Lord Steepleton Kildare now appeared at the corner of the lawn, hotly
pursued by his breathless groom, who had been loitering on the way, and
had thus roused his master's indignation. He was, as I have said, a fine
specimen of a young Englishman, though being Irish by descent he would
have indignantly denied any such nationality. I saw when he had
dismounted that he was tall and straight, though not a very heavily
built man. He carried his head high, and looked every inch a soldier as
he strode across the grass, carefully avoiding the pegs of the tennis
net. He wore a large gray felt hat, like every one else, and he shook
hands all round before he took it off, and settled himself in an easy
chair as near as he could get to Miss Westonhaugh's hammock.

"How are ye? Ah--yes, Mr. Isaacs, Mr. Griggs of Allahabad. Jolly day,
isn't it?" and he looked vaguely at the grass. "Really, Miss
Westonhaugh, I got in such a rage with my rascal of a saice that I did
not remember I was so near the house. I am really very sorry I talked
like that. I hope you did not think I was murdering him?"

Isaacs looked annoyed.

"Yes," said he, "we thought Mahmoud was going to have a bad time of it.
I believe Miss Westonhaugh does not understand Hindustani."

A look of genuine distress came into the Englishman's face.

"Really," said he, very simply. "You don't know how sorry I am that any
one should have heard me. I am so hasty. But let me apologise to you all
most sincerely for disturbing you with my brutal temper."

His misdeed had not been, a very serious crime after all, and there was