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 told would be central for my trout-fishing excursions. It was cheap and nasty.’

‘Here, Rose, I say!’ Hilda called Mrs Lockstable’s attention, as she and her partner came to a halt near them; ‘here’s this husband of yours changes his evening clothes once in seven years, like his skin. I tell him he'll come to grief with them in public before long.’

Rose laughed, and waltzed off again.

‘Who's she dancing with, do you know?’ Hilda asked.

‘Oh, yes, that’s Captain Clapper,’ replied Lockstable, ‘a member of my club, and the most imperturbable cool hand you ever saw. What do you think? While the Battle of Queenstown was at its height, happening to be on sickleave at the time, he offered 5 to 2 on the enemy! Someone at the club took him; and when the telegrams told us how the awful day had ended, he seemed quite consoled for his country’s disaster by having won his bet. And even now he’s always rather pleased to hear the subject brought up. I fancy he made a good thing by speculating for the fall—I say, Clapper!’ as Rose stopped him in the same place near them, ‘allow me to introduce you to my cousin Lady Hilda Hawknorbuzzard. I’m telling her some things about Queenstown, you know.’

‘Getting rather an old subject now, isn’t it, Lady Hilda?’ said Captain Clapper. ‘But ‘twas a famous defeat—eh?’

‘For shame, Captain Clapper!’ laughed Hilda. ‘You've neither patriotism yourself, nor respect for its greatest examples.’

‘Ah, my patriotism’s the modern sort, the patriotism of the market. I made a few shillings over the affair.’

‘Well,’ observed Hilda, ‘I’m not sure it isn’t the most harmless sort, after all. Swinburne says slumber is sweeter than tears. We're getting cosmopolitan now; patriotism is going the way family pride has gone.’