This had been her first appearance in public since her home-coming, and she felt that it had been most satisfactory.

She had met everybody she had ever known, and scores of new people; her progress had been quite triumphal in spite of Tom, and in spite of Charley Norton, who was plainly not anxious to share her with any one, his devotion being rather of the monopolizing sort.
Betty now seated herself in the carriage, with Hannibal beside her, quietly determined to miss nothing.

The judge, feeling that he had come into his own, leaned elegantly against the wheel, and explained the merits of each shot as it was made.
"Our intruding friend, the Captain, ma'am, is certainly a master with his weapon," he observed.
Betty was already aware of this.

She turned to Norton.
"Charley, I can't bear to have him win!" "I am afraid he will, for anything I can do, Betty," said Norton.
"Mr.Carrington, can't you shoot ?--do take Hannibal's rifle and beat him," she coaxed.
"Don't be too sure that I can!" said Carrington, laughing.
"But I know you can!" urged Betty.
"I hope you gentlemen are not going to let me walk off with the prize ?" said Murrell, approaching the group about the carriage.
"Mr.Norton, I am told you are clever with the rifle." "I am not shooting to-day," responded Norton haughtily.
Murrell stalked back to the line.
"At forty paces I'd risk it myself, ma'am," said the judge.

"But at a hundred, offhand like this, I should most certainly fail--I've burnt too much midnight oil.