clever man like a fool; but doubly so to find you have treated a fool like a clever man. This is one of the risks

of business.

Mr. Barker was the more uncertain because he tried Frank both ways. On each of the first fifteen horses he showed him he placed a ridiculously high price-then resolving that his customer was a knowing one, he veered round, and asked a very low figure for the next score of animals paraded. Yet Frank made no sign, and Barker was quite puzzled. He even grew suspicious and glanced at Frank's legs, thinking it just possible that their owner was a horse-dealer from another town, who had come dressed like a swell, to try and take in the redoubtable Barker himself. But Mr. Carruthers's lower limbs were as straight and well-formed as if he had never in his lifetime crossed a horse. So Barker was beaten, and breathed his equivalent to a sigh as the last of his five-and-thirty screws was led back without having drawn a word of condemnation or commendation from his visitor.

"Well, you're a hard one to please, sir," he said grimly. "I wanted to see some horses," said Frank listlessly, flipping the ash from his cigarette.

"Oh!" said Barker, with a deep-drawn breath. "You -wanted to-see-some hosses, did you?" It was only in moments of great excitement that Mr. Barker forgot himself enough to call his wares "hosses." He was a wellto-do man with daughters who played the piano. He knew that the proper pronunciation of the word raised. him above the level of the grooms and stable-boys. He had acquired it with great difficulty, so its retention was precious.

"Yes, I did," said Frank pleasantly; "but never mind. Sorry to have given you so much trouble. May I give your boy half a crown ?"

"Now," said Barker, cocking his head on one side and speaking in a confidential whisper, "without saying a word about the horses I have shown you, tell me what's your idea of a horse-his value, I mean."

"I'm not particular."

"Oh, you're not particular. Jim, bring out the chestnut."

"No," said Frank, "never mind. I don't want to see him. I want you to choose a horse for me."

No doubt horse-dealers are as honest as other dealers, but Mr. Barker's astonishment was indescribable. It might have been that of a convicted forger given a blank cheque and asked to take care of it, or that of a wolf to whom a sheep brought its lamb and begged that it might be looked after for a while, or that of a cat asked to stand sentinel over the cream.

Yet he was equal to the occasion. "Want me to choose a horse? Can't do better, sir. Whenever the duke or the marquis wants a horse in a hurry they write to me to send them one. S'pose if I can suit the duke, I can suit you.” "I don't know. I'm fidgety. You can try."

Still Barker couldn't feel certain whether he was dealing with a sharp man or a fool.

"There's the chestnut I spoke of. for you."

He's the very thing

"How much?" asked Frank laconically.

“One hundred and twenty guineas," said Mr. Barker, with that emphasis on the last word which says that the vendor is proof against the same number of pounds.

"Look here," said Frank sharply, "you find me a horse for six weeks. I don't care if it's black, brown, or blue. Name the lowest price you mean to take, and if the price suits me and I buy it and don't find any particular vices, I'll give you twenty per cent more, and the horse to resell for me at the end of the time. Now then, is it the chestnut ?"

Barker made a long pause; then with an assumption of candour said: “No, sir, after that it isn't the chestnut. You come here, I'll show you what it is."

Mr. Carruthers never told any one the exact price his horse cost him, so we will not force ourselves into his secrets. He left the repository having settled that if a veterinary surgeon's certificate could accompany the dark bay horse just shown him it might be sent to Hazlewood

House that afternoon. Then he bade Mr. Barker good day and strolled back to Oakbury.

Just before he reached Hazlewood House he was overtaken by Beatrice and her cavalier. They reined up and spoke a few words. Young Purton was in high good humour, and delightfully condescending.

"Pity you don't ride, Mr. Carruthers," he said.

"It is a pity. Will you coach me? Revenge is sweet, you know."

"I'll bring my father's old horse round some morning and give you a lesson. I daresay you would soon pick it up."

"You were always a kind-hearted boy," said Frank gratefully. "Miss Clauson, do you think I could learn to ride?" "You are too lazy, I fear."

"Yes; I suspect I am. I won't trouble you, Purton. Good-bye."

The horses trotted on, and Frank sauntered back to Hazlewood House smiling placidly.

In the afternoon, to Miss Clauson's supreme astonishment, the new purchase arrived. She and Frank were in the garden at the time. The bay was placed in Mr. Giles's charge, and that personage, after inspecting it, rejoiced for two reasons: the first, that Mr. Barker had not "bested" Frank; the second, that even if Frank had "bested" Mr. Barker, the horse must have cost a pot of money, and at whatever figure his, William's, introduction might be assessed, the backsheesh must be worth having.

"I thought you didn't care for riding," said Beatrice. "I don't-much.”

"Then why buy such a horse?"

"Because I should like to ride with you."

He gave her one of his quick glances. Beatrice turned away, ashamed to feel that she was blushing. She was very cold and reserved during the evening, yet the audacious young man chose to take it for granted that she would accept him for her cavalier vice Purton superseded.

Horace having duly admired the horse and shaken his head at the palpable extravagance, made a series of elaborate

rule-of-three calculations, and determined, if three horses ate a certain quantity of certain things in a certain time, how a fourth horse would affect the quantity, the things, and the time.

Young Purton was too shy to offer his escort on the next morning—he feared lest he might wear out his welcome. So his ride was a solitary one.

Judge his utter disgust when, quietly trotting along, he encountered Miss Clauson and Mr. Carruthers, the latter mounted on a steed, the like to which Mr. Purton had for years longed to own, and, moreover, riding as if he knew all about it.

This sight was very bad for young Purton. Had he been poetical he might have compared himself to the eagle struck down by its own quill. As it was, he muttered, “A jolly sell, by Jove !" and after the unavoidable greetings and Mr. Carruthers's inevitable bit of badinage, rode home in a disconsolate state.

CHAPTER XIII.

GASTRONOMIC AND EROTIC.

THE long vacation was running down to the lees. August had passed into September and September had softly stolen away. The scarlet geraniums, calceolarias, and other bedding-out plants which had all the summer brightened the gardens of Hazlewood House, were beginning to show signs of senile decay. The under-gardener found it no light work to keep the paths free from fallen leaves. Yet Frank Carruthers still lingered at Oakbury enjoying his cousins' hospitality. Having assumed the post of mental physician to Miss Clauson, he was no doubt reluctant to resign it until he had effected a radical cure.

Besides, the days slipped by happily enough. There were drives through the green elm-shaded Westshire lanes which led to hills from the summits of which fine views of the country and the distant sea are obtainable. As Horace drove, and as Herbert invariably occupied the box-seat, Frank and Beatrice had the body of the large waggonette to themselves, an arrangement which one of the two found far from unpleasant.

There were the delicious rides together. Young Purton left the place in disgust and joined an eleven of old Cragtonians who were wandering about England playing matches

-a far better and more healthy occupation for a boy than hopeless love-making. The bay horse turned out such a beauty that Frank broke his word to Mr. Barker and did not resell it.

Then there was company. Pleasant people who visited Hazlewood House, and pleasant people whom Hazlewood