Wilhelmina was leaning back amongst the cushions of her carriage, watching the game through half closed eyes, and with some apparent return of her usual graceful languor. Nevertheless, she remained there, and her eyes seldom wandered for a moment from the scene of play. Beneath her apparent indifference, she was watching this young man with an interest for which she would have found it hard to account, and which instinct alone prompted her to conceal. It was a very ordinary scene, after all, of which he was the dominant figure. She had seen so much of life on a larger scale--of men playing heroic parts in the limelight of a stage as mighty as this was insignificant. Yet, without stopping to reason about it, she was conscious of a curious sense of pleasure in watching the doings of this forceful young giant. With an easy good-humoured smile, replaced every now and then with a grim look of determination as he jumped out from the crease to hit, he continued his victorious career, until a more frantic burst of applause than usual announced that the match was won. Then Wilhelmina turned towards Stephen Hurd, who was standing by the side of the carriage. "You executed my commission," she asked, "respecting that young man?" "The first thing this morning," he answered. "I went up to see Mrs. Foulton, and I also spoke to him." "Did he make any difficulty?" "None at all!" the young man answered. "What did he say?" Stephen hesitated, but Wilhelmina waited for his reply. She had the air of one remotely interested, yet she waited obviously to hear what this young man had said. "I think he said something about your making war upon a large scale," Stephen explained diffidently. She sat still for a moment. She was looking towards the deserted cricket pitch. "Where is he staying now?" she asked. "I do not know," he answered. "I have warned all the likely people not to receive him, and I have told him, too, that he will only get your tenants into trouble if he tries to get lodgings here." "I should like," she said, "to speak to him. Perhaps you would be so good as to ask him to step this way for a moment." Stephen departed, wondering. Deyes was watching his hostess with an air of covert amusement. "Do you continue the warfare," he asked, "or has the young man's prowess softened your heart?" Wilhelmina raised her parasol and looked steadily at her questioner. "Warfare is scarcely the word, is it?" she remarked carelessly. "I have no personal objection to the young man." They watched him crossing the field towards them. Notwithstanding his recent exertions, he walked lightly, and without any sign of fatigue. Deyes looked curiously at the crest upon the cap which he was carrying in his hand. "Magdalen," he muttered. "Your missioner grows more interesting." Wilhelmina leaned forwards. Her face was inscrutable, and her greeting devoid of cordiality. "So you have decided to teach my people cricket instead of morals, Mr. Macheson," she remarked.