THE HAUGHTYSHIRE HUNT. 77 



for letting me get on liim. There's my card, I've taken 

 rooms at this place" — indicating the address pencilled on 

 the card — " for the season. If you'll drop me a line, I'll go 

 up and try to buy your horse at the hammer." And after a 

 little more conversation, he walked down to the stables for 

 his own animal, accompanied by Binkie, whilst Jack and Sir 

 Tommy said good-night to the new comer on the door-step, 

 and disappeared into the house again. 



Before going a dozen yards they came face to face with 

 Penelope, who had just come in from a ride. Penelope had 

 taken kindly to riding, and made a very different figure at it 

 to her brother. Flushed with the glow of healthy exercise, 

 and in her close-fitting riding habit, cut by the best London 

 tailor, which showed off her well-turned figure to the greatest 

 advantage, Penelope Binkie was the kind of girl to arrest the 

 attention of any properly constituted individual of the male 

 sex, and Mr. Pvonald Dennison was by no means proof against 

 such a strong phalanx of physical charms. He politely raised 

 his hat, and was passing on (because he did not see any 

 reasonable excuse for not doing so) , when the lady happened — 

 happened, we repeat— to drop her handkerchief on the gravel 

 path. I daresay that many of us have noticed, and par- 

 ticularly in our salad days, what an awkward thing a girl's 

 handkerchief is to hold. It must be as slippery as an eel, 

 and it always seems to elude its owner's grasp just at that 

 awkward psychological moment when the eyes of one of the 

 opposite sex are on it. In this case the handkerchief fell just 

 as Mr. Eonald Dennison got abreast of the fair craft sailing 

 past him. He stooped, picked up the tiny rag of cambric, 

 and gallantly restored it to its fair owner. 



