“Yes, you must stay!” declared Ethel.
“I think I can manage it, but I must certainly leave on the following day.”
“Shall we carry off the cup, Ted?” the girl went on, appealing to the ensign’s esprit de corps with a smile that went to his heart. The Aurungpore cup was now in the mess-room of the 193rd, and strenuous efforts were to be made to wrest it from the regiment.
“I don’t think anything is likely to beat ‘The Padre’ if Markham’s knee will only get better.”
“Is the regiment putting its trust in Captain Markham’s mount, then?” asked Jim.
“Yes,” replied the girl. “We have two other horses entered, but they say that neither of them will have a chance against Lieutenant Harrington’s of the Ahmednuggur Irregulars, or Mr. Vernon’s ‘Flying Fox’.”
“Who’s he?”
“Mr. Vernon? Oh, he’s a civilian—a ‘duck’.”
“Madame!” exclaimed Jim, pretending to appear shocked beyond measure.
“Yes, sir; a duck!” Ethel repeated, unabashed.