finger and thumb. "It is about time for one of us to move off, is not
it? And Barbara has made such a signal failure hitherto, that I think it
is but fair that I should try my little possible."

"All I ask of you is," says Bobby, gravely, "not to take a fellow who
has not got any shooting."

"I will make it a _sine qua non_," I answer, seriously.

A louder screech than ever from the geese, accompanied with
wing-flappings. How unanimous they are! There is not a voice wanting.

"I wonder how long Sir Roger will stay?" I say presently.

"What connection of ideas made you think of him?" asks Bobby, curiously.

"Do you suppose that he has any shooting?"

I break into a laugh.

"I do not know, I am sure. I do not think it matters much whether he has
or not."

"I dare say that there are a good many women--old ones, you know--who
would take him, old as he is," says Bobby, with liberality.

"I dare say," I answer. "I do not know. I am not old, but I am not sure
that I would not rather marry him than be an old maid."

A pause. Again I laugh--this time a laugh of recollection.