She had in consequence a host of admirers,
pre-eminent among whom was young Robert Minifie of Milanor. Mr.
Wycherley, a noted stickler for etiquette, decorously made bold to
question Mr. Minifie's taste in a dispute concerning waistcoats. A
duel was decorously arranged and these two met upon the narrow beach of
Teviot Bay.

Theirs was a spirited encounter, lasting for ten energetic minutes.
Then Wycherley pinked Mr. Minifie in the shoulder, just as the
dramatist, a favorite pupil of Gerard's, had planned to do; and the
four gentlemen parted with every imaginable courtesy, since the wounded
man and the two seconds were to return by boat to Mr. Minifie's house
at Milanor.

More lately Wycherley walked in the direction of Ouseley Manor,
whistling _Love's a Toy_. Honor was satisfied, and, happily, as he
reflected, at no expense of life. He was a kindly hearted fop, and
more than once had killed his man with perfectly sincere regret. But
in putting on his coat--it was the black camlet coat with silver
buttons--he had overlooked his sleevelinks; and he did not recognize,
for twenty-four eventful hours, the full importance of his carelessness.

In the heart of Figgis Wood, the incomparable Countess of Drogheda,
aunt to Mr. Wycherley's betrothed, and a noted leader of fashion, had
presently paused at sight of him--laughing a little--and with one tiny
hand had made as though to thrust back the staghound which accompanied
her. "Your humble servant, Mr. Swashbuckler," she said; and then: "But
oh! you have not hurt the lad?" she demanded, with a tincture of
anxiety.

"Nay, after a short but brilliant engagement," Wycherley returned, "Mr.
Minifie was very harmlessly perforated; and in consequence I look to be
married on Thursday, after all."

"Let me die but Cupid never meets with anything save inhospitality in
this gross world!" cried Lady Drogheda. "For the boy is heels over
head in love with Araminta,--oh, a second Almanzor! And my niece does
not precisely hate him either, let me tell you, William, for all your
month's assault of essences and perfumed gloves and apricot paste and
other small artillery of courtship. La, my dear, was it only a month
ago we settled your future over a couple of Naples biscuit and a bottle
of Rhenish?" She walked beside him now, and the progress of these
exquisites was leisurely. There were many trees at hand so huge as to
necessitate a considerable detour.

"Egad, it is a month a