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me."

      "Why don't you announce your engagement to Philip, and have done with it?" I said audaciously.

      "One reason is, that I'm not engaged to him," said Mildred calmly.

      "But you will be. He has every chance in the world."

      "That's where you're wrong. There's only one chance in the world that I shall marry Philip Maxwell." She smiled as she remembered Philip's emphatic assurance that he should ask her once more only. "But I'm not going to marry anybody for years yet. Let's talk about something more interesting. Look at Phil, now! He's devotedly reciting poetry to Irene."

      "Oho, that's your more interesting topic, is it? But, wait, the noble Britisher is making good. Just listen to that yarn he's telling. He's a ripping good story-teller." And Mildred, listening, was forced to agree.

      On the terrace, after dinner, the party broke up into small groups of two or three, and Mildred, quite unintentionally, found herself talking to Lord Clarendon, or rather he was talking to her.

      "Don't run away," he said, as she tried to edge off toward another group; "stay and talk to me."

      "I can't talk to you," she said, stammering a little, "because—because—" and as he smiled at her, she continued, in sheer desperation, "because— because I don't know what to call you!"

      "Don't you know my name?"

      "Yes; but I don't know whether to address you as 'my lord' or 'your lordship.'"

      She knew she was talking nonsense, but she was honestly trying to get away, and so said anything at random.

      The Earl stood looking down at her, with his half-mocking smile.

      "Either would succeed in attracting my attention, if I heard you; but why not call me Clarence?"

      "It's a stunning name," said Mildred, "but I couldn't use it so soon. Indeed I never can."

      With a sudden determination she turned abruptly and walked away, leaving him standing there.

      "By Jove!" said his lordship to me as he looked after her; "I can't make her out at all; but she's a dear little enigma."

      The evening wore away, and it was quite late when Mildred and I, again together for a moment, saw someone coming near. Then a kind voice over her shoulder said, "Is it possible that this little lady's afraid of me?"

      There was a laughing note in the voice, an amused, yet self-assured tone that seemed joyously confident and contradictory to the words.

      I wondered what reply she would make, for the terrace in the moonlight was a dangerous place. Acting on a sudden impulse, whether courage or cowardice I didn't know, she whispered in a broken voice, "yes, I am afraid of you," and turned swiftly and suddenly away from him.

      Philip was never very far away from Mildred's side, and though he was glad to notice her apparent lack of interest in the Earl, he was at a loss to understand her persistent rejection of the nobleman's advances.

      "What's the matter with the Belted One, Milly?" he asked; "I'm sure I don't want you to chum with him, but why treat him with such desperate scor-r-r-m?"

      "I don't scorn him, but he doesn't interest me," said Mildred, a little impatiently, for she was beginning to be tired of her own game.

      But Philip was not entirely unversed in the whims and ways of the Eternal Feminine, and he responded, "Oho! piqued, are you?"

      "Indeed I'm not, and, pray, why should I be?"

      "Oh, for many reasons. Perhaps because Clarence is so devoted to Irene. She'd look well wearing a coronet, wouldn't she? It would suit her tall stateliness a lot better than it would your petite effects."

      "Don't talk any more about that horrid Earl. I'm tired of the thought of him."

      "That's your attitude toward everything," said I.

      "Oh, no, it isn't," she responded saucily. "I never get tired of myself, and I'm not yet tired of you."

      "Don't think of him, then," said Philip. "I'm truly glad, if you don't like him. But your overdoing it so made me a bit suspicious. You see, I know your tricks and your manners!"

      "Am I very bad, Philip?" said Mildred, a little wistfully.

      "You are indeed. You're a heartless little witch, and you'd not only flirt with a wooden Indian, but you'd know just the best way to go about it."

      "Thank you for the subtle compliment. And yet—with all my faults, you—?"

      "Of course I do, and always shall! Does it please you to know it?"

      "Not especially," said Mildred, her mocking eyes smiling gaily into Philip's handsome, earnest face. "And I sha'n't talk to you any more now, for you seem to have only two subjects of conversation—yourself and the Earl of Clarendon. And I don't care a straw for either."

      Philip only smiled, for though Mildred's words sounded indifferent, the glance that reached him from beneath the long lashes belied the words, and, I am sure, strengthened his conviction that the butterfly heart was really his.

      I left the pair then, and strolled away in the direction of Irene Gardiner.

      Chapter IV.

       Saucy Mildred

       Table of Contents

      "I'm so glad we're going to have a dance tonight," said Edith Whiting at luncheon next day.

      "Oh, so am I," declared Mildred, "I'd rather dance than eat; and we haven't had a real party dance since we've been here."

      "Give me four two-steps, won't you, Miss Leslie?" said I.

      "Why don't you ask for eight steps; can't you multiply? Indeed I won't give you four two-steps, Mr. King."

      "Oh, I so hoped you would!" I responded, in mock dejection.

      "Why, how can you expect it?" she exclaimed. "There'll be a lot of strange men here from all the country round, and I'm going to give them all my dances. I can dance any day with you men who are staying in the house."

      "Do you mean that, Miss Leslie?" exclaimed Clarendon, in such apparent consternation that everybody laughed.

      "On second thoughts, I'll give you one apiece, all round," said Mildred gaily.

      Philip sat next her at the table.

      "You'll give me more than that," he said in a low tone, "or else you needn't give me any."

      "Very well," said Mildred airily, "you needn't have any. Lord Clarendon, if you care for two dances to-night, I have an extra one that has just been returned with thanks, which you may have."

      "I accept it gladly, fair lady, but don't let it be one of your American two-steps, for I have not yet mastered their intricacies."

      "They shall be any ones you choose," said Mildred, with a glance at the Earl, that was deliberately intended to delight him and to anger Philip, and succeeded perfectly in both cases.

      "Mildred," said Tom Whiting, under his breath, as they left the table, "you are playing with fire."

      "Perhaps I wish to get burnt," she retorted saucily, and ran laughing away.

      That afternoon Philip and I chanced to find ourselves alone for a time. I was glad, for I hadn't had an opportunity to talk much with him.

      We sat in a shady corner of the veranda and he looked moody and glum. Finally he threw his cigar away, and said, frankly, "What would you do with her, Peter?"

      "Do you want me to answer you seriously," I said, "or flippantly?"

      "Seriously, please."

      "Then I think you'll have to teach her a lesson. You let her go too far, Philip; and you may find, when you try to

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