Meeting." "Take it away!" "Yes, sir; but La Sylphide." "Look here, Mark, my lad, no more of this. I know, of course, but take it away. Do you want to drive me mad?" "Beg pardon, Sir Hilton. Then you won't drive over in the dogcart?" "What?" "Just to see her pull it off, Sir Hilton." "Confound it, man! Hold your tongue! Be off!" At that moment there were steps on the gravel, and directly after a peal arose from the door-bell. "Go and see who that is, sir, and never mention anything connected with the Turf again. It's dead to me, and I'm dead to it," he muttered, as the man left the room, giving place to Jane, who hurried in with covered dishes upon a tray. "Did you see who that was, Jane?" "No, Sir Hilton. Some gentleman on horseback. His horse is hooked on one side of the gate." "Who the deuce can it be?" "Dr Granton, sir," said the groom, coming to the door. "Oh! Where is he?" "Study, sir." "Bring him in here." Sir Hilton looked quite transformed. There was a bright, alert look in his erstwhile dull eyes, and he seemed to pull himself together as he started actively from his chair, and made as if to hurry after his groom. But he was too late, for the door reopened, and Mark showed in a handsome, dark, military-looking man of about five-and-thirty, who marched in, hunting-crop in hand, spurs jingling faintly at his heels, and dressed in faultless taste as a horseman. "My dear old Jack!" "Hilt, old boy!"