"Sid, do come up to dinner to-night. I tell you I can't stand any more of the mother's jaw. She was at it all last night, and now I'm going back to begin it again. I mean to hunt, so she must make up her mind to it. It's absurd to attempt to tie me down to an old woman's life and make me into a sick-nurse to my father. I won't do it. I have told her so. I very nearly accepted Mrs. Norman's invitation to dinner, but I won't be a funk, and I know I must see the governor about some letters. Can't you come back now, just as you are?" Sidney shook her head. "I never accept invitations to dine from the men of a household. Your mother would not be pleased." "Rot! You know she would be delighted. Well, come back to tea. I'll manage the rest." Sidney wavered, then said she would. "Only I must run in and tell them I shall be out to tea. Don't wait for me. I shall come later." She was as good as her word. Mrs. de Cressiers was delighted to see her, and kept her to dinner. Afterwards she sang to Mr. de Cressiers, and kept them all in a good humour. She put a word in for Austin when she was alone with Mrs. de Cressiers. "Don't go against him, and give him credit for some feeling for you and his father. You'll find he will buckle to work the two days he is home, and I don't believe he will continue his four days' hunting for very long. Mrs. Norman is not very strong, and she won't keep it up. When she gives it up, he will." Austin walked back with her at ten o'clock, but his talk was chiefly of Mrs. Norman and of her horsemanship, which was astonishing the field. Sidney listened and tried to sympathise, and Austin did not notice any want of enthusiasm in his subject. When they parted, he wrung her hand gratefully. "You're a trump, Sid. I'm eternally grateful to you. But, I say, do keep the old Major from trotting down all hours and boring Mrs. Norman to death. She can't stand him." Sidney nodded and laughed, but as she turned into the house, she again murmured to herself reflectively: "She is very clever; most appallingly so, and no one seems to see it but me." CHAPTER IX JOCKIE'S ARRIVAL SIDNEY'S next letter from Randolph Neville was as follows: "DEAR MISS URQUHART,