"We'd better start, I'm thinking," observed Mr. Ryan to the company; "it's a mighty bad thing wasting all this beautiful morning." "You won't come, uncle?" asked Kate, going over to her avuncular relative. "Not to-day, my dear; I'm a little tired." "Begad, he's the seven sleepers rolled into one," said Pat to Miss Lester as they stepped out into the sunshine. "Come, Miss Lester, I'll race ye for a pair of gloves." "Against what?" asked Kate, as he helped her through the gate. "A kiss," said Pat, whereupon Kate blushed, and vowed she wouldn't run, so Pat set off, like a deer, by himself along the narrow path which led through the cornfield to the village of Hurley. "How sad you are looking, Carmela," said Sir Mark, as he walked soberly along beside Miss Cotoner. "She wants Mr. Monteith," said Bell, mischievously. "Nonsense," retorted Carmela, while a flush came over her pale face. "Then she'll soon be gratified," laughed Sir Mark; "for Mr. Monteith will be at the regatta to-day." Carmela clenched her teeth. He would be at the regatta, and how would he meet her after all that had passed? The last time she saw him she was free, but now he would see her as the affianced wife of another. Well, she would wait and see. Their meeting must come sooner or later, so why not now? The party went through the quaint village of Hurley, past the Old Bell inn with its antique gables and wide windows--through the remains of the old monastery, which was one of the finest in England, and along by Lady Bell Place with its old walls and picturesque, red roof, under which the conspirators of 1688 met to mature their plot for driving James II. from his kingdom. Over the bridge they went, and found the river crowded with boats, filled with men in flannels, and pretty girls in yachting costumes, all waiting for the lock to be opened. Sir Mark's boats were below Hurley Lock, so they all went down, only pausing a moment to look into the lock, filled with boats, and presenting a blaze of colour. A number of young fellows were leaning on the great arms of the lock gate, chattering idle nonsense to the pretty girls in the boats below. "I wonder how many engagements these flirtations at the locks have been accountable for?" said Pat, sentimentally, to Kate, as he handed her into his boat. "I'm sure I don't know," retorted Kate, and a pretty flush dyed her cheek; though, to be sure, it might only have been the sun shining through her red sunshade. "Why do you ask?" "Because I'd like one more to be added to the number," said Ryan, audaciously; whereat Kate blushed again, and was spared the trouble of answering by Bubbles telling the Irishman to push off, and not talk so much. Pat consented with an ill grace; for, versed as he was in affairs of the heart, he saw that Kate knew his feelings, and responded to them.