78 THE HAUGHTYSHIRE HUNT. 



"Oh, let me introduce you to my sister," bleated Binlde. 

 " Mr. Donald Tennyson — Miss Binkie," then he added to 

 himself, in rather uncertain tones, " I suppose that's the 

 proper thing to do, but I'm sure I don't know." 



Penelope bowed. She had not caught the mispronounced 

 name, but, looking at the young man, tall and erect, with his 

 clear-cut, aristocratic features, as he stood before her, she 

 thought to herself: "Surely this must be a 'somebody' — a 

 man of importance. I wonder if it's Lord Gravity ? " 



For five whole minutes they stood and talked. Beware, 

 Penelope, beware ! Handsome young men in pink, with all 

 that exaltation upon them which comes of having just taken 

 part in a good gallop with hounds, are dangerous to naturally 

 susceptible female hearts. 



They chatted gaily on, and then she remembered that Lord 

 Gravity did not hunt. Who, she wondered, was this fascinat- 

 ing stranger? But dusk was closing in, and with a glance 

 somewhat more tender than a five minutes' acquaintance 

 appeared to warrant, the young man again raised his hat 

 and passed on towards the stables. 



As he rode out past the house on his way down to the 

 lodge gates, he looked up at the windows and saw, or thought 

 he saw, just the tiniest flutter of a white curtain pushed aside 

 hurriedly, and a pretty face behind the diamond panes, for a 

 brief moment. 



Then Mr. Pionald Dennison rode on home to his bachelor 

 lodgings, feeling very well pleased with his day's work. 



