erican; he hated the English and he
hated titles. No daughter of his should ever marry a foreigner. If she
did, she would never receive a dollar from him. However, neither Mae nor
Cuthbert cared about the money. Cuthbert had plenty of his own. His name
was Cuthbert St. John. (Pronounced Sinjun.) He had four names in all,
but those were the two he used the most. He was in England now, having
been summoned by cable, owing to the critical condition of his brother's
health, but the crisis was past, and Cuthbert would soon be returning.
Then--Mae closed her lips in a straight line and stared defiantly into
space. Her father should see!

Before the throbbing reality of this romance, Rosalie's poor little
history paled into nothing.

Then the plot began to thicken. Studying the lists of incoming steamers,
Mae announced to her room-mate that he had landed. He had given his word
to her father not to write; but she knew that in some way she should
hear. And sure enough! The following morning brought a nameless bunch of
violets. There had been doubters before--but at this tangible proof of
devotion, skepticism crumbled.

Mae wore her violets to church on Sunday. The school mixed its responses
in a shocking fashion--nobody pretended to follow the service; all eyes
were fixed on Mae's upturned face and far-off smile. Patty Wyatt pointed
out that Mae had taken special pains to seat herself in the light of a
stained-glass window, and that occasionally the rapt eyes scanned the
faces of her companions, to make sure that the effect was reaching
across the footlights. But Patty's insinuation was indignantly
repudiated by the school.

Mae was at last triumphantly secure in the role of leading lady. Poor
insipid Rosalie no longer had a speaking part.

The affair ran on for several weeks, gathering momentum as it moved. In
the European Travel Class that met on Monday nights, "English Country
Seats" was the subject of one of the talks, illustrated by the
stereopticon. As a stately, terraced mansion, with deer cropping grass
in the foreground, was thrown upon the screen, Mae Mertelle suddenly
grew faint. She vouchsafed no reason to the housekeeper who came with
hot-water bottles and cologne; but later, she whispered to her room-mate
that that was the house where he was born.

Violets continued to arrive each Saturday, and Mae became more and more
_distrait_. The annual basket-ball game with Highland Hall, a near-by
school for girls, wa