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“Did you get to Bentley’s before the service car?” he asked his wife towards the end of the meal.

“I didn’t go,” she answered. “I had a bad head, and sent Marsh in with the buggy.”

“Why didn’t you let him take the car?”

“The ponies had to be shod, so I thought he could kill two birds with one stone.”

Dick Holmes turned to Ann.

“I hope you didn’t find the old buggy too uncomfortable.”

“Oh, no, it was quite all right.”

“We don’t often use the buggy. But some of the roads round here are unmetaled, and we can’t take the car out on them in wet weather, so the ponies have to be kept in commission.”

“Is Marsh playing for Tirau on Saturday?” asked Waring.

“Yes, I think so.”

“It’s ridiculous the way you spoil that boy,” put in Mrs. Holmes impatiently. “After all, he’s only a working man—a shepherd.”

“Head-shepherd.”

“Oh, well, it’s the same thing.”

“Rodney wouldn’t agree with you—and he’s a rattling good polo player. We’ve got to play the strongest team we can get hold of at Wairiri.”

“The young Adonis! You’ll find all the girls will be tumbling over each other to dance with him at the Polo Ball,” said Waring. “He’ll be resplendent in white kid gloves and a ready-made dinner jacket.”

“Surely he won’t be invited to the ball!” Vera Holmes spoke sharply.

“Why not, if he’s a member of the Coast Team?” asked her husband. He never raised his voice. His