y
sun, what irresponsible comet, what pallid, clinkered satellite, might
boast a purple splendor such as this? For all asterial scintillations,
at best, had but a clap-trap glitter; whereas the glow of Patricia's
eyes was a matter worthy of really serious attention.

"What have you done with him, Olaf?" the girl breathed, quickly.

"I reasoned with him," said Colonel Musgrave. "Oh, I found him quite
amenable to logic. He is leaving Lichfield this evening, I think."

Thereupon Miss Stapylton began to laugh. "Yes," said she, "you must have
remonstrated very feelingly. Your tie's all crooked, Olaf dear, and your
hair's all rumpled, and there's dust all over your coat. You would
disgrace a rag-bag. Oh, I'm glad you reasoned--that way! It wasn't
dignified, but it was dear of you, Olaf. Pevensey's a beast."

He caught his breath at this. "Pevensey!" he stammered; "the Earl of
Pevensey!--the man you are going to marry!"

"Dear me, no!" Miss Stapylton answered, with utmost unconcern; "I would
sooner marry a toad. Why, didn't you know, Olaf? I thought, of course,
you knew you had been introducing athletics and better manners among the
peerage! That sounds like a bill in the House of Commons, doesn't it?"
Then Miss Stapylton laughed again, and appeared to be in a state of
agreeable, though somewhat nervous, elation. "I wrote to him two days
ago," she afterward explained, "breaking off the engagement. So he came
down at once and was very nasty about it."

"You--you have broken your engagement," he echoed, dully; and continued,
with a certain deficiency of finesse, "But I thought you wanted to be a
countess?"

"Oh, you boor, you vulgarian!" the girl cried, "Oh, you do put things so
crudely, Olaf! You are hopeless."

She shook an admonitory forefinger in his direction, and pouted in the
most dangerous fashion.

"But he always seemed so nice," she reflected, with puckered brows,
"until to-day, you know. I thought he would be eminently suitable. I
liked him tremendously until--" and here, a wonderful, tender change
came into her face, a wistful quaver woke in her voice--"until I found
there was some one else I liked better."

"Ah!" said Rudolph Musgrave.

So, that was it--yes, that was it! Her head was bowed now--her glorious,
proud little head,--and she sat silent, an abashed heap of fluffy frills
and ruffles, a tiny bundle of vaporous ruchings and filmy tucks and
suchlike vanities, in the green dusk of the summer-house.