LITMIR.BIZ

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other couples or groups of young people, and exchanged merry, bantering words.

      At last Irene paused at the southeast end of the balcony, and we sat down on a wicker settee.

      "Mr. King," she said, almost abruptly, "don't you think it's a shame, the way Mildred treats Mr. Maxwell?"

      I was surprised at the question, but had no intention of committing myself to this mystifying young woman.

      "Who can criticize the ways of such an enchanting fairy as Miss Leslie?" I replied lightly.

      "Do you think her so fascinating?"

      The question was wistful and very earnestly asked.

      "She is both beautiful and charming, and she has completely bewitched Philip," I said.

      "Yet she does not really care for him," cried Irene, passionately. "She adores Gilbert Crane, but she leads Philip on, and is breaking his noble, splendid heart, merely for her own amusement."

      My eyes were opened.

      "Oho, my lady," I thought to myself. "So you are in love with the handsome Philip. Sits the wind in that quarter?" But I only said, "Gilbert Crane! do you really think so? Why I thought she was lavishing all her favors on our titled guest."

      "Oh, he's only an incident. Milly sees that it teases Philip for her to flirt with the Earl, and she does so openly. But her liking for Mr. Crane is another matter. You men are so blind! can't you see that just because she doesn't flirt openly with Gilbert Crane, it proves that she's really interested in him?"

      "She is only a child after all," I said, "and we must forgive her a great deal."

      "On account of her youth and beauty!" said Miss Gardiner, in a tone that was positively bitter; "that's always the way! A baby face and golden hair and big blue eyes will excuse any amount of fickleness and treachery and deceit!"

      "Those are strong words, Miss Gardiner," I said, amazed at her unkindness; "are you sure they are deserved by our little friend?"

      "Yes; I know Mildred Leslie as she is! You men only know her as she chooses to appear to you!"

      "I don't think I can agree with you, Miss Gardiner. If Mildred Leslie were of a deeper nature, I might think you are right. But she is as open as the day; a superficial, butterfly sort of girl, who cares only for the pleasure of the passing moment. I mean no disparagement, but I think that the lightheartedness of her nature is her best defense against your charges. And truly, in her heart I think she cares for Phil. Who could help preferring that splendid fellow to young Crane?"

      "I know it seems so," went on Irene, "but she does like Mr. Crane better. She told me so herself, only to-day. She said Philip is egotistical and purse-proud, and that Mr. Crane has a true poet-soul."

      "Perhaps she didn't mean her confidences for me, Miss Gardiner," I said a little stiffly, for I was of no mind to discuss these things.

      "I don't care," cried Irene, her eyes blazing, "I'm telling you because I want you to know how matters really stand, and then I want you to warn Mr. Maxwell against such a fickle, shallow little thing as Mildred is."

      "I can't consent to do that," I answered. "Philip is old enough to know what he is about. If Miss Leslie prefers Gilbert Crane, Phil will certainly find it out for himself, and soon. But I think he will convince her that she has only a passing fancy for Crane, and that he himself is really her destined fate."

      I tried to speak gaily, for I did not wish to take the subject seriously. But in a low, tense voice Irene exclaimed:

      "It shall never be! Philip Maxwell shall not throw himself away on a heartless little coquette who doesn't know how to value him! Since you refuse to help me, I will take matters into my own hands!"

      I was amazed at her intensity of speech, but still trying to treat it all lightly, I said:

      "That is your privilege, fair lady. Come, let us return to the dancing-room,—sha'n't we?"

      "You go down, please, Mr. King," she said, and her voice was quieter. "Leave me here for a little, and I will rejoin you soon." As she seemed to be very much in earnest, I did her bidding, and sauntering around, I entered the house by the long French window into the front hall. As I passed through the hall, I met Miss Miranda just going to her own room.

      "Leaving us?" I inquired, smiling at her.

      "Yes," she said. "I am very weary to-night, and I have excused myself. Mrs. Whiting will look after you young folks, and I am sure she will ably represent me."

      She looked not only tired, but worried, and I felt sure Miss Leslie's behavior was grieving her dear old heart.

      "Don't worry, dear lady," I said, earnestly; "you know we must allow a certain latitude to frivolous, butterfly-minded little girls."

      "Yes, I know it," and she smiled, slightly;

      "And I hope there is a true womanly heart under that mischievous nature."

      "I'm sure there is,—and I'm sure it is devoted to our Philip. Don't take it too seriously; remember that Philip is not a weak sort of a man, and he is able to control his own affairs."

      "But he is simply wax in Mildred's hands; she can do anything she likes with him. She can send him into the seventh heaven of joy or into the depths of despair by her smile or frown."

      "I know it; but that has been lovely woman's privilege through all the world's history. We can't expect our Phil to escape the common fate. So cheer up, and let us hope that he will yet capture the pretty little rogue, and that they will live happy ever after."

      "Thank you, Peter; you have cheered me up, as you always do; and I shall sleep better for your words of hope. Good night."

      "Good night," I said gently, "and I trust you will rise to-morrow morning refreshed and happy."

      "I hope so," she said. "Good night, Peter." As I turned to go down-stairs, I heard voices in the library, which I realized were those of Philip and Miss Leslie. With no intention of eavesdropping, I couldn't help hearing him say:

      "Don't trifle with me to-night, Mildred; I am desperate." The tone, more than the words, struck a chill to my heart, and I hastened down-stairs lest I should hear more of a conversation not meant for me.

      There were groups of merry people in the music-room and in the drawing-room, but somehow I didn't feel like joining them, and I wandered back through the long hall, and looked in at the open door of Mr. Maxwell's study.

      This attractively furnished room could have been called a "den" by a younger man, but my host was conservative in his language, and adhered to old-fashioned customs.

      I well knew it was his habit to devote an hour or two after dinner to his evening paper, which, naturally, never reached Maxwell Chimneys until late.

      The household always refrained from intrusion on him at this time, and so, when I saw him intently studying the market reports, I turned away. But he had seen me, and laying down his paper, he said cordially:

      "Come in, my boy, come in and smoke a pipe with me, if you are tired of your young and somewhat noisy contemporaries."

      "No," said I, going into the room, "not now, Mr. Maxwell. You finish your paper, and later, I'll drop in for a smoke. I'd very much like to have a talk with you."

      "About Philip?" he asked, looking at me with a concerned air.

      "Yes," I said, "but don't be apprehensive. Indeed, I think we may have cause to congratulate the boy before the evening is over. He and Miss Leslie are even now in the library, and I hope that they will arrive at a happy understanding."

      "Good, Mr. King, good," said the old man in his kindly, pleasant way. "Let us hope for the best, and I trust it will all come out right."

      "I'm sure it will," said I, and was about to go on, when he detained me a moment longer.

      "What about that decorated Britisher?" he asked, looking at me intently.

      "Oh,

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