Mabel stared at him blankly. She was to relinquish her part in the events of the day, the glorious hour to which she had been looking forward for more than a week, to disappoint all her admirers, and hide herself and her gown where no one could see them! But Dick’s face was adamant, and he repeated his order peremptorily, until she rose and moved reluctantly towards the Commissioner, touching him on the arm. “My brother says I had better ask you to distribute the prizes,” she said, with disappointment in every tone. Mr Burgrave looked at her in astonishment, then his face took a harder set as his eyes fell on Georgia, who was endeavouring to console Flora for her lover’s ill success. Of course it was her doing! A faded woman in a gown that might have been new two seasons ago--how could she be otherwise than jealous of the radiant vision at his side? “And no wonder, poor thing!” said Mr Burgrave to himself, with contemptuous pity, but she must learn that it would not do to make mischief where her beautiful young sister-in-law was concerned. “My dear Miss North,” the Commissioner’s voice took on its most fatherly tone, “don’t be afraid. Nothing would induce me to rob you of your pleasure.” The words were loud enough for Dick to hear, and Mabel saw him frown angrily as she returned to her place, half-proud and half-afraid of her triumph. He said nothing, however, but took his stand immediately behind her, the very embodiment of silent displeasure. The sense of his disapproval served to irritate her further, and she heartily wished him away. His rigid face would quite spoil the effect of the picture she had intended to present, and he was taking up the room of other people whose attendance she would have preferred. But she was determined not to give in, even when the Commissioner’s encouraging smile smote her with a feeling of treachery, in that she had appealed to him against Dick. The regimental prize-winners came up in their order, the natives, now that the momentary excitement was over, wearing a look of stately boredom, which seemed to declare that sports and prizes alike were a species of child’s play, in which they took part merely to humour the unaccountable whims of their officers. With the officers it was different, for Mabel read in their faces that although sports were good, and to earn a prize was better, both these faded into insignificance compared with the joy of receiving that prize from her hand. This was the very feeling that it most pleased her to inspire, and she loved the “boys,” as she called them in her thoughts, better than before, if that were possible.