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bridges of the shining river, bearing the upper-middle class in thousands to the green glories of Bushey, Richmond, Kew, and Hampton Court. Almost every family with any pretensions to be of the carriage-class paid one visit that year to the horse-chest- nuts at Bushey, or took one drive amongst the Spanish chestnuts of Richmond Park. Bowling smoothly, if dustily, along, in a cloud

       of their own creation, they would stare fashionably at the antlered heads which the great slow deer raised out of a forest of bracken that promised to autumn lovers such cover as was never seen before. And now and again, as the amorous perfume of chestnut flowers and of fern was drifted too near, one would say to the other: "My dear! What a peculiar scent!"

       And the lime-flowers that year were of rare prime, near honey-coloured. At the corners of London squares they gave out, as the sun went down, a perfume sweeter than the honey bees had taken--a perfume that stirred a yearning unnamable in the hearts of Forsytes and their peers, taking the cool after dinner in the precincts of those gardens to which they alone had keys.

       And that yearning made them linger amidst the dim shapes of flower-beds in the failing daylight, made them turn, and turn, and turn again, as though lovers were waiting for them--waiting for the last light to die away under the shadow of the branches.

       Some vague sympathy evoked by the scent of the limes, some sisterly desire to see for herself, some idea of demonstrating the soundness of her dictum that there was 'nothing in it'; or merely the craving to drive down to Richmond, irresistible that summer, moved the mother of the little Darties (of little Publius, of Imogen, Maud, and Benedict) to write the following note to her sister-in- law:

       'DEAR IRENE, 'June 30.

       'I hear that Soames is going to Henley tomorrow for the night. I thought it would be great fun if we made up a little party and drove

       down to, Richmond. Will you ask Mr. Bosinney, and I will get young Flippard.

       'Emily (they called their mother Emily--it was so chic) will lend us the carriage. I will call for you and your young man at seven

       o'clock.

       'Your affectionate sister,

       'WINIFRED DARTIE.

       'Montague believes the dinner at the Crown and Sceptre to be quite eatable.'

       Montague was Dartie's second and better known name--his first being Moses; for he was nothing if not a man of the world.

       Her plan met with more opposition from Providence than so benevolent a scheme deserved. In the first place young Flippard wrote:

       'DEAR Mrs. DARTIE,

       'Awfully sorry. Engaged two deep.

       'Yours,

       'AUGUSTUS FLIPPARD.'

       It was late to send into the by-ways and hedges to remedy this misfortune. With the promptitude and conduct of a mother, Winifred fell back on her husband. She had, indeed, the decided but tolerant temperament that goes with a good deal of profile, fair hair, and greenish eyes. She was seldom or never at a loss; or if at a loss, was always able to convert it into a gain.

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       Dartie, too, was in good feather. Erotic had failed to win the Lancashire Cup. Indeed, that celebrated animal, owned as he was by a pillar of the turf, who had secretly laid many thousands against him, had not even started. The forty-eight hours that followed his scratching were among the darkest in Dartie's life.

       Visions of James haunted him day and night. Black thoughts about Soames mingled with the faintest hopes. On the Friday night he got drunk, so greatly was he affected. But on Saturday morning the true Stock Exchange instinct triumphed within him. Owing some hundreds, which by no possibility could he pay, he went into town and put them all on Concertina for the Saltown Borough Handicap.

       As he said to Major Scrotton, with whom he lunched at the Iseeum: "That little Jew boy, Nathans, had given him the tip. He didn't

       care a cursh. He wash in--a mucker. If it didn't come up--well then, damme, the old man would have to pay!"

       A bottle of Pol Roger to his own cheek had given him a new contempt for James.

       It came up. Concertina was squeezed home by her neck--a terrible squeak! But, as Dartie said: There was nothing like pluck!

       He was by no means averse to the expedition to Richmond. He would 'stand' it himself ! He cherished an admiration for Irene, and wished to be on more playful terms with her.

       At half-past five the Park Lane footman came round to say: Mrs. Forsyte was very sorry, but one of the horses was coughing! Undaunted by this further blow, Winifred at once despatched little Publius (now aged seven) with the nursery governess to Montpel-

       lier Square.

       They would go down in hansoms and meet at the Crown and Sceptre at 7.45.

       Dartie, on being told, was pleased enough. It was better than going down with your back to the horses! He had no objection to driv-

       ing down with Irene. He supposed they would pick up the others at Montpellier Square, and swop hansoms there?

       Informed that the meet was at the Crown and Sceptre, and that he would have to drive with his wife, he turned sulky, and said it was d---d slow!

       At seven o'clock they started, Dartie offering to bet the driver half-a-crown he didn't do it in the three-quarters of an hour. Twice only did husband and wife exchange remarks on the way.

       Dartie said: "It'll put Master Soames's nose out of joint to hear his wife's been drivin' in a hansom with Master Bosinney!"

       Winifred replied: "Don't talk such nonsense, Monty!"

       "Nonsense!" repeated Dartie. "You don't know women, my fine lady!"

       On the other occasion he merely asked: "How am I looking? A bit puffy about the gills? That fizz old George is so fond of is a

       windy wine!"

       He had been lunching with George Forsyte at the Haversnake.

       Bosinney and Irene had arrived before them. They were standing in one of the long French windows overlooking the river. Windows that summer were open all day long, and all night too, and day and night the scents of flowers and trees came in, the hot

       scent of parching grass, and the cool scent of the heavy dews.

       To the eye of the observant Dartie his two guests did not appear to be making much running, standing there close together, without a word. Bosinney was a hungry-looking creature--not much go about him.

       He left them to Winifred, however, and busied himself to order the dinner.

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       A Forsyte will require good, if not delicate feeding, but a Dartie will tax the resources of a Crown and Sceptre. Living as he does, from hand to mouth, nothing is too good for him to eat; and he will eat it. His drink, too, will need to be carefully provided; there is much drink in this country 'not good enough' for a Dartie; he will have the best. Paying for things vicariously, there is no reason why he should stint himself. To stint yourself is the mark of a fool, not of a Dartie.

       The best of everything! No sounder principle on which a man can base his life, whose father-in-law has a very considerable income,

       and a partiality for his grandchildren.

       With his not unable eye Dartie had spotted this weakness in James the very first year after little Publius's arrival (an error); he had profited by his perspicacity. Four little Darties were now a sort of perpetual insurance.

       The feature of the feast was unquestionably the red mullet. This delectable fish, brought from a considerable distance in a state of almost perfect preservation, was first fried, then boned, then served in ice, with Madeira punch in place of sauce, according to a recipe known to a few men of the world.

       Nothing else calls for remark except the payment of the bill by Dartie.

       He had made himself extremely agreeable throughout the meal; his bold, admiring stare seldom abandoning Irene's face and figure. As he was obliged to confess to himself, he got no change out of her--she was cool enough, as cool as her shoulders looked under

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