"My dear Miss O'Callaghan," I said, taking into my hand the warm little gloved fingers that lay on the coverlid, "will you forgive me for being a conspirator and a humbug? Remember I did it for the sake of my friend, and I knew he was worth it. I spoke of him and not of myself." "What do you mean?" she cried. And then, with a hand at her bosom, "Oh, tell me, tell me!" "St. Alleyne," I said, "loves you, and he's here to tell you himself." And with that I raised my voice and called his name. The door opened instantly--he must have had his hand on the latch the whole time--and there he stood, with his arms stretched out to her and the name, "Norah," on his lips. She sprang to her feet and ran to him with so joyful a cry that I knew my part in the comedy was over, and just as they embraced I turned away and closed my eyes. Ten minutes later they came back; she was leaning on his shoulder and he had an arm about her waist. "This conspiracy has been so successful," I said, "that I shall never engage in another. It would never do to spoil my record." "You have two friends now instead of one," Miss O'Callaghan said. "Phil," said St. Alleyne, "get up, you old dear, while Norah and I go downstairs to see my cousin, Mrs. O'Callaghan." They left me once more, and as I dressed I felt so absurdly light-hearted that I had to sing to myself; I forget what the song was, but I know, there was something about lovers' meetings in it. As I reached the foot of the stairs I heard voices in the dining-room; one of them was rather high-pitched and hard, but it sounded pleasant enough as it said, "Well, St. Alleyne, you've beaten me this time, and I suppose I must give in, but it will take you long years to make me believe in your family." And I concluded it was the voice of his lordship's cousin, Mrs. O'Callaghan. TO KEEP THE DOGS DOWNSTAIRS. Here is an interesting photograph of a pair of "dog gates" which may be seen at Slyfield Manor, near Leatherhead, in Surrey. [Illustration: "DOG GATES," Slyfield Manor, Leatherhead, Surrey.] These gates were very common in country houses in the days of Queen Elizabeth, but there are not many to be seen to-day. Dogs know how to behave now, and there is no need for them. As their name implies, the gates were used to keep the dogs of the house from wandering upstairs into bedrooms and other places where they had no right. But many people like to hear their dogs scratching at the door in the morning. The gates shown in our photograph are in excellent condition. They were photographed by Mr. S. H. Wrightson, of Aldershot. [Illustration: CRICKET & CRICKETERS] _Pictures by Mr. "Rip."_ _Words by M. Randall Roberts_