ANN WARNER
 
 HOW LESLIE LOVED
 
 HOW 
 LESLIE LOVED 
 
 Author of "The Rejuvenation of Aunt Mary," "Susan 
 Clegg, Her Friends and Her Neighbors," etc. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 
 BY A. B. WENZELL 
 
 A. L. BURT COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
 
 Copyright, 1911, 
 BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPAKT. 
 
 All rights reserved 
 Published, February, 1911
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. LESLIE AND HER LONELINESS. ... 1 
 
 II. LESLIE AND CAPTAIN GLENGABTT . . 11 
 
 III. LESLIE AND A PRIORY 22 
 
 IV. LESLIE AND THE ACROSTIC .... 33 
 V. LESLIE AND THE AFTER-DINNER HOUB 42 
 
 VI. LESLIE AND THE MOTOR 52 
 
 VII. LESLIE AND ANOTHER MAN .... 64 
 
 VIII. LESLIE AND HER DOUBTS 73 
 
 IX. LESLIE GOES DOWN TO KENELM ... 85 
 
 X. LESLIE AND THE MAN AND THE HEN . 103 
 
 XL LESLIE AND MAURICE 120 
 
 XII. LESLIE AND HER ENGAGEMENT . . . 132 
 
 XIII. MERRY CHRISTMAS 147 
 
 XIV. THE DAY AFTER 161 
 
 XV. LESLIE AND THE LAST OF KENELM . . 170 
 
 XVI. LESLIE GOES FORTUNE HUNTING . . . 178 
 
 XVII. LESLIE SAYS GOODBYE 188 
 
 XVIII. LESLIE PARTS WITH MAURICE . . . 200 
 
 XIX. LESLIE AND A REAL SCHLOSS 207
 
 vi CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 XX. LESLIE AND A LIVE HUSSAR .... 219 
 
 XXI. LESLIE DINES 225 
 
 XXII. LESLIE CHANGES HER PLANS . . . 238 
 
 XXIII. LESLIE GOES TO KOPDOBP 249 
 
 XXIV. LESLIE DEVELOPS IN MANY WAYS . . 259 
 XXV. LESLIE MEETS FRIENDS 276 
 
 XXVI. Au REVOIB . . 283
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 She buried her face in his shoulder and cried 
 
 quite a few tears ...... Frontispiece 
 
 At that Lady Rillingham examined the acrostic 
 
 more closely Page 35 
 
 Between silver braid and top-boots with spurs 
 
 it was a brilliant sight " 229
 
 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 LESLIE AND HER LONELINESS 
 
 LESLIE was lying alone in the dark. She had given 
 the theatre tickets to Mrs. Snellgrove and told her 
 to get some one any one and go. She was far 
 too wretched to dream of going to the theatre herself. 
 She had such a heartache as she had never known 
 before. Her heart was a particularly active heart 
 and much given to violent emotions of all descrip- 
 tions, but a pain like the present one was new to it. 
 It hurt her physically. It was a real heartache 
 her first real, absolute, impossible-to-ever-get-over, 
 heartache. It was so terrible that it had made the 
 idea of going out, and perhaps forgetting it, com- 
 pletely revolting. Leslie had no intention of recover- 
 ing from her grief; she knew now that she loved 
 him just by her agony, and, although they had 
 parted forever, still she would love him and him
 
 2 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 alone till she died. No, no ! No theatre for her this 
 evening; she hadn't considered going even for a 
 second. 
 
 She was very quiet there in the dark, staring up- 
 ward. Oh, it was awful to suffer so ! It passed tears ; 
 she could not shed one. To think of all the men 
 who would have gone to any amount of trouble to 
 make her only a little happy, and Hugo Guilford 
 whom she loved had been willing to break her 
 heart like this! He was so brutal, he was so cruel, 
 he was so jealous, he was so unreasonable, he was so 
 unbearable, he was so selfish, he was so all things 
 that he should n't be ; and now she was never going 
 to see him again. And those were such good seats, 
 too; Mrs. Snellgrove had rushed to the telephone at 
 once and secured Mrs. Batt. They two would just 
 revel in George Alexander and his perfections, while 
 Leslie who was herself very fond of George Alex- 
 ander because he always reminded her of a delightful 
 man whom she had once met on the ocean was 
 there alone hi the dark, steeped in woe. It was 
 awful ! 
 
 She had come to bed very early, and it was now 
 barely nine o'clock. She could hear the butler put- 
 ting letters on her sitting-room table. How strange
 
 LESLIE AND HER LONELINESS 3 
 
 it was to be so miserable that one did n't want to 
 read letters. Letters might come and come, and 
 she would never care who they were from again. 
 Invitations which once would have filled her with joy 
 would now be a matter of utter indifference. She 
 never would take any more interest in shopping. 
 She never would buy that tea-gown at Liberty's 
 now. At least she might buy the gown, but she would 
 never take any pleasure in wearing it. She would 
 never take any more pleasure in wearing anything. 
 
 The idea of not taking any more pleasure in wear- 
 ing her gowns did for Leslie that which we are given 
 to understand somebody or something must do for 
 any one whose grief is too deep for tears, it brought 
 them forth freely. She had to turn on the light and 
 get up for a handkerchief, and then as she was 
 up it seemed silly not to go in and look at her mail. 
 Leslie was never silly. She had some soft, pleasantly 
 woolly slippers on her feet; and her blue dressing- 
 gown, lined' with white silk and with its sleeves turned 
 back by big crushed bows, lay close by on a chair. 
 She wiped her eyes and then put on the gown; she 
 looked so sweet hi the gown that a sort of lofty pity 
 for Hugo who would never, never see her in a dress- 
 ing-gown filled her soul. The sentiment seemed to
 
 4 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 give her quite a bit of fortitude and a certain cour- 
 ageous determination towards the future. She went 
 into the sitting-room. 
 
 The butler was very stupid and had left all the 
 lights exactly as if she might come in at any minute. 
 The letters were ranged neatly in a row upon the 
 center-table. The fire was burning brilliantly. It 
 looked for all the world as if he had not at all under- 
 stood that his mistress was henceforth and forever 
 blighted. He was very stupid. 
 
 Leslie sat down hi the easy-chair nearest the fire 
 and proceeded to look over her letters. There were 
 none from Hugo, but that was not surprising for 
 several reasons, of which the two most weighty were : 
 first, that he had not been out of the house two hours 
 yet, and second, that he never wrote letters. She 
 took up a paper-cutter and began to open the envel- 
 opes with a heavy sigh. Some were notes. A good 
 many were invitations. One was from Mrs. Lewes, 
 for Christmas. "A real English Christmas," Mrs. 
 Lewes who was an American said artfully. 
 There is nothing so attractive to a real American in 
 England as to be promised something really English. 
 Leslie, who was a real American, felt this keenly. 
 She did n't know Mrs. Lewes very well, but she
 
 LESLIE AND HER LONELINESS 5 
 
 thought her invitation sounded delightful. She was 
 conscious of a cheerful uplift. "I suppose there will 
 be waits and things," she murmured to herself. 
 ("Waits and things" was her idea of "a real Eng- 
 lish Christmas.") Then she remembered Hugo and 
 held the invitation in her hand for some time, con- 
 sidering what he would have said to it had he still 
 had anything to do with her life. It was freshly 
 borne in upon her how dreadful it was to think that 
 he was gone. She winked very hard indeed there, but 
 rallied presently and took up the next missive. It 
 was also an invitation, and this invitation was even 
 more delightful than the other, for it was to a genu- 
 ine English country-house. The baronet hadn't 
 married any Pittsburgh heiress, and there was no 
 United States veneer anywhere about the note. 
 Leslie had met Lady Rillingham at a mutual friend's, 
 and been properly and conventionally introduced, 
 had seen "quite a bit" of her since, and now was 
 being absolutely invited to stay there at the 
 Priory next week. 
 
 Of course she wanted to accept dreadfully. Every- 
 thing else went out of her head hi the absorbing 
 thought of actually visiting in a priory. But she 
 was worried about the cold. She knew something of
 
 6 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 English homes and their brightly beaming open 
 fires, and she was nervous over freezing to death. 
 It came to her also that Hugo might have objected 
 to her going down there on account of Waltheof 
 Rillingham, the son of the house ; but she was most 
 afraid of suffering from cold. Of course she was 
 still in love with Hugo and still anxious not to enrage 
 him any more even if they had parted forever. He 
 enraged slowly, but when he did it, he did it with 
 terrible effect, and he was mad enough now, good- 
 ness knew. 
 
 Leslie sighed and wiped away another tear. Then 
 she became suddenly aware of being ravenously 
 hungry. She had eaten no dinner owing to the inten- 
 sity of her grief, so her hunger was but natural. 
 She rang at once. 
 
 "Lapham," she said, when the butler came, "I 
 wish you 'd go to Cook and get just the nicest 
 supper you can for me, some of that cold pheasant, 
 and some hot chocolate and oh, she'll know, - 
 and bring it here, and I'm 'Not at Home' to callers, 
 you know." 
 
 The butler hurried away to obey. Leslie poked the 
 fire, and it blazed up most pleasantly. She looked 
 again at Lady Rillingham's letter.
 
 LESLIE AND HER LONELINESS 7 
 
 "I do wonder whether I could stand it!" she said, 
 and frowned a very, very little. "I suppose I'd 
 surely freeze; one always does." She stopped sud- 
 denly, becoming aware of the frown, and quickly 
 rubbed it smooth with her finger-tip. (For she had 
 no intention of wasting away in wrinkles, even if 
 Hugo didn't love her.) "And yet I'd like so much 
 to go, if I thought that I could stand it." 
 
 There was a pause. She contemplated the fire, 
 and poked it a little. She looked down at her blue 
 slippers and re-tied the bow on one. When she 
 straightened up from re-tying the bow her cheeks 
 were pink and a lock of hair was out of place. Per- 
 haps her color came from her labor, or perhaps from 
 a change in the current of her thought. The current 
 of her thought was very apt to change, and when it 
 did, it generally set strongly in the new direction. 
 The new direction at this instant was the recollection 
 that one of the envelopes appeared to have been 
 addressed by the Grafin von Morgenlicht. She was 
 very, very fond of the Grafin von Morgenlicht, and 
 it came to her that the Schloss of the Grafin was on 
 the Continent, that place whither Hugo had declared 
 himself to be bound the very next day. If she were 
 to be invited to Morgenlicht all things were possible.
 
 8 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 The Continent is such a pleasant rendezvous, espe- 
 cially for those who desire to meet unexpectedly. 
 The world is so small that an eloping couple may 
 meet the husband anywhere, but the Continent is 
 so small that a lady may meet a man everywhere. 
 Leslie knew her Continent well. She knew that she 
 could hardly float over its face without seeing again 
 him who had vanished completely out of her life. Oh, 
 how lovely it would be to see him again ! The Grafin 
 had been begging for a visit for ever so long; she 
 could cross to Calais, just have a day or two in Paris 
 and a few hours in Monte Carlo, get to North Ger- 
 many in a week or so, and it would n't be but a little 
 out of the way (Hugo always went to Monte Carlo). 
 Leslie now opened the Grafin's letter, which was 
 in English and eight pages long. It was a dear letter 
 and overflowing with affection and sweet German 
 cordiality. It was just what she wanted. Both the 
 Grafin and her Mann desired Leslie to set her own 
 date and stay as long as she could if she could 
 stand the rigor of life in a castle's winter. The Grafin 
 went on to say that in Lent they were going to Berlin 
 and hoped that she might accompany them. At the 
 end they let themselves greet her, and hoped soon to 
 see her, and said other charming things, and then
 
 LESLIE AND HER LONELINESS 9 
 
 came the signature, and that was all there was 
 of it. 
 
 If the other two invitations had overlaid her grief 
 with a quadruple plating of joy, this last filled her 
 cup of happiness to the brim. Hugo was as much 
 addicted to Berlin as to Monte Carlo, and even if he 
 was n't there she knew a lot of other men who were. 
 Her spirits were mounting rapidly now and, when 
 the butler brought the tray and while she was con- 
 suming everything on it, she was conscious of that 
 ability to rise above misfortune which is one of the 
 most striking evidences of a truly great character. 
 
 "I'll try and manage to get to Brussels and get 
 two or three more hats," she said to herself, as she 
 poured out the last drop of chocolate, "and I'll write 
 the Countess that I'll come the first week in Febru- 
 ary, or maybe I can get there in January ; let me see ! " 
 
 She finished her chocolate and pushed away the 
 tray. The fire felt so delicious. So did the supper. 
 After all it would be silly to submit to have one's 
 life crushed by a man as harsh and unfeeling and 
 altogether unworthy as Hugo Guilford. Leslie was 
 never silly. And then, too, no one man can possibly 
 crush the life of a woman who knows a lot of other 
 men.
 
 10 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "And I know such a lot of other men," she re- 
 flected with deep satisfaction; "oh, I know such a 
 lot of other men. It's that that makes him so mad. 
 And I don't know what right he has to object to my 
 knowing so many other men. He's never asked me 
 to marry him. If he had, he'd see." 
 
 All of which was indubitably true.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 LESLIE AND CAPTAIN GLENGABTT 
 
 SHE began to pack for the Priory almost at once. 
 Rose and Mrs. Snellgrove really did all the actual 
 work of her life, but Leslie played the title r61e even 
 when not on the stage. Consequently when Captain 
 Glengarty came to tea, having been invited four days 
 previous, she felt interrupted and was therefore 
 annoyed. 
 
 "But you asked me," protested the captain. 
 
 "Oh, dear, did I really?" said Leslie. "What 
 could I have been thinking of, I wonder ! " 
 
 "What have I interrupted?" asked the captain. 
 
 "My packing." 
 
 "But nobody ever packs hi London. The ser- 
 vants pack." 
 
 Leslie poured the tea and gave him his as her 
 contribution to the conversation for the moment. 
 
 "Where are you going?" the captain asked, look- 
 ing to see if she had put in sugar.
 
 12 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "I'm going to visit friends." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "It's Sir Edward Rillingham's. I don't know just 
 where. We have n't looked it up yet." 
 
 "Has he a son?" 
 
 "Yes; how did you guess?" 
 
 "How old is he?" 
 
 "I don't know. He can just remember every- 
 thing that I can't." 
 
 "How extremely trying for you." 
 
 Leslie looked doubtfully at Captain Glengarty. 
 "Are you making game of me because I'm an 
 American?" 
 
 "My dear lady, I should n't dream of making 
 game of you because you are an American." 
 
 Leslie looked at him again, more doubtfully still, 
 this tune. 
 
 "I suppose that they'd like you to marry the son?" 
 hazarded the captain. 
 
 "Oh, "dear, no! Why they've never thought of 
 such a thing." 
 
 "How well you must read minds!" 
 
 Leslie felt foolish, in spite of the fact that she was 
 never silly. 
 
 "What an open countenance the man must have,"
 
 LESLIE AND CAPTAIN GLENGARTY 13 
 
 the captain continued ; " but not very interesting, I 
 should imagine." 
 
 " Don't you want another bit of cake?" Cake is 
 always a safe bit of repartee. 
 
 "Thank you, no. And so you 're going down in the 
 country?" 
 
 "I don't know which way it is." 
 
 "There's only one up in England, and that's 
 London." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 "Is it a castle?" 
 
 "No, it's a priory." 
 
 "Fancy!" The captain smiled obtrusively. 
 
 "What makes you laugh?" 
 
 " I did n't laugh ; I was merely amused over the 
 notion of a priory's opening its gates to a woman." 
 
 "It's very old," said Leslie. "Alfred the Grecit 
 built it, and Henry VIII gave it to their ancestors." 
 
 "You seem to have studied your subject." 
 
 "It's in ever so many books. It's historic. They 
 have ivy and a chapel, and the ghost of a real priest 
 performs mass in the chapel, sometimes." 
 
 "I don't believe that," said Glengarty. 
 
 "It's true, anyhow. Everybody doesn't see him. 
 Only a few see him. I hope I'll see him."
 
 14 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "How long are you to be there?" 
 
 "A week." 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 "Then I'm coming back here for a few days, and 
 then I'm going away again to a real English 
 Christmas." 
 
 "Who is to have it?" 
 
 "A friend of mine, Mrs. Lewes; I don't believe 
 you know them. They live in Regent Park." 
 
 "How did they get permission to build there?" 
 
 Leslie looked at him in great disgust. 
 
 "Who are they, anyhow?'* asked Captain Glen- 
 garty. 
 
 "They're American. It's Mrs. Frederick Lewes 
 and her husband, of course. I met them last sum- 
 mer. They 're very hospitable and know loads of 
 people." 
 
 "It's easy to know loads of people if you're very 
 hospitable. But, tell me, where is this real English 
 Christmas to be?" 
 
 "At Kenelm." 
 
 "Where's that?" 
 
 "I don't know; we haven't looked it up yet." 
 
 " What makes you * go away for Christmas 
 Christmas is jolly in town?"
 
 LESLIE AND CAPTAIN GLENGARTY 15 
 
 "But I want to see a real English Christmas. 
 I've seen Christmas in France and Christmas in 
 Germany, and now I want to see what a real Eng- 
 lish Christmas is like. Mrs. Lewes says that they're 
 going to have a real, genuine, old-fashioned, English 
 Christmas." 
 
 "Have they a nice place?" 
 
 "Oh, they haven't a place at all; they're going 
 to have it in an inn." 
 
 "In an inn!" Glengarty's face bespoke great 
 astonishment. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Christmas hi an inn ! " His tone was indescribable. 
 
 "Why, what's the matter?" 
 
 "Nothing. Only, the idea of a party of Americans 
 having a real, genuine, old-fashioned, English Christ- 
 mas in an inn struck me for the second as being most 
 most American." 
 
 "They'll do it very well," said Leslie haughtily. 
 "They're awfully rich." 
 
 "Also an American way of doing and being," said 
 Glengarty. "Oh, doubtless you'll be very happy 
 with them." 
 
 "I'll be warm, at any rate," said Leslie defiantly. 
 "They 're American, and so they'll be warm."
 
 16 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 " Perhaps," said the captain. 
 
 "And there'll be waits and things," said Leslie. 
 "I 've always been reading about the English waits." 
 
 " Waits and things ! " laughed the captain. " Waits 
 and things ! But tell me, if you survive, what do you 
 mean to do after Christmas?" 
 
 "I 'm coming back here for a few days, and then 
 I 'm going abroad." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "To visit my friend Grafin von Morgenlicht." 
 
 "In Germany!" 
 
 "In Germany! Gr&ftn, you know." 
 
 "She might have a villa at Nice." 
 
 "Oh, to be sure." 
 
 "Where does she live?" 
 
 "I don't just know; we must look that up, too. 
 But it 's an awfully old castle. I think Peter the 
 Great visited there or Frederick the Great, I don't 
 really remember which." 
 
 " If it 's hi North Germany you '11 find it very cold ; 
 they hunt hares hi the snow there all winter long." 
 
 "Well, I have n't to hunt hares if I don't want to." 
 
 "Naturally not; but I suppose you know about 
 life in a German castle. One sheet, and the feather- 
 bed on top of you."
 
 LESLIE AND CAPTAIN GLENGARTY 17 
 
 "I've always had two sheets in Germany/' said 
 Leslie angrily. 
 
 "And do look out for the spiders; have your maid 
 investigate everything every morning before you put 
 it on. The castle spiders of Germany have a trick 
 of going to rest hi one's bed-slippers. That 's the 
 country where the woods are full of winged spiders, 
 and when they get on you, you may pull off the 
 wings, but you can't possibly pull off the spiders, you 
 know." 
 
 "I don't believe a word of it," said Leslie. 
 
 "How long are you going to stay there?" 
 
 "I don't know, maybe a fortnight." 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 "I 'm going to Berlin." 
 
 " Ah ! I may be going to Berlin myself in January 
 or February. You must let me know when you 're to 
 be there." 
 
 " Oh, I '11 see you ever so many times before then. 
 You see, I '11 be in London twice." 
 
 "Yes, that's so." 
 
 Leslie looked at the clock. Glengarty saw the look 
 and would have gone, only at that minute the door 
 opened, and Rita Coghlan came in. She was most 
 welcome, only
 
 18 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "I hope you don't want tea," said Leslie, "because 
 I 've turned out the lamp." 
 
 " But I do want tea," said Miss Coghlan. " Do have 
 the lamp lit again, there 's a dear!" 
 
 The spirit-lamp was relit. It developed that the 
 newcomer would have come sooner only for being 
 caught in the claws of her hair-dresser. 
 
 " I never enjoy myself there," she said plaintively. 
 "He holds up one lock after another and says 'dear, 
 dear,' until I wish I 'd gone to a funeral instead." 
 
 "I know/' said Leslie feelingly; "hairdressers are 
 horrid." 
 
 Captain Glengarty coughed, and that reminded both 
 ladies that he was completely bald on top. 
 
 "Oh," said Rita, with a conscious start, "do let 's 
 go and get our fortunes told right after tea. I 've 
 just been given such a good address. They say she 's 
 a wonder." 
 
 "But I can't," said Leslie; "I 'm packing." 
 
 ' ' Packing ! To go where ? ' ' 
 
 She was told where, all three places. She paid 
 but scant attention to the English possibilities, con- 
 centrating herself at once upon the Schloss. 
 
 "Oh, they're so clammy cold," she said. "You 
 can't go there hi the winter, my dear; you '11 die !"
 
 LESLIE AND CAPTAIN GLENGARTY 19 
 
 " It 's so funny in Europe," said Leslie. " Every one 
 worries over keeping warm. We 're all always warm 
 in America ; it 's a matter of course. We never talk 
 about it." 
 
 " You 're too warm in America," said Captain Glen- 
 garty. "It 's beastly there, cooking hot summer and 
 winter, too." 
 
 " Yes, that 's true," said Leslie, who never stood 
 up for anything if her company seemed to find 
 joy in running it down. "I think it 's too hot there, 
 myself." 
 
 " It 's what gives most of you such funny skins," 
 said Miss Coghlan; "that and ice-water." 
 
 "Oh, ice-water!" said Captain Glengarty, with em- 
 phasis. And then, seeing that the other caller, instead 
 of putting on the glove which she had taken off, was 
 taking off the glove which she still had on, he rose 
 to go. 
 
 Leslie bade him good-by right cheerfully. "I don't 
 care much for him," she said, when they were alone. 
 "Let 's have some fresh tea now and a nice chat." 
 
 "Do let 's go out to the fortune-teller," said Rita. 
 "It 's such sport to hear them." 
 
 Leslie, who was reaching for the bell, stopped im- 
 mediately, plainly divided between her thirst and her
 
 20 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 interest in her own fortune. "I should like to know 
 if I 'm to be married again," she said, considering. 
 
 "And it would be interesting to know who to, too," 
 said her friend. "One always wonders that, does n't 
 one?" 
 
 This reminded Leslie that she was n't going to marry 
 Hugo, and at once opened up a new and wide field of 
 scientific research. She meditated deeply. "But I 
 don't think it 's safe to visit such places alone. I M 
 rather go with a man," she said finally. 
 
 "The woman always says you '11 marry him then, 
 and spoils all the fun," said her friend. "And if you 
 go to many different ones with many different men, 
 and they all tell you that, you soon lose faith in the 
 whole thing." 
 
 "Yes, that's true," said Leslie. "I suppose per- 
 haps it 's better to go with a woman, only it is n't so 
 interesting," she added regretfully. 
 
 "What 's best is for two women to go with one 
 man," said Miss Coghlan. "Then you do stand some 
 chance of getting to the bottom of things." 
 
 " But I 'm going away so soon," said Leslie, coming 
 suddenly to that phase of the situation. 
 
 "We can go when you come back. When shall you 
 be coming back?"
 
 LESLIE AND CAPTAIN GLENGARTY 21 
 
 "In about a week." 
 
 "That '11 do nicely. I '11 find a man to go with us. 
 Any man will do, I suppose." 
 
 " Oh, yes, only if it 's long to wait, he ought to be 
 more than ordinarily interesting, because one of us 
 will have to sit with him while the other 's in with the 
 woman." 
 
 " I '11 find a man that 's good enough to sit with." 
 
 "Not Captain Glengarty." 
 
 " Oh, no. Fancy marrying him ! " 
 
 "Fancy being told that you were going to marry 
 him; that would be worse," Leslie shivered a little. 
 " But some one will marry him some day. That 's 
 always so strange to me. Some one always marries 
 every one, sometime." 
 
 " Yes, that 's so," said Rita, and then she put on 
 her gloves and pulled down her veil, asked the loan 
 of an invisible hairpin, and departed.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 LESLIE AND A PRIORY 
 
 LESLIE and her maid set out for the Priory with the 
 best intentions in the world. But, unfortunately, 
 traveling in England is not so easy as one might ima- 
 gine. Many English landowners objected to having 
 railroads pass here and there over their property. 
 So the railroads went around and do still. 
 
 They had to change at Chillworth, at Grimwell, at 
 Pulham Cheap and at Little Settback. This was 
 hard, and the maid became quite worn out and so 
 nervous that her eyes could not stop counting the 
 hand-luggage. 
 
 " Have we any more sixpences, Rose?" 
 
 "No, madame." 
 
 " How many sixpences have we used this afternoon, 
 do you suppose?" 
 
 "I don't know, madame. I changed a ten-shilling 
 piece before we left." 
 
 "Oh, dear!"
 
 LESLIE AND A PRIORY 23 
 
 There was a silence. The fast-darkening scene, in 
 spite of the December chill, had a wonderfully soft 
 cosiness of outline. Little thatched cottages nestled 
 by big hayricks, and smooth brown hedges ran about 
 with a wavering confidence hi their own ends. It 
 was very pretty. The train stopped again. 
 
 "Pegg's Gate," called the guard. 
 
 "Do we change here, Rose?" 
 
 "I don't know; I will ask." She lowered the 
 window as she spoke and leaned out. 
 
 The guard came along, and a question was put and 
 replied to. Leslie divined the answer. 
 
 "We must change?" 
 
 "Yes, madame, and quickly." 
 
 "My goodness me!" 
 
 Well, they changed again. 
 
 " I should n't think that England was big enough to 
 hold all the railroads we Ve been over to-day," said 
 Leslie, who, although not overgiven to conversation 
 with her maid, was sometimes moved thereto by 
 sympathy. 
 
 " No, madame." Rose was settling their bags where 
 the porter had piled them hurriedly. 
 
 "Is n't this carriage cold?" 
 
 " It 's freezing, madame."
 
 24 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "We '11 have to unroll the rugs again." 
 
 " It 's only ten minutes to Lapwell Ham, the guard 
 says." 
 
 "Oh, dear, then I suppose we must just freeze." 
 
 "Shall I unroll them, madame?" 
 
 "No, don't." 
 
 It was very dark outside by this time. One could 
 see nothing except an occasional signal or a lighted 
 window. 
 
 "What time did we leave London?'* 
 
 "At half-past one, madame." 
 
 "And it must be five now." 
 
 The maid looked at her wrist-watch. "It's ten 
 minutes after five, madame," she said. 
 
 "Oh, dear!" 
 
 "Lapwell Ham!" cried a guard outside, with ex- 
 plosive suddenness. 
 
 "Rose, this is it." 
 
 "Yes, madame." 
 
 Great confusion ensued. A porter got the luggage 
 out, and it was all claimed immediately by a footman. 
 Then came a little promenade across the bridge above 
 the tracks, a closed carriage, and a long, long drive. 
 
 "I never thought of it 's being so far," Leslie said; 
 "it will be a rush for dinner."
 
 LESLIE AND A PRIORY 25 
 
 " Yes, madame," said Rose, her mind already busy 
 dealing with the contingencies to come. 
 
 The carriage mounted a hill and went along a sort 
 of avenue on top. Leslie remembered having re- 
 ceived a postal-card view of the hill and the avenue. 
 After a while the carriage ascended more hill, wound 
 about a bit, and stopped before a great stretch of 
 Doric portico. 
 
 Confusion followed; but this confusion was of a 
 mild, well-bred sort. By the time that Leslie was 
 altogether established in her own room she had learned 
 that Lady Rillingham was in Bath and should have 
 arrived a half-hour before. Dinner would not be 
 served until eight o'clock under existing circumstances. 
 Leslie was very content. 
 
 "And is n't it deliciously warm?" she said, seating 
 herself hi a low chair by the pretty fire. " I never was 
 more comfortable in my life." 
 
 "It 's very nice, madame," said the maid, who was 
 unpacking on the other side of the room. " I think I 
 saw hot- water pipes about as I came up." 
 
 "Oh, Rose!" Leslie's tone was one of ecstasy. 
 Within her heart she was conscious of having mentally 
 committed a great injustice against the English 
 aristocracy.
 
 26 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 When the luggage was fairly to rights Rose went 
 away for a half-hour, and Leslie laid herself deliciously 
 back in the deep chair, crossed her feet on the fender, 
 arid was happy as only a chill American can be hi a 
 warm English country-house. The room was charm- 
 ingly pretty, with white enameled furniture and 
 violets on the curtains, the walls, and the dressing- 
 table. 
 
 Then there came a tap at the door and a voice 
 crying, "It is I; can I come hi?" 
 
 It was Lady Rillingham, a stout, lively dame in a 
 tweed suit and with a rolled journal under her arm. 
 They exchanged mutual greetings. The hostess 
 opened fire first. 
 
 "Wasn't it dreadful about my train? so late. 
 But the trams are all late at this tune. It 's the chil- 
 dren getting home for their holiday little dears! 
 Four hundred trams of them from Brighton yester- 
 day or four hundred children, I 'm sure I don't 
 remember which. Little dears ! I read it in ' The 
 Times.' " 
 
 Leslie was being somewhat embraced during all 
 this, and now expressed her pleasure over being where 
 she was. 
 
 "Had you a nice trip? Was your train on time?"
 
 LESLIE AND A PRIORY 27 
 
 "We had a very good trip, only for changes." 
 
 " Yes, one does do a good bit of changing, does n't 
 one? My father-in-law would n't hear to railways on 
 any of his land, you see. It 's very trying. We have 
 to send to stations in all directions. Some one is 
 driving now to Witherhithe Wove to fetch Waltheof 
 and Captain Melton. They '11 be very late. I 've 
 put dinner off till after eight for them. It would n't 
 matter for Waltheof, but Captain Melton is a stranger, 
 and he may be extremely nice, mayn't he?" Lady 
 Rillingham's tone was most appealing. 
 
 "I hope so," said Leslie. "Are there a great many 
 in the house?" 
 
 "Not so very many. We could take care of a lot 
 more by doubling up a bit, you know. Thirty, or 
 maybe forty, I believe. But, my dear, are you warm 
 enough?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, indeed." 
 
 "I'm so glad. I've ordered your fire made up 
 fresh at eleven every night, and extra coals will be 
 put where your maid can get them if you burn all 
 these. You must n't be cold with us, you know." 
 
 Leslie felt almost too happy. 
 
 "You see, I know American ways," said her lady- 
 ship kindly. "We know a lot of Americans, as I told
 
 28 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 you before. And they must be warm or they 're not 
 comfortable, are they, now?" 
 
 "I 'm afraid not," Leslie confessed. 
 
 "Waltheof will be so glad to see you again, 
 poor boy," Lady Rillingham went on smiling. "It 's 
 such a long, cold drive that I wanted to send a closed 
 carriage, but the brougham is just in with me, and 
 the landau is at Topton Junction waiting for the Kep- 
 pies ; poor dears, they will be very late ; they '11 be 
 held back by the school-children from the north." 
 
 " Dear me, but you have got a lot on your hands ! " 
 
 " Yes, have n't I? But it would n't be so hard if my 
 father-in-law had let the lines come on his land. But 
 I must run away now and leave you to rest. Here 's 
 a magazine to amuse you. There 's a very interesting 
 acrostic in the back. Are you any good at acrostics? " 
 She opened the roll under her arm as she spoke and 
 turned directly to a certain page. 
 
 Leslie took the book. " I 've never had much expe- 
 rience with acrostics," she said hesitatingly. 
 
 "Have n't you? Why, we work with them all the 
 time." Lady Rillingham's surprise was evident. "My 
 sister's governess often gets them out correctly." 
 She took the magazine again and looked at it eagerly. 
 "I '11 just show you a bit, and then you can go on
 
 LESLIE AND A PRIORY 29 
 
 alone by yourself. You see these lines refer to the 
 word ; it 's a little poem " She interrupted herself 
 to get her glasses and place them upon one of those 
 noses which the Romans left behind when they aban- 
 doned Britain. " There, my dear, this is it : 'As flies 
 the time, So flies my task; And with the rhyme, I 
 questions ask/ There, what do you make of that?" 
 
 Leslie looked at her quickly, believing that she 
 must be joking; but meeting her kindly, serious gaze, 
 she hesitated, struck dumb by this totally unexpected 
 phase of English country-house visiting. 
 
 "Can you make anything of it?" Lady Rillingham 
 asked. "You see you must have some basis to work 
 on, or you can't possibly get on at all, can you, now? 
 Nobody has been able to do anything with this one 
 as yet. My husband thought it was a crow ; but it J s 
 a double acrostic, you see." 
 
 "What is a double acrostic?" Leslie asked. 
 
 "Why, my dear, don't you know anything about 
 acrostics?" 
 
 "No, nothing." 
 
 "A double acrostic is when both ends spell some- 
 thing." 
 
 "When both ends spell " 
 
 " Yes, dear, that 's it. Here, for instance, this
 
 30 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 line: 'Below the sun, above the sea.' Miss Kitt (my 
 sister's governess is Miss Kitt) thinks it 's Vesuvius, 
 only we can't work the V in. But the S would do in 
 Cheapside. Only it would be a letter short, would n't 
 it?" 
 
 Lady Rillingham was looking attentively through 
 her glasses at the acrostic and did not see Leslie's 
 parted lips and air of complete bewilderment. The 
 latter could hardly persuade herself that she was not 
 the victim of some curious phase of humor. 
 
 "Oh, by the way," the hostess said, suddenly ceas- 
 ing to examine the acrostic, " you have your divorce, 
 haven't you?" 
 
 "My divorce ! I 'm a widow." 
 
 " Not really ? Not a real widow ? " 
 
 "Yes, indeed." 
 
 Lady Rillmgham removed her glasses and stared. 
 
 "You don't mean your husband is actually dead?" 
 
 "Yes yes, really." 
 
 "Really! Why, I never heard of such a thing! 
 An American husband actually dead! Sir Edward 
 will be pleased when I tell him. He does n't like 
 divorced women. But, my dear, are you sure? Do 
 excuse my surprise, but but I 'm so startled. I 
 only asked about your divorce on account of my
 
 LESLIE AND A PRIORY 31 
 
 sister. My sister is so fond of Americans ; she knows 
 ever so many, she let her place to one once, 
 but she had a very bitter experience last year, and 
 so I asked on her account. Oh, my sister did have an 
 experience ! " 
 
 "What happened?" 
 
 "Why, as you 're a widow I don't mind telling you 
 in confidence. But don't speak of it to her. She 'd 
 never forgive me. You see she took no end of trouble 
 for an American woman, had the man down repeat- 
 edly, you know, and all that; and when he offered 
 himself the woman was n't divorced. So trying for 
 my sister, was n't it? And the man was most vexed. 
 It placed him in such a trying position, did n't it, 
 now?" 
 
 " I 'm really a widow," said Leslie, feeling a little 
 frightened. " But I do hope you 're not having any 
 one down for me?" she added, attempting a smile. 
 
 "No, dear, no one." Lady Rillingham rose. "But 
 I must say I 'm pleased over you 're being a widow. 
 An American widow is such a novelty. And Sir 
 Edward will be pleased ; he so disapproves of divorces. 
 You know they 're most unpleasant with us. It 's 
 different with you." 
 
 " Yes," said Leslie ; she felt quite crushed.
 
 32 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "Now I must run along. I '11 be in the drawing- 
 room at eight, and do come down early. Maybe we 
 can work a bit on the acrostic before any of the others 
 get ready." 
 
 She looked at Leslie so earnestly that no one could 
 have done anything other than promise to hurry. 
 Leslie promised, feeling like Alice under the spell of 
 the Red Queen. 
 
 Then she was left alone. Rose, entering later with a 
 shining can of boiling water, found her asleep on the 
 lounge. The acrostic was in the chair by the fire.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 LESLIE AND THE ACROSTIC 
 
 IT was all of eight o'clock when Leslie, pleasantly 
 conscious of youth, health, and a handsomer gown 
 than any one else would likely be wearing, descended 
 the staircase and was ushered through two cold draw- 
 ing-rooms into one most gloriously, brightly warm. 
 Late as was the hour it was nevertheless easy to see 
 that she was full early, for Lady Rillingham was 
 sitting at the further end, with a glass screen between 
 herself and the fire, and the only other person present 
 was another lady, of large and severe appearance, in 
 a blue velvet dress. Lady Rillingham had on a 
 green satin gown with appliqued velvet roses placed 
 where the dressmaker had thought wisest; she had 
 the acrostic in her hand, and her glasses were in their 
 place. 
 
 Leslie wended her way hi and out amidst the 
 chaos which generations of generous bestow upon 
 the unhappy but continually hereditary drawing-
 
 34 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 rooms, until at last she touched the fingers of her 
 hostess. 
 
 "And this is my sister, Mrs. Maskelyne-Myster," 
 Lady Rillingham said, with a wave of the hand from 
 one to the other; "and we are so glad to have you 
 come and help us, aren't we, Edith? You see, this 
 is just the same as the one you had up hi your room; 
 we have two cppies. And oh, my dear, it is an awful 
 one ! " 
 
 She made a place for Leslie on the sofa as she 
 spoke, and directly that young woman was seated, 
 sat close beside her with the magazine hi her hand, 
 and an expression of the greatest possible solemnity 
 on her face. Mrs. Maskelyne-Myster, who had been 
 sitting on the other side of the fire, rose at once and 
 pushed her chair over close to them. Both sisters 
 seemed to recognize the advantage of focalizing 
 personal magnetism when anything great is to be 
 accomplished. 
 
 Lady Rillingham opened the magazine and offered 
 Leslie one side to hold. Leslie took hold of her side. 
 
 "There, that is it," said their hostess, pointing, 
 "right under that big splash of ink; the splash of 
 ink has nothing to do with it, however. The splash 
 of ink is an advertisement. I do hope you did n't
 
 LESLIE AND THE ACROSTIC 35 
 
 let the splash of ink confuse the meaning for you?" 
 She looked at Leslie with so much concern over the 
 possibility of such an evil chance, that Leslie has- 
 tened to disclaim all mental distress resulting from 
 the splash of ink. Mrs. Maskelyne-Myster, who had 
 been thoughtfully considering the stranger's gown up 
 to now, suddenly leaned over and studied the acrostic 
 upside down. 
 
 "I think it refers to the outgoing government, 
 it 's so pointed. 'As flies the time, So flies my task.' 
 I don't see how it can mean anything else. And my 
 husband feels exactly as I do about it." 
 
 " But, my dear Edith," said her sister, in a tone of 
 earnest entreaty, "'outgoing' has eight letters and 
 'government' has ten; and it's a double acrostic." 
 
 "But, my dear Maude, what does it mean, then?" 
 
 At that Lady Rillingham examined the acrostic 
 more closely yet through her glasses. "Perhaps 
 one of the men will be good at a guess!" she said 
 finally. 
 
 Mrs. Maskelyne-Myster turned and looked at the 
 fire for a full minute. "Is your room warm?" she 
 asked Leslie then, very abruptly. 
 
 Leslie almost jumped. "Yes," she said, and 
 sneezed before she could stop herself.
 
 36 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "I thought so," said Mrs. Maskelyne-Myster. 
 "You see, Maude, she's taken cold already." 
 
 "But I haven't," Leslie cried in great distress. 
 "I'm deliciously warm, and my room is as cozy as can 
 be; " and then, to her great dismay, she sneezed eight 
 times without stopping. 
 
 Lady Rillingham hastily laid the acrostic aside and 
 seized some smelling-salts and applied them. Leslie, 
 who had her handkerchief to her face, did not see the 
 salts until she smelled them. Then she went into a 
 veritable paroxysm of sneezing and rising, hastily 
 started to leave the room, but was stopped in the 
 doorway by Waltheof Rillingham, who was just 
 coming in. 
 
 "111?" he asked, with concern. 
 
 "No, j-j-just sneezing," said Leslie, and managed 
 to get around him and escape. She fairly flew up- 
 stairs and down the long west corridor. Her door 
 was next to the last, and as she approached it she 
 ran into a man just emerged from the last room of 
 all. It's an odd sensation to run into a strange man 
 in a long hall just before dinner. If he's the right 
 height his shirt-bosom creaks so curiously. 
 
 "Oh, my goodness me!" she exclaimed, extricating 
 herself quickly, and then she fell back against a door,
 
 LESLIE AND THE ACROSTIC 37 
 
 so startled that she did n't know whether it was 
 hers or not, and forgot all her sneezes. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said the man in a freezingly 
 polite tone, and turned back at once, that in the 
 privacy of his own room he might ascertain what 
 sort of a front she had left him to put up. Ladies in 
 dark halls sometimes betray more than they intend 
 just by laying a train of powder and not lighting it. 
 Leslie, left alone, forgot all about why she had come 
 up, and went back downstairs in a bewildered and 
 stunned state of mind. 
 
 "Are you better?" Lady Rillingham asked, as she 
 entered. " Oh, my dear, you 're feverish ! " She looked 
 distractedly at Waltheof, who was standing by the 
 fire. 
 
 "It's a chill," exclaimed Mrs. Maskelyne-Myster. 
 "I told you no American could stand our climate, 
 Maude. She's going to be ill." 
 
 "Give her a brandy and soda," suggested Waltheof. 
 
 "But I'm all right," Leslie protested. 
 
 "Take a brandy and soda," urged Waltheof. "I 
 will, if you will." 
 
 Just here the door opened and Mr. and Mrs. Keppie 
 entered. Greetings all around and of the most 
 cordial kind, for Mr. Keppie was going to be some-
 
 38 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 body some day, and his wife had begun to dress the 
 part already. 
 
 "What a time we have had, to be sure," said Mrs. 
 Keppie, adjusting a little bird which she wore hung 
 in her hair upside down. "Dear Lady Rillingham 
 we thought it was just Topton, and we got down 
 at Topton Pips." Mrs. Keppie's voice was most 
 plaintive. 
 
 "You see, my father-in-law wouldn't consent to 
 allowing the line to run over his land," said Lady 
 Rillingham; "it makes it so very difficult for 
 our friends. But, Mrs. Keppie, have you seen the 
 latest acrostic?" She opened the magazine as she 
 spoke. 
 
 Mrs. Keppie seized the other half of the journal 
 as if it were a straw and she had been drowned for a 
 week. As for Mr. Keppie, his face asumed the usual 
 expression of a man who is used to courting popu- 
 larity at any cost. That much of the party seemed 
 happily disposed of. 
 
 Waltheof approached Leslie. "Melton and I have 
 just been driving over from Witherhithe Wove," he 
 said, pronouncing it without the slightest difficulty; 
 "ever been there?" 
 
 Leslie, who always said "bin," wished she could
 
 LESLIE AND THE ACROSTIC 39 
 
 remember to pronounce it properly, and wondered 
 if she ever should. "No, never," she said sadly. 
 
 "From Witherhithe Wove!" cried Mr. Keppie, 
 abandoning the acrostic and joining forces with those 
 who didn't want to be joined. "That is a drive, 
 is n't it?" 
 
 "I believe you," said Waltheof. "Melton's sorry 
 he came." 
 
 "Who is Melton?" asked Mrs. Maskelyne-Myster, 
 without turning. 
 
 "Captain Melton? Oh, he 's a fellow in town. 
 You won't like him, aunt." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "He's sarcastic." 
 
 Just then the door opened and Sir Edward came 
 in. He was a stout, jolly man. "Hello, Waltheof," 
 he said cordially; "I didn't know you'd got here." 
 
 Then he spoke to all the rest. Then others entered, 
 and finally the door opened, and the man who had 
 the next room to Leslie's came in. He was a nice 
 man and she liked him at once. Of course he was 
 Captain Melton. Leslie liked captains. There was 
 hardly anything that a man could be that Leslie 
 did n't like. She had the most liberal views. 
 
 Dinner came next. After dinner Lady Rillingham
 
 40 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 took her guest to one side and spoke seriously with 
 her. "My dear, I'm so sorry, but I never met Cap- 
 tain Melton before, and he seems most peculiar." 
 
 "Yes," said Leslie, tentatively. 
 
 "He does n't like women and he dislikes Americans. 
 I 'm sure I wish that Waltheof had never asked him." 
 
 Leslie looked across at Mrs. Keppie and her host- 
 ess' sister. For a minute she hardly knew what to say. 
 
 "Captain Melton and I need not see much of one 
 another," she suggested finally. She felt that this 
 would be a pity even as she said it. Captain Mel- 
 ton would never know what he had missed, and 
 that seemed so sad. 
 
 "No, dear, of course not. And he'll be out of the 
 house most of the day, and I '11 see that he never sits 
 near you." 
 
 Leslie felt a revulsion of sentiment. "Oh, I've 
 nothing against him," she said quickly. 
 
 "No, of course; but why should you be annoyed 
 with him? When it's not necessary. That's what 
 I say." 
 
 Leslie felt horribly lonely at this, then she smiled. 
 "But perhaps I could bring him to like women and 
 - and Americans/' she suggested ; " shall shall I 
 trv?"
 
 LESLIE AND THE ACROSTIC 41 
 
 Lady Rillingham patted her hand. "It's like your 
 sweet nature to propose it," she said; "but I cant 
 allow you to martyr yourself. No, no, I '11 see that he 
 never troubles you. And now " she looked around 
 vaguely, "we'll just get together and work on the 
 acrostic " 
 
 "Acrostic!" said Mrs. Keppie from across the 
 room. "Oh, yes, do get the acrostic!" 
 
 "I'll read it to you all together," said Lady Rill- 
 ingham. "It may make it appear in a new light." 
 So she read it to them all together. 
 
 "Why, that means Herald Square," said a certain 
 large, raw-boned personage, who always traveled 
 with a hammer and a nut-cracker, and prided herself 
 on her unexpected resourcefulness. 
 
 "Herald Square!'' said Mrs. Maskelyne-Myster, 
 not understanding. 
 
 " Yes, where all the newspapers are printed for 
 America. Nothing could be simpler." 
 
 Leslie sighed. And then she sneezed. And then 
 the men came into the room. It was no use denying 
 that Melton was the best-looking man among them. 
 Leslie, who liked handsome men, felt dreadfully over 
 it all. It was hard; it hurt her as much as any- 
 thing could hurt her now that
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 LESLIE AND THE AFTER-DINNER HOUR 
 
 WHEN the men walked into the room Melton looked 
 directly at Leslie; this was hopeful. But his look 
 was indifferent and his brow slightly drawn; that 
 was horrid. Leslie felt a mad longing to make him 
 absolutely adore Americans come over her. She 
 often had such seizures and found them difficult to 
 recover from. 
 
 Melton came and stood near her and looked 
 at a picture. She wondered if she ought to say 
 anything. He continued to stand there, and finally 
 she decided that she must say something, so she 
 said: 
 
 "It was very stupid in me to run into you." 
 
 "Oh, that was nothing," said Melton, "people are 
 continually doing stupid things. One shouldn't be 
 captious." 
 
 Leslie hadn't expected that. Whenever she had 
 declared herself stupid, men had always said very
 
 THE AFTER-DINNER HOUR 43 
 
 nice things, indeed most awfully nice things. She 
 was much startled. 
 
 "I hope that I did n't hurt you badly?'' she said 
 after a while. 
 
 "Nothing to speak of," said the captain, still re- 
 garding the picture; "I'm too old a soldier to mind 
 a blow on the chest, even if it was a bit stiff." 
 
 Leslie quite gasped. " Were you were you in 
 the Crimea?" she asked hurriedly. She had the feel- 
 ing that she, at least, must attempt to be agreeable. 
 
 " No, I was n't, but my grandfather was. I was hi 
 the Partition of Poland." 
 
 "Oh," said Leslie. She had a vague feeling of 
 misery because of not knowing when Poland was 
 parted. "How nice," she murmured after a long 
 twenty seconds, and then she felt that they had 
 best cease discussing history. She looked upon his- 
 tory as her one, and only, vulnerable spot. 
 
 "You're not in the army now?" she asked. 
 
 "No, I'm here now," said the man. 
 
 She looked at him in real vexation then, for he spoke 
 with a sort of courtly insolence that she had never 
 encountered before. 
 
 " What makes you so abominably rude? " she 
 asked. "Is it because I 'm an American? "
 
 44 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 Melton let his monocle fall. " I did n't know that I 
 was abominably rude," he said; "pray overlook it. 
 I'm rather a boor, I know; but although I dislike 
 Americans I never intend to be abominably rude to 
 any one." 
 
 "But why do you dislike us so?" 
 
 He turned from the picture at last. "I often 
 wonder," he said; "it's a curious antipathy of mine. 
 Or perhaps it's because you've each been an Ameri- 
 can child once." 
 
 "And you don't like American children?" 
 
 "Horrid little brutes," said the captain, and turned 
 back to the picture. 
 
 " If I say another word he '11 take an antipathy 
 to me, most likely," Leslie thought, so she rose 
 and walked away to the other side of the room 
 and there seated herself on a low divan. Sir 
 Edward came at once and sat beside her. He 
 didn't want Waltheof to marry a widow, so he 
 warded off the possibility by sitting down beside 
 her himself. 
 
 "It's very cold," said Sir Edward. 
 'I'm delightfully warm," said Leslie. 
 
 ' I meant outdoors," said Sir Edward. "Do you 
 soo that picture?" he indicated one opposite.
 
 THE AFTER-DINNER HOUR 45 
 
 "It's a portrait, isn't it?" she asked. 
 
 "My great-uncle," said Sir Edward. 
 
 She looked at the painting in astonishment, for 
 it represented a young girl of sixteen weaving a 
 daisy chain. "It's it's very beautiful," she 
 hazarded. 
 
 "Yes," said Sir Edward, "he was a great painter." 
 
 Leslie hoped that Captain Melton had heard that, 
 as he had seemed to her to have a sense of humor. 
 That led her to ask : 
 
 "Is Captain Melton Irish?" 
 
 "He doesn't look so, does he?" Sir Edward re- 
 plied; then he dropped his voice. "Most peculiar 
 chap," he said; "I can't understand Waltheof's 
 taste." 
 
 They were getting out the bridge tables, and now 
 the morose captain sat gayly down and won all the 
 money the company had on them and some they 
 had n't. 
 
 "My friend isn't making himself popular," said 
 Waltheof, coming over to a seat by Leslie, who did 
 not play because the cards never made any impres- 
 sion on her. 
 
 "I think it's awful to play for money," she said. 
 
 "I fancy the rest all agree with you."
 
 46 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 Then Waltheof turned so that his back screened 
 them both from his mother and talked of other 
 things. 
 
 " Don't, please," Leslie implored. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Don't lean over me that way!" 
 
 "Why not? No one can see." 
 
 " Your breath on my ear oh ! t-there, I knew it 
 would end so." She began to sneeze violently again. 
 
 She sneezed and sneezed, until she not only had to 
 go to her room but broke up the bridge. They all 
 came over by the fire. 
 
 "You ought not to have asked her," Mrs. Maske- 
 lyne-Myster said, with a sister's freedom; "my hus- 
 band feels just as I do about it." 
 
 "Americans are no good in December in England," 
 said Captain Melton, who, since his winnings, had 
 become markedly better-tempered. 
 
 "She's very charming," said Mrs. Keppie, who 
 was so embittered by her losses that she did n't 
 know what she was saying but meant to disagree 
 with the captain anyhow. 
 
 " If she has influenza, it '11 run through the whole 
 house; you know that, don't you, Maude?" said 
 Mrs. Maskelyne-Myster. "Think of my girls!"
 
 THE AFTER-DINNER HOUR 47 
 
 "Let's think about ourselves a little bit first," 
 said Captain Melton. "Why don't you quarantine 
 her?" 
 
 "But that will quarantine you too; you're right 
 next to her, you know," said Lady Rillingham seri- 
 ously. "I can't think she's really ill. Let's get the 
 acrostic." 
 
 "I hate acrostics," said Captain Melton. 
 
 Mrs, Keppie went at once and sat by her husband. 
 "Did he drink much?" she whispered hi a tone so 
 near to inaudible that every one was only just able 
 to hear what she said. 
 
 Waltheof began to laugh. His mother rose and 
 looked feverishly about for the acrostic. 
 
 "What are you going to do to-morrow?" Mr. 
 Maskelyne-Myster asked of his brother-in-law. 
 
 "We thought of motoring to Dorchester. Mrs. 
 Revere 's never been there. I suppose the rest of 
 you will hunt." 
 
 A hunting ripple passed over the party. 
 
 "Who will go to Dorchester?" Mrs. Keppie 
 asked. 
 
 "I'm going to take the chauffeur," said Sir Ed- 
 ward seriously he was naturally a very serious 
 man " and my wife, and Mrs. Revere, of course,
 
 48 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 and any one else who wants to go. There will be 
 room for two more for one more, comfortably." 
 
 There was no immediate rush for either the com- 
 fortable or the uncomfortable vacant space. 
 
 "The roads struck me as very slippery," said 
 Melton; "but perhaps you've managed to accustom 
 your Dorsetshire tires to that." 
 
 "You can't accustom a tire to anything," said 
 Mr. Keppie. 
 
 "Can't you, indeed," said Melton; "mine are used 
 to anything." 
 
 Mr. Keppie looked closely at his face. His wife 
 looked anxiously from one to the other. 
 
 "There, I have it at last," exclaimed Lady Rilling- 
 ham, rejoining them with the magazine; "now we'll 
 have a delightful half-hour." 
 
 Every one drew around the fire except such as 
 were already standing before it. 
 
 "What do you say to a game of billiards before 
 we break up?" Waltheof proposed to his friend. 
 
 "But can Lady Rillingham spare me?" Melton 
 asked, smiling pleasantly at his hostess. 
 
 "Yes, yes," said her Ladyship hurriedly; "there's 
 a beautiful fire in the billiard-room." 
 
 They went out directly.
 
 THE AFTER-DINNER HOUR 49 
 
 'Oh, Maude, what a terrible man," cried Mrs. 
 Maskelyne-Myster, almost before the door was fairly 
 shut; ''three pounds, ten, my dear, three pounds, 
 ten!" 
 
 "I never like playing for money," said Lady Rill- 
 ingham, who had two pounds, five, gnawing at her 
 own conscience. "Waltheof knows him; I wish 
 Waltheof did n't." 
 
 "I think he's rather amusing," said Sir Edward. 
 "That was rather good what he said about the 
 tires; I did n't think so at the moment, but I've 
 been thinking it over since, and it was really rather 
 good." 
 
 "I didn't think so," said Mrs. Keppie; "I don't 
 find anything he says in the least amusing. I think 
 he 's a boor." 
 
 "And if she has influenza and my girls get it!" 
 said Mrs. Maskelyne-Myster, with a long, solemn, 
 expressive pause. 
 
 "Perhaps it's hay fever?" suggested Mr. Keppie. 
 
 "Or face powder?" suggested his wife. 
 
 "You do have the most impossible people down 
 here, Maude," said Lady Rillingham's sister severely. 
 "Why don't you confine yourself to your own set, 
 as others do?"
 
 50 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 Lady Rillingham had had her sister too long to 
 care in the slightest degree what she said or thought 
 about anything. 
 
 "Let us work on the acrostic," she pleaded. 
 "Wouldn't it really be quickest to get it out by 
 separate words? Take this, for instance: 'From 
 tower and turret, bell to bell doth peal ; And slippers 
 laid aside bare stones can feel.' That would be 
 mosque, would n't it?" 
 
 "Or Madeira, perhaps," said Mr. Keppie. "They 
 used to travel from one to the other, you know." 
 
 "Oh, yes," exclaimed Lady Rillingham, fairly 
 delighted over having evoked one little -spark of 
 interest. "That must be it, of course. Do draw 
 near, Albert," she said to her brother; "you're so 
 good at all this." 
 
 " I 'm not good at it at all," he said ; " I never tried 
 to do one in my life." 
 
 "Well, at least you can fetch the dictionary and 
 help us. Come now." 
 
 Meanwhile, in the billiard-room the guest had 
 just finished a run of fifty-two. 
 
 "Oh, I say," cried Waltheof, "this will never do, 
 you know. To-morrow you'll kill all the foxes, and 
 the day after you'll shoot all the pheasants, and
 
 THE AFTER-DINNER HOUR 51 
 
 then you'll go up to town again and not leave a 
 friend behind you." 
 
 "I'm not going to hunt to-morrow," said Melton. 
 "I'm going to Dorchester. And I shan't be urged 
 to play bridge again, and that suits me very well; 
 for I never stay a winner long." 
 
 Then Waltheof gasped in his turn.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 LESLIE AND THE MOTOR 
 
 THERE were no thrills of joy when it was learned that 
 Waltheof's friend was going to join the motor-party. 
 Sir Edward took the precaution of hurriedly sending 
 forth word that no matter what happened nobody but 
 the driver was to touch the motor. 
 
 "I 'm afraid he 's one of those men who will simply 
 absorb all the rugs," said Lady Rillingham, who, in 
 the privacy of her own room, was busily engaged hi 
 making a neat mat out of her hair with invisible hair- 
 pins. "Who invited him to go, anyway?" 
 
 The maid was laying out a choice array of lined 
 coats, and Mrs. Maskelyne-Myster in her riding-habit 
 was looking out of the window. 
 
 "The man is a cad," said the latter feelingly, - 
 "a cad, my dear. Three pounds, ten!" 
 
 "You ought to go, Edith," said her Ladyship; 
 "you '11 have a very bad hour overtaking them no\v, v 
 
 "Albert isn't ready."
 
 LESLIE AND THE MOTOR 53 
 
 "Albert went on with Dr. Bigsmouth a long time 
 ago." 
 
 At this Mrs. Maskelyne-Myster gave a jump and 
 left the room at once. 
 
 "Give me my woolen hug-me-tight, Grey," said 
 Lady Rillingham, with a stout sigh. The maid did 
 as she was bid and then, by further labor, succeeded 
 in getting everything else laid on the bed off the bed 
 and on to her mistress. 
 
 The hunters were long gone when the motoring party 
 gathered under the Doric portico. They looked like 
 a polar expedition but many motoring parties look 
 like polar expeditions. 
 
 "You shall sit in front, Melton," said Sir Edward.. 
 "I '11 sit with my wife, and Mrs. Revere will sit be- 
 tween us. Is the foot-warmer in, Benson, and the 
 extra rugs?" 
 
 "Everything is in, sir," said one of the half-dozen 
 servants who were swarming quietly about, poking 
 umbrellas and guide-books and other necessities 
 here and there. 
 
 " I think we may start now," said Lady Rillingham, 
 pulling three veils down and two collars up, "and 
 we want to go by Winny Abbey and come back over 
 Bushrow Hill, my dear."
 
 64 HUW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "Oh, my dear Maude," expostulated her husband, 
 "we can't come back over the hill." 
 
 "Yes, we can; I want to show Mrs. Revere the 
 view." 
 
 " It '11 be too dark to see the view, Maude." 
 
 "Then we must leave Dorchester a bit earlier, 
 Edward." 
 
 "But we must get to Dorchester before we can 
 leave Dorchester, Maude." 
 
 "Edward!" 
 
 "Maude!" 
 
 " Do you mind my lighting a cigarette while you 're 
 talking it over?" said the captain. Leslie looked at 
 him in real horror. And yet she could n't help liking 
 him, because he was so good-looking. 
 
 No cigarette was lit, because the suggestion closed 
 the discussion at once. They set off, and they took the 
 road by Winny Abbey. 
 
 The way was very pretty, but there was a piercing 
 wind. Leslie, tucked between her host and hostess, 
 was deliciously comfortable; not so they. It soon 
 showed in their comportment. 
 
 "That 's Winny Abbey, there to the right, Mrs. 
 Revere," said Sir Edward; "it 's the oldest Cistercian 
 foundation in England."
 
 LESLIE AND THE MOTOR 55 
 
 "Benedictine, Edward," said his wife. 
 
 "Cistercian, Maude," said her husband. 
 
 "Benedictine." 
 
 "Cistercian." 
 
 The motor rolled swiftly nearer. 
 
 "Why, it isn't Winny Abbey at all," said Sir 
 Edward ; "it's Little Claptrap Church. I thought we 
 were on the other road." 
 
 " I did n't see how you could see Winny Abbey from 
 this road," said his wife; "but of course I never con- 
 tradict you." 
 
 "Of course not," said her husband. 
 
 " My dear, such a curious thing," Lady Rillingham 
 said to Leslie, "that ditch to the right not the one 
 to the left ; nobody knows anything about the ditch 
 to the left but that ditch to the right is said to be 
 one of the oldest Saxon ditches in England." 
 
 " One of the earliest British ditches," corrected Sir 
 Edward. 
 
 "Saxon, Edward." 
 
 "British, Maude." 
 
 "Edward!" 
 
 "Maude!" 
 
 "There isn't any ditch along here," cried Captain 
 Melton.
 
 56 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "Oh, I was thinking of the Tippy Lipton Road," 
 said Lady Rillinzham. "I wanted to go the Tippy 
 Lipton Road." 
 
 "Why did n't you say so, then?" said Sir Edward. 
 
 "Say so, Edward!" 
 
 "Say so, Maude!" 
 
 Leslie began to feel very uncomfortable, but just 
 then the motor broke down with a whizz and changed 
 the bent of the conversation. 
 
 "I wanted to drive," said Lady Rillingham, who 
 experienced much the same difficulty in getting out 
 in her wraps that the Biblical camel is cautioned 
 against in regard to the needle's eye. " I never like to 
 motor." 
 
 " You can't drive to Dorchester," said her husband. 
 
 "Edward!" 
 
 "Maude!" 
 
 "Come, my dear, let us walk on a bit," said Lady 
 Rillingham, who never was ruffled in the least degree 
 by her marital bouts. "They can overtake us." 
 
 "Or else we can't, you know," said Melton, who 
 was now lighting the cigarette; "you can count on 
 our doing one of the two, however." 
 
 They walked on. It was a lovely country road, 
 with no end of picturesque twists and turns.
 
 LESLIE AND THE MOTOR 57 
 
 "And do you know, my dear," said Lady Rilling- 
 ham, as soon as they were out of the motor's hearing, 
 " I just took out the page with the acrostic on it and 
 I 've got it in my muff. We can have a nice time 
 working on it as we walk along." 
 
 Leslie gasped; but just then the motor came 
 flying up. 
 
 "It wasn't anything at all," Sir Edward said, 
 getting down; "only took half a minute's work." 
 
 The captain got down, too, hoisted her Ladyship 
 into the car, and threw Leslie in on top of her. He 
 was a strong man, and it was a truly beautiful fling 
 that he gave her. It loosened all her hairpins, but 
 she did n't mind. 
 
 "Do you know, he's uncommonly knowing hi 
 motors," Sir Edward told them, raising his eyebrows 
 and nodding hard at the front seat to let both ladies 
 know whom he meant. 
 
 " I 've been used to them all my life," the man on 
 the front seat said, without turning. 
 
 Lady Rillingham poked her husband behind Leslie, 
 opened her eyes widely, and otherwise signified that 
 Captain Melton had certainly heard what had been 
 said about him. 
 
 They reached Dorchester about half-past one.
 
 58 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "Just in time for lunch," said Sir Edward; "we '11 
 eat, and then we '11 go and see Maumsbury Rings." 
 
 "That 's the Roman Amphitheatre, is n't it?" asked 
 the captain. 
 
 "Yes, have you seen it?" 
 
 "No, but I 've heard about it." 
 
 "He seem3 to be well-read," Sir Edward said, in a 
 very low tone, to his wife. 
 
 "Oh, I like old ruins," said their weird guest. 
 
 All three looked at him in different kinds of dismay. 
 
 After luncheon they walked out to the Roman 
 Amphitheatre, which, owing to the fact that the 
 ground belongs to the Prince of Wales, who rents 
 it for a sheep-pasture, has never been uncovered ex- 
 cept in spots, and has then always been hastily 
 covered up again. 
 
 "It is n't as interesting as it might be, is it?" said 
 Lady Rillingham. "Some think it most uninter- 
 esting. " 
 
 "Is there anything else to see in Dorchester?" the 
 captain asked. 
 
 "There 's the museum. It contains a Roman pave- 
 ment," suggested Sir Edward cautiously. 
 
 "That can't be anything new." 
 
 "Perhaps we'd better start back," said Sir Ed-
 
 LESLIE AND THE MOTOR 59 
 
 ward. "We want to climb Bushrow Hill by daylight, 
 if possible." 
 
 "But we haven't seen half Dorchester yet," pro- 
 tested Lady Billingham; "there is a great deal yet 
 to be seen." 
 
 " Oh, no, there is n't, Maude," said her husband. 
 
 "Edward!" 
 
 They went back to the motor. All the wraps were 
 safe, and they were soon in and off. 
 
 "The days are so short," said Leslie. 
 
 "Yes, aren't they?" said her hostess. "Edward, 
 did you buy the new number?" 
 
 "The new number of what, Maude?" 
 
 "Of the acrostic." 
 
 Silence betrayed the true fact of the case. 
 
 "There, that 'a St. Ebba's Well ! " said Lady Rffling- 
 ham, rallying her forces after the blow. 
 
 "St. Tibbet's Well," corrected her husband. 
 
 "St. Ebba's, Edward." 
 
 "St. Tibbet's, Maude." 
 
 "Is that the hill?" the captain called from the 
 front seat. 
 
 "That? Oh, no, we're ten miles from Bushrow 
 Hill," Sir Edward answered. 
 
 "Twelve," said his wife.
 
 60 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "Ten," said her husband 
 
 They sped on and on until, just as night fell com- 
 pletely, they whirled a corner and flew at Bushrow 
 Hill. 
 
 Half-way up they stuck. 
 
 "We must all get out," said Sir Edward. "Get 
 out, Maude." 
 
 "Dear, dear!" said Lady Rillingham. 
 
 Melton reached into the motor, lifted Leslie out as 
 if she had been a baby and set her gently down hi the 
 mud. She was beginning to like him very much 
 indeed. 
 
 "Now hunt for stones," he bade her. 
 
 "Why? "she asked. 
 
 "Because!" he answered, and passed around in 
 front of the motor. 
 
 "Was that a joke or did he really mean it?" Lady 
 Rillingham, who seemed to have taken dumb root by 
 the back wheel, asked Leslie. 
 
 "I don't know," Leslie replied. "I never saw such 
 a man." 
 
 "Maude, are you hunting for stones?" Sir Edward 
 inquired in the dark. 
 
 "Then it wasn't a joke," said Lady Rillingham, 
 with an air of relief . "My husband never jokes. His
 
 LESLIE AND THE MOTOR 61 
 
 father never did. We must find some stones ; they '11 
 be right beside the road if they 're anywhere." 
 
 The motor stood still with its four huge eyes glaring 
 ahead, and the driver and the captain diving actively 
 in front of it. Behind, in the pitchy Stygian dark- 
 ness, Sir Edward, his wife and Leslie sought fruit- 
 lessly for stones. 
 
 "I knew that we could neve? make this hill," said 
 Sir Edward, when he had pounced on his fifteenth 
 stone and found it to be a dead leaf, after all. 
 
 "Then why did n't you say so?" said his wife. 
 
 "I did." 
 
 "Edward !" with two exclamation points. 
 
 "Maude!" with three. 
 
 "I think there 's nothing to do but to back down, 
 sir," said the chauffeur. 
 
 "Well, if we must, we must." 
 
 It took about fifteen minutes to commit the deed, 
 for the motor acted like an elephant whose mind is 
 wandering. The party spent their tune alternately 
 rushing down in the ditch or up hi the hedge to keep 
 out of the way. 
 
 They reached the Priory about seven. Sir Edward 
 was most uncommunicative during the last hour. His 
 wife asked him several questions and he answered none
 
 62 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 of them, so she finally announced her conviction that 
 he must be asleep. 
 
 "If he's asleep, you and I can talk freely," she 
 said then, "and, my dear, I 'm very glad, because I 
 want to tell you who is coming to-night." 
 
 "Who?" said Leslie, bracing herself to support her 
 slumbering host as well as she could. 
 
 " Such a nice man. You '11 like him immensely. 
 And between ourselves, dear, I asked him just on 
 your account." 
 
 " Oh," said Leslie, her tone non-committal. 
 
 " He 's English, but he 's been in America and will 
 understand just what you mean all the tune. You '11 
 like him. And I expect you could marry him if you 
 chose." 
 
 Leslie did n't just know what to say to that. 
 
 " He is n't so very well off, but he 's not poor by any 
 means, and he has n't any sisters ; he 's really quite 
 desirable." 
 
 Leslie felt very miserable, owing to the other 
 man's close proximity and acute hearing. She had 
 only made the merest beginning with him, and she 
 really was n't quite ready to make another fresh 
 start. 
 
 " I '11 manage so you see a good bit of one another,"
 
 LESLIE AND THE MOTOR 63 
 
 said Lady Rillingham, "and if you like him I'll 
 manage so you 're together constantly." 
 
 Just here they whirled up on their own ridgy 
 avenue. 
 
 "So pleasant to be at home again," Leslie said 
 faintly. She felt that that was a perfectly safe state- 
 ment to make in any case.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 LESLIE AND ANOTHER MAN 
 
 DRESSING for dinner that night Leslie was not happy. 
 She thought perhaps it was the long ride to Dorchester, 
 but she felt also that perhaps she cared for Hugo too 
 much. If she cared for him at all any more, it would 
 be that much too much, for Captain Melton had begun 
 to strike her as a delightful possibility. He had begun 
 to look at her in the right way. There is a right way in 
 which a man can look at a woman and there is a wrong 
 way, and Captain Melton knew the right way. Then, 
 too, he was so disagreeable, and Leslie was the sort 
 of woman who cannot tell brutality from sincerity, 
 nor cleverness from rudeness. She felt really drawn 
 towards the captain, and under those circumstances it 
 would be silly to break her heart over Hugo. Leslie 
 was never silly. She could n't break her heart. She 
 could forget Hugo, and she made up her mind to do 
 so at once. 
 
 It came over her how hideous it would be for a
 
 LESLIE AND ANOTHER MAN 65 
 
 woman to really have her heart broken. She felt that 
 the woman would have a right to be very angry, and 
 she frowned as she thought how angry. Then she 
 wondered if she did love this new man. Suddenly she 
 remembered what Lady Rillingham had said about still 
 another new man and felt her abyss deepening. It is 
 awful to have new men come too fast. It is like an 
 English dinner w r here they always carry off the plates 
 before one is finished. Leslie felt life to be sadly com- 
 plicated. She sighed, put on her necklace, and went 
 down to dinner. On the stairs she decided once and 
 for all time that she did not love Hugo and would cease 
 to think about hun. It is very dangerous when a 
 woman decides that she no longer loves the man with 
 whom she is in love, and that she will henceforth cease 
 to think about him. It 's bad for any other man who 
 may be around and happen to like her. It 's his great 
 chance, and if luck is against him he sometimes gets 
 the woman, or if luck is for him. 
 
 The new man that arrived that evening was a very 
 nice man indeed. He was n't as big as Hugo, but he 
 was better-looking than Captain Melton and a better 
 fellow. He had many advantages over the latter, 
 whatever might be his general status as to the former. 
 He was an older man and a wiser man, glad to hear
 
 66 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 that Leslie was a widow (for he did n't approve of 
 divorce any more than Sir Edward did), but ready to 
 like her whatever she was, directly he caught the 
 first glimpse of her. The instant that he saw her he 
 thought, with a pleasant thrill, that if he liked her he 
 might marry her. Many men and women meet one 
 another on some such basis. 
 
 There were a good many strange people to dinner, 
 some with their hair done very remarkably indeed. 
 There was the girl who had been designed for Waltheof , 
 only Waltheof declined his own part in the pattern. 
 Leslie felt sorry for the girl, who had apparently been 
 designed for nothing else. 
 
 Dinner lasted a long while, and the new man sat 
 far away, and she did not know which he was for ever 
 so long. Captain Melton sat on her left and was very 
 good indeed. 
 
 But his savor seemed to have departed, somehow. 
 Coming events were perhaps already casting their 
 shadows before. Finally, 
 
 "What do you think of Woman's Suffrage?" the 
 captain said, and that ended his standing in Leslie's 
 eyes. The weather is a bright new topic to launch in 
 England compared to Woman's Suffrage just now. 
 Leslie decided she would n't marry so stupid a con-
 
 67 
 
 versationalist under any circumstances. It would be 
 better to be unrequited by Hugo. She felt a sudden 
 sympathy with the world's judgment of Captain 
 Melton. 
 
 " I do wonder what sort of a woman you '11 marry," 
 she said, savagely stabbing her bird in the breast. 
 
 "But I've married," said Melton. "You don't 
 mean to say you don't know that? I married ten 
 years ago." 
 
 Leslie nearly fell into the sauce they were just then 
 offering her. "No, I did n't know it," she said. 
 
 "How droll. But you 're married, too?" 
 
 "But I'm a widow." 
 
 "Well, I 'm a widower." 
 
 Then she was angry. 
 
 Melton seemed vastly amused over this little 
 contretemps. 
 
 "Have you any children?" she asked presently. 
 
 "No; have you?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 Their mutual loneliness did not seem to bring them 
 any closer together. Leslie was very glad when she 
 could leave his side. Even the acrostic seemed pref- 
 erable to a man so full of surprises. She wondered 
 that she could ever have liked him for a minute.
 
 68 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 Mrs. Keppie hooked on to her in the corridor and 
 asked her if her pearls were real. Leslie resented this, 
 since they were not. 
 
 "I have some real pearls," she said; "but they 're 
 in a safe hi New York." 
 
 "I thought all Americans had real pearls," said 
 Mrs. Keppie, who did n't believe hi the safe hi New 
 York, and thought Leslie lacking hi brains not to 
 have lied when she could have done it so easily. 
 
 When the men came into the drawing-room the 
 new man came and sat down by Leslie. Mrs. Keppie 
 thereupon moved away. 
 
 "I wish you would tell me something at once," 
 said the new man. "Are you hi love? I know that 
 you 're married." 
 
 Leslie was so startled that she could hardly breathe. 
 
 "I don't want to trouble to begin the game if 
 you 're hi love," said the new man. " It 's a game 
 I 'm good at, but if you 're in love and concealing it, 
 I 've gotten past the age that thinks all 's fair even 
 hi war." 
 
 She looked at him. "What 's your name?" she 
 said, "and how old are you?" 
 
 "My name's Jlalph Witney," he answered, "and 
 I 'm forty-one."
 
 LESLIE AND ANOTHER MAN 69 
 
 "I think 1 7 m still in love," said Leslie slowly, "but 
 I 'm not sure. Anyway, I Ve decided not to ever 
 see him again." 
 
 "Then you 're not engaged?" said Witney. 
 
 "Oh, no," said Leslie readily, "he never asked me. 
 It was just just just 
 
 "I see," said the man; "never mind explaining. I 
 understand perfectly." 
 
 The rest were all playing bridge, all except Melton 
 and Waltheof, who got left out in some curiously en- 
 tangled manner. Leslie, on the sofa by the fire, was 
 amused and interested. She liked this man very much. 
 He agreed to drive her to see the meet next day. She 
 felt a lovely sense of getting the better of Hugo. It was 
 really exhilarating to be so free from thrall. 
 
 About eleven o'clock Waltheof came into the room 
 and dragged a seat up near the sofa. "Well, that 's 
 over," he said, rubbing his hands; "my, but the night 
 is bitter!" 
 
 "Where have you been?" Leslie asked. 
 
 " I drove with Melton to the station." 
 
 "Who was he, anyway?" asked Witney. 
 
 "He wasn't such a bad sort," Waltheof said care- 
 lessly, looking into the fire; "only he lacked tact." 
 Then he rose and joined the bridge group.
 
 70 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "Well, I can see that Waltheof isn't the man," 
 said Witney. "You haven't much ability at con- 
 cealing your feelings, have you?" 
 
 "Oh, I haven't any at all," said Leslie; "but of 
 course Mr. Rillingham is n't the man. I don't believe 
 I care any more about the man, anyway. Only, 
 when I think of caring for any one else I I 'm 
 afraid. I don't know what I 'm afraid of. But 
 I 'm afraid." 
 
 "Try to explain," said Witney, encouragingly. 
 
 " But there 's nothing to explain. It 's no use, 
 anyhow." 
 
 "Where is he?" 
 
 Leslie looked for a minute as if she was seriously 
 considering whether to tell or not. "I don't know 
 where he is," she said finally. 
 
 "Have you known him long?" 
 
 "About a year." 
 
 "You know a lot about him, of course." 
 
 " Yes, I know ever so many people who know him." 
 
 "And you really think you care about him?" 
 
 Leslie considered. "Well, I did think so," she said 
 finally. 
 
 "What are his attractions? Is he handsome?" 
 
 " Y yes. I think he 's handsome."
 
 LESLIE AND ANOTHER MAN 71 
 
 "What do you like best about him?" 
 
 She considered. "He can make me mind; and 
 then, too, he' s so big ; I feel so safe with him." 
 
 "Has he saved you from danger often?" 
 
 "N no." 
 
 "You 'd better give it all over," said Witney, with 
 the faintest possible note of authority in his voice. 
 "I'm quite sure that he isn't at all the man for 
 you." 
 
 Leslie was nothing in the world but a very feminine 
 woman. "Don't you think so?" she said faintly, de- 
 pressed by this summary dismissal of her case. 
 
 "I know it," said Witney, who was a more than 
 ordinarily masculine man and always sponged his 
 slate before beginning a fresh sum. 
 
 Leslie hesitated about entirely giving up her love 
 on such short notice. 
 
 "I imagine he bothers you a lot. Does he like to 
 bother you?" 
 
 "Y yes; he likes to be unaccountable." 
 
 "You don't want to marry a man that likes to be 
 unaccountable," said Witney. 
 
 "Well, he's never asked me to marry him," said 
 Leslie. "I told you that before." 
 
 "You can't marry a man who never asks you, you
 
 72 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 know," said Witney. "I 'd give it all over, and think 
 no more about him." 
 
 It sounded very feasible. She looked at the floor 
 and then she looked at Witney. It seemed the only 
 sensible course to follow. 
 
 They talked of other things and had a truly lovely 
 time. They made all sorts of plans for the next three 
 days. 
 
 But the next morning one of the under housemaids 
 came down with the scarlet fever, and the whole party 
 exploded in thin air. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Keppie and Leslie went up to London 
 on the same train. Witney went too. There were 
 five days before the date set for the visit to Mrs. 
 Lewes in Kenelm, and Leslie saw a great deal of 
 Witney. She saw nothing at all of Guilford, because 
 he really had gone to Paris, or somewhere else. At 
 any rate, he was n't in London.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 LESLIE AND HER DOUBTS 
 
 BY the end of the five days in London Leslie was 
 more than ever uncertain as to whom she was in love 
 with. She felt quite giddy. It is difficult to be im- 
 partial when one of the men is in Paris, even if one is 
 not silly, and Leslie let it never be forgotten 
 was not silly. 
 
 She went to take tea with Witney at the Carlton, 
 and she looked so bewitchingly pretty that the casual 
 observer would have surmised her next surname 
 without overstudy. 
 
 "He doesn't write often, does he?" said Witney, 
 who was clever enough to always keep her deadly 
 weary of the subject of Hugo. 
 
 "N no," she said; "he's never been great at 
 letter-writing." 
 
 " Perhaps he is n't reduced to such poor means of 
 keeping his memory alive in his friends' minds?" 
 
 Leslie did n't know what to say.
 
 74 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "Women are very odd," said Witney thoughtfully. 
 " You don't really care anything about that man ; you 
 just fancy that you do." 
 
 "Do you really think that?" she said earnestly. 
 
 "Think it! I know it!" 
 
 She looked at him. "He 's always been very nice 
 to me," she said dubiously. 
 
 "Has he ever made desperate love to you?" 
 
 "I don't know what you call desperate love. He 's 
 made me love him desperately. Is n't that enough?" 
 
 "He 's a gentleman whose self-control I 'm very far 
 from admiring, then," said Witney, with emphasis. 
 "You 'd better give him up." 
 
 Leslie looked more than ever dubious. 
 
 " You don't really know what love is," said Witney. 
 
 She looked at him again, this time less kindly. No 
 woman likes to be told that she does n't know what 
 love is. A prettier way of putting it is to add "up 
 to now." 
 
 There was a pause. He wondered if she were going 
 to say "What is it?" but she did n't. After all, per- 
 haps, she was wise ; the Carlton with all its charms is 
 a very public place. There are only those two little 
 tables behind the palms and they are open on three 
 tides.
 
 LESLIE AND HER DOUBTS 75 
 
 "I 'm going down to Kenelm day after to-morrow," 
 she said finally. 
 
 Perhaps as a reply to his assertion it did as well as 
 anything. 
 
 "Where is that?" the Englishman asked, after an. 
 instant's consideration. 
 
 "You change at Snipham." 
 
 " I don't, for I Ve never been there." 
 
 "Well, I change at Snipham, then." 
 
 "Whose place is it?" 
 
 "It isn't anybody's place; they want to get out 
 of London for Christmas week, and so they 're taking 
 a party down there." 
 
 "Down where?" 
 
 'To an inn. The Guardian Inn." She knew aJI 
 about it now. 
 
 "Is it near the Downs?" 
 
 "What Downs?" 
 
 "The Sussex Downs." 
 
 "I don't know. I don't know anything about H. 
 I only know that I 'm asked and that I can't take 
 maid." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " There 's no room for her." 
 
 "Ah, the Guardian's scope is limited?"
 
 76 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "It seems so." 
 
 " I J m afraid you '11 find it very cold," said Witney. 
 
 "What, in an inn?" 
 
 "Oh, dear, yes." 
 
 Leslie looked sober ; she had quite forgotten about 
 the cold. 
 
 "But they are Americans," she said; "they '11 be 
 sure to be warm." 
 
 "They may find it a task beyond their powers," 
 said Witney. " I have known Americans who could n't 
 possibly keep warm in Europe. I 've heard them men- 
 tioning the fact among themselves." 
 
 Leslie laughed and took a bit of cake. 
 
 "If I 'm too cold I can return," she said. 
 
 "What, if you 're a guest? Oh, yes, you can have 
 a telegram sent you, of course." 
 
 Somehow she felt suddenly singularly lukewarm as 
 to her Kenelm invitation. "But it 's too late to get 
 out of it now," she thought, a bit dismally. 
 
 " Shan't I take you down ? " Witney suggested. " It 
 is n't much of a run." 
 
 Her enthusiasm rose like a geyser. "Oh, that 
 would be sport," she exclaimed joyfully. "But what 
 would you do after you got there?" she paused to 
 add, somewhat appalled.
 
 LESLIE AND HER DOUBTS 77 
 
 "Oh, I don't know. Stay at the Guardian, per- 
 haps?" 
 
 "But if there is n't room for Rose?" 
 
 "There would be room for me." 
 
 Leslie did n't stop to consider the difficulties ; she 
 thought that it would be lovely. She had n't known 
 Witney much over a week yet, but she already hated 
 to be parted from him. Leslie was a woman of strong 
 friendships. 
 
 " I '11 get my things thrown together to-night," the 
 man went on, "and I'll meet you at what time 
 to-morrow?" 
 
 "I go from Victoria at half-past one." 
 
 "What an abominable hour to start." 
 
 "But I couldn't get there for lunch and I can 
 for tea." 
 
 "I see." 
 
 So it was settled, and it was an hour or so after she 
 had been left at home before she began to feel that 
 maybe she was thickening her plot a bit too much. 
 Also she felt uneasy over Hugo. She could n't seem 
 to altogether recover from Hugo. It is very difficult to 
 be a woman. She recognized this upon rinding a note 
 from Rita Coghlan stating that the fortune-teller was 
 set for next day. Her face fell most unaffectedly at
 
 78 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 this piece of news ; there is nothing quite so distress- 
 ing as to go to a fortune-teller when you do not know 
 what you want her to say. Under those circumstances 
 she is prone to pronounce your character vacillating 
 and, after much wandering of her mind, describe quite 
 the wrong man. 
 
 Leslie retired, feeling very blue. She felt that per- 
 haps she had underrated her constancy. " I dare say 
 I really am broken-hearted after all," she reflected; 
 it was quite her favorite reflection when slightly de- 
 pressed. Then she thought of Captain Melton. Then 
 she wondered if it would be cold at Morgenlicht. 
 Then she wondered if Mrs. Lewes really did for one 
 second suppose that she would marry her brother. 
 She wondered who else would be down there. She 
 wondered if the others would be queer. The Lewes 
 were given to queer people, owing to reasons narrowly 
 connected with their nationality. She wondered where 
 Hugo was. She wondered what Witney was doing. 
 Then she turned over on her other side and went to 
 sleep. 
 
 Rita came to lunch next day. " I don't believe I '11 
 have mine told," she said, adjusting her hat before 
 the mirror; "it 's a guinea, and I need a guinea for 
 something else just now."
 
 79 
 
 "Why did you pick out a guinea one?" said Leslie. 
 "The five-shilling ones do just as well." 
 
 " I did n't pick her out ; the address was given me. 
 I did n't know how much it was until I wrote for the 
 appointment, and she put her card in with her answer." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " said Leslie briefly. 
 
 "I found a man to go with us, too," said Rita. 
 
 This brightened up the atmosphere directly. 
 
 "Who is he?" Leslie asked. 
 
 " He 's quite nice. And he 's that age that he 
 won't object to anything crazy for fear we '11 think 
 him old." 
 
 Leslie desired to know the name of this agreeably 
 constituted being at once. 
 
 "Delauney Dane," said Rita. "He 's nobody new; 
 we 've known him for ages ; he 's got a lot of money." 
 
 "But he 's not to pay the fortune-teller for me, you 
 know," Leslie stipulated. 
 
 " You need not be afraid, my dear ; he 's such a 
 believer in Women's Rights that if you want to pay 
 the cab fare he '11 not feel sensitive over it." 
 
 " I think we 'd better take an omnibus," said Leslie ; 
 "where is it, anyhow?" 
 
 " It 's a good bit beyond Hammersmith. You know 
 where Hammersmith is, don't you?'"
 
 80 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "I know where Chelsea is and where the British 
 Museum is." 
 
 "It isn't in that direction. We can take an om- 
 nibus very nicely, though. Just out here by the 
 park." 
 
 " I always like to ride on top of an omnibus," said 
 Leslie. "You feel superior to even the policeman 
 there." 
 
 Mr. Delauney Dane called for them soon after 
 lunch. He was a very tall, thin man, with a glass and 
 a stick. Leslie thought that he was an Englishman 
 for quite a while. 
 
 It was easy to see that Mr. Dane was accompanying 
 them for no reason on earth except to prove his youth. 
 He regarded them both with a regard which, when he 
 wasn't controlling it carefully, showed plainly that 
 he thought them very silly. When he learned that 
 they were going on an omnibus, he clearly disap- 
 proved, and said that he "hadn't been on an omni- 
 bus for some time." 
 
 " If the fortune-teller tells me that I 'm going to 
 marry him, I shall be mad," said Leslie, while they 
 were getting their wraps. "I think that I had better 
 have picked out a man to go with us. I know nice 
 men."
 
 LESLIE AND HER DOUBTS 81 
 
 "But he 's so amusing/' said Rita, not at all bad- 
 tempered over this slur at her circle of acquaintances, 
 "and if he could enter into the spirit of the thing it 
 would n't really be as funny as to see him swallowing 
 such acute disapproval all the time. He 's only going 
 just so as to be with us, you know." 
 
 "But that 's all that men ever do anything for," 
 said Leslie, starting back to the sitting-room. 
 
 They all three went down and out into the street. 
 
 "I really think we 'd better take a taxi," said Mr. 
 Dane. 
 
 "No, indeed," said Rita; "you shan't go throwing 
 your money away like that." 
 
 "Well, if you really don't want to," said the 
 gentleman; "but at least let us go inside the 
 omnibus." 
 
 "I can't," said Leslie; "my hat breaks against the 
 top." 
 
 "I '11 tell you what we '11 do," said Rita; "we '11 
 go on top, and you go inside." 
 
 But even Mr. Dane would n't hear to that. 
 
 "Well, then," said Rita, who possessed a readily 
 constructive imagination, "we '11 go on top, and you 
 come, too, and pretend you don't know us. And then 
 we '11 pretend to get acquainted."
 
 82 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 Mr. Dane was plainly much shocked at this 
 idea. 
 
 "Well, then, we '11 just go as we are," said Rita. 
 
 The Hammersmith bus came lumbering up Picca- 
 dilly just then, and they hopped and clung and 
 climbed to place, to Mr. Dane's great and evident 
 disgust. 
 
 Leslie sat with a forlorn man studying botany, 
 Rita sat behind with a stout lady, and Mr. Dane 
 sat across the way. Rita leaned towards him 
 directly they were seated and said, "Oh, Alexander, 
 did you remember to leave the money for the 
 chimney-sweep ? " 
 
 This was too much for Leslie, who continued to be 
 affected by fits and starts until some time after they 
 had entered Bayswater Road. 
 
 The stout lady and the botanical gentleman getting 
 down there, they all got together again and discussed 
 fortune-telling with great earnestness. 
 
 " You must n't mind if she tells you you 're to marrj 
 one of us," said Rita to Mr. Dane; "they so often do 
 that." 
 
 "I never believe in anything of the sort," said their 
 escort, with emphasis. 
 
 "No, I wouldn't," said Rita, "because, after all,
 
 LESLIE AND HER DOUBTS 83 
 
 marriage is just a side issue, isn't it? And what we 
 really are taking all this trouble for is to find out about 
 the big things in life." 
 
 "For instance?" said Mr. Dane interrogatively. 
 
 "Why, whether I shall make a success of painting 
 or not," said Miss Coghlan; "things of that sort." 
 
 " I did n't know that you painted," said Leslie. 
 
 "I haven't begun yet," said her friend; "but if a 
 fortune-teller told me that I would, I would at once." 
 
 Mr. Dane looked very serious indeed at this, and 
 opened and shut his gloved hand as if feeling of his 
 own future privately. 
 
 It was a tremendously long way out there, and 
 Leslie never had dreamed that London was so big. 
 They had to get down and walk to the right at last, 
 and when they reached the house the fortune-teller 
 was out. 
 
 "But I had an appointment," said Rita. 
 
 The maid looked at the card which she produced 
 and pointed out that it said Thursday, whereas 
 to-day was Tuesday. 
 
 Thereupon they went home. Leslie, who had ex- 
 pected to have her difficulties all settled for her through 
 the payment of one guinea, was almost as much dis- 
 gusted as Mr. Dane himself.
 
 84 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "The idea of dragging us 'way out there for noth- 
 ing," she said; "you are too careless for words." 
 
 "Never mind, you know another man now," said 
 Rita, who was not easily crushed, " and that 's always 
 worth some effort." 
 
 "Effort!" said Leslie. She was really vexed.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 LESLIE GOES DOWN TO KENELM 
 
 THE next day dawned about ten o'clock and was 
 very nasty under foot, especially in the Victoria 
 Station. Leslie and Witney found their train, and 
 the porter found them even in spite of a dense yellow 
 fog. The train pulled out on time, and before 
 they got to Clapham they were getting on very well 
 indeed. 
 
 "I shan't trouble you much," said Witney, "I'm 
 going to hunt. But I'll be there if you want me." 
 
 Like all Englishmen, he had a way of referring to 
 Americans as if on special occasions they were liable 
 to leap and rend even their guests. 
 
 "I I don't quite think you 'd better stay at the 
 Guardian," said Leslie, beginning to perceive the 
 difficulties of her position as they drew more into 
 the focus of the present. "Can't you stay some- 
 where else?" 
 
 "Yes," said Witney. "I can stay at the Man
 
 86 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 and the Hen. I'm told that it's as good as the 
 Guardian." 
 
 Leslie liked the idea of his staying at the Man and 
 the Hen very much indeed. "You see," she said 
 hesitatingly, "I'm awfully afraid of Mrs. Lewes, my 
 hostess. She's she's she's rather peculiar." 
 
 "Yes?" said Witney interrogatively. 
 
 "Yes; she would think well, she would think 
 you came down on my account. She would surely 
 think that." 
 
 "Would that be so unbelievable?" 
 
 Leslie blushed. "To tell you the truth, I should 
 hate to have her think that," she confessed; "she's 
 very strict indeed." 
 
 "Is she a friend of Guilford's?" 
 
 "N no. She doesn't even know him." 
 
 "Has she a son?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "A brother, I mean?" 
 
 Leslie looked up in surprise. "Why, yes; how did 
 you guess?" She couldn't at all see how all men 
 hit on that same line of questioning. 
 
 "I thought from your description that she might 
 have a brother. Is he down at the Guardian too?" 
 
 " Yes, he lives with her with them, I mean."
 
 LESLIE GOES DOWN TO KENELM 87 
 
 They had to get out at Snipham and change and 
 wait twenty minutes besides. They looked into the 
 waiting-room and then decided to walk up and down. 
 
 "What sort of a Christmas party is it?" Witney 
 asked. 
 
 "About six or eight, I think. Not so very big." 
 
 "I suppose that you know them all very well 
 indeed?" 
 
 Leslie considered. "No, I don't think that I do," 
 she said, after a while. 
 
 They drew near to Kenelm about four o'clock, 
 English schedules being still much disarranged by 
 the floods of school-children. 
 
 Leslie grew very nervous. "I don't know what to 
 do about you," she said; "some one will surely meet 
 me, and what shall I say?" 
 
 "Say I 'ma friend." 
 
 "Yes, but Mrs. Lewes will wonder why you came 
 down with me. She'll she'll think it looks queer." 
 
 "Shall I go over in the other corner and be a 
 stranger? " suggested Witney. 
 
 Without going into any consideration of future 
 complications Leslie gratefully accepted this sug- 
 gestion. Witney separated their hand-luggage and 
 got out a newspaper to be absorbed in when the
 
 88 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 train should stop. But he forgot to return her keys 
 which he was carrying, as she had no pocket. 
 
 When the train did stop, Frederick Lewes, the 
 dog, and a man in attendance were waiting. The 
 door opened and Leslie alighted. Witney was fold- 
 ing his newspaper with the placid air of a most com- 
 plete stranger. 
 
 "Allow me to hand you your bag, madame," he 
 said politely. 
 
 Leslie wanted to laugh, but Mr. Lewes was shaking 
 hands with her, and she was afraid that he would 
 think that she was laughing at him. Mr. Lewes, who 
 was a large, pompous gentleman with bushy side- 
 whiskers and a very red face, had a great aversion 
 to being laughed at. He was terribly afraid that he 
 was funny, and he could n't bear it. The man in 
 attendance did n't move ; he had never been a man 
 in attendance before, and all that he had learned so 
 far was that he must always ride on the box. The 
 dog stood mournfully by. He was a huge dog, and 
 had been hugely car-sick coming from Brighton the 
 day before. 
 
 "Dabbs, just take these things to the cab I 
 mean the carriage," said Mr. Lewes. He was n't any 
 more used to being a man attended than Dabbs was
 
 LESLIE GOES DOWN TO KENELM 89 
 
 to attending, but he was more interested in learning 
 the rules. Witney delivered Leslie's things into the 
 hands of Dabbs and then went off with her keys 
 still in his pocket. 
 
 "He will see to your luggage," Mr. Lewes began; 
 but just then some one accidentally hit the dog, who 
 turned tigerish instantly. 
 
 "Oh, dear," said Leslie, "if he was really mad 
 what could you do?" 
 
 "I couldn't do a thing," said Lewes proudly; 
 "nobody could. Come, Earl of Arran." 
 
 Earl of Arran was the dog, who, after his one little 
 spurt of temper, had collapsed so thoroughly that 
 his knees shook under him. 
 
 They went out to the carriage. Dabbs was already 
 on the box and looked down upon them with interest. 
 
 "If you don't mind I'll put the dog in first," said 
 Lewes. " He likes to look out of the window, and he 's 
 too big to turn around, so we always put him in first." 
 
 Leslie stood back while the Earl of Arran got in 
 first. 
 
 "Don't step on his feet when you get hi," Lewes 
 cautioned; "he always snaps if any one steps on his 
 feet, and we can't really blame him, you know." 
 
 "Perhaps you'd better get in next," said Leslie.
 
 90 
 
 " Well, perhaps I had. Dabbs, get down and shut 
 the door." 
 
 Dabbs got down. Lewes got in; Leslie got in. 
 Dabbs shut the door, and then Dabbs got up and 
 they rolled away. 
 
 "Oh, my trunks!" Leslie exclaimed suddenly. 
 "Who saw to them?" 
 
 Lewes, who was supporting the dog's head on his 
 bosom, started slightly. 
 
 "Can't we send down from the hotel, perhaps?" 
 Leslie suggested. 
 
 "We can send Dabbs just as soon as we get 
 there," said Lewes; "he can see to them. That's 
 part of his regular duties, you know." 
 
 Leslie felt far from sure, but did not care to dis- 
 cuss the question. 
 
 When they arrived at the Guardian Dabbs got 
 down at once, and went straight into the house and 
 shut the door after him. 
 
 "He ought not to do that," said Lewes, really 
 vexed. "Just sit still for a little and see if he does n't 
 come back?" 
 
 They sat still for many minutes, but Dabbs did not 
 return. After a while the inn porter came and took 
 them out, with one eye fixed anxiously on the Earl
 
 LESLIE GOES DOWN TO KENELM 91 
 
 of Arran all the time. Lewes and the dog led 
 the way in. Leslie and the porter followed them 
 upstairs. 
 
 "Arabella will want to see you at once," said 
 Arabella's husband. "I'll show you her sitting- 
 room, and you can go in while I find Dabbs. I must 
 speak to him severely. He should n't get out and 
 go off in that way. I can't overlook it ; not possibly." 
 
 The sitting-room door was half open, and Leslie 
 went in. Mrs. Lewes, a personage fully as imposing 
 as her husband, was seated by the tea-tray, a gentle- 
 man with mirthful eyes stood before the fire, and a 
 lady wept at the window. 
 
 "You're very late," said Mrs. Lewes, looking up 
 severely. "How do you do? Why didn't you take 
 your hat off before you came in? You know I never 
 like to see any one in a hat. Maurice, press the bell 
 for tea. Cecilia, stop sobbing; you've cried long 
 enough." 
 
 Maurice pressed the bell, but Cecilia continued to 
 sob. Leslie went around the table and received a 
 solemn hand-shake of welcome. 
 
 " Draw up a chair and sit down," said Mrs. Lewes. 
 "Maurice, press the bell again. Where can tea be!" 
 
 Maurice pressed the bell again.
 
 92 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "Shall I go and take off my hat?" Leslie asked. 
 
 "No, not now. We've all seen the way you look 
 with it on, so you 'd only make tea later than you 've 
 made it already. Where are the rest? Maurice, 
 press that bell." 
 
 "Shall I go and look for them?" asked the man 
 with the mirthful eyes. "I'm great on getting a 
 party together when it's tea-time." 
 
 "No, you won't come back. Cecilia, if you can't 
 stop crying, I must ask you to leave us." 
 
 Cecilia didn't wait to be asked a second time; 
 she fled that instant. 
 
 "Who is she?" Leslie asked. 
 
 "Why, my dear, she's just a friend nothing hi 
 the world but a friend, and she expects to be treated 
 like a princess. I've just had a good talk with her 
 and Maurice, I wish you'd leave the room. Press 
 the bell again first." 
 
 Maurice pressed the bell again first and left the 
 room. 
 
 "Sit down, my dear," said Mrs. Lewes then, with 
 a deep sigh. "I don't want to burden you with my 
 troubles, but really I 'm quite used up. Do you know 
 this house was built over five hundred years ago, 
 and we did n't know a thing about it until last night.
 
 LESLIE GOES DOWN TO KENELM 93 
 
 It's very cold and turning colder. I'm afraid the 
 dog will have pneumonia. Don't you see a change 
 in him?" 
 
 Leslie shook her head. "But he was looking 
 out of the window all the way up," she said. "I 
 could n't see his face." 
 
 "Looking out of the window! Was he really? I 
 must remember to tell that at dinner to-night. I 
 don't know what we should do without that dog; 
 he's the center wherever he is. All the strangers in 
 the dining-room watch him every minute they're 
 eating. He does such cute things. Yesterday a 
 gentleman was folding his paper, and the dog took 
 his chop while he wasn't looking. He's so bright. 
 But, my dear, do tell me something else directly; 
 how did Dabbs do?" 
 
 "Oh, he did nicely," said Leslie. 
 
 "Did he really? I'm so glad. You see he'd never 
 been a valet before, and it's all new to him. But 
 where is our tea? Do you mind pressing the bell for 
 me?" 
 
 Leslie did n't mind, and so she pressed the bell for 
 her. 
 
 "The poorest service I ever saw in all my life," 
 observed Mrs. Lewes. "You see, they think because
 
 94 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 we brought our own maid and valet that they need n't 
 do a thing for us." 
 
 Some one came this time a meek, elderly 
 man who looked like a duke who had seen better 
 days. 
 
 "Roberts," said Mrs. Lewes severely, "mend the 
 fire and call my maid and bring up tea instantly ; do 
 you hear?" 
 
 The fallen duke trembled like an aspen and began 
 on the fire-mending as the easiest road to prompt 
 humility. 
 
 "Leave that," commanded Mrs. Lewes; "get the 
 tea first, and get Kimberly." 
 
 "Yes, madame; very good, madame." The duke 
 disappeared. 
 
 "I shall never do this again," said Mrs. Lewes, 
 taking up the sugar-bowl and setting it down very 
 hard. "I shall have to turn Kimberly off as soon as 
 we get back to town. She's most remiss. She thinks 
 because we 're hi a hotel she need not see to anything. 
 I 'm sitting between two stools the whole tune. Press 
 the bell again." 
 
 Leslie pressed the bell again. 
 
 " Did you ever see such poor service ? I think I '11 go 
 mad. Where is Maurice, do you suppose? Where
 
 LESLIE GOES DOWN TO KENELM 95 
 
 can he be gone to?" She seemed to have quite for- 
 gotten dismissing him. 
 
 "Who is he?" Leslie asked. 
 
 " He 's a man alone over here an American. 
 We did n't think of asking him at first, but we tried 
 to get a graphophone and we could n't, so then we 
 asked him. He'll do just as well. He's very bright. 
 But, I declare, where is that tea; the dog will be 
 absolutely famished ! " 
 
 "Shall I ring the bell again?" Leslie asked. 
 
 "No, my dear, go and get Kimberly for me; she's 
 right in the next room. I shall be so obliged." 
 
 Leslie went out and to the next door. It was 
 open, and she paused, for she had never seen anything 
 like the sight before her. 
 
 It was a long, narrow room, without any fireplace. 
 There were two trunks, one with a coffee-service 
 spread out on it, and the other heaped with clothing, 
 boxes of biscuit, bottles of wine, stockings rolled and 
 mended, shawls, pillows, clothing, etc., etc. 
 
 On a mattress on the floor sat a maid, a little scarf 
 around her shoulders, and the dog's head hi her lap. 
 The rest of the dog was asleep, and it covered the 
 rest of the room. The maid raised her hand in 
 peremptory warning, and Leslie didn't dare speak.
 
 96 
 
 She went quickly out and returned to the sitting- 
 room, where she recounted the details of her expedi- 
 tion. Mrs. Lewes listened attentively. 
 
 " I expect the dog is quite worn out. He hates to 
 go to the station and meet people unless it's some 
 one he knows really intimately. I begged Frederick 
 not to take him, but Frederick would n't listen to 
 reason. It's perfectly absurd to coerce the dog into 
 going to the station when he really does n't want to 
 or need to. But he must have his tea. Press the 
 bell, my dear." 
 
 Leslie pressed the bell with great vigor, and while 
 she was still pressing it the fallen duke came running. 
 
 "See where every one is," commanded Mrs. Lewes. 
 
 "Yes, madame, whom shall I see?" 
 
 "Who? Why, Mr. Lewes and Mr. Phillips, my 
 party, of course." 
 
 "Yes, madame." 
 
 "And bring tea immediately !" 
 
 "Yes, madame." The duke withdrew. 
 
 "I expect you had better go and take off your 
 hat," said Mrs. Lewes. "It's not becoming, and 
 besides it makes me very nervous. You'd better 
 wash, too, while you 're hi your room ; you 're sure to 
 need it after that trip, you know."
 
 LESLIE GOES DOWN TO KENELM 97 
 
 "I'll wash at once," said Leslie. She was as glad 
 to get out of the room as every one else, even if she 
 had no notion of where she should find her own. 
 
 She went upstairs and wandered about an icy 
 corridor for a little, but finally, finding the Boots 
 and a housemaid in an angle together, learned from 
 them that she had n't any room as yet. 
 
 "Do you want one with a fire?" asked the Boots, 
 "because there ain't any hi most of the rooms." 
 
 Leslie, who had only known Mrs. Lewes as a very 
 hospitable and amusing acquaintance in London, 
 began to wish that she had never met her. 
 
 "Would you like some hot water?" said the maid. 
 
 "Yes, I should," said Leslie. 
 
 The maid and the Boots departed before she had 
 time to reflect that she had n't been given a room, 
 after all. Most of the bedroom doors were open, and 
 after walking up and down viewing icy interiors for 
 five minutes she recognized her bag and case of 
 sticks reposing on a vast and snowy couch. She 
 went in and inspected them and took off her hat. 
 After a while, as the maid did n't return and there 
 seemed to be no bell in the room, she felt forced to 
 go back downstairs. 
 
 "Well, I am glad to see some one," said Mrs. Lewes. 
 7
 
 98 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "I never saw such a party! Frederick and the dog 
 are asleep, John has gone out to walk, Maurice can't 
 be found, and Miss Lovejoy has cried herself ill, and 
 is n't coming downstairs again to-day. Sit down." 
 
 Leslie sat down. "Who is Miss Lovejoy?" she 
 asked, for the second time. "You just started to 
 tell me." 
 
 "I don't wonder you ask," said Mrs. Lewes, open- 
 ing the lid of the teapot and glaring in at the tea. 
 " It just shows how we allow ourselves to be imposed 
 on. She was quite alone in London her circle is 
 most limited and so we asked her. You 've no 
 idea, my dear, the difficulty of getting up a Christmas 
 party in London. You see, every one who is desirable 
 naturally has his own friends and wants to be with 
 them at a time like this. Of course that limits any 
 one asking a party ; but she 's a nice girl, and I wanted 
 some one that I need n't keep an eye on every minute, 
 so we asked her, and she came down with us yester- 
 day, and what do you think is the result? This very 
 afternoon, before she had been our guest twenty-four 
 hours, if I did n't catch her sitting in this room with 
 John!" 
 
 "On his lap !" cried Leslie. 
 
 "On his lap!" Mrs. Lewes' tone was one of un-
 
 LESLIE GOES DOWN TO KENELM 99 
 
 speakable horror. "Mrs. Revere, what a mind you 
 must have ! " 
 
 " But ' Leslie looked bewildered. 
 
 " No, not on his lap. John is not that kind of man. 
 No, I should think not. No, indeed! No, not by 
 any means!" 
 
 "But where was she sitting?" 
 
 "She was sitting in that chair, and he was sitting 
 in this." 
 
 "But what harm was there in that?" 
 
 "No harm. No harm at all." 
 
 "But you said " 
 
 Mrs. Lewes raised her hand majestically. "The 
 harm was this," she said solemnly, "the door was 
 .hut!" 
 
 "Oh! "Leslie said. 
 
 " I sent John out of the room at once. I sent him 
 out gently, for I wouldn't have him suppose that 
 such an idea as that he might marry Miss Lovejoy 
 could by any possibility ever enter my head. But 
 I took her in hand then and I talked to her. I soon 
 had her weeping; you saw her when you came in. 
 The very idea! Do you want any more tea?" 
 
 "No," said Leslie faintly. "If my trunks have 
 come, I think I'll go and unpack."
 
 100 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "I should think that you had better. I should 
 think that you had certainly better! We dine at 
 half-past seven, prompt ! " 
 
 As Leslie climbed the staircase to her own little 
 private refrigerator she felt very blue indeed. She 
 wished with all her heart that she had n't come. Her 
 trunks were now in the room, the big one sitting 
 on the small one, with its lock neatly against the 
 wall. It looked as if Dabbs was still learning. 
 
 As soon as she saw the trunks she thought of her 
 keys, and a frightful new kind of chill wave swept 
 over her. She felt the grip of despair. For a minute 
 it seemed to her that the only course open to her 
 was to take her trunks and flee to the Man and the 
 Hen. It seemed as if that would be simpler than to 
 get the keys from Witney. How could she get them ! 
 Oh, it was awful ! 
 
 She sat down on a chair and tried to think. While 
 she was thinking, there came a tap at the open 
 door. She looked up; it was Maurice of the merry 
 eyes. 
 
 "Oh, then you're not frozen hard?" he said. 
 "What is the matter?" he added quickly, noting her 
 distress. 
 
 "I'm in dreadful trouble," said Leslie.
 
 LESLIE GOES DOWN TO KENELM 101 
 
 "What have you been doing? Talking to John 
 Phillips in public?" 
 
 Leslie did n't smile, for his fun did n't strike her as 
 funny. "I want my keys," she said. 
 
 "Have you lost them?" 
 
 "No, a man has them over at the Man and the 
 Hen." 
 
 "How very inconvenient for you. Shall I run over 
 and get them and not say anything about it to any 
 one?" 
 
 "Oh, if you would!" 
 
 "Well, I will. Right off, too. What's his name?" 
 
 "Ralph Witney. He's English. Is it far?" 
 
 " Five minutes' walk." 
 
 He went off at once. Leslie put her travelling-rug 
 about her and was patient. He was only ten minutes 
 in all. While he was absent she found a baby fire- 
 place hidden in one corner. When he returned with 
 the keys she thanked him heartily. He stood still 
 after his thanks and seemed disinclined to go. 
 
 "What a beastly cold room you've got. I thought 
 I had the coldest room hi this place, but this is 
 worse." 
 
 "Yes," said Leslie, "but you can't stay in it even 
 with the door open. I want to unpack."
 
 102 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 " Can't I help?" 
 
 She looked at him. He had very merry eyes, and 
 Witney was at another hotel, and Hugo in Paris. 
 It seemed very hard to have to think of either of 
 them under the circumstances. 
 
 "Do let me help you?" said the new man, and his 
 voice was very sweet and low. 
 
 " Oh, dear I " said Leslie. " Oh, dear me ! " 
 
 Maurice stayed and helped.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 LESLIE AND THE MAN AND THE HEN 
 
 THE next morning Leslie woke thinking that now 
 she knew all that there was to know about her 
 holiday environment. She was n't happy, for she 
 was cold. She had been cold all night, and it is 
 very disagreeable indeed to be cold all of a first 
 night in a place where one expects to spend a week. 
 Without being in the least superstitious, it may be 
 regarded as the surest of all bad omens to come 
 true. 
 
 She lay still for quite a while wondering what to 
 do. It was clearly late, for the light was very bright, 
 and this was December. While she was wondering, 
 with her eyes widely fixed upon the ridiculous, little, 
 one-foot-by-three of red rep canopy over her head, 
 she suddenly perceived something that looked so 
 like a bell-rope that she thought that she would try 
 pulling it, anyhow. The room was so very cold that 
 her outstretched arm winced perceptibly as she
 
 104 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 stretched it out, but she rang. There was a long wait, 
 and then she rang again. No answer. 
 
 She waited again and then, hearing a clatter in 
 the hall, she called loudly, but without effect. Then 
 she rang again, and finally Maurice came to the out- 
 side of the door and told her who he was through the 
 crack. 
 
 "Can you get some one to make me a fire?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "I don't know," he said. "Everything is awfully 
 behind this morning because the dog overslept. But 
 I can try. Is n't it cold?" 
 
 "And I want hot water! And my mail." 
 
 " You can't have any hot water ; it is n't equal to 
 getting up the stairs hot. And as for your mail, you 
 can't have that, either. It 's all carried to Mrs. Lewes, 
 and it has to wait until she has time to go through it 
 first. I was thoughtful enough not to leave a for- 
 warding address, however, so I don't care." 
 
 "You don't really mean what you say?" (All this 
 through the crack.) 
 
 " Oh, but I do. The dog was so cute yesterday he 
 took one of the letters in his mouth and put it in the 
 fire. There was something almost human in the way 
 he did it."
 
 THE MAN AND THE HEN 105 
 
 Leslie didn't laugh. "Try to send me up some- 
 thing hot," she begged. 
 
 "Well, I'll try, but don't hope, for the spirit of the 
 house is getting into me and I may not remember 
 your existence if I get where I can feel a fire. You 
 ought to test the temperature of my room." 
 
 "Thanks," said Leslie. "I don't want to test the 
 temperature of my own. Do go and find some one 
 and get a fire made here." 
 
 "I'll try," promised Maurice, and he went away 
 whistling. After a long, long time a chambermaid 
 came upstairs and fought half-heartedly with the 
 little grate for a little while. During the battle 
 Kimberly came in and said Mrs. Lewes would like to 
 know what time Mrs. Revere was coining down, if 
 she was coming down. 
 
 Leslie got up at that and dressed and went down. 
 She found Mrs. Lewes in the sitting-room with her 
 husband and Miss Lovejoy. She was speaking as 
 Leslie entered and went right on: "Perfectly absurd, 
 as I have told you a hundred times. It was n't as 
 if he knew her well or as if she were an old friend ; it 
 was just a bore for him, and now he's all used up and 
 he does n't know what 's the matter with him. It 
 was very kind of John to offer to take him to walk
 
 106 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 this morning, and so far from being vexed about it, 
 Frederick, you should be grateful. You were not 
 here, and he was so restless, and John offered. I was 
 going to send Kimberly out with him, but he 'd far 
 rather go with a man than a woman. So now don't 
 say another word about it. Good-morning, Mrs. 
 Revere; are you always as late as this getting 
 down, and who do you know at the Man and the 
 Hen?" 
 
 Leslie sank abruptly into a chair. "I don't want 
 any breakfast," she said, quite bewildered by the 
 complication so suddenly thrust upon her. 
 
 "It's kept for you, anyway. Common courtesy 
 demands that, in any case. But who do you know 
 that is stopping at the Man and the Hen? You have 
 a letter from there this morning. Frederick, I wish 
 you and Miss Lovejoy would go to walk or leave 
 the room." 
 
 Mr. Lewes and Miss Lovejoy promptly left the 
 room. Mrs. Lewes never had to speak twice to 
 any one. 
 
 Leslie took a seat and felt as if she were in for 
 a nervous chill. 
 
 "Press the bell," said Mrs. Lewes; "they'll bring 
 your breakfast directly."
 
 THE MAN AND THE HEN 107 
 
 "But I don't want breakfast," Leslie protested. 
 "It's nearly eleven o'clock." 
 
 "You don't need to tell me that, my dear; I 
 have n't sat here waiting for you since nine 
 without knowing that it 's now eleven. I don't 
 know either what you expect of your guests, but 
 mine usually come to breakfast or else let me 
 know the night before. And now see what else 
 you Ve done made me have to send Fred- 
 erick, who is my husband, and Miss Lovejoy, 
 who is my friend, from the room. Press the 
 bell." 
 
 "But why send them from the room?" Leslie 
 was clearly puzzled. 
 
 "I didn't wish to humiliate you by discussing 
 your private affairs before others, but " 
 
 Roberts, the duke, opened the door. 
 
 "Roberts, close that door; I am occupied. Here, 
 make up the fire before you go." 
 
 Roberts made up the fire and departed. 
 
 "My private affairs!" said Leslie, puzzled. 
 
 "Yes; I must know, and at once, who you know 
 at the Man and the Hen !" 
 
 Leslie looked staggered. She had not calculated 
 on anything like this. Finally she determined not to
 
 108 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 lose her temper. She replied, "I know an English- 
 man who is stopping there." 
 
 "Why didn't you ask him here; we would have 
 entertained him. Our hospitality knows no limits, 
 and he could have slept with Maurice. No, that is 
 no explanation of your secretiveness. What was 
 your real reason for concealing him at the Man and 
 the Hen?" 
 
 "I did n't conceal him." 
 
 "I don't know what you call concealment, then. 
 You have n't mentioned him to any of us. You are 
 not telling me his name, even now. I 'm afraid, my 
 dear, your long residence on the Continent is sadly 
 imdermining your good American morals. What is 
 your object in having a man down here to whom you 
 are unwilling to introduce your friends? And what- 
 ever it is, why withhold the truth when questioned?" 
 
 Mrs. Lewes' tone was most severe. Leslie, in spite 
 of a clear conscience, could n't for the life of her 
 help looking very unhappy. Just then Frederick 
 opened the door. " Cecilia and I were going to walk," 
 he said, in a certain plaintive key to which he was 
 much addicted, "and now I can't find her anywhere." 
 
 "Never mind," said Mrs. Lewes, "you don't need 
 to go to walk. You can go with the dog after lunch.
 
 THE MAN AND THE HEN 109 
 
 I want you now. Leslie is going to tell who she 
 knows at the Man and the Hen, and I want a third 
 person to be present." 
 
 Mr. Lewes took off his hat and coat at once and 
 put on his glasses with the hasty importance of a 
 doctor called to the last gasp of appendicitis. "At 
 the Man and the Hen, ah?" he said. " Yes, well, at 
 the Man and the Hen?" 
 
 "Go on, Leslie," said Mrs. Lewes. 
 
 Leslie was now dangerously near to being really 
 angry. "His name is Ralph Witney, and he's down 
 here to hunt," she said. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Lewes contemplated one another 
 solemnly at that, apparently finding its simplicity 
 beyond all their expectations. Mrs. Lewes rallied 
 first, "What do you say, Frederick?" she said 
 then. 
 
 "A very strange story!" said Mr. Lewes, with 
 great emphasis, "a very strange story indeed !" 
 
 "Exactly what I was thinking," said his wife. 
 
 " What I can't understand is his staying at the Man 
 and the Hen," went on her husband. "As soon as 
 John comes in, we must consult him." 
 
 "Why not send Dabbs for him at once," suggested 
 Mrs. Lewes. "Press the bell."
 
 110 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 Leslie began to think that she was indeed Alice in 
 Wonderland. She got up and pressed the bell. 
 
 " Perhaps I had better go over to the Man and the 
 Hen," suggested Mr. Lewes, then, " or do you think it 
 would be wiser to wait and take the dog?" 
 
 "Oh, it would never do to take the dog," said Mrs. 
 Lewes. "It might excite the dog." 
 
 "But " began Mr. Lewes. 
 
 "Leslie, do you mind leaving the room," said Mrs. 
 Lewes, "I want to be alone with Frederick." 
 
 Leslie left the room. She felt herself to be hi a 
 terrible situation. But it 's always darkest just 
 before the dawn, and in the hall she found Maurice 
 that Distant in from a walk and in the act of hanging 
 up his cap. At the sight, she felt as if she had known 
 him forever. She hurried to him and began as rapidly 
 as possible : 
 
 " You are just who I want. Run run as quick 
 as you can to the Man and the Hen and beg pray 
 implore just make Mr. Witney leave town at 
 once. Tell him I '11 do anything for him in London. 
 Tell him I'm hi a dreadful mess on his account. Tell 
 him anything ! But get him to go and please run. " 
 
 Maurice seized his cap, gave her one look of deep 
 sympathy and thorough understanding, and fled.
 
 THE MAN AND THE HKJ, 111 
 
 She went into the maid's room to wait. Kim- 
 berly was there, threading fresh ribbons hi the dog's 
 nightcap. 
 
 "It 's very cold here," Leslie said, wondering how 
 fast Maurice could run. 
 
 "I've no fireplace," said the maid, narrowing a 
 general statement down to her own quarters. "I 
 never see such a place. And that Alice she never 
 brings me so much as a clean towel. And the dog so 
 cold that he jumped into bed with me last night, and 
 I had to get up and take his mattress." 
 
 "Does he always wear a nightcap?" Leslie asked, 
 wondering what she would do if Witney should be 
 out. 
 
 "Oh, madame, you ought to see his London night- 
 caps ! A real lace butterfly set in each side for him to 
 hear through ! These are just Cash's Frilling for the 
 country." 
 
 " I 'd like to see him in one," said Leslie. 
 
 Just here Miss Lovejoy looked in the door. "I 'm 
 going out and wait in the street," she said. "You tell 
 Mr. Lewes, will you? I 've waited indoors as long as 
 I 'm going to wait." She spoke vexedly. 
 
 "I '11 tell him when I see him," Leslie promised. 
 
 " Do you know where he is? "
 
 112 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "Yes, with Mrs. Lewes." 
 
 "Well, I 'm gone," said Miss Lovejoy, and went. 
 
 After a long while the sitting-room door banged, 
 and Frederick, his visage painted the colors of living 
 woe, came hurriedly in. 
 
 "Dear, dear," he said, taking maid and guest into 
 the same grasp of grievous tidings, " you don't know 
 what 's happened now." 
 
 "What?" asked Leslie. 
 
 "Arabella will want to tefl you herself. Be very 
 tender with her. She has already had so much to bear 
 to-day." 
 
 In fear and trembling Leslie accompanied her host 
 back to her hostess. They found Mrs. Lewes greatly 
 agitated. 
 
 " You 'd better leave us, Frederick," she said to her 
 husband; "it will be easier for us all if I tell her 
 when we are alone." 
 
 Frederick went out at once. Leslie sat almost 
 trembling. She did wonder what had happened now. 
 If Hugo !" 
 
 "My dear," said Mrs. Lewes, transfixing her guest 
 suddenly with her cold, gray, eagle eye, "what do you 
 think ! Dabbs has taken John's golf clubs and 
 golfing!"
 
 THE MAN AND THE HEN 113 
 
 " Oh, dear," said Leslie. In spite of herself she felt 
 relieved. 
 
 "Did you ever hear of anything like that? You 
 know he wasn't a regular valet. We took him out 
 of a cake shop because he was so willing. And now 
 this is what comes of it!" 
 
 "What will you do?" Leslie asked, hardly sure as 
 to whether she were going to laugh or shriek. 
 
 " I don't know what Frederick will do. He is going 
 to try and calm himself first. I told Frederick that if 
 he was going to bring a valet down here, it would be 
 better to get a real one. Dabbs is n't any use at all ; 
 why, he doesn't even answer to his name, because 
 he 's been accustomed to being called Jim ; he 's of 
 no service whatever!" 
 
 Leslie sat quite still, observing the limits of her self- 
 control. She was at a complete loss as to what to 
 say or what to do. Life seemed as detached from the 
 ordinary as it would be if the laws of gravitation 
 should suddenly cease. She wished that she were in 
 London with Mr. Delauney Dane. He was so easily 
 comprehended. 
 
 "And this is the day before Christmas," said Mrs. 
 Lewes, after a slight pause. "I wanted it to be such 
 a merry day for every one. Whether you feel like it or
 
 114 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 not, you must get up to breakfast to-morrow. I 've 
 sent for the cook and told her how to make the pud- 
 ding. She had a receipt, but I could n't think of 
 letting her use it. I never allow any one to do their 
 way where I am." 
 
 "I 'm sure we '11 have a lovely time," said Leslie. 
 
 "Well, I hope so, for this whole expedition is half 
 killing me, and Kimberly gave me a terrible turn this 
 morning by telling me that Maurice has been down to 
 the bar twice, of course that means that he 's 
 falling in love with the barmaid." 
 
 "Not necessarily," said Leslie. 
 
 "My dear, I know! I read character at a glance, 
 and Maurice is one of those men who are always in 
 love with some one." 
 
 Just here Maurice entered, smiling. 
 
 "Have you been down at the bar again?" Mrs. 
 Lewes demanded instantly. 
 
 "No, I 've been out to do an errand." 
 
 "Why did n't you send a servant? What are ser- 
 vants for?" 
 
 "I wanted to go myself." 
 
 Leslie was looking at him hi an agony of question. 
 He smiled brightly at her. She felt relieved, rose, and 
 quitted the room.
 
 THE MAN AND THE HEN 115 
 
 "Maurice," said Mrs. Lewes, in a tone of sternest 
 prohibition, "you must be very careful. That is a 
 dangerous woman. She has an affair with a man over 
 at the Man and the Hen, and except for my principle 
 of always looking over every one's letters I never 
 should have even known of it." 
 
 "I '11 be careful," Maurice promised. 
 
 "Yes, do," said Mrs. Lewes. "You didn't see 
 anything of the dog while you were out, did 
 you?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " I 'm afraid John is taking him too far. They get 
 interested in one another and don't notice how far 
 they go. I do wish you had seen him when he came 
 in to breakfast this morning, putting one paw in 
 front of the other. And he walks just the same way 
 with his hind legs, too." 
 
 Just here the dog and John Phillips burst into the 
 room. 
 
 "I 've been insulted!" cried John Phillips. 
 
 "Insulted!" cried Mrs. Lewes. "Maurice, press 
 the bell." 
 
 "Insulted!" repeated her brother. 
 
 Maurice started to leave the room. 
 
 "Don't leave the room," his hostess commanded;
 
 116 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "sit down. It will be better for some one else to be 
 present." 
 
 "It was the hostler at the Man and the Hen," 
 began Phillips. 
 
 "At the Man and the Hen," said Mrs. Lewes. 
 "Quite what I might have expected from what I 
 have just been learning of the place. Go on, John. 
 Pay attention, Maurice; this may be very im- 
 portant." 
 
 "The dog caught one of their ducks in his mouth 
 
 "Caught one of the ducks? Not really? I always 
 said he had hunting blood, and you never believed 
 me. Did he only catch one?" 
 
 "He might have caught ever so many more, for 
 there were ever so many more in the yard, but the 
 hostler came out and in a most offensive manner 
 ordered me off the premises." 
 
 " Ordered you Mrs. Lewes' voice died away, 
 strangled in wrath. It was fully ten seconds 
 before she rallied sufficiently to say, "Press the 
 bell." 
 
 Maurice pressed the bell. 
 
 "Did Dabbs take my clubs up to the golf- 
 links? I told him to do so," John Phillips asked 
 presently.
 
 THE MAN AND THE HEN 117 
 
 "Did you tell him to? Why, we thought he'd 
 gone up there to play golf." 
 
 "To play golf! How absurd you are, Arabella. A 
 valet playing golf." 
 
 " I thought it odd," observed Maurice. 
 
 "I wish you 'd leave the room," said Mrs. Lewes. 
 "I want to speak to my brother alone." 
 
 The Earl of Arran was occupying the fire to that 
 extent that Maurice did n't mind leaving it. 
 
 "But don't go down in the bar," Mrs. Lewes called 
 after him. 
 
 He went into the next room, where he found 
 Leslie looking out of the window. 
 
 "Hello," he said cheerfully. "I mustn't speak to 
 the barmaid, or fall in love with you, or crowd the 
 dog from the fire. I 'm to have no Christmas fun at 
 all." 
 
 Leslie didn't smile. "Do you know, I haven't 
 been given my mail yet," she said. "I 'm getting 
 mad." 
 
 "Oh, don't get mad," said Maurice; "fall in love; 
 it's so much handier and easier and pleasanter, and 
 it will be great fun fooling every one. Let 's have 
 the j oiliest kind of an affair. Come on; I will if you 
 will!"
 
 118 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 Leslie shook her head, but there was a mournful 
 sort of wistfulness in her shake at which any grown- 
 up man might have taken heart. 
 
 "I must tell you about my going to the Man and 
 the Hen." 
 
 "Oh," Leslie interrupted, "did you see him?" 
 
 "Is that man 'him'?" 
 
 She turned and gave him a look. 
 
 "Well, you said 'him/ and I didn't know," he 
 murmured apologetically. 
 
 "Did you see Mr. Witney?" 
 
 " Yes, I did ; and he said he could n't leave to-day, 
 because he was hunting to-morrow, but he '11 go in the 
 afternoon." 
 
 "What must he think!" she ejaculated. 
 
 "He didn't tell me. But he wants to speak to 
 you, and I 'm to take you to walk at five to- 
 night and turn you over to him just beyond the city 
 limits." 
 
 "But how can we get out?" 
 
 " I '11 have to manage that." 
 
 "Can you manage it?" 
 
 "I can manage anything." 
 
 "But you know I 've been warned against you." 
 
 "And I 've been warned against you too."
 
 THE MAN AND THE HEN 119 
 
 "But I 'm in love, so I can't get into trouble." 
 "I make a specialty of women in love." 
 Then Leslie had to laugh. 
 "Well," she said, "you manage it and I '11 go."
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 LESLIE AND MAURICE 
 
 THE day before Christmas wore onward with much 
 discussion and a tremendous amount of pressing of 
 the bell. 
 
 "It seems as if no one knew what you wanted 
 when you press a bell here," said Mrs. Lewes finally, 
 and in great wrath she sent for the landlady and said 
 something to her which put her in bed for twenty- 
 four hours. Later in the day Kimberly ran on to Alice 
 and the Boots in their favorite angle in the upper hall, 
 and as a result Alice and the Boots were turned heart- 
 lessly out upon a cold world. 
 
 " I never saw such a house," said Mrs. Lewes, fiercely 
 waiting for tea. "No wonder the dog can't sleep 
 nights ! He knows what 's up." 
 
 "He knows more than I know, then," said Maurice. 
 "I wish I were as wise as he." 
 
 "He's very wise, that's a fact," said John 
 Phillips, eyeing the dog tenderly. "You ought
 
 LESLIE AND MAURICE 121 
 
 to have seen him when that hostler addressed me 
 that morning. Such contempt! Such absolute 
 disdain!" 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Lewes looked first at Phillips and then 
 at the dog, and continued to contemplate the latter 
 in a sort of silent ecstasy of tenderest admiration 
 until tea was finally brought in. 
 
 Miss Lovejoy came in from somewhere else at that 
 and sat at the table ; Leslie went to her seat. 
 
 "Come and sit down, Maurice," said Mrs. Lewes; 
 "you 're keeping the dog from the fire." 
 
 Maurice came and sat down ; Lewes sat down ; John 
 Phillips sat down. Everybody received tea. There 
 was a pause. 
 
 "Well, Maurice," said Mrs. Lewes, "say something 
 bright." 
 
 "I don't feel bright," said Maurice. 
 
 "I '11 tell you what we '11 do, if you like," said John 
 Phillips; "you make a pretense of springing at my 
 throat, and then we '11 see what the dog will do. 
 We J ve always wondered." 
 
 Maurice stirred his tea. "All right," he said slowly. 
 " Of course you don't care what I do to the dog if he 
 resents my action against you." 
 
 "What would you do?" Leslie asked.
 
 122 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 " I 'd break both his fore legs with one smashing 
 blow." 
 
 "Oh, no, don't do anything like that," said Mrs. 
 Lewes. "I wonder at John's proposing such a plan. 
 It would be almost sure to get him in the habit of 
 springing, and he does it enough now. He knocked the 
 laundress down last week, and she is so afraid of him 
 she won't come any more." 
 
 "Silly fool!" said Lewes. 
 
 "Shall I cut the cake?" Leslie asked. 
 
 "Ask if any one wants any first. There 's no use 
 cutting it otherwise." 
 
 Leslie asked every one and no one wanted any. 
 
 "There, now, you see how wise I was," said Mrs. 
 Lewes. "Frederick, what has Dabbs done this 
 afternoon?" 
 
 " I don't know," said Mr. Lewes. " I have n't seen 
 anything of him. Have you, John?" 
 
 "No," said John Phillips, "I expect he 's gone out 
 for a walk. He 's never been in the country before, 
 and it interests him." 
 
 "I wonder if he would n't be more useful if you 
 put him in livery?" suggested Mrs. Lewes. "I had 
 an idea that valets were always busy." 
 
 "Mine always is," said Maurice.
 
 LESLIE AND MAURICE 123 
 
 There was a distinct sensation. 
 
 "Have you got a valet?" asked John Phillips at 
 last. 
 
 "Yes, I have a valet," said Maurice. 
 
 "Why did n't you bring him with you?" said Mrs. 
 Lewes; "we would have entertained him gladly, 
 and he could have slept with Dabbs." 
 
 "They could have worked together," said Lewes; 
 "he could have taught him some of the tricks of the 
 trade probably." 
 
 "My man 's French," said Maurice, "so I 'm afraid 
 he would n't have been of much service in instructing 
 Dabbs. And I did n't bring him, because I let him go 
 and spend Christmas with his wife." 
 
 "Ah, married, I perceive," said Frederick. 
 
 "Yes," said Maurice, looking pleasantly at his host ; 
 "how quick you are at drawing deductions." 
 
 Miss Lovejoy was gazing at Maurice as if that 
 young gentleman actually wore his valet twisted 
 in a halo around his head. Miss Lovejoy was very 
 happy, even though cold. She felt herself to be 
 somebody with these tremendously rich Americans. 
 No one of her own nationality knew that she 
 existed. 
 
 John Phillips, having had all the bread and butter
 
 124 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 he wanted, began to feed the rest to the dog. This 
 troubled Leslie, who hadn't had all the bread and 
 butter that she wanted by any means. Maurice, 
 divining her void, took four pieces at once and gave 
 her two. Nobody noticed, as the conversation had 
 opened up on the faux pas of the ambassador's wife. 
 Goodness knows what those abroad would do if am- 
 bassadors' wives ever behaved like ordinary mortals. 
 Leslie ate her two bits of bread and butter and felt 
 more and more drawn towards Maurice. She found 
 the provision for her hunger more welcome than that 
 offered to her intellect. 
 
 "He never would have gotten the place but for 
 her money," John Phillips said finally; "everybody 
 knows that." 
 
 " It 's a dreadful thing for our representatives to 
 make a laughing-stock of themselves," said Mrs. 
 Lewes, looking severely at Maurice; "real ladies and 
 gentlemen are never funny." 
 
 "I am," said Maurice. 
 
 Frederick Lewes regarded him earnestly. "You 
 just think you are," he said, "I used to be the same 
 way when I was young." 
 
 "Oh, no, Frederick," said his wife, "you always had 
 whiskers."
 
 LESLIE AND MAURICE 125 
 
 At this Maurice sprang up from the table. "I 'm 
 going out to walk," he said. "Come on!" He 
 spoke directly to Leslie. 
 
 Every one at the table looked quite as startled as 
 when the new valet had been sprung upon them with- 
 out warning. 
 
 "Where are you going?" Mrs. Lewes asked; she 
 really appeared distinctly upset. 
 
 "I don't know," said Maurice, "but we 've got to 
 hurry or we '11 be late. Come on." 
 
 Leslie rose, and they had said au revoir and were 
 absolutely gone before the others had collected them- 
 selves. 
 
 "Well, I never," said Mrs. Lewes; then, "What 
 do those two mean!" 
 
 "I can't understand it at all," said Lewes, looking 
 very blank indeed. " She 's older than he is, too, 
 is n't she?" 
 
 John Phillips gave the last bit of bread and butter 
 to the dog, with the air of one on whose head the 
 heavens have newly fallen. 
 
 "We must watch them closely," his sister said. "I 
 am afraid our hospitable spirits have taken in two 
 very strange people." 
 
 " I never was in favor of this plan of coming down
 
 126 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 here," said John Phillips. " It is n't doing the dog 
 a bit of real good." 
 
 "And this disagreeable complication with the man 
 at the Man and the Hen," said Mrs. Lewes, "that 
 worries me more than I like to say." 
 
 "And with the ducks at the Man and the Hen, too," 
 interposed John Phillips. "I think the ducks quite 
 as serious as the man." 
 
 "Well, in a way," said Mrs. Lewes. "But we 
 know all there is to know about the ducks and 
 we know almost nothing about the man; she 
 eludes discussion hi a most trying manner. I never 
 would have thought, from just meeting that 
 woman hi London, that she would be one 
 to know a man at the Man and the Hen down 
 here." 
 
 "I always thought she was queer," said John 
 Phillips. "You remember I asked her to the Savoy 
 to dinner one Sunday and she refused." 
 
 " You never really get to know people unless you live 
 right under the same roof with them," said Frederick 
 Lewes, with a sad intonation. 
 
 "Don't speak hi that tone, Frederick," said his 
 wife. "You'll depress the dog." 
 
 "He's depressed already," said John Phillips.
 
 LESLIE AND MAURICE 127 
 
 In the meantime Leslie and Maurice had begun 
 to get far out on a country road. 
 
 "Where are we to meet Mr. Witney?" Leslie said. 
 "Are you sure this is the right road?" 
 
 "No, I'm not," said Maurice. "It's been com- 
 ing over me more and more for these last many 
 minutes that I 'm almost sure this is the wrong 
 road. In fact, I 'm getting quite positive about 
 it." 
 
 It was very dark. The hedges on either side were 
 dreadfully big and black. And it was cold; indeed 
 it had been turning colder rapidly ever since sundown. 
 In fact, it had been continually turning colder for 
 two days. 
 
 "The wrong road!" said Leslie. "Then we've 
 missed him!" 
 
 " Well, you said he was n't ' him ' anyhow," said 
 Maurice, "so it does n't matter much, does it?" 
 
 " Oh, but it does. He 's English, and I 'm awfully 
 particular about English men." 
 
 "On the principle that even an English man may 
 accidentally turn out to be 'him' in the end?" 
 
 But she wasn't laughing. "Where are we?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "I've been wondering about that, too," said the
 
 128 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 young man. " I 've been awfully busy wondering 
 about that." 
 
 She stopped short. "Why, you are the most ex- 
 asperating man I ever met in my life," she said. 
 "You are even worse than " She stopped herself 
 just in time. 
 
 "Why did you stop?" 
 
 "Because I didn't want to go on." 
 
 "Do you know," said he, standing before her in the 
 pitchy darkness and speaking with great distinctness, 
 "you 're just a bit exasperating yourself. I say, 
 what a good time we 're going to have boxing our 
 way through Boxing Day." 
 
 "We have n't begun to box yet," said Leslie, turn- 
 ing sharply and beginning to walk back along the 
 way over which they had just come; "but I 'm not 
 very much obliged to you for what } r ou Ve done to- 
 night. What will Mr. Witney think?" 
 
 "It does n't make much difference what he thinks," 
 said Maurice, "but what does matter is what will 
 they think at the house ; for we 're lost." 
 
 "Lost?" 
 
 "Yes, I don't know at all where we are; we must 
 have taken some wrong turning, and I don't know 
 when we took it. I don't know anything."
 
 LESLIE AND MAURICE 129 
 
 "You mean we won't be home in time to dress for 
 dinner?" 
 
 " I don't think we '11 be home in time for dinner. 
 I 'm quite sure about it. We shan't be home for 
 ever and ever and ever so long." His tone had the 
 happiest, most hopeful ring. 
 
 "Oh, but this is dreadful," Leslie cried, "especially 
 with the kind of people we 're stopping with. It 
 would n't matter with some people, because we 'd 
 just tell the truth and they 'd believe it ; but no 
 matter how we lie, Mrs. Lewes will never believe it." 
 
 "Yes, I 've been thinking of that, too," said Mau- 
 rice. "They '11 wait dinner for us; I can just see the 
 picture, can't you?" 
 
 Leslie began to laugh. "And yet I'm awfully 
 vexed at you," she said. "Suppose Mr. Witney goes 
 to the Guardian!" 
 
 "Yes, I 've thought of that," said Maurice. "I Ve 
 thought of that in ever so many ways. I 've thought 
 of that in as many ways as there are chances of his 
 meeting different people or different combinations 
 of people at the Guardian." 
 
 "Oh, dear!" said Leslie emphatically. 
 
 " But the worst of it all, you know, is n't what 
 anybody thinks or what anybody may or may not
 
 130 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 do ; it 's that we don't know where we are. I kept 
 thinking we 'd meet some one. I gave up think- 
 ing we 'd meet Witney long ago, but I thought we 
 might meet some one else, or see a house. But I 
 can't see anything; can you?" 
 
 "No," said Leslie, "and I 'm getting cold." 
 
 " I 'm much colder than you are," said Maurice. 
 " I '11 lay you any odds that I 'm the coldest, because I 
 have, n't any coat. I never wear one in the country." 
 
 "And all this isn't the worst of it," said Leslie 
 slowly. "The worst of it is that I know a man who 
 will surely hear of it somehow, and who won't like 
 it at all." Her heart swept fiercely off to Hugo as she 
 spoke, for Hugo never got really mired in any situa- 
 tion, and he was bitterly displeased each time that 
 she spattered her metaphorical gaiters. Their parting 
 seemed less final than previously now. 
 
 "Ah, then there is a 'him,' and I have n't to bother 
 myself over falling in love with you," said Maurice. 
 "I hate falling in love." 
 
 "No," said Leslie, straining her eyes in every 
 direction for a light. "You haven't to fall in love 
 with me. You may do it in spite of yourself, but it 
 isn't obligatory and it will be quite hopeless. I 
 think that I love another man."
 
 LESLIE AND MAURICE 131 
 
 Maurice whistled pleasantly. "Oh, well/' he said, 
 "if we can't possibly fall in love, it 's quite all right 
 for me to ask if I may put my hand in your muff. 
 While there was any doubt I felt it might be an inar- 
 tistic pushing of the game along too fast, but now I 
 don't mind saying my hands are half frozen. I shan't 
 bother you long. I warm up quickly, and as soon as 
 I am warm I rather enjoy cooling again." 
 
 "Variety is the spice of life," said Leslie senten- 
 tiously. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know," said Maurice, "I don't mind 
 returning again and again to the same old muff." 
 
 Leslie could n't help laughing. She thought he was 
 great sport. She was distressed over Witney, fright- 
 ened over Hugo, uncomfortable over the waiting at 
 the Guardian, but still Maurice's hand hi her muff 
 became at once a very real and present comfort in this 
 hour of stress. She didn't know Maurice so very 
 well, but she knew that she was going to know him 
 much better. 
 
 The hand in the muff was holding her own "so 
 nicely, so nicely," as Huntley remarks in "Lady 
 Madcap." 
 
 She wondered. Maurice wondered, too.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 LESLIE AND HER ENGAGEMENT 
 / 
 
 THE wanderers got back about half-past eight. They 
 entered the dining-room looking as penitent as was 
 possible. Of course neither was dressed for dinner; 
 and Mrs. Lewes in a blaze of expensive copies of 
 famous jewels, and Miss Lovejoy hi a fluffed mus- 
 lin, raised curious looks from between the severe Black 
 and White sketches of the two men. The dog, shaking 
 violently, lay before the fire. 
 
 "We waited until eight," said Mrs. Lewes. "The 
 soup got quite cold, and look at the dog." 
 
 "I'm so sorry," said Maurice; "even cold soup 
 would seem warm to us, but of course with you and 
 the dog it 's different." 
 
 "The dog and I went out and looked for you," said 
 John Phillips. "He's taken a severe chill. That's 
 what 's the matter with him ! " John Phillips, who 
 rarely allowed himself to express any especial emotion, 
 expressed unlimited discontent on the dog's behalf now.
 
 LESLIE AND HER ENGAGEMENT 133 
 
 "I 'm so sorry," Leslie murmured. 
 
 "We got a still more severe chill," said Maurice. 
 "We got that awful kind of clammy, cold chill that 
 you get when you 're lost." 
 
 "Lost !" said Mrs. Lewes in an indescribable tone. 
 
 f ' Lost ! " said John Phillips. 
 
 "Be careful, Arabella," said her husband. "You 've 
 started the dog to shivering again." 
 
 "It upsets him dreadfully to wait like that," said 
 Mrs. Lewes severely. " He takes his atmosphere from 
 us. We were all nervous, as was natural." 
 
 "And then he couldn't understand going out just 
 at dinner-time," said Phillips. "Any change upsets 
 him. He was against going. You ought to have seen 
 me trying to get him by the kitchen door." 
 
 "He knows when it 's dinner-time just as well as 
 we do," said Mrs. Lewes ; "at least he knows it as well 
 as the most of us do." 
 
 Maurice refused to bare his breast to these arrows. 
 He continued eating his soup, and his calm attitude 
 impressed Leslie with a sense of safety which was 
 most agreeable under the circumstances. 
 
 "And so you were lost," said Frederick Lewes, going 
 back on the conversational track. "Where were you 
 lost?"
 
 134 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "That is what made us so late," said Maurice ; "we 
 had n't the faintest idea where we were lost, and so 
 we kept on getting loster and loster." 
 
 "Oh, we've been so far," said Leslie wearily; 
 "goodness knows how far!" 
 
 "Yes, I should think so," said Miss Lovejoy, in a 
 pitying tone. "Whatever made you go so far?" 
 
 "We didn't want to go so far," said Maurice; 
 " but we 'd gone so far, and just a little bit farther yet 
 before we knew it." 
 
 "Which way did you go?" asked John Phillips. 
 
 "We went down this street and over the bridge, 
 and then we went miles and miles out of our way." 
 
 "Do you know that road, John?" said Mr. Lewes. 
 
 "Perfectly," said John Phillips. "You came to a 
 white house?" 
 
 "Oh, no, we didn't," said Maurice. "We didn't 
 go that road at all. I don't know where we did go, 
 but I know exactly where we did n't go." 
 
 "We came to a house in the end," said Leslie. 
 
 "Yes, that was what made us come to any good 
 end," said Maurice. 
 
 "Whose house was it?" 
 
 " I don't know. I don't know anything at all until 
 I Ve had something more to eat." Maurice was that
 
 LESLIE AND HER ENGAGEMENT 135 
 
 rock around which conversation eddies but which it 
 can never completely submerge. 
 
 Leslie came to his rescue, as she had finished her 
 soup. "It was a house with a gate," she said; "a 
 five-barred gate. And it was locked. He climbed it 
 and went inside and warmed." 
 
 "Maurice!" cried Mrs. Lewes. "That was not 
 gentlemanly." 
 
 "I was so cold," said the young man apologetically, 
 "and I knew that she had a muff. And they were 
 such nice, chatty people ; I 'm to go out there and 
 take tea to-morrow." 
 
 Mrs. Lewes looked from her husband to her brother 
 and back again, her expression indescribable. 
 
 "And what Were you doing meanwhile?" she 
 asked Leslie. 
 
 "I did n't know what to do," said Leslie. "I clung 
 against the wall, and tried to look like ivy, and it was 
 so hard." 
 
 "To look like ivy?" inquired Miss Lovejoy. 
 
 "No, the wall." 
 
 "I think that we will leave you," said Mrs. Lewes, 
 rising abruptly; "the coffee was served in the other 
 room some time ago. Frederick, speak to the dog. 
 Don't be brutal, now."
 
 136 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 Frederick tenderly persuaded the dog- to go with 
 them into the left-hand, private sitting-room. For 
 the party had two private sitting-rooms and one 
 private dining-room not to speak of the whole 
 second floor. Their entertainment was on a truly 
 gorgeous scale, place and temperature considered. 
 
 "Now we can eat as long as we please," said Mau- 
 rice. "I mean to eat ever and ever so long." He 
 plunged madly into all that was being served him at 
 once. 
 
 Leslie also began to eat more unrestrainedly. " But 
 I'm worried over Mr. Witney," she said. "You 
 must go over to the Man and the Hen as soon as you 
 have finished and explain everything to him. Why, 
 he 's down here partly on my account." 
 
 " He 's managing to amuse himself fairly well, 
 anyhow," said Maurice. "The Man and the Hen is 
 a snug little box-, and he 's warm at all events. I 
 wouldn't worry over him if I were you." 
 
 " I wish we were at the Man and the Hen, if it 's 
 snug," Leslie reflected. " I wish I could go over there 
 with you and pay him a visit and get warm." 
 
 "It is hard being cold so steadily," said Maurice; 
 "my one comfort is that I 'm looking to see it kill the 
 dog."
 
 LESLIE AND HER ENGAGEMENT 137 
 
 "I've got nothing against the dog," said Leslie, 
 "only he stops up the fire so. But you must go over 
 and see Mr. Witney," she added; "you '11 have to do 
 that, you know." 
 
 "He '11 be abed and asleep before I 've finished," 
 said Maurice. "I haven't really had what I call a 
 square meal since I came down here. Watch me ! " 
 
 After a while he did finish, however, and although 
 it was not entirely too late to consider the Man and 
 the Hen, they did n't go there nor refer to it again, 
 for the very simple reason that Leslie forgot the whole 
 thing, and Maurice didn't remind her. They went 
 into the right-hand, private sitting-room, which was 
 reserved for smoking, and there found Mr. Lewes 
 smoking, and the dog looking sombrely into the fire. 
 
 "Arabella wants to speak to you," Mr. Lewes said 
 to Leslie directly she entered; "she wants to speak 
 to you immediately. Maurice, you 'd better stay 
 here." 
 
 Leslie looked frightened. "I '11 go to her at once," 
 she faltered. 
 
 Accordingly she went out of the right-hand, private 
 sitting-room, and into the left-hand, private sitting- 
 room, where she found Mrs. Lewes, Miss Lovejoy, and 
 John Phillips sitting around the fire.
 
 138 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 Leslie looked at the three and had as bad a fit of 
 depression as that from which the Earl of Arran had 
 lately suffered. 
 
 " Leave us alone," said Mrs. Lewes to her brother, 
 and Miss Lovejoy, and the two at once got up and 
 left the room. 
 
 "Sit down," said Mrs. Lewes to Leslie. 
 
 Leslie moved to a seat. She wished like anything 
 that she were married to Hugo, or betrothed to 
 Witney, or eloping with Maurice, or anything; but 
 she wasn't, so she just sat down. 
 
 Mrs. Lewes scanned her in silence, then, opening her 
 closed hand, she held out a piece of paper, a hastily 
 scribbled line or two. " Read that," she said. 
 
 Leslie took it and read : "Unable to understand but 
 will leave as requested. St. Sanctus' Club, London." 
 She read it twice. 
 
 "Unsigned, you perceive," said Mrs. Lewes. 
 
 "Yes. Whose is it?" 
 
 "Yours." 
 
 "Mine!" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "But where did you get it?" 
 
 " It was delivered here about quarter to eight. We 
 waited until eight and then opened it."
 
 LESLIE AND HER ENGAGEMENT 139 
 
 Leslie clasped her hands tightly. She felt unable to 
 speak. 
 
 "What have you to say?" 
 
 "Nothing. There J s nothing to say." 
 
 Mrs. Lewes looked at her in some surprise. 
 
 "What should I say?" Leslie asked. 
 
 "It is from the man at the Man and the Hen, I 
 suppose?" 
 
 "Oh, yes." 
 
 "Did you ask him to leave?" 
 
 "Oh, yes." 
 
 "Why did you do that?" 
 
 Leslie paused. It was Christmas Eve, and she felt 
 something was due to the day or the night. 
 
 " I could n't very well see what else to do," she 
 said frankly; "the situation seemed impossible 
 
 "Wait," said Mrs. Lewes, "I want Frederick to 
 hear this. Press the bell." 
 
 "But I don't want him to hear it," said Leslie, un- 
 clasping and then re-clasping her hands, and trying 
 to retain control of her judgment. 
 
 "Press the bell," commanded Mrs. Lewes. 
 
 Leslie rose and pressed the bell. 
 
 "And now I must tell you something for your own 
 good," said Mrs. Lewes, "and that is that you can't
 
 140 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 go on behaving in this way very long and expect to 
 be received by women above reproach, like my hus- 
 band, my brother, and myself." 
 
 Leslie was holding her hands so tightly clasped that 
 all feeling had gone out of them. "What have I 
 done?" she asked. 
 
 "Done! You have been here barely twenty-four 
 hours and you have already practically forced an 
 inoffensive man to leave his hotel, and you have 
 nearly lost Maurice!" 
 
 Just here Maurice himself appeared in the door. 
 
 " Please leave us alone," said Mrs. Lewes. 
 
 Maurice came in at once and sat down. "I 
 can't," he said, "I'm lonesome. Every one's gone 
 to put the dog to bed, and I was left by my- 
 self." 
 
 Mrs. Lewes started to her feet at that. When the 
 dog came to the fore, the universe and all else which 
 might have been, exploded in thin air for her. "He 
 must wear his chest-protector to-night," she exclaimed, 
 and hurried out. 
 
 Leslie was looking in the fire. She did n't turn her 
 face at all. 
 
 "It is n't Mrs. Lewes in this room now, it 's me," 
 said Maurice. "What 's the matter?"
 
 LESLIE AND HER ENGAGEMENT 141 
 
 "I 'm losing my temper," she said slowly. "I 'm 
 not sure but that I 've lost it." 
 
 " Don't. What 's the difference between a huff and 
 a muff? One you have alone and the other " 
 
 ''Don't be silly. I 'm never silly, and I hate it." 
 
 "Are you never silly?" said Maurice, opening his 
 eyes widely. " I 'm so sorry. I thought that you 
 looked as if you could be silly any time if you only 
 had a chance. And now you say you can't. Oh, dear!" 
 
 Leslie stopped short; being silly had never been 
 presented to her in just this light before. She felt a 
 new conception of the word and the world - 
 opening for her. Perhaps 
 
 Maurice recurred to his riddle. "I can fix it up 
 better than that," he said eagerly. "Why is a huff 
 like a muff? Because I Ve had a hand in each of 
 yours." 
 
 She tried to laugh. "But really it's nothing to 
 laugh over," she said a second later, feeling the laugh 
 to be a failure. "I 'm really angry." 
 
 "What about?" 
 
 "What 's just been said to me." 
 
 "What was said to you?" 
 
 "I shan't repeat it." 
 
 "What was it?"
 
 142 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "But I think I '11 go to-morrow." 
 
 "What rot. You can't." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Christmas Day. No trains." 
 
 She pressed her hands over her eyes. "I don't see 
 why I ever came. I did n't know them so very well. 
 And I thought it would be fun." 
 
 "Well, isn't it fun? I think it 's no end of fun. 
 I 'm having a great time." 
 
 Leslie looked up at him with tears in her eyes. 
 "I hate being a widow!" she exclaimed angrily. 
 
 " Don't stay one, then." 
 
 She looked at him, and he was laughing. Then her 
 own sense of humor leapt to her aid. " Perhaps John 
 Phillips ?" she suggested. 
 
 " Oh, no no me ! " said Maurice eagerly. " I 
 tell you what we '11 do. We '11 go right into the other 
 room now, and directly they all come back from 
 hearing the dog's prayers we '11 announce our engage- 
 ment. Think of their faces !" 
 
 This idea was bewildering. The mental picture pre- 
 sented to the imagination outstripped all else in 
 Leslie's mind for three seconds. She felt a veritable 
 ecstasy of curiosity for a brief half-minute, but then 
 reason returned and she said tentatively: "Only it
 
 LESLIE AND HER ENGAGEMENT 143 
 
 would n't be a real engagement, you know, because I 
 don't want to marry you." 
 
 "That 's understood. It '11 be one of these wife-in- 
 name-only kind of engagements. Think of their faces ! " 
 
 The thought of their faces was most alluring to 
 Leslie. " But it must n't get about," she said. " I 
 only do it for a makeshift." 
 
 "We'll pledge them to secrecy," said Maurice; 
 "we '11 tell them that we 're telling nobody. Think of 
 their faces!" 
 
 Every time he said that she 'felt her scruples going 
 more knock-kneed. " It would be fun ! " she confessed. 
 
 "Fun!" said Maurice. "It '11 be piles and piles of 
 fun! No such circus ever honored Kenelm before. 
 Think of their faces !" 
 
 "Shall you tell them to-night?" Leslie asked. 
 
 "Of course. What 's the use of waiting. Probably 
 they '11 go to bed and let us sit up a little, if we tell 
 them to-night. And even if we are n't engaged it '11 
 be pleasant seeing them all go to bed." 
 
 "Yes, I think so too," said Leslie; "but we must 
 say we 're old friends." 
 
 " Oh, no. Oh, goodness, no ! Then we '11 have to 
 match stories all the time. Love at first sight. That 's 
 the game. And it will be so romantic, too."
 
 144 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "But only twenty-four hours," Leslie protested. 
 
 " But you were irresistible, and I could n't think of 
 trying to resist. Don't you see?" 
 
 " Yes, but but afterwards when I want to 
 go?" 
 
 " Simplest thing in the world. We '11 quarrel in here 
 if there 's a good fire. I '11 go to play golf in a 
 violent rage, and Mr. Lewes will see you off." 
 
 "Well if I can depend on you," said Leslie very 
 slowly ; " but don't you go in for the game too strongly, 
 because I 'm not in the mood to stand much more 
 here." 
 
 " I won't be mean. I !11 play fair. And think of 
 their faces!" 
 
 Leslie laughed aloud. It all struck her as most 
 awfully amusing. So awfully amusing that any fur- 
 ther consideration not only sank under, but went com- 
 pletely down for the third time. 
 
 "And now," said Maurice, getting up and walking 
 about in a sort of active rage of invention, "which 
 shall we do? Go in there, or let them come in on us 
 accidentally? That 's the question." 
 
 She looked puzzled. "What do you mean?" 
 
 "Why, don't you see? We might keep it to our- 
 selves for a little just for the looks of the thing -
 
 LESLIE AND HER ENGAGEMENT 145 
 
 but if some one came in suddenly, of course " he 
 paused. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Why, it would be all out." 
 
 "Why would it be all out?" 
 
 "Whoever came in would see at a glance " 
 
 "At a glance ?" 
 
 "That we were engaged." 
 
 "I don't see how. You look just as usual." 
 
 "Of course I do, if I stay here. But if we were 
 really engaged I should n't stay here." 
 
 She looked at him. He knelt on a big chair near 
 the window, rested his arms on the back, and looked 
 at the fire. There was quite a pause. 
 
 "How very silly you are !" she said finally. 
 
 " I thought you 'd say something like that if I 
 if I kept still long enough." 
 
 Her face flashed hot. "You started to say 'if you 
 stayed there long enough,'" she exclaimed. "I know 
 you did ; I see it in your eyes. You 're too mean. I 
 won't play." 
 
 Then he jumped up very quickly. "Don't be 
 vexed," he said imploringly. "I can't help teasing 
 you you 're so easily teased." 
 
 "I am not easily teased."
 
 146 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "Well, what is it that you are?" 
 
 "I'm vexed." 
 
 "At me?" 
 
 "Yes; you're silly Oh, don't do that!" for he 
 had thrown himself down on the arm of the great chair 
 in which she was seated. 
 
 "I 'm doing no harm." 
 
 "My goodness me don't ; get up somebody - 
 
 "Now listen to me " 
 
 '* Oh, you will make me angry ! " 
 
 "But, my dear " 
 
 He was just about to say her whole name, but the 
 hall door creaked, a gasp sounded at their backs, and, 
 turning, they saw Mrs. Lewes standing transfixed 
 behind them. 
 
 Maurice sprang up, beaming. "She has accepted 
 me!" he cried happily. 
 
 Leslie thought that she should faint. If this reached 
 Hugo ! She saw now clearly that she loved him. 
 Her sense of fun failed her suddenly. She felt dizzy. 
 
 But Mrs. Lewes was much more dizzy much 
 nearer fainting. She tottered towards a seat, exclaim- 
 ing weakly, "Frederick must hear this. Press the 
 bell."
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 MEKRY CHRISTMAS 
 
 THE next morning a telegram came for Leslie from 
 Paris. She did not know that for some time, however. 
 Mrs. Lewes opened it to see if it needed to be sent 
 up at once, but as it only said "Merry Christmas from 
 Maxim's," she first thought of burning it, but finally 
 laid it at her guest's place. When Leslie came down 
 and saw it there, she read it with a sinking heart. 
 The imitation engagement seemed more of a tragedy 
 than a comedy, without Maurice's "Think of their 
 faces" to back up its humor. Disapproval and sus- 
 picion fought in their faces now, always excepting that 
 of Miss Lovejoy. Miss Lovejoy sat with her mouth 
 slightly open in an attitude of unlimited wonder as to 
 how under the sun Leslie did it. 
 
 Maurice was not present. Christmas or no Christ- 
 mas, command or no command, betrothal or no be- 
 trothal, he had n't gotten up. 
 
 The breakfast was rather heavy, not because of the
 
 148 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 amount of food consumed, but because Mrs. Lewes, 
 her husband, and her brother were all three too full 
 of emotions to have much room for anything else: 
 They looked at Leslie, and then at one another, and 
 then at Leslie again, and then at one another again. 
 She felt most uncomfortable. 
 
 "Did you know anything whatever of Maurice be- 
 fore you met him here?" Mrs. Lewes asked presently. 
 
 "No," said her guest, wishing to heaven that sho 
 had n't come down to breakfast any more than Mau- 
 rice had. 
 
 "I wouldn't engage a clerk on such short notice," 
 said Frederick Lewes emphatically. 
 
 John Phillips, who was spreading jam on the dog's 
 toast, shook his head as much as to say that he 
 would n't either. There was a most painful pause 
 after this. 
 
 "And who do you know at Maxim's?" Mrs. Lewes 
 
 continued; then, "Nobody could be less desirous of 
 
 interfering hi the affairs of others than we are, but 
 
 Maxim's is such a very strange origin for a telegram 
 
 of the description of yours." 
 
 Mr. Lewes laid down his knife and fork at once and 
 assumed an air of impartial but keenly observant 
 inquiry.
 
 MERRY CHRISTMAS 149 
 
 "I don't know anybody at Maxim's," said Leslie 
 rather miserably. 
 
 "You must know somebody there, since he (I 
 trust it is a man; no lady would ever know a 
 lady at Maxim's) since the man had your 
 address." 
 
 "I know so many men," Leslie almost wailed. 
 
 Again Miss Lovejoy's jaw dropped in a fresh access 
 of wonder as to how she did it. 
 
 " I 'm not sure that that statement is greatly to 
 your credit, my dear," said Mrs. Lewes. "Indeed, I 
 fear that you are much too rash in taking up with 
 new situations. I don't know, I 'm sure, what Mau- 
 rice will say to that telegram. He is a man, and he 
 has been in Paris, and under those circumstances he 
 is almost sure to know of Maxim's." 
 
 "She might tell him it was from the cannon place," 
 said John Phillips, who had time to think and time to 
 talk, because he could eat nothing owing to the dog's 
 voracity. 
 
 "John," said his sister, "I am surprised at you. 
 The cannon place ! The cannon place ! As if Maurice 
 had no brains at all ! The cannon place !" 
 
 John Phillips subsided. 
 
 "How long had you known your first husband be-
 
 150 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 fore you became engaged to him?" Mrs. Lewes went 
 on presently. 
 
 "Not so very long," said Leslie, beginning to crave 
 for Maurice's protection almost as ardently as if she 
 had had real right to it ; " but the family had known 
 him always." 
 
 "It's quite the reverse in this case," said Mrs. 
 Lewes. "We don't know a thing about Maurice. 
 Not a thing!" 
 
 "And you mustn't expect to find out about his 
 finances from me," said Frederick, "for I know nothing 
 whatever of them ; he may be an adventurer for all I 
 know. We entertain freely." 
 
 "Where did you meet him, anyway, Frederick?" 
 said his wife. " On a Tottenham motor 'bus, was n't 
 it?" 
 
 "No, Arabella," said her husband; "those were the 
 people we took to the Riviera with us that I met on 
 the 'bus. I can't think where I did meet Maurice. I 
 meet so many people in so many places. It was since 
 Thanksgiving, anyway ; that I 'm sure of." 
 
 Leslie felt a little appalled in spite of herself. "I 
 might break it off," she said, looking down at her 
 plate ; " perhaps I was a bit hasty." 
 
 "That 's easier said than done in England," said
 
 MERRY CHRISTMAS 151 
 
 Mr. Lewes. "Maurice knows that you have money, 
 because we 've often mentioned the fact among our- 
 selves, and he may have you up for a breach of prom- 
 ise. It 's a very common thing here, and, as you 're 
 older than he is, and a widow at that, he '11 likely get 
 very heavy damages." 
 
 "And he does look so innocent," said Mrs. Lewes. 
 "I never in my life have seen a man that looks so 
 innocent as Maurice. If he goes into court looking as 
 innocent as he generally looks, you '11 have no chance 
 at all." 
 
 "And going to law in England is so complicated, 
 too," said John Phillips, always feeding the dog. 
 "You don't deal with your lawyer, and he doesn't 
 plead your case. They have other men for all that." 
 
 "And it 's so far down in the city, too," said Mr. 
 Lewes. "It's no use attempting it with the 'bus; 
 even a cab takes forever. One just has to call a taxi." 
 
 "I hope you '11 never take a 'bus again," said his 
 wife, with great feeling. "You do meet the most cu- 
 rious people on 'buses. There was that Scotch lady 
 you met on a 'bus and brought home to lunch, and 
 she stayed four months. I 'm almost sure Maurice 
 is the man you met on the Tottenham 'bus. If he 
 is n't, he 's the man you went up the sliding stairs
 
 152 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 behind at the Franco-British ; I 'm positive that he is 
 one or the other." 
 
 "No, he isn't, my dear," said Mr. Lewes, looking 
 at her in a state of mild and deprecatory contradic- 
 tion. " You Ve got them mixed. The man I went up 
 the sliding stair behind at the Franco-British was a 
 lord, that 's what happened to that man ! I shall 
 think presently where I met Maurice. I 'm thinking 
 all the time." 
 
 "You see, we have such hosts of friends," said 
 Mrs. Lewes, pretty much to every one at once ; " we are 
 thoroughly American and thoroughly hospitable." 
 
 "It would really be interesting to know on an 
 average how many Americans we feed and lend money 
 to annually," said Mr. Lewes meditatively. 
 
 Just here the door opened and Maurice entered. 
 
 "Now, no kissing," said Mrs. Lewes instantly. "I 
 absolutely prohibit it. It always makes the dog want 
 to begin, and there 's no knowing what he may catch. 
 He 's got a cold somehow, now." 
 
 Maurice went blithely around the table, shaking 
 hands, and saying "Merry Christmas" to every one. 
 
 "Your breakfast is being kept for you," said Mrs. 
 Lewes, rather white-Christmassy in manner herself; 
 "press the bell."
 
 MERRY CHRISTMAS 153 
 
 "Thank you so much." He pressed the bell. " Well, 
 
 I feel very happy to-day." He sat down. 
 
 s " Leslie has just had a telegram from Maxim's," 
 
 said Mr. Lewes; "anonymous." He shot the last 
 
 word out as if it, at least, were from the cannon place. 
 
 "Oh, I know who it 's from," Leslie said quickly. 
 
 "You know who it 's from !" Mrs. Lewes exclaimed 
 yet more quickly. "Then you do know some one 
 employed there, after all !" 
 
 "How is this," said Maurice most severely. "You 
 know some one at Maxim's? Not Maxim's in Paris, 
 I trust!" 
 
 He pushed back his chair and then, seeming to think 
 better of it, drew it up again, and went on eating. 
 
 "I told you how he would feel," said Mrs. Lewes, 
 raising her eyebrows very high indeed at Leslie. " It 's 
 a man's natural view under the circumstances. Fred- 
 erick would feel just the same way if it was me. 
 Wouldn't you, Frederick?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Mr. Lewes, with a slight start; 
 " oh, yes yes ; yes, surely ! " 
 
 "There," said Mrs. Lewes, "you see how a man 
 feels in such a case. I dare say Maurice would like 
 to see the telegram. Would *'t you like to see the 
 telegram, Maurice?"
 
 154 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "Instantly," said Maurice. 
 
 Leslie took the telegram out of her pocket and 
 handed it to him. 
 
 "I think perhaps, dear," said Mrs. Lewes, "that it 
 v;ould be as well if you and Miss Lovejoy left the room 
 while we discuss this matter." 
 
 Leslie sprang from her seat and was out of the door 
 before Maurice, who had crossed his knees under the 
 table, could uncross them and get before her to 
 open the door. Miss Lovejoy followed. 
 
 "Now, Maurice," said Mrs. Lewes, when the door 
 was closed behind them, "tell us just what steps you 
 are contemplating taking." 
 
 "And don't speak rashly," said Mr. Lewes; "don't 
 let your temper run away with you. Weigh your 
 words carefully. You have only known her for a very 
 few hours, and you can see plainly that the word is 
 ' Maxim's ' ! No doubt about that." 
 
 Maurice turned the telegram over. 
 
 "There is nothing but the address on the other side," 
 said Mrs. Lewes. 
 
 "They never put anything but the address on the 
 other side," said John Phillips. 
 
 "I think I 'd better taKe her for a long walk," said 
 Maurice; "we can take this telegram with us."
 
 MERRY CHRISTMAS 155 
 
 "No, I wouldn't do that," said Mrs. Lewes; "I 
 would do nothing without witnesses." 
 
 "You are young," said Frederick Lewes; "two 
 heads are better than one. We are all your friends, 
 remember." 
 
 "Yes, that was why I proposed taking her with 
 me," said Maurice. 
 
 "Don't keep turning that paper over and over," 
 said Mrs. Lewes ; " you make me quite nervous." 
 
 "Don't you think perhaps you 'd better give it all 
 up?" said Mr. Lewes persuasively. 
 
 "It does seem rather a small thing to make such a 
 fuss over," said Maurice, "and yet " He paused 
 and frowned. 
 
 "I did n't mean the telegram," said Frederick. "I 
 meant the engagement. She never could hold you." 
 
 "I shouldn't think of asking her to try," said 
 Maurice. 
 
 "No, of course not," said John Phillips. 
 
 The duke brought in Maurice's breakfast just here. 
 
 "I should think that you would think of your 
 mother," Mr. Lewes suggested, when they were alone 
 again. 
 
 "He hasn't any mother," said Mrs. Lewes. 
 "You're thinking of the man you met in the Tube
 
 156 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 with the patent windmill ; he was the one that had 
 the mother!" 
 
 "Oh, my God, that patent windmill!" said Mr. 
 Lewes. "Do you remember, John?" 
 
 "Fifteen thousand pounds!" said John Phillips 
 feelingly. 
 
 " I do wish you would n't ever do any more business 
 with any one you meet in the Tube," said Mrs. Lewes. 
 "You 've lost two or three fortunes in the Tube just 
 this year." 
 
 "But I have got a mother," said Maurice, eating 
 very fast. 
 
 "Yes, I thought so," said Mr. Lewes. "I had the 
 idea of a mother distinctly connected with you in my 
 mind. Well, then, if you Ve got a mother, why not 
 think of her?" 
 
 "I do," said Maurice. 
 
 "That 's good," said Mr. Lewes approvingly. "Now, 
 let me ask you, don't you want us to look up Mrs. 
 Revere's record? We don't know a thing about her, 
 you know, but there 's always the Pinkertons, eight 
 dollars a day and expenses. If you 've got any money 
 at all, it might be as good a use as you could possibly 
 make of it." 
 
 "The best possible, I should say," said Mrs. Lewes.
 
 MERRY CHRISTMAS 157 
 
 " There was that man at the Man and the Hen, you 
 know, and then this telegram; and you never can 
 tell who you may meet at our house ! We entertain 
 every one." 
 
 "'With charity to all, with malice to none,'" said 
 Mr. Lewes slowly and reverently. "That is our 
 spirit. But really you had better let me write down 
 the Pinkerton address for you. I always have it 
 with me." 
 
 "We never move without it," said Mrs. Lewes. 
 "The dog and the Pinkerton address we never leave 
 behind." 
 
 "I should be very grateful," said Maurice; "it's 
 always best to be on the safe side, is n't it ? " 
 
 "She may not be a widow at all, you know," said 
 John Phillips; "lots of widows aren't." 
 
 "Why, there was that widow that you " began 
 Lewes. 
 
 "There, Frederick, that will do," said his wife. 
 
 " Shall I write the Pinkertons for you?" asked Lewes 
 kindly. "They know me. Business, and socially, too, 
 you know. I can write before lunch." 
 
 "No," said Maurice, not wholly unaffected by this 
 new and homelike light shed on the famous Secret 
 Service, but nobly resisting the temptation to enlarge
 
 158 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 his own circle; "no, I '11 write myself. I want the 
 engagement kept a secret, so I 'd rather write myself, 
 thank you." 
 
 "Oh, they won't tell any one," said Mr. Lewes; 
 "they 're used to all that kind of thing." 
 
 "They do everything quietly," said Mrs. Lewes. 
 "Quietly, you know." 
 
 "Awfully close-mouthed lot, the Pinkertons," said 
 John Phillips. 
 
 "And now," said Maurice, rising abruptly, "I 
 think I '11 get her and we '11 go to walk." 
 
 They all knew that when he spoke hi that tone he 
 would go ahead and do it anyway, so no one tried to 
 dissuade him from embarking on so rash a proposition. 
 
 "Only don't you get lost again," said Mrs. Lewes. 
 "There must be no more coming late to meals." 
 
 "Oh, we '11 keep in sight of the town," said Maurice. 
 
 "Dabbs and I are going up to play golf," said John 
 Phillips. 
 
 "Any handicap?" said Maurice, with friendly 
 interest. 
 
 "Oh, he just caddies," explained Phillips seriously. 
 Thereupon those two men left the room. 
 
 Leslie, sitting upstairs by the saddest fire that ever 
 eyes shone upon, heard a tap and then a voice at
 
 MERRY CHRISTMAS 159 
 
 crack. "Come on, my dearest dear; we 're going to 
 walk." 
 
 She hurried on her things and joined him in the hall 
 in two minutes. " If this goes on much longer I can't 
 stand it," she said; "did you ever hear anything like 
 it in all your life?" 
 
 "But what will you do? You would n't bolt with 
 me, I suppose?" 
 
 "Oh, no; I don't think so now, at any rate. But 
 heaven knows what I '11 do hi a little while. I 'm so 
 cold, and I 'm so mad, and then, I 'm so afraid " 
 she hesitated. 
 
 "What are you afraid of?" 
 
 She looked up into his face. " I 'm horribly afraid 
 that I shall burst out laughing in spite of myself." 
 
 He could not smother his glee at that thought. 
 
 "And besides I 'm scared." 
 
 "What are you scared of?" 
 
 "I 'm wretchedly afraid somebody '11 hear of it." 
 
 "You can fix it all up." 
 
 "Not if their side gets to to " 
 
 " But it never will." 
 
 " I 'm not so sure of that. They have such a wide 
 and varied connection." 
 
 "Yes, but if he he if he loves you?"
 
 160 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "Yes, but if he loves me and I 'm not sure that 
 he does he won't stand any nonsense. He 's that 
 kind of man." 
 
 ''Perhaps he doesn't love you?" said Maurice 
 cruelly. "That was n't a very tender telegram." 
 
 Leslie merely smiled. "But it was a telegram," 
 she said: "and it means more for him to send one 
 telegram like that than it does for the usual man to 
 write a long daily letter." 
 
 "Dear me!" cried Maurice, "is he that kind of a 
 man?" 
 
 "Yes, he 's that kind of a man." 
 
 Maurice whistled. But he was not depressed; not 
 Maurice.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE DAY AFTER 
 
 CHRISTMAS DAY passed away, and ended pleasantly 
 with Mr. and Mrs. Lewes and the dog retiring early, 
 leaving Leslie and Maurice in the left-hand, private 
 sitting-room, and Miss Lovejoy and John Phillips in 
 the right-hand, private sitting-room. To the casual 
 observer it would seem that Miss Lovejoy was learning 
 how it was done. 
 
 The weather was turning colder and colder, faster 
 and faster, every hour. The Guardian was beginning 
 to feel as if it had been built seven hundred years ago 
 at the very least, and around the window and door 
 jambs there were chill little breaths quite pre-Roman 
 in their sharp suggestiveness. 
 
 Leslie looked at Maurice standing before the fire 
 until she felt as if she really must make a reality out 
 of the engagement and go and lay her head against 
 his cheerfully warm-looking bosom. 
 
 Maurice seemed to divine her thought. "I don't
 
 162 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 think much of this kind of an engagement that we Ve 
 got," he said; "it '& lacking just where it ought to 
 come out strongest." 
 
 "Y yes," said Leslie doubtfully, "we just did it 
 to see their faces, and when their faces are not here to 
 see, it does seem it does seem " she stopped. 
 
 "Exactly my view of the case," said Maurice; "and 
 now that they Ve all accepted it, and the room keeps 
 getting colder, and you blush purple instead of pink 
 why, I find the situation lacking in humor." 
 
 " I know I 'm purple," said Leslie. "Mrs. Lewes tells 
 me so every five minutes. But I 'm so cold ! " The 
 last words burst from her in a veritable wail. 
 
 "I declare, it's a shame," said Maurice fiercely. 
 "Come here." He spoke with such terrible masculine 
 energy that Leslie, who had a strong imagination, saw 
 herself getting really-truly engaged to the wrong man 
 just through sheer force of circumstances. 
 
 " Oh oh, no ! " she cried piteously. " Please ! I 'm 
 so cold I don't know what I ; m doing ! " In an agony 
 of fidelity to Hugo [who had never asked her] she 
 sprang up and fled from the room. 
 
 Maurice, who had never asked anybody, laughed a 
 little to himself, and then went down to the bar. 
 
 The next morning Kenelm was all but frozen over.
 
 THE DAY AFTER 163 
 
 "Oh, my goodness me, why did I ever come here!" 
 Leslie thought for the hundredth time since her ar- 
 rival; and then she turned over in bed and decided 
 not to get up till noon. Nobody came to build the 
 fire, the room was frightfully cold, she could n't sleep, 
 and so at last she decided that somebody must come, 
 and, taking the bell-rope in both hands, she gave it 
 such a jerk that it brought the whole thing down upon 
 her head. The result of that was that she had to get 
 up and fasten it deftly back so that it would appear 
 as usual. As she did so she wondered if perhaps 
 others had not done the same before. She wondered 
 further if possibly the clue to its never being answered 
 did not lie there. She wondered still further, then, if 
 maybe that had not been the solution of all the un- 
 satisfactory bell systems in old-fashioned hotels. She 
 smiled a bit at the idea, and crept quickly down in 
 among the bedclothes again. It was warm there, at 
 all events. 
 
 An hour later a new chambermaid, procured Heaven 
 knows where, came and built a fire. So that Leslie 
 did finally arise and dress herself and go down. The 
 right-hand sitting-room presented a cheery aspect as 
 she opened its door. The shades were drawn and the 
 curtains pinned together from top to bottom. There
 
 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 was a roaring fire, and the fearl of Arran was roasting 
 before it. Mr. and Mrs. Lewes, each with a shawl and 
 a fur-lined motor-nig, sat near with morning papers. 
 
 "We never shall try this again," said Mrs. Lewes, 
 raising her eyes at Leslie's entrance. "This is awful ! " 
 
 " Have you seen the barometer? " said Lewes. " Un- 
 believable, absolutely unbelievable ! A new departure 
 in the history of England." 
 
 Leslie sat down as near the fire as she could get. 
 
 "We go up to town this afternoon," said Mrs. Lewes, 
 speaking in a tone of decisive finality. "I have sent 
 Maurice to take all the first-class compartments hi the 
 first train leaving after lunch. He is to reserve all the 
 hot-water cans between here and London. We have 
 our own rugs." 
 
 "And in this temperature John has gone to play 
 golf ! " said Mr. Lewes, taking a fresh wrap around his 
 knees. "My dear," he said, turning to his wife, "did 
 you notice here that the Duke of Connaught dines at 
 Sandringham to-night? You remember we met him 
 once passed within ten feet of him on the pier at 
 Brighton." 
 
 Mrs. Lewes paid no attention whatever to this bit 
 of news regarding her royal friend. 
 
 "Where is Miss Lovejoy?" Leslie asked presently.
 
 THE DAY AFTER 165 
 
 "I don't know," said Mr. Lewes. "Where is 
 Cecilia, Arabella; do you know?" 
 
 "She walked to the station with Maurice," said 
 Mrs. Lewes. "You must n't mind that, my dear," she 
 remarked impressively to Leslie. "That 's the kind 
 of thing that any woman that marries a man younger 
 than herself has got to expect right straight along. 
 You must make up your mind to it at once." 
 
 "Not- '' said Mr. Lewes, looking judicially over 
 his paper at Leslie, "not but what Miss Lovejoy must 
 be older than you, you know." 
 
 "That isn't the point, Frederick," said his wife. 
 "Miss Lovejoy might be old enough to be Maurice's 
 grandmother and still the principle would remain the 
 same." 
 
 "Look at the Baroness Burdett-Coutts," said Fred- 
 erick, "forty years older than her husband! There 
 was principle for you." 
 
 "Frederick," said his wife, "pray press the bell." 
 
 Frederick pressed the bell, but before any one 
 could have possibly gotten round to answering it, the 
 door opened suddenly, and the landlady flew in. 
 
 "Oh, my dears," she cried, "what do you think! 
 Oh, what news ! You '11 never believe me ! And yet 
 it's true!"
 
 166 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 Mr. Lewes turned pale, stooped forward, and grasped 
 the dog firmly by the collar. 
 
 "Speak!" he said hoarsely. 
 
 " They 've run off together those two. Taken the 
 train for London !" 
 
 There were at least three speechless seconds. 
 
 "Frederick," said his wife then, leveling her eyes 
 on him with the utmost severity, and speaking in a 
 low, suppressed guttural, "what have I said all along ! 
 I told you the first time I laid eyes on Maurice that 
 he had the face of a reformed cut-throat. I read 
 character at a glance, and I knew. Do you remem- 
 ber where you met him now ? " 
 
 Mr. Lewes adjusted his shawl and rug with the air 
 of a man taking what precautions he can against the 
 breaking storm. "You 're well out of this," he said 
 feelingly, aside to Leslie. 
 
 "But only fancy their going off like that !" said the 
 landlady, who was lively and chatty and adored her 
 American visitors because they believed in reciproc- 
 ity; "I never would have thought it would you?" 
 
 "How about her luggage?" asked Mrs. Lewes sud- 
 denly and anxiously ; " you had better hold it for her 
 bill. We cannot possibly consider her in the light of 
 a guest after this, you know."
 
 THE DAY AFTER 167 
 
 "Hold his, too," interposed Mr. Lewes hastily; 
 "he 's no guest either, now." 
 
 The landlady did not look at all distressed over her 
 bills. "But which will you have for luncheon," she 
 asked, "mutton or veal cutlets?" 
 
 " I don't care which, but whatever we have we '11 
 have it here," said Mrs. Lewes; "send me my maid 
 at once." 
 
 The landlady went away at this gentle hint, but 
 Kimberly, according to custom, did n't appear. 
 
 "Now you see, my dear, what comes of this kind 
 of uidiscriminate acquaintances," said Mrs. Lewes 
 most bitterly, as soon as they were alone; "think how 
 many experiences exactly like this we Ve been 
 through. You never will learn anything. I was 
 against asking Maurice from the first. Why, we 
 don't even know his last name, and after twenty-four 
 hours' continuous application you can't recall where 
 you met him. It 's worse than that Thames party 
 last summer where you would invite the man who was 
 the President's cousin and he went off with the whole 
 house-boat while we were on shore making tea. 
 Think of all the letters you have written the President 
 about it, and he does n't pay the slightest attention. 
 For my part, I don't believe that he was the Presi-
 
 168 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 dent's cousin at all. I never did. Stop throttling the 
 dog like that he hasn't done anything. I do 
 wonder where Maurice is expecting to get married 
 to-day!" 
 
 The door opened just here and Maurice looked in 
 smiling. 
 
 "Oh, my gracious goodness !" screamed Mrs. Lewes. 
 "Oh oh!" 
 
 Leslie started to her feet and Frederick came all 
 untucked. 
 
 "What is it?" asked Maurice. "It can't be that 
 you 've heard the news, because I 'm the only one 
 who knows, and I 've just come to tell you." 
 
 "To tell us what?" 
 
 "Of the elopement." 
 
 "The elopement! But we thought it was you!" 
 
 "Me!" Maurice looked charmingly, pleasantly, in- 
 nocently puzzled. "Why, how could it be me? I 'm 
 engaged." 
 
 "There, Frederick," said Mrs. Lewes, in a tone 
 sepulchral and hopeless, "I told you how it would be. 
 It 's that Dabbs. That 's what comes of getting a valet 
 who isn't a real one. This affair will be in every paper 
 in England to-morrow, and when they come to us to 
 know all about Miss Lovejoy, what are we to say!"
 
 THE DAY AFTER 169 
 
 "By the way, Maurice," said Mr. Lewes in kindly 
 aside, "while I think of it, what is your last name? 
 You may have mail, you know, and then anyway, 
 among intimate friends, I think it 's always pleasant 
 to know the last name." 
 
 "My last name 's Benedict," said Maurice. 
 
 " Indeed ! Benedict ! I '11 just make a note of that. 
 And now, my dear," turning to his wife, "I would n't 
 take this too seriously to heart. Dabbs was of no 
 service whatever, as you so frequently and justly re- 
 marked ; and we both know what a drain as to money 
 and little articles of wearing apparel Miss Love joy has 
 been on you. Let bygones be bygones. The dog 
 never liked her." 
 
 "Yes," said Maurice; "that would be all right if 
 she had gone off with Dabbs. But she has n't. She 's 
 gone off with Phillips." 
 
 At this Mrs. Lewes went over backward, shawl, 
 rug, chair, and all.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 LESLIE AND THE LAST OF KENELM 
 
 LESLIE and Maurice retired to the other sitting-room 
 during the reconstruction of their hostess. 
 
 "Oh, dear," Leslie said faintly; "oh, dear!" 
 
 "Exactly so," said Maurice. "I couldn't possibly 
 put it more neatly. 'You dear' would sound too 
 pointed." 
 
 "Did you ever suspect such a thing?" 
 
 "No; I thought Phillips might run away with 
 the dog, but Miss Lovejoy never once entered my 
 head." 
 
 Leslie sat down before the fire, rested her elbows 
 on her knees and her chin on her hands. 
 
 There was a pause, and during the pause the door 
 opened a bit and a mysterious hand agitated a tele- 
 gram in their sight. 
 
 Maurice went and took it, and the hand at once 
 shut the door and left them again alone. 
 
 The telegram was for Leslie.
 
 LESLIE AND THE LAST OF KENELM 171 
 
 "I declare, his attentions are getting really press- 
 ing," said the young man as he delivered it over. 
 
 Leslie tore it open quickly. 
 
 "'Why are the Pinkertons looking you up?'" she 
 read aloud, in a frightened tone. "Oh, my goodness 
 me, what does this mean?" 
 
 Maurice took the telegram and read it too. 
 
 "How does he know they 're looking you up?" he 
 asked in amazement. 
 
 "He knows everything," wailed Leslie. "He finds 
 out everything. Don't ask me how he does it. I 
 only know he does do it. We 'd have been married 
 long ago but for that." 
 
 She was too unfeignedly upset for Maurice to give 
 vent to even a smothered smile. Instead, he managed 
 to look at her in real sympathy, and he was still so 
 looking at her when Kimberly coughed and then 
 tapped. 
 
 "Come in," cried the man. 
 
 "If you please, Mr. and Mrs. Lewes would like to 
 speak to Mrs. Revere alone," said the maid at the 
 door crack. 
 
 Leslie choked down her agitation and left for the 
 right-hand sitting-room at once. 
 
 It was hard to believe that it was the same couple
 
 172 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 who had sat there so peacefully one short half-hour 
 ago. Mrs. Lewes was now white and Mr. Lewes was 
 now red, and both were most fearfully upset as to 
 rugs and tempers. 
 
 "Did you guess anything of this beforehand?" 
 Mrs. Lewes burst forth, the instant she laid eyes on 
 Leslie; "did you suspect anything? Be careful what 
 you say. Tell the whole story. Listen, Frederick, 
 she is going to tell the whole story. Go on, my dear, 
 only be careful. Be extremely careful." 
 
 "But I don't know a thing," said Leslie. "I never 
 suspected such a thing." 
 
 "You hear, Frederick," said his wife; "she sus- 
 pected nothing. And yet you say I ought to have 
 looked after John more closely. What could I do 
 beyond having 7 im always keep the dog with him? A 
 woman of my position cannot be running after a man 
 of John's position all the time. And he knows all 
 about her, at least he knows as much as we know 
 about her ; he knows that we know nothing about her." 
 
 "Which is something," said Mr. Lewes, carefully 
 adjusting his shawl afresh. "Why, she has on some 
 of your stockings at this instant, Arabella." 
 
 "More than that, Frederick, considerably more 
 than that. I may say that all that is next to her
 
 LESLIE AND THE LAST OF KENELM 17S 
 
 but never mind. Well, my dear, so you suspected 
 nothing. You see, Frederick, it is as I told you. She 
 suspected nothing. She has an unsuspecting nature, 
 the same as we have. It 's the American pure-heart- 
 edness. It 's what leads to all the swindlers in the 
 world being American. We 're so pure-hearted." 
 
 "But do you really think that there is anything to 
 feel so very bad about? " said Leslie; "she was your 
 friend" 
 
 "Friend!" interrupted Mrs. Lewes with hasty 
 scorn, "friend! If you entertained as freely as we 
 do, you would know what it means to have your 
 brother run off with a mere friend. Where did we 
 pick Cecilia up, anyway, Frederick?" 
 
 "She came with a lotion, didn't she, Arabella," 
 asked the husband, "and her sweet disposition won 
 us completely. We hold ourselves above class dis- 
 tinctions; we know no " 
 
 "But we shall from now on," interposed his wife. 
 "I '11 never risk anything like this again." 
 
 "We try to live upright lives and give every " 
 began Mr. Lewes. 
 
 "And then they elope with my brother," said his 
 wife, " as if this weather was n't enough misery." 
 
 "Now, you see, my dear," said Mr. Lewes, turning
 
 174 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 to Leslie, "why we so strongly urged your setting the 
 Pinkertons to look up Maurice 
 
 He was interrupted by Leslie's start and a scream 
 of " Frederick ! " from his wife. 
 
 "The Pinkertons " he said, in great confusion, 
 "why ee, yes, the Pinkertons, you know, my 
 dear, " 
 
 " Yes, I know," said Leslie, not seeing, on the spur 
 of the minute, whether to laugh or cry, " but it 's me 
 they 're looking up, not Maurice." 
 
 "My goodness me," said Lewes, so astonished that 
 it was pitiable; "why, how did you ever come to find 
 that out?" 
 
 "You are so hasty, Frederick," said his wife, in a 
 sort of passion of protest over his general stupidity; 
 "she has n't found it out. It 's you that are telling 
 her. She does n't know a thing about it. To go back 
 to John and Miss Lovejoy ' 
 
 "But why did you set the Pinkertons to look me 
 up?" Leslie asked; "why didn't you just ask me 
 whatever you wanted to know." 
 
 "Frederick," said his wife, rising, "I feel alarmingly 
 faint. Help me to my room." 
 
 In an instant they were both gone, leaving the floor 
 strewn with the waves of their rugs. Leslie did not
 
 LESLIE AND THE LAST OF KENELM 175 
 
 press the bell for some one to fold them; she piled 
 the fireplace with fuel and then set about folding them 
 herself. 
 
 Maurice came in almost at once. 
 
 " It was they who set the Pinkerton Agency on m j 
 trail," Leslie said briefly; "when shall we ever get to 
 the bottom of all this! I only know one thing 
 when they go you must go too ! " 
 
 "Well, but aren't you going too?" 
 
 "No, I 'm coming alone later." 
 
 "Why not with us?" 
 
 She looked down. "Because I don't want to," she 
 said, then she raised her eyes and laughed. "I want 
 to break the engagement now." 
 
 Maurice laughed too. "Oh, I understand. But 
 I '11 see you in town?" 
 
 "Often, I hope," she answered briefly, "and you 
 may meet the next tram." 
 
 At that he took her hand and kissed it. 
 
 They two lunched alone; Mr. and Mrs. Lewes had 
 theirs served to them privately with the dog. 
 Directly after luncheon preparations for the departure 
 were in order. It was more than a little imposing, with 
 Frederick and the dog in the first brougham, Mrs. 
 Lewes and Maurice in the second, Kimberly and
 
 176 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 Dabbs in a third (that needed varnishing badly), and 
 the luggage on an omnibus behind. Leslie waved to 
 them from the window. 
 
 "Most curious her remaining behind," said Mrs. 
 Lewes to Maurice. " I cannot see how you permitted 
 it, considering your feeling for her." 
 
 "Oh, we 've given all that over," said Maurice. "I 
 like her, but she doesn't understand me. Besides, 
 she 's so hopelessly uninteresting, just between our- 
 selves." 
 
 "Oh, I know it," said Mrs. Lewes quickly; "we 've 
 felt the same way. And so you Ve given it over? 
 Well, I 'm glad." 
 
 " Yes, so am I ! " said Maurice blithely. 
 
 "And just see how she acted!" Mrs. Lewes said; 
 "only three days hi all, and there was you, and then 
 Maxim's, and then that man at the Man and the Hen. 
 And, do you know, I 'm almost sure that she was at 
 the bottom of John's trouble, because if John had 
 had anything else in the world to amuse him he never 
 would have run away with Cecilia Lovejoy. No man 
 would." 
 
 " I would n't, even then," said Maurice. 
 
 Mrs. Lewes patted his hand. "No, my dear boy, I 
 know it. I know it only too well. What a comfort
 
 LESLIE AND THE LAST OF KENELM 177 
 
 you have been to us ! Words fail me. And the dog 
 is so fond of you." 
 
 Leslie, left alone, spent a quiet afternoon packing 
 and went up on the four-thirty. It was frightfully 
 cold, and she nearly died. Arriving in London, it 
 was nice to see Maurice on the platform awaiting her. 
 
 "Oh, how sweet of you !" she cried. 
 
 "It was lonesome," said the young man briefly. 
 "Heavens, what a trip we had! Little currents of 
 cold air scampering all over. 'Aha, here 's another 
 ankle to nip!" ; 
 
 Leslie laughed. She was most awfully glad to see 
 him. 
 
 " Let 's call it on again !" he whispered, in the cab, 
 later. 
 
 "Oh, no!" she said with resolution. 
 
 "No?" he asked inquiringly.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 LESLIE GOES FORTUNE-HUNTING 
 
 THERE is a great difference between London and 
 Kenelm at all times, but at the time of which I write 
 their special difference consisted in the fact that it was 
 possible to keep warm in London. Some idea of the 
 joy with which the Christmas guest got home may be 
 derived from that consideration. 
 
 Leslie, delivered at her own door by Maurice, asked 
 him to dinner, adding tactfully, " But I 'm sure you 
 don't want to come. " 
 
 " I 'm sure that I shan't come," he replied, " but 
 may I come to-morrow?" 
 
 She thought that he might, and so they parted 
 without setting any hour of rendezvous. Maurice 
 went home to Park Lane (the Bachelor's Extension 
 half), and his whilom fiance'e went straight upstairs 
 and to bed, with two hot-water bags, a roaring fire, 
 and a pot of hot chocolate, each disposed where it 
 would do the greatest possible good. There were a 
 lot of letters, but none from Hugo, and when she was
 
 LESLIE GOES FORTUNE-HUNTING 179 
 
 well toasted and getting sleepy she revenged herself 
 by thinking of Maurice until dreams claimed her. 
 Thinking about Maurice was always pleasant, because 
 Maurice was always pleasant himself. 
 
 He came the next morning and found her out. She 
 was n't really out, but he had no way of knowing that 
 she was having a visit from Rita Coghlan and did n't 
 want to be interrupted. He scribbled a line on his 
 card saying that he only stopped to ask if she 'd be 
 at home at four and to telephone 112967803 Gerard 
 at once if she would be. 
 
 " Oh, if we 'd known that it was him, he might have 
 come up," Leslie exclaimed, much disappointed on 
 seeing the card. 
 
 "We might telephone him to come back," sug- 
 gested Rita. 
 
 "But Mrs. Snellgrove is lunching with Mrs. Batt," 
 said Leslie, who, whenever she remembered it, was 
 excessively conventional. 
 
 "But I 'm here," said Rita. 
 
 Upon that they telephoned, and Maurice came back. 
 The luncheon was most gay, as, between the dual rec- 
 ollections of the two who had so lately been there, 
 Miss Coghlan was fully and thoroughly introduced 
 to Kenelm and its Christmas spirit.
 
 180 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "I wish I could see the dog !" she said enviously. 
 
 "I '11 take you there to see him if you like," offered 
 Maurice. 
 
 They canvassed the pros and cons of the idea for 
 some time, but finally abandoned it. 
 
 "Then let's do something else that's fun," the 
 young man suggested. 
 
 "It 's too cold," said Leslie. 
 
 "It 's grand out," said Maurice. 
 
 " Let 's go out, then," suggested Miss Coghlan. 
 
 "It '11 be cold," feared Leslie. 
 
 "But you must go if I say so," said Maurice. 
 
 "But you 're not engaged still?" said Miss Coghlan, 
 - "at least are you?" 
 
 "I think not; are we?" Maurice asked Leslie. 
 
 "Oh, no, indeed," said Leslie. "I wouldn't marry 
 you for anything ! " 
 
 ''That looks as if it were all off for me," said 
 Maurice, and took the blow bravely. 
 
 "I have an idea," Miss Coghlan exclaimed. "Let 
 us go out to the fortune-teller ! " 
 
 Leslie dropped her fork. "Oh, let 's !" she cried. 
 
 Maurice acceded readily, as he couldn't possibly 
 have refused in any case. 
 
 The contrast between his behavior and Mr. Dane's
 
 LESLIE GOES FORTUNE-HUNTING 181 
 
 was most refreshing. (" When I take a man anywhere, 
 I take a nice man," Leslie said to Rita, as they put 
 on their hats in the other room.) 
 
 They walked to Piccadilly and saw a pleasantly 
 disposed 'bus coming in sight almost at once. 
 
 "We will sit in separate seats and all be strangers," 
 said Rita wickedly, "and then we '11 see how we get 
 on." 
 
 "Well, but can I be forward or must I be timid?" 
 asked Maurice, who supposed this to be the first time 
 they had played that game. 
 
 " You must be a gentleman," said Rita. 
 
 "But if he is a gentleman, and we behave toe, 
 we won't even speak all the way out," objected 
 Leslie. 
 
 "There must be a proper way to do it, since your 
 Kenelm friends made so many nice friends on 'buses," 
 said Rita. " I thought being American you 'd 
 know how." 
 
 "Leave all to me," said Maurice; "if you are not 
 too haughty, I '11 wager anything I 'm on speaking 
 terms with both before we reach Hammersmith." 
 
 They climbed up at that and sat decorously down, 
 each in a seat alone. The omnibus went lumbering on. 
 It was astonishing how warm and pleasant it was in
 
 182 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 the sunshine this bitterly cold day indoors. Leslie felt 
 quite comfortable, and very happy. 
 
 "Fare," said the guard at her elbow. 
 
 She looked up with a start; she had no purse. 
 "I've no money," she said to the guard; "that 
 gentleman " pointing to Maurice. 
 
 "Me !" said Maurice, hi great surprise. 
 
 Leslie turned scarlet. 
 
 " Oh, well, of course, if I must," said Maurice, and 
 paid, darting looks of astonishment all the time. 
 
 Miss Coghlan was laughing and Leslie was vexed. 
 " I think this is a stupid game," she declared sincerely. 
 
 "It 's never any game at all," said Rita; "no one 
 ever sticks to it for three minutes." 
 
 Thereupon they all moved to seats close together 
 and talked about Kenelm again. 
 
 "Where are you going to visit next?" Leslie was 
 asked. 
 
 "I 'm going to Germany," she answered. 
 
 "Are you going to stay long?" 
 
 "Two or three weeks." 
 
 "Shall you go too?" Miss Coghlan asked Maurice. 
 
 "Not if I know it," said the young man. 
 
 "Don't you like Germany?" 
 
 "I like London better."
 
 LESLIE GOES FORTUNE-HUNTING 183 
 
 It is a very long ride to Hammersmith on an omni- 
 bus, and conversation is apt to run thin. It was n't 
 long before Leslie wished they had n't come, or that 
 Rita, at least, had n't come, with all her heart. 
 
 They got down finally at Wolverham Court Road 
 and went prowling down the same old side street. 
 The fortune-teller's house looked so exactly like every 
 other kind of a body's house that they had great diffi- 
 culty in locating it, even this time. After they found 
 it, Maurice undertook to ring the bell and conduct all 
 the negotiations. Accordingly he went up the steps 
 and rang, and in due time the attractive maid appeared 
 and smiled upon him. Rita and Leslie had thought- 
 fully turned their backs. He inquired if Miss Aubrey 
 was at home. 
 
 "No," said the maid, "Miss Aubrey has gone to the 
 Cat Show." 
 
 "Ah, to the Cat Show, eh," said Maurice, with Mr. 
 Lewes' reflective and judicial air of accepting every 
 statement, no matter how trivial on its surface, with 
 an equally impartial judgment. "Well, to the Cat 
 Show ! And when will she come back?" 
 
 "I don't know," said the maid, eyeing her inter- 
 locutor with a puzzled air. "She was there yesterday 4 
 too."
 
 184 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "How long did she stay yesterday?" 
 
 "She stayed until half-past nine o'clock." 
 
 Maurice looked at his watch. " It is now half-past 
 three," he said; "it hardly seems worth while to wait, 
 do you think?" 
 
 The maid appeared much appalled at the idea of 
 their waiting. 
 
 "She'll naturally be later to-night, too, because 
 she '11 know the cats so much better to-day," said 
 Maurice. "No, I don't think we '11 wait." 
 
 "What name shall I say?" 
 
 Maurice turned to his two companions. "What 
 name shall she say?" he asked. 
 
 "Oh, no name," said Rita hastily. 
 
 "Really, our names would be of no service," said 
 Maurice. "Nobody could possibly use them except 
 ourselves, you know." So he lifted his hat and turned 
 away, leaving the maid dumb and staring. 
 
 " I 'm so disappointed," Leslie said, as they re- 
 turned along Wolverham Court Road; "that 's twice 
 we 've come here for nothing, and it 's such a way." 
 
 "Let's find another," suggested Maurice. " I've 
 always understood they were thick in Hammersmith." 
 
 "But how can we find one?" 
 
 "We '11 ask in the shops."
 
 LESLIE GOES FORTUNE-HUM TING 185 
 
 Behold our little party going pleasantly from florist 
 to baker, and from baker to tobacconist, demanding a 
 fortune-teller. But with small success. 
 
 One dubious lady did know of a fortune-teller. 
 "But she 's not so very good/' she said frankly. 
 
 "Oh, we don't mind that," said Maurice, with equal 
 frankness; "all we want to know is, does she tell 
 good fortunes?" 
 
 The lady took Maurice most seriously. "One of 
 you might try her," she said, "and if she doesn't 
 suit, the others need n't go in. It 's five shillings ; 
 that 's a good bit of money, is n't it?" 
 
 Maurice took the address. 
 
 "Her door doesn't open on the street," said the 
 lady ; "it 's up two pair. You must go in through the 
 door of No. 6." 
 
 " I think it 's very thoughtful of her to let us go in 
 through No. 6," said Maurice; "because, even if her 
 door did open on the street, how could we get to it 
 'way up there." 
 
 Leslie thought this most amusing, but the lady 
 seemed to think it half-witted and appeared as re- 
 lieved when they left her shop as Miss Aubrey's maid 
 had appeared when they left her door. 
 
 They hunted long and fruitlessly for No. 6, and
 
 186 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 the cold chill winter night descended on them still 
 hunting. 
 
 " For goodness' sake, let 's give it up and go and 
 get some tea," said Rita. 
 
 "Does the Tube run by here?" Leslie asked. 
 
 " Oh, my God, that patent windmill ! " said Maurice. 
 "Do you remember, John?" 
 
 "Fifteen thousand pounds," said Miss Coghlan 
 promptly. "Whatever did you let him have the 
 money for. The dog disapproved of the investment 
 from the start." 
 
 "Press the bell," said Leslie. 
 
 Then they all laughed. 
 
 " If we behave in this manner ladies of unblemished 
 reputation like John Phillips will soon cease to have 
 anything to do with us," said Leslie most severely. 
 
 " I believe you are quite right there," said Maurice, 
 and just then a taxicab direct from heaven descended 
 on them. They got in at once and left Rita at home 
 first. 
 
 " If we had found the fortune-teller in and she had 
 said that you were going to marry me, would you 
 have believed her?" Maurice asked, when he and 
 Leslie were left alone in the cozy corners and were 
 speeding on fast.
 
 LESLIE GOES FORTUNE-HUNTING 187 
 
 "No," said Leslie, "of course not." 
 
 "If she had said that you were going to marry 
 Witney, would you have believed her?" 
 
 "No. I wouldn't believe any fortune-teller unless 
 she said that I was going to marry Hugo Guilford." 
 
 "My goodness me/' said Maurice, "what is the use 
 of going to them at all, then?" 
 
 "I don't know," said Leslie quite seriously. "I 
 suppose there really is not any use, but I just love to 
 go to them. I go every chance I get. I 'm always 
 expecting to find one that will tell me that I 'm going 
 to marry him." 
 
 Which explained to Maurice why fortune-tellers 
 throve.
 
 CHAPTER XVH 
 
 LESLIE SAYS GOOD-BT 
 
 THE afternoon before she was to depart for Germany, 
 Witney took tea with Leslie, and somehow or other 
 stayed on to dinner. It was very unconventional and 
 delightful, and the best thing about it was that Mrs. 
 Snellgrove was dining with Mrs. Batt. 
 
 "It 's hard to say which is the more agreeable ad- 
 junct to your life, Mrs. Snellgrove or Mrs. Batt, is n't 
 it?" said Witney, who had settled it for himself that 
 he was probably going to marry Leslie, and so always 
 felt pleasantly disposed in her presence. "I declare, 
 I can't say which of the two I like best." 
 
 "You 've never seen Mrs. Batt, have you?" Leslie 
 asked, in a tone of real curiosity. 
 
 "No; what is she like?" 
 
 " I don't know, I 've never seen her. What should 
 I ever see her for. I 'm grateful to her for existing, 
 because she keeps Mrs. Snellgrove happy, but beyond 
 that I never give her a second's thought."
 
 LESLIE SAYS GOOD-BY 189 
 
 "Why do you have a companion, anyway?" 
 asked Witney. "Companions only exist to be gotten 
 out of the way." 
 
 "Oh, but it would never do for me to live alone," 
 said Leslie, much shocked; "it wouldn't be proper. 
 It would be like Daisy Miller." 
 
 "And no American ever desired to be like Daisy 
 Miller, that 's certain/' laughed Witney. 
 
 "She was horrid," said Leslie, with conviction. "I 
 always feel so sorry for that nice man's aunt." 
 
 Hugo had been gone so long and been silent for so 
 long that Leslie was beginning to think he could n't 
 pardon the Pinkerton investigation and had thrown 
 her over altogether. Whenever she thought seriously 
 she knew better, but sometimes when she thought 
 seriously she grew very angry and considered that it 
 would serve Hugo right if she married Witney or 
 Maurice or any other man. It did n't so much 
 matter what man, so long as it served Hugo right. 
 When Leslie thought that Hugo did n't love her, she 
 felt equal to marrying any man just to prove to him 
 that she did n't love him either. The really odd part 
 of her logical deduction consisted hi the fact that when 
 she was with Witney she thought she preferred Mau- 
 rice, and when she was with Maurice she thought that
 
 190 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 she preferred Captain Melton (who had lately come 
 to town), and when she was with Captain Melton she 
 wondered who she might be going to meet at Schloss 
 Morgenlicht. It was all odd, and only illustrated anew 
 how blind Love always is, since so often he cannot 
 pick a winner, even with the winner stuck on the 
 other end of his own arrow. 
 
 But Witney felt very sure. There was something 
 about Leslie that made for a great sensation of security 
 among her men friends. It was a peculiar personal 
 attribute, and one most difficult to analyze. Hugo, 
 who shared it with the rest, and who bitterly resented 
 it in the rest, had once in great wrath declared it owing 
 to the way that she looked at them. Leslie had wiped 
 her eyes sadly in the face of the vile accusation and 
 declared that she never did it never. 
 
 "You do, too," Hugo swore angrily, "even to police- 
 men. It 's outrageous." 
 
 Then they had parted forever for three days and 
 nine hours. 
 
 But, whatever she did, it had its effect, even on 
 Maurice, who was also beginning to think that 
 maybe And as for Captain Melton he had n't 
 a doubt. It was Witney, however, who felt surest, 
 and so naturally the dinner went merrily forward.
 
 LESLIE SAYS GOOD-BY 191 
 
 "What crossing do you make to-morrow?" the 
 guest asked, when they arrived at the farther end of 
 the salad. 
 
 "I don't know," said Leslie, "we haven't looked 
 it up yet. If I wake up in time I want to cross in the 
 day. But it takes so many rugs to cross in the day. 
 I think night's better; but the state-rooms are so 
 narrow." 
 
 "Are you going Flushing or the Hook?" 
 
 " I don't know ; Rose sees to all that. I want to go 
 to Antwerp, the Scheldt takes so long to get up 
 that you can sleep till eight. And I think Antwerp 's 
 interesting ; I like to pick out the descendants of the 
 Spanish soldiers." 
 
 "There are some good pictures there, too," said 
 Witney, who was really very cultivated. 
 
 "Yes and it 's so near Brussels; I buy all my 
 hats in Brussels." 
 
 Witney, not being married to her, laughed 
 at this. Even had he been married to her he 
 might still have laughed, for hats are very cheap 
 in Brussels. 
 
 Later they went over by the fire and had coffee. 
 It was very peaceful and pleasant, and it seemed as 
 if things might as well be brought a little forward
 
 192 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 now as left hanging fire indefinitely. The visitor was 
 considering how to bring them a little forward when 
 Captain Melton was announced and jarred the whole 
 scheme of life sadly. The two men had never liked 
 one another, and were certainly not rejoiced over this 
 meeting. Leslie didn't know what to do except sit 
 between them and try to agree with both at once. This 
 proved difficult. 
 
 Captain Melton thought the German situation grave, 
 and Witney thought it ludicrous; Melton said each 
 time we had been invaded we had been conquered, and 
 Witney said wherever we went we always conquered, 
 and so we had conquered England, too; from this 
 happy set-to they flew to Japan, and one called the 
 Japanese the race of the future, while the other con- 
 sidered them the last gasp of the past. On Russia 
 and the income tax they were equally divided. One 
 thought the king a statesman, and the other thought 
 him a figure-head. One saw the future roseate, and 
 the other pointed out that in a single year trade had 
 fallen off one hundred million pounds. In the midst 
 of it all the door opened and Maurice walked in, and 
 if there was a subject that the two Englishmen could 
 and did agree upon, it was hi detesting Maurice. 
 Witney had always resented Maurice's ambassadorial
 
 LESLIE SAYS GOOD-BY 193 
 
 credentials at Kenelm, and Melton despised American 
 men now in place of women. 
 
 All of which did not trouble the sweet-tempered 
 Maurice in the least. He at once pulled a chair up 
 close to Leslie and began to talk to her, thus throwing 
 the other two most emphatically upon themselves. 
 This made Witney so disgusted that he rose almost 
 at once and departed, leaving Melton and the latest 
 arrival to fight it out to a finish. They fought. 
 
 It was a second well-bred battle, but the clash of 
 nationalities made the interest keener. No man, 
 however furious, could ever be other than forced to 
 his best with Maurice, who was suave to the manner 
 born. And the captain was a clever fencer, too. Each 
 used his foil without any button on the end. Leslie 
 sat and just gasped this time. 
 
 They were so charming to one another. They were 
 so interested hi one another. Melton inwardly hoped 
 that Maurice was just out making calls, and Maurice 
 inwardly knew that this was his last call this evening, 
 and that having come latest he would have the right 
 to stay last. That gave him a secret spiritual ad- 
 vantage over the other that he used with great 
 magnanimity. 
 
 They talked of the theatre. Melton had been at
 
 194 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 the one representation of So-and-so before the Lord 
 Chancellor closed it up. He looked at Maurice tri- 
 umphantly. But Maurice had been at two of the 
 rehearsals. Maurice opined that if the Lord Chan- 
 cellor had been at the rehearsals, Captain Melton 
 would never have seen the piece at all. This was 
 indeed drawing blood. Melton grew quite savage, 
 but all he said was " God bless my soul ; look at that 
 clock!" Maurice looked at the clock with an im- 
 partial air, as if, even had he been Lord Chancellor, 
 he would have thought it only right to let the clock 
 go on running. 
 
 They discoursed on the Art Exhibit next, and there, 
 too, the captain found himself among reefs just as he 
 had gotten all sail up. Then they flew at airships, 
 Melton having been out with Santos-Dumont. 
 
 "It's curious up there, isn't it?" said Maurice 
 indifferently. 
 
 "Yes, until you get used to it," said the captain. 
 
 " I 'm well accustomed to them," said Maurice. 
 " I 'm one of the elect to have been allowed carte 
 blanche to that government balloon park they Ve got 
 just outside of Paris." 
 
 Melton seemed again close to losing his temper. 
 Leslie sat pink and miserable. She wished that her
 
 LESLIE SAYS GOOD-BY 195 
 
 countryman would n't, but did n't know how to stop 
 him. She took off her bracelet and read all that was 
 engraved inside. When Maurice's eyes were on the 
 ground she looked appealingly at the captain, and 
 when the captain's eyes were on the ground she 
 looked appealingly at Maurice. Neither took her 
 speechless hint. Then she tried to put the bracelet 
 on again. 
 
 "Shall I fasten it for you?" Maurice asked in a soft, 
 tender tone, as if he and he alone had thoroughly 
 mastered the intricacies of that particular fastening. 
 It was bitterly unfair of him, for he had never laid 
 eyes on it before. Leslie turned pale, and the captain 
 turned green. 
 
 "I can do it myself, thank you," she murmured, 
 and Maurice smiled in a superior manner, as if she 
 would have her little joke. 
 
 "Well, I must be running along," said the English- 
 man, jumping up abruptly. Leslie rose then, and 
 Maurice rose, too. She was uneasy, but Maurice was 
 as calm as ever. He went to the tea-table, took up 
 a teacup with a green dragon on it and carefully 
 examined the design. It made him appear in a pecu- 
 liarly good light, only Leslie knew he could see the 
 whole room in the pier-glass opposite.
 
 196 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 She gave her hand to the captain, who shook it 
 gently. 
 
 "What time do you go to-morrow," he said, trying 
 to see her without allowing Maurice, who was standing 
 just behind her, to completely spoil the perspective. 
 
 "I don't know yet," she said unhappily; "we 
 have n't looked it out yet." 
 
 "I 'm to have your address, at all events," said the 
 captain, hoping that the young man heard that, " and 
 I may be in Berlin in February." 
 
 "I do hope so," she said weakly. 
 
 Then he shook her hand again, pressed it hard, and 
 let it go. Then he shook hands with Maurice in a 
 prompt, tart manner, and let his go, too. Then he 
 quitted the room and left them together. 
 
 Leslie went over by the fire, rested her elbow on the 
 chimney-piece and her forehead on her hand. 
 
 "Why didn't you send him away an hour ago?" 
 Maurice, back examining the cup again, asked. 
 
 "How could I? I never want to offend men. One 
 may want to marry them some day. You were horrid 
 to him, I think." 
 
 "Do you think seriously of marrying every man 
 you meet?" he asked, putting down the cup now and 
 coming to her side.
 
 LESLIE SAYS GOOD-BY 197 
 
 "One can never tell." 
 
 Maurice was silent. The clock ticked loudly. 
 "Guess who I 'm thinking of?" the man said low. 
 
 "I don't know," said Leslie, feeling very sure that 
 he ought to go. She always knew intuitively when 
 men ought to go. 
 
 " Won't you ask who?" said the sweet-toned 
 Maurice. 
 
 She hesitated. He took her hand and pressed it 
 very nicely and neatly indeed, until finally he pressed 
 an answer out of her. "Who?" she asked softly. 
 
 "Mrs. Snellgrove and Mrs. Batt," he replied 
 wickedly. 
 
 It was too bad that Maurice never could wholly 
 rise above his sense of the ludicrous. If he really had 
 wanted Leslie, he lost her then and there ; for she had 
 a sense of the ludicrous, also. 
 
 "Maurice, that was not gentlemanly," she said, and 
 burst out laughing. 
 
 In spite of themselves they were forever quoting 
 Kenelm in serious seconds. 
 
 He laughed, too, and then, when he saw how heart- 
 ily she laughed, he felt suddenly slightly hurt. It was 
 the work of but a second for a man to turn Leslie sober, 
 however, and now this one merely flung himself int^
 
 198 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 a big chair and held out his arms. "As long as you 
 have a companion it 's all right, even if she is dining 
 with Mrs. Batt," he proposed; "and if you don't see 
 it as I do, why, be a sister to me. I 'm feeling so 
 brotherly to-night." 
 
 Leslie turned dreadfully serious at once and looked 
 at him. He looked very inviting, but what the gay 
 Maurice had n't just calculated on was that Hugo 
 stood as ever sentinel over her. 
 
 "Oh, I can't," she said, the tears starting in spite 
 of herself. " I want to, but I must n't." 
 
 "As a mother," then, pleaded Maurice; "or as a 
 young aunt? Please! Come!" 
 
 "No," said Leslie miserably. "I 'd be sure to kiss 
 you, even if you were n't sure to kiss me. You 'd 
 better go, I think." She was very sure of that now. 
 
 "As a step-grandmother," suggested Maurice, his 
 humor waxing wilder; "or, if you will have it so, 
 I '11 turn off the lights and play you 're my real 
 grandmother. You can't think how fond I am of my 
 real grandmother. Come. Do/' 
 
 She could n't help laughing, he was so droll ; but 
 she knew now that he must go and at once. And just 
 then Mrs. Snellgrove was heard saying good-by to 
 Mrs. Batt in the hall below.
 
 LESLIE SAYS GOOD-BY 199 
 
 "Now you never will know how I feel about my 
 real grandmother," said Maurice, rising with regret. 
 "The way you let your chances like sunbeams pass 
 you by is certainly going to be a shock to you when the 
 well runs dry." 
 
 And he kissed her hand most beautifully and de- 
 parted. 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Snellgrove," Leslie exclaimed, the in- 
 stant her chaperone came in, "did you remember to 
 ask Rose if she put in my white coat? I 've been so 
 worried for fear she 'd forgotten it that I Ve not 
 thought of another thing since I had my tea."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 LESLIE PARTS WITH MAURICE 
 
 IT was understood that Leslie hated to be seen off, so 
 naturally it was quite hi keeping with Maurice's char- 
 acter to insist on doing so. He arrived just one quar- 
 ter of an hour before she ought to leave the house, 
 and all that she could do under the circumstances was 
 to cry from the sleeping-room beyond the dressing- 
 room which connected with the sitting-room, "Good- 
 ness me," and then he was left alone in aforesaid 
 sitting-room to try and think what was gone out of 
 it besides Leslie herself. 
 
 "I suppose you are all dressed?" he called out, 
 after awhile. 
 
 "Oh, yes, long ago," she called back. 
 
 He could n't possibly know that she and Rose were 
 engaged in "putting in the Jast things," Rose having 
 been unexpectedly delayed by an accident an un- 
 expected "last errand." 
 
 "Is Mrs. Snellgrove there?" Maurice called, hi 
 further query.
 
 LESLIE PARTS WITH MAURICE 201 
 
 "No, she 's at Mrs. Batt's. It 's Mrs. Batt's birth- 
 day," Leslie called back. "It seemed so dreadful to 
 ask them both to sacrifice Mrs. Batt's birthday to me. 
 Mrs. Batt has a birthday only once a year, and you 
 know how frequent I am." 
 
 Maurice pondered this for a whole minute, and then, 
 "Can't I come and help," in a very sweet voice that 
 she knew, oh, so well. "I'm so good at helping." 
 He always forgot that she kept a maid. 
 
 " I 'm not sure of that," laughed Leslie. 
 
 Maurice knew so little about ladies' sleeping-rooms 
 that he always thought of them as places of strict 
 seclusion. "Do let me help," he cried again, all un- 
 witting that the porter and another man had now 
 entered beyond for the trunks and were locking and 
 strapping the same. "I don't need any help," Leslie 
 (who was putting on her veil) called back. 
 
 " A woman always needs help," suggested Maurice, 
 in a tender voice that yet had to be strong enough to 
 sweep through a dressing-room and two pairs of 
 portieres. 
 
 "Not always," said Leslie, accepting a hat-pin from 
 Rose, who was working hard to remain demure. 
 
 " You 'd better prove my worth while you 've the 
 chance."
 
 202 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 Then she hurried suddenly hi upon him. "Oh, I 'm 
 glad to see you. I 've had company ever since I woke. 
 Women on the bed, women on the trunks, they all but 
 perched on my tooth-brush and my bath." 
 
 Maurice laughed but not very heartily. Now 
 that she was right before him, it came over him that 
 he was going to miss her awfully ! Leslie was one of 
 the most missable women imaginable. 
 
 "When do you suppose you '11 be coming back?" 
 he asked, holding his gloves disconsolately behind his 
 back and wondering how much he might dare to dare 
 at the very last minute. 
 
 "I don't know," said Leslie. "I wouldn't count 
 on my coming back at all, if I were you. If I meet a 
 nice German I may marry one. I think I could love 
 anything as perfect as they consider a man to be over 
 there." 
 
 Maurice sighed. 
 
 "Don't do that," said Leslie; "you '11 depress the 
 dog." 
 
 "The dog's depressed already," said Maurice. "I 
 do wish you 'd kiss me good-by." 
 
 U 0h, I couldn't possibly," said Leslie. "Mrs. 
 Snellgrove is at Mrs. Batt's, and you know very well 
 that I would n't even if she was n't."
 
 LESLIE PARTS WITH MAURICE 203 
 
 "I think that she ought to have stayed home to 
 see you off." 
 
 "Why should she? She isn't a bit of use. I'm 
 always only too pleased when she goes out. I think 
 a chaperone is a horrible idea ; they are so in the way, 
 and men never like them. I '11 be so glad if I ever 
 marry again, so that Mrs. Snellgrove can go and live 
 permanently with Mrs. Batt. It 's her dream, and 
 it 's getting to be mine too." 
 
 "I hope she '11 realize it soon," said Maurice. "She 
 can count on me to help her get under way any time." 
 
 He thought this rather neat, but his companion 
 did n't seem to hear it. She was buttoning her glore. 
 
 "Let me," said Maurice. 
 
 "It 's done now." 
 
 " I 'm sure that you '11 be exactly like Mrs. Levres 
 when you 're her age," said Maurice vindictively. 
 "You are finding out new little ways to make life 
 trying for your guests every day." 
 
 "I don't call you my guest," said Leslie; "the rent 
 for these rooms ran out twenty minutes ago, and you 
 came without being invited, anyway." 
 
 "A very unkind speech," said Maurice, and began to 
 put on his own gloves at once. 
 
 "I hear the carriage," said Leslie, who, whatever
 
 204 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 she might do sometime, had fully decided to never 
 marry Maurice. 
 
 All this led to the fact that when once they were in 
 the carriage life became extremely serious, not to 
 say doleful. 
 
 "How pretty the park looks!" Maurice said sadly, 
 trying to take her hand and failing. 
 
 " You '11 remember me to Mrs. Lewes when you 
 meet her, won't you?" said Leslie, wishing he were 
 Witney. (Witney was a gentleman through and 
 through, and although she was fairly sure that he 
 loved her pretty well, still she knew that he would 
 never take her hand.) 
 
 " We did have a jolly Christmas, did n't we?" said 
 Maurice, with fresh mournfulness. 
 
 "Oh, I '11 never forget that awful cold !" said Leslie, 
 her heart thrilling at the recollection. 
 
 With that both hands got right into the muff the 
 old familiar muff; it seemed only natural. 
 
 "Next time I shall go to the Man and the Hen," 
 Maurice announced with decision. "You will, too, 
 won't you?" 
 
 "That's what Alice and the Boots did," said 
 Leslie. "Kimberly told me they went right straight 
 there."
 
 LESLIE PARTS WITH MAURICE 205 
 
 "I sympathized with Alice and the Boots," said 
 Maurice. "I envied them their cozy corners." 
 
 "Of course they must have been cold too," Leslie 
 said simply. 
 
 London was almost as sad as Maurice when they 
 got down into the city. " Is n't it dirty? " Leslie said. 
 
 "I 'm going to miss you so terribly !" said Maurice, 
 sighing. "You '11 write, of course?" 
 
 " If I have time." 
 
 "Won't you make it, for me?" (The tenderness of 
 his voice !) 
 
 "Don't be foolish." 
 
 They reached the station at last. It was even 
 sadder than the city. It looked as if one half of the 
 inhabitants had just buried the other half and were 
 rushing across the Channel to enjoy their inheritances 
 without letting it show in their faces. The usual 
 mountains of sturdy, well-worn, sole-leather English 
 luggage. The usual intermixing grouping of severe- 
 nosed English ladies and plaid-coated English gentle- 
 men. Leslie had to pay thirteen shillings excess, 
 which troubled the porter very much. 
 
 "And now I must put you into your coupe"," said 
 the merry Maurice, looking ready to weep. "I do 
 wor.der when I '11 see you again !"
 
 206 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "Don't take it so much to heart," said Leslie; "if 
 I ever marry we '11 have you often for week-ends. 
 I 'm sure I hope he '11 do a little thing like that for 
 you and me." 
 
 This quite stung Maurice. " Oh, I '11 be all over it 
 this time to-morrow," he said brightly. "It hurts 
 to-day, but you mustn't suppose for a minute that 
 it 's anything really serious." 
 
 "Oh, I know," said Leslie. 
 
 Then he tucked her into the coupe, and a little later 
 the locomotive pulled them far apart. 
 
 "Rose," said Leslie, "I 'm so glad that you speak 
 German." 
 
 "Yes, madame," said Rose. 
 
 "We'll have a nice time this time," Leslie said 
 comfortably. 
 
 "Yes, madame," said Rose.
 
 IT is most unfortunate and uncomfortable for those 
 traveling from England to Germany that Germany 
 has not managed to stretch to the ocean. The trip 
 between is very long and tedious, and altogether dis- 
 agreeable. There is really nothing but the custom- 
 house to break the day, and it is a sad commentary 
 oa custom-houses that no traveler, however bored, 
 ever enjoyed getting down and getting a breath of 
 fresh air in that way. 
 
 Schloss Morgenlicht not having been thoughtful 
 enough to anticipate the Through-Berlin-Express and 
 locate itself conveniently, Leslie and Rose spent the 
 last of the afternoon wriggling down through a dis- 
 banded kingdom and an old grand-duchy to the end 
 that they might at any rate get to bed where beds 
 were awaiting them. 
 
 "You won't forget to find out where to put the 
 coal into my stove, will you?" said the mistress to the
 
 208 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 maid, as they waited at a certain bleak junction. 
 " You know in really nice houses they never have the 
 coal put directly into the stove; all that is managed 
 two rooms and a hall away." 
 
 " Yes, madame," said the obediently disposed Rose. 
 
 "And don't forget looking in everything for spiders. 
 Some man told me that they 're everywhere in Ger- 
 many and seems to me he mentioned slippers par- 
 ticularly. Don't you go and put anything on me, or 
 give me anything to put on, that 's got spiders in it." 
 
 *'0h, certainly not," said Rose, much shocked at 
 the idea. 
 
 "I do wonder how low they wear dresses hi 
 schlosses," Leslie reflected; "not that it matters, for 
 I 've frocks all heights." 
 
 It was about six o'clock when they finally reached 
 Abendstadt, the nearest railway connection for their 
 destination. The Graf was on the station platform, 
 with a footman. After he had kissed Leslie's hand, 
 he explained that his wife would have come too, only 
 that the morning mail had rather upset her. 
 
 "Oh, I hope nothing has happened," said Leslie 
 anxiously. 
 
 "No, nothing has happened, but something is going 
 f .j happen," said the Graf, and then he led her to the
 
 LESLIE AND A REAL SCHLOSS 209 
 
 carriage. The drive that followed was absolutely 
 charming. First the cozy, little, red-roofed village, 
 and then the Tannenwald Weg of Rittergut Morgen- 
 licht. Two miles straight of cut forest with occasional 
 wide sweeps of clear snow, pheasants whirring across 
 the open, and deer peeping forth and then leaping 
 lightly away as the carriage approached. 
 
 " Is that the schloss? " Leslie asked, as they emerged 
 from the forest and saw on a hill to the right a grand 
 old donjon glowering down at them. It had two 
 round towers with pointed tops, and another, bigger 
 tower behind, and was most romantic looking. 
 
 "No," said the Graf, "that is Schloss Liebesthal. 
 You '11 meet him to-morrow at dinner." 
 
 Leslie was much struck at the idea of having a 
 castle to dinner. "Is he interesting?" she queried. 
 
 "He's the most disagreeable man with the best 
 manners you ever met," said the Graf; "don't trust 
 him, whatever you do. Marry him, if you like, but 
 never believe a word he says. Oh, he 's an awful brute ! 
 I know him well ; he 's our nearest neighbor." 
 
 Leslie promised not to place the slightest confidence 
 in Schloss Liebesthal, and, as they were now entering 
 another wood, he was soon lost to view. 
 
 "My wife will be so glad to see you," said the
 
 210 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 Graf presently: "you'll divert her mind. She is 
 upset." 
 
 "I 'm so sorry," Leslie said. "I suppose I may n't 
 ask you what is the trouble? " 
 
 "I could n't do it justice," said the Graf; "all I can 
 say is, she brought it on herself. Remember that." 
 
 Leslie promised to remember. 
 
 "It '11 be rather pleasant for you here just now," 
 the Graf went on soon. " You see, Fu'rst Wartenstein 
 is having a Jagd party at Steinwarten, and we know 
 them all. You '11 like Wartenstein ; his mother was 
 a Von Kracht and her mother was well, I don't 
 remember just now what she was, but I believe Goethe 
 wanted to marry her, or else she went to England with 
 George I; but everybody knows all about her, so 
 don't show your ignorance by asking any questions." 
 
 Leslie promised not to ask any questions; she was 
 more than a little grateful to the count for posting 
 her up so generously. 
 
 "We are nearly there," he said, as they rounded a 
 slight hill. "You want to look at that monument; 
 it was put up to the memory of Varus by my great- 
 grandfather. He wrote a little book about Varus, 
 and he put up that monument to him, and named my 
 grandfather after him."
 
 LESLIE AND A REAL SCHLOSS 211 
 
 "I thought the Germans were all so proud of of 
 the man who fought Varus," said Leslie. 
 
 "Thej are, generally, but my great-grandfather 
 abhorred war. It must have been a kind of presenti- 
 ment of his, for he was shot by Napoleon." 
 
 "Oh, dear," said Leslie, "how sad!" 
 
 "I don't know," said the Graf; "he was an awful 
 beast. There, that 's the castle." 
 
 Leslie looked out quickly. 
 
 Schloss Morgenlicht stood in a large open space in 
 the middle of its own park. It was a perfectly tre- 
 mendous building, with tiers on tiers of windows, and 
 towers on battlements, with more battlements on top 
 of the towers. Around the back were grouped long 
 ranges of stone buildings, and the remains of a moat 
 were visible here and there. The effect of the whole 
 entourage was imposing in the extreme. Stone lions 
 guarded the main entrance, and stone knights guarded 
 the lions. 
 
 The carriage stopped before the steps, and a footman 
 came ninning out and down to open the door. The 
 Graf and Leslie got out. They went up the steps and 
 into a large hall, where a grand, old, oak staircase 
 wound solemnly around, and antlers and banners hung 
 all about.
 
 212 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "We will go to my wife at once," said the Graf, and 
 led the way on up the staircase. Leslie felt an alto- 
 gether different sensation from that which had ushered 
 her in upon Mrs. Lewes. She was genuinely impressed 
 now. There 's such a wide space between new position 
 and old. 
 
 Half-way up the solemn slope they met the Grafin, 
 coming down to meet and welcome her friend. She 
 was a fair, sweet, blonde woman and undeniably 
 pleased to see Leslie. 
 
 "This is so kind of you," she said, kissing her 
 warmly on both cheeks, quite as if , in accepting her 
 invitation, Leslie had conferred some unwonted honor 
 upon her. 
 
 "But I was delighted to come," said Leslie; "be- 
 sides wanting to visit with you, I think that it will be 
 such fun living in an old, old castle." She smiled most 
 heartily. 
 
 "As to the fun of living in an old, old castle, I don't 
 know," said the Grafin, leading the way into a warm 
 and sunny sitting-room, looking out over the park. 
 "The roof is forever to be mended, and the whole thing 
 has to be built over every two hundred years." She 
 spoke as if a castle owner hardly had time to turn 
 around before he had to begin repairing his little nest.
 
 LESLIE AND A REAL SCHLOSS 213 
 
 "Have you had tea?" asked the Graf, planting 
 himself before the open fire and regarding the guest 
 pleasantly. 
 
 "Oh, yes, long ago," said Leslie. 
 
 "Then you must sit here and get warm while I tell 
 you the news," said the Grafin. "Such shocking 
 news," she added, smiling pleasantly. 
 
 "Oh, horrible!" said the Graf, "we're quite used 
 up." 
 
 "Dear me," said Leslie, pulling off her gloves and 
 piling her wraps into the arms of one of the footmen, 
 who seemed to appear automatically whenever de- 
 sired. " Your husband did n't make me think that it 
 was as bad as that." 
 
 "It 's nothing to worry you," said the Grafin; "it 
 only worries us. It 's a wedding." 
 
 "A wedding!" said Leslie, much startled. 
 
 The Grafin nodded. "Our niece," she said. "You 
 see, the poor girl has no mother, and she has written 
 and asked if she can be married here. What could we 
 say?" 
 
 " Donnerwetter, we could have said no," said the 
 Graf; "that's what I should have said. But the 
 difficulty was that we 'd always promised her her 
 wedding. You see ! "
 
 214 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 " You see that placed us where we could n't very 
 well get out of it," said the Grafin; "now, could we?" 
 
 "We could have gone to Wiesbaden," said the Graf. 
 
 "Dear George," said his wife, "you know that you 
 would not have done that any more than I would." 
 Then she turned to Leslie. " It was really too terrible 
 to think of at first. I nearly went mad. We did not 
 know that she was even betrothed. I had been to 
 see my cousin and I drove home quite happy and came 
 in, and there sat my Mann with the letter. As soon 
 as I saw him I cried, ' Um Gottes witten, George, what 
 is it?' and all he said was, 'Read.' I was so fright- 
 ened I could hardly cross the room. I said, ' Oh, tell 
 me, is it our boy ? ' but all he said was, ' Read ! ' Then 
 I read and I sank down on that seat over there 
 and what a terrible evening we spent ! " 
 
 "Horrible," said the Graf, with feeling; "horrible !" 
 
 "But when is it to be?" asked Leslie. 
 
 "Next week," said the Graf; "next week! In this 
 snow ! This whole schloss to heat !" 
 
 "Twenty people for the night, my dear," said the 
 Grafin; "twenty people for the night, and every one 
 with a valet or afemme de chambre, and the old prince 
 with his physician, and the old duchess with her 
 companion. Ach,Gott!"
 
 LESLIE AND A REAL SCHLOSS 215 
 
 "Perhaps I 'd better go on to-morrow," said Leslie, 
 much appalled at the impending calamity. 
 
 "No, no, my dear, you can't do that. We 're en- 
 tertaining for you. We 've got a great dinner to- 
 morrow, and the Freifrau von Diebeshaufen has asked 
 you there Thursday. And, besides, this is all a secret ; 
 no one knows except just our family." 
 
 "No one must know," said the Graf; "it 's a very 
 great secret." 
 
 "We only tell you so that you will understand," 
 said the Grafin; "you must say nothing." 
 
 Leslie promised to say nothing. 
 
 "You see, it 's like this," said the Graf: "they live 
 in Pomerania, and the marriage can't be there because 
 then the old prince and the old duchess could n't be 
 present. And they want to be present." 
 
 "You see, the old duchess is her great-aunt," said 
 the Grafin, "not on the side of the Von dem Blumen, 
 but because Ragnhild's mother was a Von Glockchen. 
 As for the old prince, of course that 's through the 
 Beusts. I hope I make it clear?" 
 
 "Oh, perfectly," said Leslie. 
 
 "His mother was a Von Knockenbaun," put in the 
 Graf; "you forgot that, Liebste." 
 
 "It's all so dreadful/' said the Grafin. "Only
 
 216 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 fancy, we must have this whole thing done in flowers 
 from top to bottom, and a carpet from here to the 
 church. Heaven only knows where I can borrow 
 that carpet." 
 
 "You '11 be sorry you sold all those old beds out of 
 the garret now," observed the Graf. 
 
 "I'll be sorrier I sold those old suits of yours," 
 answered his wife sadly ; "they 'd have done for extra 
 footmen. But the garret was so full of old stuff. It 
 had n't been thoroughly cleared out since Wallenstein 
 sacked the place." 
 
 "You must see the Wallenstein Saal," said the 
 Graf. "He slept there the night after his arrival." 
 
 " I do wonder how we '11 ever make the old duchess 
 comfortable," sighed the Grafin; "she's always so 
 uncomfortable. I wish she 'd refuse to come." 
 
 "Think of sleeping twenty people!" said Leslie, 
 with her perpetual American wonder. 
 
 "Oh, we take care of seventy-five people in the 
 summer often and often quite easily," said the Grafin : 
 "but the difficulty at this time of year is heating the 
 rooms. We '11 have to have one man to do nothing 
 but tend the fires. Just go from hall to hall and put 
 on coals, you know." 
 
 Leslie looked sympathetic.
 
 LESLIE AND A REAL SCHLOSS 217 
 
 " It 's the strange servants that are the worst," said 
 the Graf; "they make all the trouble." 
 
 " Selbstverstandlich," said his wife, with deep mean- 
 ing, "and they never help one bit." 
 
 "Oh, I 'm so sorry for you !" Leslie exclaimed. 
 
 "No, no," said the Grafin, "you mustn't feel that 
 way, for we shall manage very well: we always do. 
 And I don't mean to spoil your visit by talking of our 
 little personal troubles, anyway. Tell us all about 
 England, and whether you have lost your heart to 
 an Englishman or not." 
 
 "No, I have n't," said Leslie, shaking her head. 
 
 "That 's so nice," said the Grafin; "perhaps you '11 
 marry a German and live in this country. Don't you 
 think that she would make a good German haus- 
 frau?" she asked the Graf, smiling. 
 
 "I don't know," said the Graf, a little dubiously. 
 "She wouldn't be able to run around the world as 
 she does now if she were to marry a German, you 
 know." 
 
 "I shouldn't want to run around as I do now," 
 said Leslie; "if I had a nice schloss I should want to 
 stay in it." 
 
 "Oh, my dear, you don't know what you 're talk- 
 ing L'bout," said the Grafin, with a sad intonation.
 
 218 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "There 's the whole chimney in the chapel falling in. 
 The chapel was done before the Hundred Years War, 
 and when that end was blown up it stood, so they 
 just rebuilt the rest around it, and now it 's all crum- 
 bling to bits." 
 
 "It'll fall in on the wine-cellar some day soon," 
 said the Graf cheerfully. 
 
 "Never mind," said Leslie resolutely, "I should 
 like even a caving-in schloss, even if it caved in right 
 on top of me." 
 
 "That would be likely enough to happen," said 
 the Grafin pleasantly. " Now I must take you to your 
 room and let you get a bit of rest before supper. We 
 are old-fashioned and have supper at night." 
 
 Thereupon Leslie was led away to her own quarters.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 LESLIE AND A LIVE HUSSAR 
 
 THE footman was spreading the tea-table in the 
 great bow-window, and the family were all gathered 
 about it. The family were the Graf, the Grafin, and 
 Leslie. 
 
 Just then there was the sound of hoofs below, and 
 the Graf looked out of the window and exclaimed, 
 "Ah, there 's Von Dienstag ! Just in time for tea." 
 
 Baron von Dienstag was an officer of the Hussars, 
 and had ridden from heaven knows where on horse- 
 back with a Hussar private to hold his horse. Booted 
 and spurred, he was in upon them in a minute, his 
 face all abeam with a welcome reflected from that of 
 his friends. He was presented to Leslie and gave 
 her a beautiful silver-braided bow. 
 
 They all drew up around the tea-table at once, and 
 the " little Dienstag," as the six-feet-two of Hussar 
 pleasantly dubbed himself, sat next to the guest. 
 
 "But you mustn't make love to her," said the
 
 220 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 Grafin, " because she wants a schloss and you have no 
 schloss." 
 
 " But I can buy a schloss," expostulated the Hussar, 
 as if no such trifle as a scliloss present or absent 
 should ever prevent his making love. "You are not 
 going to break me of any bad habits, you know." 
 
 "Nothing will ever break you of any bad habits, I 
 fancy," said the Graf. 
 
 At this the little Dienstag drew one corner of his 
 mouth into a meaning smile and looked at Leslie. 
 
 " Have you heard about what 's to happen to us 
 next week?" asked the Grafin. 
 
 "Yes, I had a letter from Ludwig. So it 's to be 
 here." 
 
 "You mustn't tell any one; it's a secret, you 
 know," said the Grafin. 
 
 "Oh, I won't tell any one. I can keep a secret. 
 I 'm keeping all my own." 
 
 "Yes, but think of having to heat this castle," said 
 the Graf earnestly. "Twenty people coming." 
 
 "Why don't you get Liebesthal to put up some of 
 the men?" 
 
 " Liebesthal ! " said the Grafin with scorn. " Liebes- 
 thal would n't stable a cat for a friend ; you know 
 that."
 
 LESLIE AND A LIVE HUSSAR 221 
 
 " Oh, yes, I know that," said the Hussar, who was 
 clearly of a nature that fell in easily with the views 
 of his friends. 
 
 " If I were a cat, I would n't put up with Liebes- 
 thal," said the Graf. " Such a brute ! We were shoot- 
 ing together all day Monday, such a shot, and 
 then he came home with me to dinner." 
 
 "And found fault with the dinner," said the 
 Grafin. "God pity his wife; that J s all I can say." 
 
 "He'll never have a wife," said Von Dienstag, 
 eating, drinking, and talking without ever taking his 
 eyes off Leslie. "He doesn't mean to marry. He 
 let 's other men do the marrying, and then he makes 
 love to their wives." 
 
 "Like yourself?" suggested the Graf . At that the 
 little Dienstag smiled his curious smile again. 
 
 "No, but really this wedding is no easy trick," said 
 the Graf. "You know the old prince is coming." 
 
 "Ludwig wrote me both the old princes were 
 coming," said the Hussar. "Haven't they told 
 you?" 
 
 "Donnerwetter, no!'' said the Graf, looking quite 
 sober. "Are you sure? That would mean three 
 more rooms?" he said to his wife. 
 
 "Five," said Dienstag; "LiH will come, too."
 
 222 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "Not if the Mittwochs are here," said the Grafin; 
 "you forgot the Freitag story." 
 
 "Her mother was a Von Kleberich," said the Graf. 
 "Dear me, I hope General von Kleberich won't hear 
 of our having the prince here." 
 
 "His mother was a Sonnabend, you see," said the 
 Grafin to Leslie. " One has to be so careful about that 
 kind of thing with us." 
 
 "And I heard that Weissenthurm was coming, 
 too," said the Hussar. 
 
 "Oh, no!" cried the Grafin. "Whoever told you 
 that?" 
 
 "I must n't tell, because it is a lady." 
 
 "We '11 have to heat the west wing, then." 
 
 "I don't believe Weissenthurm would come here," 
 said the Graf. "You know why not?" 
 
 "He's never minded that. Her mother was a 
 Hohenthal, you know," said Dienstag; "that al- 
 tered it all." 
 
 "You see Graf Weissenthurm is Ragnhild's uncle," 
 explained the Grafin to Leslie, "not on our side, of 
 course; her grandmother was a Weissenthurm." 
 
 "But his mother was a Wartegg," interpreted the 
 count; "that 's how they come to own Schwarzhut." 
 
 "But Schwarzhut came through the Sussebienes,
 
 LESLIE AND A LIVE HUSSAR 223 
 
 the father's mother, of course/' said the Grafin. "I 
 do hope it 's all plain to you?" she added to Leslie. 
 
 "Oh, yes, indeed," said Leslie, much bewildered, 
 but smiling. 
 
 "Are you going to drive over alone to-night, or are 
 you going to bring the Von Mittwochs?" asked the 
 Grafin of the baron now. 
 
 "I 'm not coming with them," said Dienstag with 
 much firmness; "I 'm coming alone." 
 
 "Can't you bring me some pillows, then?" asked 
 the Grafin. "I shall want ever so many extra pillows. 
 Bring me over twelve, if you can." 
 
 "Well, if I can remember to have them put in the 
 carriage," said the Hussar obligingly; "but don't 
 count on them." 
 
 " If both the princes come, I shall want every pillow 
 and blanket you've got," said the Grafin. "Do 
 have them gotten ready; that 's a good soul." 
 
 "I will," said the Hussar. "I'll keep Witzleben 
 over night, too, if you like." 
 
 "Witzleben! Is Witzleben coming?" cried the 
 Graf and the Grafin together. 
 
 "Why, of course; didn't you know that?" 
 
 "No; who told you?" 
 
 " He wrote me. Of course he 'd be coming. His
 
 224 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 father 's Baron Stein's uncle. He 'd be at the wed- 
 ding if there was any one at all there." 
 
 "My goodness me!" said the Grafin in despair. 
 "If Witzleben is coming, the whole family in that 
 direction must be coming." 
 
 "You see Witzleben's mother was an Abend," said 
 the Graf. Leslie rose suddenly and fled the room.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 LESLIE DINES 
 
 LESLIE, dressing for dinner, soon discovered by the 
 resonance that shook the walls that her room was 
 situated in the clock-tower. It was a huge apartment, 
 with an artful arrangement of rod and drapery con- 
 fining one corner to the purposes of a dressing-room. 
 She could look out of one window over the park, and 
 she could look out of another down into a great court, 
 stone-paved, and where she later discovered that 
 some one was always drawing water. There were four 
 closets buried in her walls, and a stone staircase wind- 
 ing up to darkness just to the left of the chimney. 
 It was a delightful room, pleasantly feudal and de- 
 liciously warm. 
 
 "Not much like Kenelm," she reflected. 
 
 Rose had everything laid out, and the labor of a 
 toilette was soon finished. Then she threw an opera- 
 wrap around her shoulders and went with the maid 
 through several unheated halls to that particular
 
 226 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 quarter of the castle where the evening's entertain- 
 ment was to be held. Arrived at her destination, Rose 
 received the opera-wrap back to carry upstairs, and 
 her mistress entered a long suite of huge, irregularly 
 shaped rooms, brilliantly lighted, hi the end one of 
 which the Graf, with all his orders on, was looking 
 over the pages of his Hunt Book. The Graf was 
 greatly pleased to see Leslie down so promptly, and 
 at once showed her to a chair beside his and ex- 
 hibited the written proof of how many deer, hare, 
 rabbits, and pheasants he had killed each year since 
 he began to shoot a gun. She was much interested; 
 indeed, she was so much interested that when they 
 finished the Hunt Book he took her through several 
 more brilliantly lighted rooms to where he had a small 
 private menagerie of stuffed animals, the boxes piled 
 one on another as if the circus were getting ready to 
 move on. Here he took the greatest possible pleasure 
 in pointing out which were weasels and which were 
 wild-cats, explaining naively the meanwhile that all 
 the live animals had been infinitely bigger than their 
 skins. This Germanized version of the size of the 
 fisher's fish delighted her very soul. She did wish that 
 Hugo had been by to hear it, for Hugo had a strong 
 sense of humor.
 
 LESLIE DINES 227 
 
 When they had looked long and thoroughly upon all 
 the well-preserved game they came back to the es- 
 tablished rendezvous and found the Grafin seated by 
 the fire. It was five minutes before the hour set for 
 people to come, and a stillness like death reigned 
 over Morgenlicht. The Grafin seemed slightly de- 
 pressed; it was evidently very difficult to rise above 
 the opening of the west wing. 
 
 " I do hope that I shall not make any social blunders 
 to-night," said Leslie. "The hardest thing about 
 going from country to country is the mastering of the 
 etiquette." 
 
 "Oh, you needn't trouble about that," said the 
 Grafin kindly. "Only don't say 'Frau Baronin' ; say 
 1 Gnadige Frau,' or else say nothing at all." 
 
 "I thought only servants or people asking if one 
 was at home said 'Gnadige Frau,'" said Leslie. 
 
 "Say nothing at all, that's simplest," said the 
 Graf. 
 
 "Dear Mann," said his wife, "did you telephone 
 about the opening of the west whig to-morrow?" 
 
 " Yes, they will come." 
 
 The Grafin sighed heavily. "And never courtesy 
 except to a princess," she said, turning to Leslie; 
 "and there'll be no princess here to-night, so you
 
 228 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 won't courtesy at all. And remember not to trust 
 Liebesthal, or tell him anything you don't want 
 known. He 's such a tattletale, it makes me quite 
 ill to think that he knows our secret." 
 
 "And don't think he 's in love with you if he says 
 so," said the Graf, "because he won't be." 
 
 "It 's just that he likes to say so to see if you '11 
 believe it," explained the Grafin; "Von Dienstag is 
 just the same." 
 
 "They all are," said the Graf. 
 
 Then a thunderous sound of carriages burst out 
 suddenly below. 
 
 "Oh, who am I to sit by?" Leslie exclaimed 
 suddenly. 
 
 "I've given you Liebesthal himself," said the 
 Grafin, "because if you could manage to marry him 
 that castle is a dream." 
 
 "There are Roman bricks in the foundation work," 
 said the Graf rising; "and he 's rich, too," he added. 
 
 "And the sweetest disposition," said the Grafin, 
 also rising; "he wouldn't hurt a fly. And he's off 
 shooting most of the time, so he 'd be out of your way ; 
 and then there 's all the mother's property for the 
 oldest boy." 
 
 "His mother was a Von Pfeffer um Salz," inter-
 
 LESLIE DINES 229 
 
 polated the Graf. He and his wife were now moving 
 towards the door. 
 
 "And her mother was a born Freiin Brotchen," 
 said the Grafin. " Oh, there 's no lack of blood in 
 Liebesthal." 
 
 "Only you never can trust him/' said the Graf, over 
 his shoulder. " You must n't think if he asks you to 
 marry him, not to-night but any time, that he means 
 it, you know." 
 
 "Oh, dear no," said the Grafin; "she never would 
 be so foolish as that." 
 
 The dinner-party burst in upon them just then, and 
 between silver braid and top-boots with spurs it was 
 such a brilliant sight from the first minute that 
 Leslie felt herself taken into the heart of a comic 
 opera and absolutely dazzled out of her senses. She 
 never had been so close to so many Hussars at once in 
 all her life. They were so very charming, too, and as 
 pleasant to talk to as they were beautiful to look at. 
 One lived in a monocle and they all had castles and 
 mothers and huge estates in Pomerania or Silesia. 
 The ladies present looked rather faded in comparison. 
 Most of them resembled old and conscientiously done 
 family portraits, and there were two or three young 
 girls who had n't had their portraits done yet and so
 
 230 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 had n't quite settled what to look like. Graf Liebes- 
 thal proved to be an eagleish gentleman with a gor- 
 geous moustache and a neat blue band fitting just 
 beneath his collar, to which was hung a huge order. 
 Leslie admired him very much, but their conversation 
 was painfully perfunctory at table, the Grafin having 
 given her dreaded neighbor on his other side a lady 
 in whom he was apparently deeply interested, a 
 fact which his legitimate lady soon found out. There 
 was nothing left for her to do but to imitate the happy 
 Graf and take what didn't belong to her, too, for 
 Leslie was never one of those who go quietly and 
 cheerfully manless. The man on her other side looked 
 to be not so bad, and after a second searching glance 
 at him she took up his name card and introduced him 
 properly to herself. 
 
 "Ah, you 're an Oberregierungsrat, I see," she 
 said, as a safe opening play. "Do tell me what you 
 do?" 
 
 "I work," said the Oberregierungsrat with an 
 alacrity which proved that he did n't care a bit about 
 the lady they had given him. "I work from nine to 
 ten daily." 
 
 "From nine to ten! What a nice, easy post," 
 paid Leslie; "and what do you do in the afternoon?"
 
 LESLIE DINES 231 
 
 "You didn't understand," said the srat. 
 
 "I said that I worked from nine to ten hours daily." 
 
 "Oh, dear," said Leslie; "really? But do tell me, 
 as long as you 're of so obliging a disposition, what is 
 an assessor and what does he do? I Ve always been 
 so curious about what an assessor might be. I Ve 
 never been able to find out." 
 
 "He works for an Oberregierungsrat," said the 
 
 srat; "the assessor writes, and then I read it 
 
 over and sign it." He took a glass of wine. 
 
 "How obliging of you," said Leslie, referring, of 
 course, to his treatment of the assessor. 
 
 She had to pause then and lean out of the way while 
 
 a footman told the srat what he was going to pour 
 
 into another of his glasses and then poured it in. 
 
 "And a Geheimrat," she said when she was again 
 perpendicular, "what does he do?" 
 
 The srat was just about to drink out of his 
 
 last-filled glass. "A Geheimrat does n't do anything," 
 he said; "he 's done doing." And then he drank. 
 
 Leslie was greatly amused. She did n't mind a bit 
 getting out of the way every other minute for the fill- 
 ing or refilling of his glasses. In the end they became 
 such fast friends that the Graf Liebesthal's behavior 
 in appropriating the wrong lady upset the whole ar-
 
 232 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 rangement of the table, and a very inoffensive gentle- 
 man and a lady who was making a souvenir collection 
 of switches, as her hair traveled down the vale of 
 life's changes, were swamped high and dry. 
 
 The general tone of the conversation was animated 
 but incomprehensible to the American, as it went 
 forward very rapidly and all at the same time. 
 
 The wedding-to-be was the subject that came upper- 
 most oftenest in the metee. From time to time Leslie 
 could just catch the words: "It 's all a secret," and 
 " His mother was a Von " but as a general rule 
 she caught nothing. 
 
 When dinner was over they walked through a chain 
 of drawing-rooms to two or three where coffee, 
 liqueurs, and cigarettes were served. Leslie sat down 
 on a low divan and drew a long breath ; she felt quite 
 exhausted from eating. 
 
 The little Dienstag came up and sat down beside 
 her, his booted and spurred legs extending far for- 
 ward. She did wonder what he 'd have looked like 
 if his hair had been a quarter of an inch long ; there 
 seems to be a general spite against numbering any hairs 
 at all on one 's head just now among German men. 
 
 "Do you shave your head, too, every evening?" 
 she inquired; "what makes you do it?"
 
 LESLIE DINES 233 
 
 "But I don't," said the Hussar gravely; he looked 
 at his shining boots for a long three seconds and then 
 said: "Don't ask me any more questions, please. I 
 have n't had too much to drink, but I cannot answei 
 difficult questions just now." 
 
 Leslie looked sharply at him. He continued to look 
 at his boots. They were beautiful boots. 
 
 "Do you wear them to balls?" she asked. 
 
 Dienstag examined them minutely in turn. 
 "Always," he said briefly, after a while. 
 
 "I should think that you 'd catch the spurs in 
 ladies' dresses." 
 
 He raised his head at that and looked at her so 
 long and steadily that she was almost disconcerted. 
 "I do/' he said finally. 
 
 "Must you wear them?" she asked. 
 
 He waited so long that time that she really thought 
 that he was not going to answer at all, and then he 
 said, "I must." 
 
 "Does n't all that silver braid tarnish very easily? " 
 she said then, beginning to fear that he was that 
 he was 
 
 He looked at all of his silver braid that lay within 
 easy range. "It does," he said. 
 
 "Oh, dear," she exclaimed, now quite positive that
 
 234 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 he was that he was "I think that you 'd better 
 get some coffee or go out and walk about a bit." 
 
 He looked at her again. "You think I 've had too 
 much to drink," he said with a weary, misjudged air, 
 "and I have." 
 
 Leslie wanted to laugh at the finale. "Do go and 
 get some coffee," she urged. 
 
 He paid no attention whatever. 
 
 "It would help your head," she suggested. 
 
 He felt around until he touched his forehead and 
 then passed his hand wearily across it. 
 
 " I speak English," he said, with a thoughtful air. 
 
 "Do you, indeed?" she replied. 
 
 "Yes. 'Kiss me quick.'" 
 
 She started up, but stopped short on discovering 
 that he had his foot on her dress. 
 
 "It's the name of one of my horses," he said; 
 "it 's all the English I know." 
 
 She sat quiet now. She was almost hysterical. 
 
 "Do try coffee," she urged presently, in a faint 
 voice. 
 
 He rose and stood looking down on her. 
 
 "Do get outdoors," she pleaded then, looking up at 
 him. 
 
 " This is nothing," he said, smiling in kindly reassur-
 
 LESLIE DINES 235 
 
 ance; "when I really have too much, four men can't 
 hold me. It takes the regiment to get me to bed." 
 
 He walked away, and Liebesthal, who was human 
 enough and masculine enough to feel really attracted 
 to her now that he had n't the duty of entertaining 
 her assigned to him, came and took his place at once. 
 
 " The schloss will look very differently a week from 
 now," he said, smiling kindly. 
 
 "Yes?" she answered interrogatively; "the 
 wedding?" 
 
 "No, the wedding will be over. All will be quiet." 
 
 "But the wedding is to be a week from to-night." 
 
 "They think so," said Liebesthal, "but it ; s going 
 to be on Monday. Don't tell them; it 's a secret." 
 
 "A secret!" she repeated. "But they ought to 
 know that secret, don't you think?" 
 
 "I don't know why." 
 
 "But it 's to be in their house." 
 
 "Oh, I see what you mean now," said the Graf, 
 "you think they ought to know because they 're 
 going to have the wedding." 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 " I '11 tell you another secret. Fiirst Stettin is 
 coming." 
 
 "Who is he?" Leslie asked.
 
 236 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "He 's the head of the family, only he 's the other 
 branch. They separated in the fifteenth century. Of 
 course, it 's not a very close connection. His mother 
 was a Von Siege und Feige. You 've heard of her, 
 of course?" 
 
 "No," said Leslie. 
 
 "Dear me! Well, I 'm sorry I can't tell you the 
 story." 
 
 She looked at him, his blue throat-band, his cross, 
 and his monocle. " You 're such a strange man," she 
 said. 
 
 " Oh, I 'm a very strange man," said Liebesthal, 
 tremendously flattered; "and you 're a strange 
 woman. It 's a pleasant feeling, don't you think?" 
 
 They talked then of many things, of cabs, of 
 ships, of sealing-wax, and whether pigs have wings. 
 She was told that Morgenlicht was first a robber- 
 castle, then a Benedictine monastery, and then a 
 residence. 
 
 "And your schloss?" she asked. 
 
 "You must come and see it," he invited her. She 
 accepted the invitation with pleasure. She did not 
 find him any of the things which she had been warned 
 against. She liked him very much indeed. 
 
 Soon after the clock in the tower pounded eleven,
 
 LESLIE DINES 237 
 
 and they all went, all except Dienstag, who remained 
 behind and broke first a wine-glass and then a chair- 
 arm in trying to adjust himself to circumstances. 
 Finally he got settled comfortably in a deep seat, 
 and they sat with him until twelve, when the Graf 
 suggested his sleeping there. 
 
 " Something must have happened to your carriage," 
 said the very sleepy Grafin. 
 
 "I expect that I did n't tell it to come back," said 
 the Hussar. " I was tired, I Ve been out with the re- 
 cruits all day ; I did n't want to take that long drive." 
 He closed his eyes as he spoke. " Not that I 'm sleepy, " 
 he explained, with every appearance of lying. 
 
 It was proposed to put him in the room ready for 
 the bridegroom. That tried the Grafin very much 
 indeed. 
 
 "I think he ought to have gone home," she said, 
 when their guest had departed in charge of a footman. 
 
 "He never goes home," said the Graf. "You re- 
 member that his mother was a Von 
 
 Leslie heard no more, as she was herself on the way 
 to Sleepy-land. Rose tumbled her into bed in short 
 order.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 LESLIE CHANGES HER PLANS 
 
 THE morning after the dinner-party the Grafin put 
 on a fur-lined coat and took Leslie over the schloss. 
 When they returned from their tour it was almost 
 luncheon time, and they found the Graf in a state of 
 collapse. Their friend and neighbor of the sweet but 
 untrustworthy disposition had been paying him a 
 visit, and the morning mail had contained advices that 
 not only the old princess was coming, but the reigning 
 prince as well. 
 
 "Oh! Oh! "cried the Grafin at this. "Oh! Oh!" 
 She sounded exactly as if she were having a tooth 
 drawn. 
 
 "You can think what it was to talk to Liebesthal 
 with that in my pocket!" said the Graf, taking out 
 the letter and showing it to Leslie ; " and he stayed so ! 
 Heavens knows what he stayed so for. He never 
 makes long calls." 
 
 "This means having the chimney opened in the
 
 LESLIE CHANGES HER PLANS 239 
 
 Saint Elizabeth Saal, dear George," said the Grafin, 
 most miserably. "We shall have to give the prince 
 that room." 
 
 "Oh, no!" the Graf exclaimed with heaviest em- 
 phasis. 
 
 "Yes, we must. And we can give his gentlemen 
 the little room back of the dressing-room the room 
 Saint Elizabeth's husband had. We must have that 
 stove repaired, too." 
 
 "We'll have to borrow Liebesthal's coachmen 
 and both carriages," said the Graf. "I told him 
 so this morning. That was what sent him home 
 finally. I believe he would have stayed to luncheon 
 otherwise." 
 
 "I hope you told him about the silver and glass I 
 want," said the Grafin. "If he were half-way decent 
 he J d let me have his rugs, or he 'd take Witzleben 
 there. He ought to take him ; his mother was a Von 
 Schonstein." 
 
 " He said he 'd have his housekeeper pack up the 
 things, if you 'd make a list." 
 
 " I '11 make the list," said the Grafin. " Dear, dear, 
 what it must be to have a good neighbor!" She 
 sighed and frowned. "What other mail was there?" 
 she asked.
 
 240 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "A letter from Freifrau Marie: she wants to bring 
 her son." 
 
 "Oh, mein Gott!" cried the Grafin, "she can't !" 
 
 " No, of course not," said the Graf ; " the very idea ! " 
 
 Just then the door opened, and a footman announced 
 Baron Dienstag. The baron followed close on the 
 announcement and apparently had slept to good 
 purpose. 
 
 "Are you going now?" the Graf asked him. 
 
 "No, I'm not going now. I want lunch." He 
 took the Grafin's hand. 
 
 "What do you think?" the Grafin exclaimed, while 
 she was getting her hand kissed, "Marie wants to 
 bring her son! Did you ever?" 
 
 Dienstag, who was kissing Leslie's hand by this 
 time, gave such a start that she jumped too. " Ach, 
 nein!" he cried. 
 
 "And the prince has written that he will come; 
 it J s his cousin, you know." 
 
 Every one fell into chairs as if successive skies kept 
 crashing from above. 
 
 "My Bursche has just brought over my mail," said 
 the Hussar. " I had a letter from General Hausmeister, 
 he 's coming." 
 
 There was another sensation !
 
 LESLIE CHANGES HER PLANS 241 
 
 "Well, he won't stay in this house!" said the Graf 
 angrily. "You can write and tell him that." 
 
 "Yes, do us that kindness," said the Grafin eagerly. 
 "Tell him to stay with you or Liebesthal." 
 
 "The very idea of his coming!" said the Graf, in 
 greatest disgust. "His mother was a Von Kochin." 
 
 "And her mother was a Von Brieftrager," said the 
 Grafin. "Why, they were nobody before the Thirty 
 Years' War." 
 
 "They 're nobody now," said the Graf. 
 
 "And Fritz is coming," said Dienstag; "I had a 
 letter from him too." 
 
 Fresh electric shocks ! 
 
 "Fritz ! Why, how can he? That means " 
 
 Leslie could n't at all understand the cause of this 
 new emotion. 
 
 "Oh, no !" cried the Grafin; "oh, no !" 
 
 "Yes," said the Hussar with gentle force; "yes !" 
 
 "The Kaiser's cousin!" exclaimed the Grafin to 
 Leslie. "If Fritz is coming, it means the Kaiser's 
 cousin. And the Kaiser's cousin means un-nailing 
 the Friedrich des Grossen Saal !" 
 
 There was a stupefied pause over this outlook. 
 
 "Oh, it's an outrage," said the Graf at last, "an 
 outrage : the Kaiser himself will be coming next ! "
 
 242 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "Yes, you ought not to mind anything if that 
 does n't happen," said Dienstag. 
 
 Leslie felt most helpless and in the way. 
 
 They had lunch soon, with sugar in the soup, and 
 after lunch she and the Grafin went to drive. 
 
 "Do you know," said the guest to the hostess, "I 
 want to go. You have your hands full, and I can 
 come and visit here any other time. I want to go 
 now." 
 
 "Yes, but you can't," said the unhappy relative 
 and friend so much unwelcome nobility; "you can't 
 go to Berlin alone." 
 
 "No," said Leslie, "I can't go to Berlin, but what 
 I should like would be to pass three or four days in 
 some quiet place resting. Don't you know of any 
 nice sleepy little town between here and Berlin?" 
 
 The Grafin considered. "I know the very place/' 
 she exclaimed, all of a sudden. "You could go to 
 dear Dr. Bettschneider in Kopfdorf. I was there en 
 pension when I was a girl, and what a place it is for 
 resting!" 
 
 "Is it on the way to Berlin?" Leslie asked. 
 
 "On the main line." 
 
 "Oh, how nice! And they take boarders?" 
 
 "They take every one. It 's ideal. You 'd be very
 
 LESLIE CHANGES HER PLANS 243 
 
 happy. Everybody who is anybody has been there. 
 The Duchess of Button and the Comte de Rompte 
 and every one else. It 's like living in a story." 
 
 Leslie did not stop to consider whether or not the 
 Grafin's desire to be rid of her colored these reminis- 
 cences rose-color. 
 
 "You see all my Berlin dates are settled," she said, 
 "and I don't want to get there before time. The 
 Bettscheiders of Kopfdorf sound to me like the very 
 thing." 
 
 "Oh, they are the very thing," said the Grafin 
 with decision. "I '11 write by to-night's post and 
 tell them to telegraph so you can go to-morrow at 
 four o'clock." 
 
 Leslie gave a slight gasp, but accepted her prompt 
 fate. 
 
 When they got back Liebesthal had been there 
 again, but no one was home this time. 
 
 "Well, bless my soul," said the Grafin, "whatever 
 does he mean by coming twice in one day. He never 
 came twice in one week before." 
 
 The Graf looked very blank indeed. "Did Graf 
 Liebesthal say what he wanted, Gustav?" he asked 
 the footman who had just entered with a telegram. 
 
 "No, Herr Graf, the Herr Graf asked for the Herr
 
 244 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 Graf, and when I said that the Hen Graf was out, the 
 Herr Graf went on." 
 
 "Very odd," said the Grafin. "But open the tele- 
 gram, George, dear. I feel sure that it is bad news." 
 
 It proved to be the communicating of the fact that 
 the marriage would take place sooner than the first 
 date. 
 
 "Well, that is better than if the Kaiser's cousin 
 was coming," said the Grafin, looking mournfully out 
 over her husband's ancestral acres. 
 
 "She is going to-morrow," said the Grafin next, 
 referring to Leslie. 
 
 "Going to-morrow!" said the Graf. He evidently 
 tried to sound distressed. 
 
 "Yes; toKopfdorf." 
 
 "ToKopfdorf!" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "To the Bettschneiders?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 The Graf appeared astonished. 
 
 "But you '11 never be able to take your maid there," 
 said the Grafin with sudden afterthought; "they'd 
 never allow that." 
 
 "I'll leave you Rose to help here, if you like?" 
 Leslie suggested readily.
 
 LESLIE CHANGES HER PLANS 245 
 
 "Oh, that would be too delightful!" said the 
 Grafin; "Rose is so good." 
 
 "How long is she going to stay there?" inquired 
 the Graf, referring to the mistress, not the maid. 
 
 "As long as she was going to stay here," said the 
 Grafin; "it 's so kind of her to go, I think." 
 
 They had coffee and tea and chocolate later, only 
 nobody took coffee or chocolate. 
 
 "We 're very English," said the Grafin, "we always 
 take tea. Dear me, to think of that fellow's staying 
 all night and using the one room that I had gotten in 
 order." 
 
 "Tell me about Kopfdorf?" pleaded Leslie. 
 
 "It 's delightfully old and crooked," said the Graf. 
 
 "Medieval," said his wife. "Oh, I wish Stettin 
 was n't coming. You '11 have all the German ways 
 you like at Kopfdorf." 
 
 "Kopfdorf is very German," said the Graf; "the 
 Wall-Anlage is nice, though; you '11 enjoy going back 
 and forth over the wall." 
 
 "Going back and forth over the wall!" Leslie 
 exclaimed. 
 
 "It 's a promenade," said the Grafin; "you '11 love 
 the dear old town. Every one who goes there is always 
 loving the dear old town. It 's so dear and so old.
 
 246 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 I wonder if we can get the chimney to draw in the 
 Saint Elizabeth room ! "It would n't when Napoleon 
 was here, you know." 
 
 "You won't have but a Steppdecke, you know," 
 said the Graf ; " you '11 have old deutsche Sitte now for 
 sure." 
 
 "Dear George," said his wife, "every one is always 
 writing back how happy they have been there." 
 
 " I 'm only sorry that I shan't be there but four or 
 five days," said Leslie. 
 
 " You '11 like the dear old doctor ; he never talks and 
 he 's blind, but he 's such a love," went on the Grafin 
 absent-mindedly. 
 
 "How can he treat people?" wondered Leslie. 
 
 "Oh, he doesn't have patients; he's a doctor of 
 philosophy," said the Graf. " He got his degree before 
 the Franco-Prussian War." 
 
 "Such a romantic house!" said the Grafin. "It 's 
 really idyllic. And they have a Stutze." 
 
 "What 's a Stutze ?" said Leslie, conscious of feeling 
 about in her German vocabulary for a racing-stable 
 and yet certain it could n't be that. 
 
 "She cooks and sits with the family," said the 
 Grafin. " You must n't ever speak to her, because the 
 doctor does n't know they 've got her. He won't
 
 LESLIE CHANGES HER PLANS 247 
 
 know they 've got you, either. He hates having 
 strangers about, so they never have told him that 
 they keep a pension. Only fancy, all these years and 
 he 's never known it." 
 
 " Mercy ! " cried Leslie, " won't he know I 'm there ! " 
 
 "Certainly not." 
 
 Leslie looked distressed. 
 
 "But you '11 like them," said the Grafin reassuringly. 
 " It will be all so new to you. You '11 think of me 
 while you wander peacefully about Kopfdorf, won't 
 you?" 
 
 Leslie promised. 
 
 "Oh, yes, it will all be new to you," said the Graf.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 LESLIE GOES TO KOPFDORP 
 
 LESLIE and one small trunk set forth for Kopfdorf 
 the next morning at eleven. She hadn't expected 
 to go until four, but the opening of the Kaiser Fried- 
 rich Saal brought all the plaster in her room down, so 
 she hastened her departure. The Graf saw her off. 
 They had a very pleasant drive to the station. 
 
 "On my way home I must stop and see Liebesthal. 
 I can't think what can be the matter to bring him 
 over so often. He was there again this morning." 
 
 Leslie looked earnestly out at the Tannenwald 
 through which they were passing, considered the nice 
 blue throat-band and the beautiful Maltese cross, and 
 and continued to look at the trees. 
 
 The Graf installed her safely in her coupe" and 
 stood by the door till the train went. One resplend- 
 ent officer passed and saluted and the Graf said after- 
 wards: "Well, you are fortunate not to have met 
 him or he would have spoiled your whole journey.
 
 LESLIE GOES TO KOPFDORF 249 
 
 He 's a terrible bore; his mother was a Von Sinnlos." 
 Leslie looked after the beautiful creature and felt, 
 with a sigh, that men never would learn any sense. 
 
 After a while the guard began locking the train 
 doors. 
 
 "Good-by," said the Graf, "you'll like Kopfdorf, 
 and my wife is quite right ; it 's just the place to rest. 
 And everybody who is anybody in Europe learned to 
 talk German at the Bettschneiders. There never was 
 such a place for learning German. People think it will 
 take a year, and they learn easily in three months. 
 Sometimes in two. Auf Wiedersehen ! " 
 
 The trip was pleasant, and the arrival at Kopfdorf 
 quite normale, as the Germans say. Nobody met her, 
 or if any one was trying to meet her she did n't know 
 them, so she took a Droschke for Herr Dr. Bett- 
 sehneider's at once. 
 
 The ride was delightful, Kopdorf being the quaint- 
 est of old towns, one of those places where the tram 
 appears a desecration. They drove through the quiet, 
 deserted Domhof and down a little stone-paved twist 
 of a street that ran between high, high walls, and 
 then on among medieval houses with twenty varieties 
 of pitch to the block, and so came at last to Herr Dr. 
 Bettschneider's haven of rest and German.
 
 250 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 The number was seven, but they stopped at num- 
 ber fifteen. Leslie called out " Seven " in her most 
 imperative manner, but the cabman turned around 
 and explained to her that no one ever stopped in front 
 of number seven, as Herr Dr. Bettschneider did n't 
 like the noise. So Leslie got out and walked back to 
 number seven. She pulled the bell a stout iron 
 arrangement which seemed to hang out of a second- 
 story window and after a liberal while somebody 
 opened a wee latticed shutter and looked out on her 
 with one eye. Her appearance seemed satisfactory, 
 for the door opened, and a pleasant-faced maid let 
 her into a large, cold, pale-green hall. The maid then 
 ran out to get the trunk, and Leslie waited alone in the 
 crisp atmosphere. Presently the maid came back car- 
 rying the trunk in both hands, with the cabman stroll- 
 ing pleasantly by her side. Leslie paid the cabman, 
 while the maid carried the trunk on upstairs. Then 
 the cabman went away, and she waited, silently, in 
 the cold hall. Her sensations as she waited grew 
 more and more acute. At first she thought that it 
 was only the cold, but presently she became aware 
 that they were not wholly physical. More subtle and 
 penetrating than any shivers were the sharp little 
 shafts of some hitherto unknown emotion which filled
 
 LESLIE GOES TO KOPFDORF 251 
 
 her with discomfort. Suddenly she knew what it was 
 for the first time in her life she was filled with awe. 
 She had known love, fear, joy, etc., but it was 
 reserved for the Bettschneider house to teach her the 
 meaning of awe. She trembled as she realized. She 
 could hear her trunk bumping against unknown ob- 
 stacles above, and the sound distressed her unutter- 
 ably. She found herself looking anxiously down to 
 see if she had brought any dust in on her shoes. She 
 felt almost sure that she was making trouble, and she 
 trembled more. The Graf had promised her a new 
 experience, and this was indeed a new experience. 
 
 Presently, as she stood there, alone, shaking, and 
 not knowing what to do or w r here to go, there appeared 
 at the top of the very steep, straight stair a little figure 
 in gray an extremely diminutive lady. She was 
 putting on her gloves hi the most careful and precise 
 manner imaginable, and as she tripped gently down 
 the steps she did n't see Leslie at all at first. When 
 she did see her, she gave a start only limited by her 
 size and strength, but quickly rallied and managed a 
 courageous smile. 
 
 Leslie was only too pleased to smile back. 
 
 The small lady approached close and, " You 're 
 Mrs. Revere?" she whispered.
 
 252 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "Yes," Leslie whispered back. 
 
 " I thought so. They 're expecting you. Has your 
 trunk come?" 
 
 "The maid took it upstairs." 
 
 "Oh," said the small lady, and then stood still and 
 hesitated. 
 
 "You are English, are you not?" Leslie asked. 
 
 "Yes, I am English." 
 
 "Do you live here?" 
 
 The small lady nodded. "But we must n't talk in 
 the hall," she said, with a sudden air of uneasiness. 
 " Fraulein Kitzlcin does n't like it." 
 
 "But where can I go?" Leslie asked. 
 
 The small lady looked distressed. "I think I must 
 take you to my room," she said. "I don't usually 
 have visitors at this hour, but it won't matter just for 
 once I don't believe not if we 're quite quiet." 
 
 "But you were just going out," Leslie said. 
 
 "That doesn't make any difference. I go out for 
 my milk. You see, I 'm not very strong, and I have 
 to drink a glass of milk at four o'clock every day, so 
 I go out to buy it." 
 
 Leslie looked down upon her littleness, she was 
 ^.I'.-od an extremely small lady, but hospitably 
 ' :.ed.
 
 LESLIE GOES TO KOPFDORF 253 
 
 "Do come up to my room," she urged; "it 's so 
 cold here, and I need n't take my milk till half-past 
 four. I '11 be very glad to put it off a bit. I do hate 
 milk." 
 
 At that she turned around, and Leslie followed her 
 up the steep, straight stair. At the top she turned 
 and showed an anxious little face. 
 
 "Don't step off the edge of the carpet," she whis- 
 pered. "Fraulein Kitzlein would see the mark on the 
 polished floor. I have to tell all my company." 
 
 Leslie adhered carefully to the carpet as she 
 turned. 
 
 "And don't step on the polished floor on my room, 
 either," said the small lady, stopping at her own door 
 to give the second caution. "It 's a little hard, be- 
 cause the rugs are wide, but quite far apart, but if 
 you 're careful you can step it." 
 
 They went into her room at that, and with care 
 Leslie managed to step it. 
 
 "Do sit down," said the small lady, always whis- 
 pering, "not on the sofa, please, because Fraulein 
 Kitzlein brushed it only this morning and she does n't 
 like to have any one sit on the sofa when it 's just been 
 brushed; but you may sit on any one of the chairs. 
 And won't you have just a drop of wine?" She was
 
 254 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 standing right in front of Leslie, and her tone was 
 full of eagerest invitation. 
 
 "Oh, no, thank you," said Leslie quickly. 
 
 "It 's my own," said the small lady; "you need n't 
 mind taking it at all I buy it myself. And the 
 wine-glasses are mine too. I do wish that the sofa 
 was mine; you might sit on it, thei. You might sit 
 on it anyway after to-morrow ; it 's only the first two 
 days after it 's brushed that I may n't use it." 
 
 Leslie began to perceive how terribly anxious the 
 Grafin must have been to get rid of her. She sat down 
 on a chair that looked as if others had previously 
 dared do the same thing. 
 
 "How long are you going to stay?" asked the small 
 lady, seating herself opposite her. "Fraulein Kitz- 
 lein didn't know when she made up my room this 
 morning." 
 
 "I was to have stayed for four days," said 
 Leslie, "but I think I '11 go to-morrow. I feel quite 
 quite uncomfortable as if I had no right to be 
 here." 
 
 " Yes, that 's the way I feel," said the small lady, 
 "and only think, I 've lived here four years, feeling 
 that way! But it wasn't so bad before Fraulei'i 
 Kitzlein came. Oh, believe me," said the small Li \
 
 LESLIE GOES TO KOPFDORF 255 
 
 with her pretty appealing earnestness, "it was not 
 anywhere near so bad before Fraulein Kitzlein 
 came." 
 
 "Who is Fraulein Kitzlein?" 
 
 "She's the Stutze. Oh, do you know what a 
 Stutze is? I never dreamed of such a thing before I 
 came here to live ! I may n't have my breakfast in 
 bed any more even the poor old doctor may n't 
 have his in bed. And we may n't ever be out after 
 nine o'clock at night. It 's dreadful !" 
 
 "But is n't the Stutze the cook?" 
 
 "No, not at all not at all. She does the cooking, 
 but she is n't the cook. You may n't fee her ; you 
 must keep the money for three months and then buy 
 her a present and leave the price-mark on so she sees 
 that you have really spent the money." 
 
 Leslie was lost in amazement. 
 
 "I believe I won't take my milk to-day," said 
 the small lady; "I '11 order tea for you here with 
 me. You 'd like to have tea with me, would n't 
 you?" 
 
 " Very much," said Leslie. 
 
 "I '11 just run down and ask if you may," said the 
 small lady; "Fraulein Kitzlein is rather out of sorts 
 to-day, and I should n't like to offend her by giving
 
 256 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 you tea without asking her permission. You don't 
 mind my leaving you a minute?" 
 
 She rose as she spoke, to leave the room. 
 
 "Stop!" cried Leslie suddenly. 
 
 The small lady stopped with a kind of quick 
 quiver. 
 
 "Don't ask permission for me to have tea here. 
 I 'm not going to stay here. I could n't possibly stay 
 here. Is n't there a hotel in town ? There must be a 
 hotel in town." 
 
 The small lady looked frightened out of all her 
 small senses. 
 
 "Get the girl and have her throw my trunk out 
 into the street," said Leslie, rising with resolution. 
 " I don't care if everything in it smashes to bits. And 
 for goodness' sake, let 's get into the street ourselves. 
 I feel choked." 
 
 " It 's just because you 're cold," gasped the small 
 lady, clasping her hands appealingly. " You 're cold 
 and and nervous. And I dare n't put coal on the 
 fire, because they 're all asleep. But oh, dear, don't 
 go. Don't be rash." 
 
 "I must go," said Leslie; "where is a hotel? I 'd 
 die in this house. I can't breathe." 
 
 " I know," said the small lady, " I 'm that way
 
 LESLIE GOES TO KOPFDORF 257 
 
 too, but it 's only Fraulein Kitzlein. You '11 be 
 very comfortable, oh, believe me, you '11 be very 
 comfortable." 
 
 " I don't care what I pay or where I go," said Leslie. 
 "I can't stay here." 
 
 "Oh," cried the small lady, now shaking from 
 head to foot with nervous excitement, "I don't 
 see how you can go. What will Fraulein Kitzlein 
 say!" 
 
 "I don't care what she says," said Leslie; "but 
 tell me the name of the best hotel in Kopfdorf." 
 
 "The Gekronte Engel 's said to be best," said the 
 small lady, now close to sobbing. "Oh, dear, I 
 don't know what to do. You could n't go there alone, 
 you know?" 
 
 "No, of course not," said Leslie, "but I 'm going 
 to take you with me, you poor little bit of a down- 
 trodden mortal." 
 
 The small lady gave a gasp, and Leslie caught her 
 hand. She looked such a mixture of fright and joy 
 at the idea, that Leslie wanted to cry and laugh at 
 once. 
 
 " Oh, but I 'm afraid that Fraulein Kitzlein 
 would n't like it," she almost wailed. 
 
 "What difference does it make whether she likes
 
 258 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 it or not?" asked Leslie. "Come, we want to be gone 
 before they wake up." 
 
 The small lady controlled herself quickly. "Oh, 
 yes," she said, with sudden, marvelous self-control, 
 "if we 're going, we 'd best be gone before they wake 
 up."
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 LESLIE DEVELOPS IN MANY WAYS 
 
 THE small lady had almost contracted the habit of 
 gasping instead of breathing, by the time she found 
 herself installed with Leslie at the Gekronte Engel. 
 Leslie was only a little less astonished. She had never 
 suspected the existence of this side of herself. Such 
 initiative ! Such energy ! They were actually at the 
 hotel and all nicely settled before the Bettschneider 
 birds awoke to the fact that their nest was empty. 
 Leslie, who had never done any packing in her life, 
 had under the stress of immediate necessity - 
 risen to untold heights of capability, and really man- 
 aged to get all that was needed into the small lady's 
 straw basket. (The small lady had not traveled for so 
 many years that she had not the faintest notion what 
 one needed for leaving home over night.) 
 
 "It is n't like real traveling, you know," Leslie re- 
 minded her, while picking up her soap, tooth-brush, 
 etc., with a hand that was so assured that to the
 
 260 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 small lady's inexperience it appeared practiced. "If 
 you want anything, we can easily run up here and 
 get it any minute." 
 
 "Oh h, would you dare come here again?" the 
 small lady asked, stupefied, "after leaving like this?" 
 
 "Why, of course," said Leslie; "what have I done 
 to be ashamed of? I shall come and call to-morrow 
 at noon. Quite in the correct German style." 
 
 At this the small lady stared more and became more 
 stupefied, but already knew Leslie well enough not to 
 doubt that she was going to do anything she said she 
 was going to do. 
 
 Their rooms at the Gekronte Engel were lovely, with 
 convenient little cupboards opening in the wall-paper 
 here and there. The Oberkettner ran back and forth, 
 and rubbed his hands and smiled, and made them very 
 comfortable. Leslie's room projected beyond the 
 small lady's, but the small lady had a chest of drawers 
 to equalize things. 
 
 "Well, I never did!" said the small lady. "I 'm 
 sure I 'm dreaming. Why, I have n't known you an 
 hour yet." 
 
 " It 's been the liveliest hour you 've known for a 
 long time !" laughed Leslie. 
 
 "It's been the liveliest hour of my whole life,"
 
 LESLIE DEVELOPS IN MANY WAYS 261 
 
 said the small lady, with every appearance of speak- 
 ing the truth. They had some hot chocolate instead 
 of tea, and Leslie, seeing a cake-shop opposite, flew 
 down, and out, and over, and bought enough cakes 
 for six, all for twelve and a half cents. 
 
 "Is n't this fun?" she laughed, coming in, panting. 
 "It's such fun for me. I'm always so carefully 
 looked out for, you know." 
 
 "It's fun for me, surely," said the small lady, 
 quite beaming. 
 
 They spread a clean towel on the center-table and 
 arranged their little feast upon it. 
 
 " It 's like playing doll's-house with you for the doll," 
 Leslie told her companion gleefully. "You are the 
 dearest little thing I ever had to play with, truly." 
 
 The small lady beamed some more. " I 've always 
 been considered very small," she said. "I 'm so glad 
 you like it in me." 
 
 "I'm glad that I came to Kopfdorf now," Leslie 
 said. She quite meant it. She felt utterly happy 
 and full of new sensations. The small lady was more 
 interesting than any man that she had ever known 
 except Hugo. Only to look at her filled one with new 
 conceptions of ways to brighten her gray little life. 
 "I expect there are ever so many people like her in
 
 262 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 the world," thought Leslie, "and I 've never thought 
 a thing about them. I must hunt them out from now 
 on. I can have a lot of this kind of fun if I just bother 
 to hunt for those who don't have much. I '11 whisk 
 all sorts of small ladies off for a frolic, and I '11 snatch 
 little beggars out of the gutter and give them a cake 
 every chance I get." Her face grew so bright at the 
 thought that her new friend said, "How happy you 
 look!" 
 
 "I am happy," said Leslie; "we're both happy, 
 aren't we?" 
 
 " I think I 'm in a book," said the small lady. 
 
 "It 's better than a book," said Leslie, "because it 
 really is real. But I suppose the way we came to meet 
 was a bit book-like. You 're a little book-like your- 
 self ; you 're quite different from anything I 've ever 
 seen." 
 
 The small lady took no offense at being denominated 
 thus by Leslie's careless Americanism. On the con- 
 trary, she echoed the other's words at once. "And 
 you 're surely different from anything I 've ever 
 seen," she said. "I never knew an American before. 
 I had no idea they were so kind." 
 
 "Well, they 're not all like me," Leslie felt impelled 
 to admit ; " you see, I 've lived abroad so much I 'm
 
 LESLIE DEVELOPS IN MANY WAYS 263 
 
 really quite European. I never forget to say 'How 
 do you do' and 'Adieu' when I go in and out of 
 stores. Oh, I 'm very European." 
 
 "Yes," said the small lady agreeably. "I 'm sure 
 you 're very much nicer than most people." 
 
 "Well, I do think I 'm nicer than the majority of 
 Americans one meets over here," said Leslie. "Of 
 course it isn't their fault that they act as they 
 do, though, because you see we 're brought up so 
 differently." 
 
 "Yes?" said the small lady, sweetly interested. 
 
 "Yes," said Leslie, knitting her brows, "you see 
 the servants go out all the time with us, and the ladies 
 and gentlemen clean their own shoes, and it makes 
 us all free and equal and easy in our manners." 
 
 "It must seem very strange to you over here," 
 suggested the small lady, "having your shoes cleaned 
 for you and all that?" 
 
 "Yes, it does," said Leslie, "and it makes us rather 
 light-headed the first one or two trips. You see we 're 
 so grateful for the waiting on that we give too big fees, 
 and we 're so used to marrying the cook at home that 
 we 're too familiar with the servants over here. One 
 does n't dare be haughty with us anybody may be 
 a millionaire, and they 're the only kings we 've got.'*
 
 264 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "Dear me," said the small lady; "don't you have 
 any upper or lower classes?" 
 
 "Well, we have people who have lost their money," 
 said Leslie thoughtfully; "they 're lower." 
 
 "I 'd be nobody there, then," said the small lady 
 quietly; "because I lost mine ever so long ago." 
 
 Leslie jumped up and ran around the table and 
 kissed her. " I 'm going to be tremendously nice to 
 every one who has lost their money after this," she 
 said. " 1 'm going to take a vow in a church about it." 
 
 " Oh, me," said the small lady, " I 'm sure Americans 
 are superior to all other people, if they 're all like you." 
 
 "Oh, but you mustn't think that," said Leslie. 
 "I told you before that I wasn't at all American. 
 I 'm reserved ; I learned that over here. And I 'm 
 never impulsive; Americans are apt to be very im- 
 pulsive. And then I 'm very, very conventional ; I 
 always keep a maid and a companion, too, just to be 
 proper." 
 
 "Where are they now?" asked the small lady, with 
 innocent wonder. 
 
 "I lent the maid to Grafin Morgenlicht," said Les- 
 lie, "and I left the companion in London. She 's the 
 greatest bore you ever saw in your life ; all the men I 
 know just hate her. I 'm buying her theatre tickets
 
 LESLIE DEVELOPS IN MANY WAYS 265 
 
 and giving her trips that she can't get possibly back 
 from in time for meals, the whole livelong tune." 
 
 "Yes," said the small lady sympathetically, "that 
 must be hard." 
 
 "But you see I have to have her, because it would 
 look so queer if I did n't. And I 'm too well-versed 
 in European etiquette to look queer. I think the 
 way American women ran around over here is shock- 
 ing just shocking and so I never stir without 
 my maid and companion." 
 
 "Yes?" said the small lady, putting in an occa- 
 sional interrogation point just to show her interest. 
 " I 'm sure you 're quite right, and I think America 
 must be quite perfect." 
 
 "No, I wouldn't say that," said Leslie, daunted; 
 "it 's too expensive to be very nice. Oh, you Ve no 
 idea how everything costs there. Why, in Berlin 
 I 'm going to have a lovely suite two large rooms 
 and a bath at the Bristol for eight dollars and a 
 half a day, and in Boston I pay almost that for 
 just a bedroom." 
 
 The small lady did n't know how much a dollar 
 was, so she filled her mouth with her last bit of cake 
 and smiled sweetly. 
 
 "And now do let 's go out," said Leslie. "Let 's
 
 266 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 go and walk up and down the main street and buy 
 presents for all the Bettschneider family." 
 
 The small lady's jaw dropped. "For all the Bett- 
 schneider family!" she gasped. 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Leslie, "I love buying presents, and 
 we '11 fix up just the sweetest hamper imaginable, and 
 send it out there before bedtime. I don't want them 
 to dislike me, just because I could n't possibly stand 
 living with them, you know. " 
 
 "No o o, I suppose not," said the small lady, 
 feebly, "Well, you are kind!" 
 
 Leslie began to feel her new character growing upon 
 her. It was more and more delightful. What would 
 Hugo say if he could hear the small lady! Hugo 
 had characterized her as " somebody who had n't an 
 ounce of heart to her credit " during their last stormy 
 interview. If he could see her now ! 
 
 They put on their things and went out into the 
 brightly lighted Hoch Kopfdorf Strasse and spent a 
 picturesque, pleasant, and profitable hour, wandering 
 up and down the sidewalk, criss-crossing the quiet 
 middle of the street, and buying presents for the 
 Bettschneiders. 
 
 "I love to do things like this," said Leslie, who had 
 mever done anything like this in all her life before, but
 
 LESLIE DEVELOPS IN MANY WAYS 267 
 
 was now firmly launched in the new way; "it 's such 
 fun!" 
 
 "I 'm sure it 's very kind of you," said the small 
 lady for the twentieth time in two hours. Her face 
 was wreathed in worship of the angel at her side. " I 
 can't imagine how you think of so many ways to be 
 so good," she added. 
 
 "It 's because I 'm such a very happy woman," said 
 Leslie, drifting towards further daring. " I did n't 
 tell you why I was so happy before, but you see I 'm 
 going to marry a man that I love very much." The 
 words were out of her mouth before she could stop 
 them. She was quite overcome at her own audacity in 
 making the statement then, and paused to consider. 
 
 "Yes?" said the small lady, with the fullest possi- 
 ble faith. 
 
 Leslie looked at her. The small lady evidently 
 believed every word that was said to her. The temp- 
 tation to continue to talk about Hugo was altogether 
 irresistible under the circumstances. "And if he 
 never marries me," Leslie reflected, "I can say he 
 dropped dead in Mauritius, and she '11 believe that, 
 too." 
 
 "Oh, I'm very, very happy," she said aloud; 
 "you don't know what it is to be going to marry the
 
 268 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 man you love. It makes you long to do some- 
 thing to make every one else happy too. I 'm so 
 happy!" 
 
 She actually was as happy as she proclaimed her- 
 self to be in that minute. She hadn't the slightest 
 consciousness that she was actuated by the under- 
 lying principle of all ideals and realities in thus ex- 
 pressing herself, but she did know that she was 
 happier than she had ever been before hi her whole 
 bright life. 
 
 "I'm so glad," said the small lady, looking ear- 
 nestly up at her. "I only hope he 's worthy you." 
 
 "He 's one of the grandest men that ever lived," 
 said Leslie, telling the truth that time. 
 
 " I 'm so glad for you both," said the small lady, 
 deep sincerity ringing in her little voice. "I hope 
 you '11 both be very happy." 
 
 "Thank you," said Leslie, accepting the good wish 
 with equal sincerity. 
 
 They stopped at Schobenstein and Schneedenthal's 
 just then to buy a blouse for Fraulein Kitzlein. 
 
 "I think that 's especially kind in you," said the 
 small lady warmly, " when it was she that really kept 
 you from so much as sitting on the sofa." 
 
 " I do try to be nice," said Leslie ; " you see the man
 
 LESLIE DEVELOPS IN MANY WAYS 269 
 
 I love has such a beautiful disposition that it makes 
 me want to always be sweet-tempered too." She 
 thought as she spoke of a certain incisive growl in 
 which Hugo was wont to interpret the deeper side of 
 his nature to human understanding, but she was now 
 completely carried away by her new position in speech. 
 
 "I think a sweet disposition is so pleasant in a 
 man/' said the small lady. 
 
 "Oh, you should hear the man I love getting a tele- 
 phone connection ! " said Leslie, suddenly lapsing 
 into truth again. Then she went to the Kasse to pay 
 for Fraulein Kitzlein's blouse. 
 
 "We 're going to have a telephone system in Kopf- 
 dorf pretty soon," said the small lady when she came 
 back. "If you ever come here after you 're married 
 I '11 be able to hear him talk over it, maybe." 
 
 "I think that we'll come here some time," said 
 Leslie, now thoroughly enjoying the semblance of 
 reality which her dreams assumed by being accepted 
 without question, "but we're going to buy a large 
 place and live in the country. We 're both very fond 
 of the country." 
 
 "I think you '11 like it for a while," said the small 
 lady artlessly. 
 
 "If he doesn't like it, we won't live there long,"
 
 270 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 said Leslie, recollecting some salient traits of Hugo's 
 and deftly incorporating them into her narrative; 
 "he 's that kind of a man." 
 
 " I 'm sure he 's very nice," said the small lady 
 again. 
 
 " Oh, he 's the dearest man alive," said Leslie, with 
 sudden overwhelming conviction. "When we get our 
 place you must come and visit us." 
 
 "I should like that," said the small lady. 
 
 WTien they had their arms completely full of parcels 
 they went back to the hotel, and Leslie proceeded to 
 arrange the hamper. "It was too lovely," the small 
 lady kept saying over and over. 
 
 " I 'm going to send it in your name as well as mine, 
 you know," Leslie told her, as she tied down the 
 catch with a big ribbon bow that would make a nice 
 Schlips later. A Schlips is a stock in German. 
 
 " In my name ! " shrieked the small lady ; " oh, no." 
 
 "Yes, then they '11 be nice to you on account of it," 
 said Leslie. "You '11 find it much easier to go back 
 to them if they Ve had these presents from us both 
 together." 
 
 " Dear me," said the small lady ; " how you do think 
 of everything ! Yes, that 's true." 
 
 The hamper set off to the Bettschneiders at eight
 
 LESLIE DEVELOPS IN MANY WAYS 271 
 
 o'clock, and the next day Leslie called on the family. 
 They all liked her very, very much, and looked upon 
 her strange and unprecedented entrance into and 
 exit from their house as pleasant American idio- 
 syncrasies. 
 
 "They '11 invite you to Abendbrot, I think," said the 
 small lady, when she and Leslie were on their way 
 back to the home-like hotel. "I wonder if they'll 
 give you an egg-cup. I never have one." 
 
 Leslie just laughed. The Bettschneiders did ask 
 her to Abendbrot the next day, but she and the small 
 lady were going to the Hauptstadt to shop and so had 
 to refuse the invitation. 
 
 Leslie spent six blissful days in Kopfdorf. They 
 were wonderful days days that did for her nature 
 and life what the first warm spring rain and the first 
 hot spring sun do for the forest buds. Her soul, 
 hitherto a veritable Sleeping Princess of a soul, burst 
 into bloom, and it was the small lady's smile, and 
 the small lady's little voice, gentle tenderness, and 
 plaintive wet eyes, that wrought the miracle. They 
 revealed possibilities so big, and hitherto left by her 
 so unfilled, that a weaker woman might have drawn 
 back blinded. But Leslie was very brave. She never 
 had known fear, and she did not fear now. She just
 
 272 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 opened eyes and arms to all this new Future, for the 
 first time revealed to her heart and soul. 
 
 The day to leave swept down upon them all too 
 quickly. A letter from the Grafin announcing her 
 survival of the wedding and her imminent departure 
 for Berlin, fixed the date for Leslie to go too. When 
 her trunk was packed for the Gekronte Engel's omni- 
 bus to take to the Hauptbahnhof, the OberkeUner 
 called a cab and they put into it the small lady's 
 straw basket. 
 
 "I can't think whatever makes you so kind," she 
 said to Leslie, with a little quiver in her tone, as they 
 stepped into the cab and drove off. " I think you 're 
 the kindest person I ever knew." 
 
 " It 's just because he 's going to make me so very, 
 very happy," said Leslie, her own voice a bit unsteady. 
 Oddly enough, her constant proclamation of Hugo's 
 perfections had altogether altered him in her own 
 estimation. The small lady had not only exalted Leslie 
 in Leslie's eyes, but had led Leslie to exalt Hugo. She 
 saw all sorts of big, fine traits in him now which she had 
 never even thought of before. From trying to depict 
 him as a true hero for the small lady's benefit, she had 
 raised him to one in a new sense for herself. The 
 world had not only widened, as far as heaven lies to
 
 LESLIE DEVELOPS IN MANY WAYS 273 
 
 left and right for her, but Hugo had suddenly become 
 universal, and easily filled every one of its grand possi- 
 bilities to the uttermost limit. Leslie winked hard. 
 She held the small lady's hand tightly, but had no 
 words in which to tell her that it was she the small 
 lady who was kind in the great, divine sense of 
 what kindness may truly mean. 
 
 When they drove up to the Bettschneiders', the 
 maid was watching for them and came running. Les- 
 lie stepped from the cab and so did the small 
 lady. 
 
 "I mustn't come in." said Leslie. "I '11 stay too 
 long and miss my train." She got out her pocket- 
 handkerchief again as she spoke, and the small lady 
 did the same. 
 
 They hugged and kissed one another, and there 
 were more tears not many this time, but very big, 
 warm ones. 
 
 Then Leslie got back into the cab, and the small 
 lady went into the house. 
 
 It was much like catching a canary that has been 
 fluttering among the pink azalea blossoms in the 
 sunny bow-window, and heartlessly thrusting it back 
 into the cage again ! So like ! So like ! 
 
 As the cab rattled and jolted over the stout, dura-
 
 274 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 ble stone pavement of Kopfdorf, Leslie had to wipe 
 her eyes again and again, and continually harder. 
 It was part of the new growth in her soul that 
 she was newly tender-hearted, and newly soft to 
 sympathy. 
 
 "But I shall have her to visit me," she sobbed, try- 
 ing to swallow her feelings as fast as they choked her, 
 "and I '11 never forget my visit here. If Hugo only 
 knew it, I 'm good now ! I 'm good ! " 
 
 The cab drew up before the station, and there, 
 right in front of the big middle door, stood Baron 
 Dienstag, smiling all on one side of his face as 
 usual. Leslie gasped. Then she saw Rose standing 
 a little back, and her joy was boundless. She 
 was actually gladder to see Rose than to see the 
 baron. 
 
 "Oh, I am good now," she thought, with bubbling 
 satisfaction over her purified standpoint. 
 
 " I never found out where you went till to-day," said 
 the resplendent Hussar. "They 're very careful of 
 your address at the Schloss. I 'd have come the day 
 after you did, if I 'd known." 
 
 Leslie saw now that the Grafin von Morgenlicht 
 was the best friend she had in the world. 
 
 "My goodness, just think if he had come," she
 
 LESLIE DEVELOPS IN MANY WAYS 275 
 
 thought, with a cold chill of fright. "The small lady 
 would n't have been a bit of good at helping me out, 
 and why no one can tell what might have 
 happened!" Then she remembered that he had no 
 Schloss, either.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 LESLIE MEETS FRIENDS 
 
 BARON DIENSTAG, Leslie, and Leslie's maid all trav- 
 eled to Berlin together. Usually ladies' maids go sec- 
 ond class, but Leslie liked having hers with her, and 
 Rose more than paid her way by always remembering 
 to get the umbrella out of the rack when they left the 
 train. 
 
 The conversation was less lively than might have 
 been expected. Leslie could not quite understand its 
 dullness herself, but there seemed to have been some 
 subtle change wrought in her point of view by the 
 sweet, silent pathos of the last few days. We never 
 can know just when or where the best in our make-up 
 may burst into bloom, and in some mysterious manner 
 quaint old Kopfdorf and the small lady had managed 
 to change the sun, moon, and stars for Leslie. Hugo 
 loomed mightier and more wonderful, and life loomed 
 very much as Hugo did, but the same glory that caused 
 so much to shine resplendent, seemed to somehow dim
 
 LESLIE MEETS FRIENDS 277 
 
 the silver-braided glory of the little Dienstag. Leslie, 
 who had found him so amusing at Morgenlicht, found 
 him quite otherwise pulling out of Kopfdorf , heavy at 
 Magdeburg, insufferable at Brandenburg, and abso- 
 lutely out of the question t the Potsdamer Bahnhof . 
 And yet she realty could n't just see why. 
 
 "I do wonder if I 'm getting tired of men," she 
 thought in startled wonder at so dire a possibility. 
 " Oh, dear! If I am!" 
 
 They arrived in Berlin about six o'clock and drove 
 straight to the Hotel Bristol. The lovely, snuff- 
 brown carriage-man came hurrying forth, and the 
 lady, the Hussar, and the lady's maid were let out 
 and let in. Rooms were awaiting them. Heaven 
 knows where the baron lodged himself, but Leslie 
 was taken straightway to the most charming suite 
 imaginable, with two doors set in every casing. A 
 pretty sitting-room with one telephone on a table 
 and another that looked like an ear-muff clinging to 
 the wall, a double-bedded bedroom, and a wonderful 
 bath-room, containing a bath that had tile steps lead- 
 ing down to it by easy gradations. One of the doors 
 in her sitting-room opened into the Grafin's sitting- 
 room, and the Grafin came running in to kiss her on 
 both cheeks at once.
 
 278 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 " Oh, my dear, I am glad to see you. Well, they are 
 married ! And you can believe that we are relieved." 
 
 "I'm so glad!" said Leslie. "Did it go off well?" 
 
 "No, it didn't go off well at all," called the Graf 
 from the other room. (His wife had left both of the 
 doors in that casing open.) "It snowed!" 
 
 "Oh, dear," said Leslie. 
 
 "Yes, it snowed," said the Grafin, "oh, and how it 
 snowed ! And one of the old princes caught cold." 
 
 "And the other old prince caught a worse one," 
 called out the Graf, "so he never said a word all 
 the time." 
 
 "But, dear Mann" called back the Grafin, "that 
 was because his physician forbade him to speak." 
 
 "And that reigning prince brought a valet that was 
 a Moor," said the Graf, now coming hi and joining 
 them, "and nobody told us. When he was going up 
 to the Friedrich des Grossen Saal with his master's 
 bag he met the old duchess' Kammerjungfer coming 
 down with the cognac and ' 
 
 "And she fell," said his wife, "and she spilt the 
 cognac all over the Sans Souci Treppe that little 
 stone stair, you know. We call it the Sans Souci 
 Treppe because one has to be so careful not to fall." 
 
 "It 's a little joke, you see," said the Graf; "it 's a
 
 LESLIE MEETS FRIENDS 279 
 
 joke about the stairs, and then they go to Friedrich 
 des Grossen Saal ; so that 's another joke." 
 
 "Yes, and then he met my Kammerjungfer with 
 two jugs of hot water/' continued the Grafin, "and she 
 fell and spilt the water, and then he met me in the 
 corridor in my dinner-dress, and I fell." 
 
 " But you did n't spill anything," said the Graf, 
 
 " Lieber Mann," said his wife, "it was that I was 
 not carrying anything. That was all the difference." 
 
 "No one told us he was a Moor," said the Graf, 
 again. 
 
 "Did you ever see a Moor?" the Grafin asked 
 Leslie. 
 
 "I know what they look like," said Leslie. 
 
 "Yes, but not this one," said the Grafin. "I was 
 sure it was the devil. So black ! " 
 
 "He came from Africa," said the Graf; "the 
 prince said he made an excellent valet." 
 
 " Yes, but he was so cold," said the Grafin ; " he was 
 shaking and shivering all the time. And, oh, but 
 how it snowed ! " 
 
 "It was good weather for the Jagd," said the 
 Graf. 
 
 "And I could n't borrow a carpet for the church," 
 said the Grafin, "and Witzleben wouldn't stay with
 
 "280 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 Dienstag. Only think. I had to have him in my 
 dressing-room. And Hohenthal brought his nephew." 
 
 "His nephew is narrowly related to us/' said the 
 Grafin in an explanatory tone. 
 
 "His mother was a Von Querseife/' explained the 
 Grafin kindly. 
 
 "And her mother was a Gegeniiber," said the 
 Graf. 
 
 "And that chimney did smoke/' said the Grafin, 
 "and, oh, the bed linen. I had all the bed linen in the 
 country side." 
 
 "They 're washing it while we 're here/' said the 
 Graf. 
 
 "We shan't go home till they write that everything 
 is in order," said the Grafin. " Liebesthal is here while 
 they get his house to rights, too. He kept twenty- 
 three people." 
 
 "And so he wouldn't lend us anything/' said the 
 Graf; "he said he needed all his things for his own 
 house." 
 
 "I told you that he was that kind of a man," said 
 the Grafin. "Think of such a neighbor!" 
 
 After a while they went back to their own quarters 
 and shut the two doors between. Then Leslie began 
 to dress for dinner. They had a jolly little party down
 
 LESLIE MEETS FRIENDS 281 
 
 in the cafe with the Hussar and the Monocle for 
 guests. The conversation was again mainly about 
 the wedding, with occasional side excursions regarding 
 the maternal relatives of the guests. After dinner 
 they went to the Tiergarten in a motor and looked at 
 the monument and at the soldier in front of it. Leslie 
 thought the Siegesallee very beautiful and striking, 
 but her German friends explained to her that it was 
 neither, so she at once promised to change her mind. 
 Then they went to the theatre for a little and then to 
 a cafe for a little, and then home. 
 
 It was nearly midnight when Leslie got to her rooms, 
 and she couldn't understand her being so fearfully 
 tired out. It seemed to her that the wonderful Graf 
 was almost as uninteresting as the simple-minded 
 Hussar. She was much surprised to find herself long- 
 ing for the small lady. " Goodness me," she thought, 
 all the time that Rose was unhooking her, "I am 
 changed. What is going to happen to me!" Rose 
 took off her corsage, and she stepped carefully out of 
 her skirt alone. "It can't be I 'm getting old," she 
 thought, "and yet I must be getting something if a 
 Hussar bores me, and a schloss does n't allure me any 
 more." 
 
 After she was in between the silky coolness of the
 
 282 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 linen sheets she thought of Hugo. It might have 
 been feared that she would worry over the possibility 
 of his boring her, too, but she never thought of that 
 at all. Instead Hugo's halo widened and brightened 
 out of all proportion to the feelings which his long 
 absence should have brought forth. She found herself 
 strangely regretful and self-reproachful in view of her 
 memories. "I expect I am a little fool, just as he 
 says," she confessed humbly. It was a great step ahead 
 for Leslie to be humble let alone her vast advance 
 into the realm of accurate investigation when she 
 recognized herself as a little fool. She considered the 
 whole for some time, then sighed, thought some more 
 about Hugo, much about the small lady, then much 
 more about Hugo. And then she slept.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 AU REVOIR 
 
 THE next morning Leslie awoke about nine o'clock. 
 She certainly had slept well, long, and liberally, and 
 she was not so different from the ordinary run of 
 womenkind but that it did her a lot of good. Hook- 
 ing her fingers together behind her neck, she sighed 
 happily and felt life to be very much fuller of big and 
 beautiful possibilities than she had ever dreamed be- 
 fore. She felt widely content, content with her- 
 self because she was going to be so different, and 
 with all the world because she was going to make 
 it so different. It was a beautiful spirit in which to 
 awake, and she looked up at the sky-blue ceiling and 
 saw through tears that its blue was at once the color 
 of heaven and of the small lady's tender eyes. She 
 felt her heart swell to choking. I suppose that the 
 wood-flowers feel just so the hour before they open 
 to their first day, full of upward-bent longings, 
 conscious of new, hitherto unknown desires and 
 aspirations.
 
 284 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "Really, I feel as if, instead of always aching to do 
 what I must n't, I was going to learn to like to do all 
 that I can," thought this new Leslie, very flower-like 
 herself, had any one been by to see her in that mo- 
 ment. Her twisted grammar did not clarify her little 
 up-springing aspirations any too clearly, but her eyes 
 were very sweet and earnest, indeed. 
 
 "'Oh, I am going to be worthier to be alive," she 
 added, and her purified consciousness led her to feel 
 that she had indeed allowed many opportunities to 
 "pass her by." (Although not in the way that 
 Maurice had meant.) 
 
 Rose brought her her mail presently, and got the 
 bath ready while she looked it over. The Graf and 
 Grafin were long up, Rose reported, and the Grafin's 
 Kammerjungfer had announced that they had gone 
 to look at a threshing-machine. Graf Liebesthal had 
 sent some violets, and Baron Dienstag had sent some 
 lilies-of-the- valley ; some plain, unadorned English- 
 men and Americans had left cards and notes, too. 
 Leslie looked everything over before she felt that it 
 was her duty to rise and make use of the tiled descent 
 into her tub. It struck her as very curious, but not 
 so much more curious than the English giant dish- 
 pan; and it was n't really so bad after one was actu
 
 AU REVOIR 285 
 
 ally down and in, since then one could rest one's head 
 on the second lowest step and float. "I do like Ger- 
 man ways," Leslie thought, floating. 
 
 Afterwards she dressed in a nice, demure, blue 
 walking-suit and went into the sitting-room for her 
 chocolate. It was beautifully served by a young 
 waiter, whose eyes were as wicked as Maurice's own. 
 Leslie drank appreciatively. 
 
 Presently there came a rap at the door. She 
 cried, "Herein" thinking that the happily disposed 
 young waiter had something else to feed her. 
 
 In answer Hugo walked into the room. He looked 
 very big, and quite composed, as usual. 
 
 Leslie started violently. " Oh, dear," she exclaimed, 
 "Oh, my!" 
 
 Hugo came to her side and shook hands. 
 
 "Oh, my," she said again, then "oh, dear! Oh, 
 why did n't you send up, or telephone or 
 
 "Go on and finish your breakfast," he said, sitting 
 down and smiling pleasantly. " I found out that you 
 were all right before I knocked." 
 
 "Oh, dear! How do you find out things?" she 
 said helplessly, looking feebly first at her plate and 
 then at him. 
 
 "Go on with your breakfast," said Hugo. He had
 
 286 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 ceased to answer questions years ago. He thought it 
 a foolish failing. 
 
 " Yes," said Leslie ; " yes yes, I will. My ! dear 
 me ! I never thought of its being you." 
 
 She took her butter-pat up with her fork as she 
 spoke and put it into her mouth. She seemed discon- 
 certed. 
 
 But Hugo was perfectly composed, at all events. 
 He took out his pocket-book and looked earnestly in it 
 for a cigarette. "May I smoke?" he asked; "I've 
 been out walking for an hour." He was very cool. 
 " I Ve been waiting to get somewhere where I could 
 smoke," he added. 
 
 "Dear me," said Leslie, pouring chocolate into 
 her glass of water, "is it as late as that?" She 
 did n't in the least know what she was doing or 
 saying. 
 
 "I came last night," Hugo said, putting up his 
 pocket-book in a perfectly collected but somewhat 
 absent-minded manner. "Who was that man you 
 were sitting with?" 
 
 "Oh," said Leslie, turning white and sick, "were 
 you here then? He 's German ; he 's a Graf that 's 
 why he kissed my hand. They all do it he did n't 
 mean anything." She became quite pitiful to see.
 
 AU REVOIR 287 
 
 Hugo looked around the room. "Who sent you 
 tke violets?" he asked. 
 
 "Oh h h," said Leslie, in still more acute woe, 
 " he did. But they don't mean anything either. No 
 one means anything." She stopped desperately, and 
 now poured a little water into her chocolate cup. 
 
 "Who was the Hussar? " asked Hugo, taking out his 
 card-case and looking in that for cigarettes next. 
 
 "He's a baron," said Leslie wretchedly. "You 
 know every son of a baron is a baron here ; it does n't 
 mean anything." 
 
 Hugo put up his card-case and surveyed the room 
 again. 
 
 "Who was that man you were taking tea with at 
 the Carlton Saturday week?" he asked. 
 
 "Oh, my goodness me," said Leslie, clasping her 
 hands in misery under the table, "I can't remember. 
 Truly I can't. My head 's just going round and 
 round. Who did tell you?" 
 
 "And all that Kenelm business," said Hugo; "it 's 
 a pretty state of affairs when you get mixed up with 
 detectives ! " 
 
 " But I did n't have anything to do with it " (she 
 was almost weeping); "nobody can help being looked 
 up if anybody wants to have them looked up."
 
 288 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 Hugo looked thoughtfully at his large, handsome 
 hands. " How long do you think I 'm going to stand 
 this kind of nonsense?" he asked; "who was that 
 fellow that went out to Hammersmith on the 'bus 
 with you?" 
 
 Leslie gasped, and then the tears started. "Rita 
 Coghlan was with us," she protested. "I never do 
 anything that I should n't, and I 'm always looking 
 as if I did. Rita was with us. And he never meant 
 anything. I never let any man mean anything." 
 
 "Don't you ever really mean to marry any of 
 them?" Hugo asked, looking directly at her. 
 
 "N no no, indeed," she protested. "Oh, my 
 gracious me, you know I don't." 
 
 Hugo raised his eyebrows and surveyed the room 
 some more. An endless period of time then passed 
 slowly along into eternity. Leslie tried to be quiet, 
 to sit still, to breathe correctly. But all of a sudden 
 a great gasp burst from her lips. She raised her eyes 
 to Hugo's. He was curiously scarlet. They looked 
 very steadily at one another. There was another 
 rather long silence. Then he held out his hand, and 
 she got up slowly and came around the table, and 
 laid hers in it. 
 
 "I 'm going to cry," she whispered; "I know it."
 
 AU REVOIR 289 
 
 "Go on and cry, then," said Hugo, and pulled her 
 down on his knee. She buried her face in his shoulder 
 and cried quite a few tears. 
 
 "Feel better now?" he asked after a while. 
 
 " Y y yes," she said, her face still hidden. 
 
 "That's good," said the man. "Well, what do 
 you say? Shall we go ahead and take the chance? 
 I 'm willing if you are." 
 
 "Oh h h," said Leslie, rather melting into his 
 collar; "oh, I can't believe it." 
 
 " Why, you 've always known I 'd marry you 
 some time," said Hugo; "you must have known 
 that." 
 
 "N no," said Leslie. "I never felt sure." 
 
 "Well, you can count on it from now on, because 
 I 'm going to." 
 
 Another long period, this time of great, although 
 largely unintelligible happiness ensued. Leslie was 
 ecstatically beatific. After a while they went out 
 and walked in the cheerless Tiergarten, and she 
 thought the statues even more lovely than the night 
 before. Hugo wanted to go to lunch "anywhere," 
 but Leslie thought that they ought to go back to the 
 Grafin, who would be done with the threshing-machine 
 by this time.
 
 290 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 "I don't see why," said the man. But they went 
 back. 
 
 The Grafin was home and was told. She proved far 
 from enthusiastic. "I wanted you to marry Liebes- 
 thal," she said to Leslie most frankly. "He 's our 
 oldest friend and nearest neighbor, and then I 'd 
 have had you so near. You must have seen how 
 anxious we were to bring it about." 
 
 Leslie was amazed. "But what things you said 
 about him ! " she said, opening her eyes widely. 
 "Think how you warned me against him!" 
 
 The Grafin patted her hand and smiled faintly. 
 "That was just because you were an American, my 
 dear," she said in a sad but kindly tone. "You see 
 I 've read so many of your romances. I thought that 
 you went by contraries always, so we tried to make 
 him attractive to you." 
 
 "And Baron Dienstag?" Leslie asked, with a tiny 
 smile, "what of him?" 
 
 "Oh, he is engaged," said the Grafin, "it 's a secret, 
 though. Her mother was a Von Wasserwein. It 's 
 such a nice match because his mother was a Von 
 Weinwasser, the two old rival branches, you see?" 
 
 " Y yes, I see," said Leslie, " and now may I bring 
 Mr. Guilford and present him?"
 
 AU REVOIR 291 
 
 "If we only could give you your wedding," the 
 Grafin exclaimed suddenly; "how charming that 
 would be. Couldn't you manage that?" 
 
 Leslie was deeply touched. " But he has n't been 
 in Germany long enough, nor I have n't, either." 
 
 "Ach, so," said the Grafin. "No, then of course 
 you can't." 
 
 Hugo came in and was presented. He kissed the 
 noble lady's hand so nicely that she changed her 
 opinion regarding her choice for Leslie at once. 
 
 "After you 're married you must come and 
 stay with us," she said; "you can hunt with my 
 husband." 
 
 "That will be sport/' said Hugo courteously. 
 "We '11 leave for London to-night and be with you 
 by Thursday week." 
 
 "Oh, oh, my oh, my goodness me!" cried 
 Leslie. " I can't " 
 
 Hugo looked at her. 
 
 And the look recalled to her her new self her un- 
 selfish new self, her resolution to live for others, to fill 
 the future with happiness, to sacrifice herself, to be 
 brave and courageous, and to love greatly. And her 
 spirit rose mightily and conquered. And they left 
 for London that night.
 
 292 HOW LESLIE LOVED 
 
 You can get married very quickly in London, in 
 about a week, I believe. Indeed, I am assured that 
 a residence can be established by sending your lug- 
 gage ahead and you need arrive only in time for the 
 ceremony. 
 
 THE END
 
 Popular Copyright Books 
 
 AT MODERATE PRICES 
 
 Any of (he following titles can be bought of your 
 bookseller at the price you paid for this volume 
 
 Alternative, The. By George Barr McCutcheon. 
 
 Angel of Forgiveness, The. By Rosa N. Carey. 
 
 Angel of Pain, The. By E. F. Benson. 
 
 Annals of Ann, The, By Kate Trimble Sharber. 
 
 Battle Ground, The. By Ellen Glasgow. 
 
 Beau Brocade. By Baroness Orczy. 
 
 Beechy. By Bettina Von Hutten. 
 
 Bella Donna. By Robert Hichens. 
 
 Betrayal, The. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 
 Bill Toppers, The. By Andre Castaigne. 
 
 Butterfly Man, The. By George Barr McCutcheon. 
 
 Cab No. 44. By R. F. Foster. 
 
 Calling of Dan Matthews, The. By Harold Bell Wright 
 
 Cape Cod Stories. By Joseph C. Lincoln. 
 
 Challoncrp, The By E. F. Benson. 
 
 City of Six, The. By C. L. Canfield. 
 
 Conspirators, The By Robert W. Chambers. 
 
 Dan Merrithew. By Lawrence Perry. 
 
 Day of the Dog, The. By George Barr McCutcheon. 
 
 Depot Master, The. By Joseph C. Lincoln. 
 
 Derelicts. By William J. Locke. 
 
 Diamonds Cut Paste. By Agnes & Egerton Castle. 
 
 Early Bird, The. By George Randolph Chester. 
 
 Eleventh Hour, The. By David Potter. 
 
 Elizabeth in Rugen. By the author of Elizabeth and Her 
 
 German Garden. 
 
 Flying Mercury, The. By Eleanor M. Ingram. 
 Gentleman, The. By Alfred Ollivant. 
 Girl Who Won, The. By Beth Ellis. 
 Going Some. By Rex Beach. 
 Hidden Water. By Dane Coolidge. 
 
 Honor of the Big Snows, The. By James Oliver Curwood. 
 Hopalong Cassidy. By Clarence E. Mulford. 
 House of the Whispering Pines, The. By Anna Katherine 
 
 Green. 
 Imprudence of Prue, The. By Sophie Fisher.
 
 Popular Copyright Books 
 
 AT MODERATE PRICES 
 
 Any of the following titles can be bought of your 
 bookseller at the price you paid for this volume 
 
 In the Service of the Princess. By Henry C. Rowland. 
 Island of Regeneration, The. By Cyrus Townsend Brady. 
 Lady of Big Shanty, The. By Berkeley F. Smith. 
 Lady Merton, Colonist. By Mrs. Humphrey Ward. 
 Lord Loveland Discovers America. By C. N. & A. M. Wil- 
 liamson. 
 
 Love the Judge. By Wytnond Carey. 
 Man Outside, The. By Wyndham Martyn. 
 Marriage of Theodora, The. By Molly Elliott SeawelL 
 My Brother's Keeper. By Charles Tenny Jackson. 
 My Lady of the South. By Randall Parrish. 
 Paternoster Ruby, The. By Charles Edmonds Walk. 
 Politician, The. By Edith Huntington Mason. 
 Pool of Flame, The. By Louis Joseph Vance. 
 Poppy. By Cynthia Stockley. 
 
 Redemption of Kenneth Gait, The. By Will N. Harbea. 
 Rejuvenation of Aunt Mary, The. By Anna Warner. 
 Road to Providence, The. By Maria Thompson Davies. 
 Romance of a Plain Man, The. By Ellen Glasgow. 
 Running Fight, The By Wm. Hamilton Osborne. 
 Septimus. By William J. Locke. 
 Silver Horde, The. By Rex Beach. 
 Spirit Trail, The. By Kate & Virgil D. Boyles. 
 Stanton Wins. By Eleanor M. Ingram. 
 Stolen Singer, The. By Martha Bellinger. 
 Three Brothers, The. By Eden Phillpotts. 
 Thurston of Orchard Valley. By Harold Bindloss. 
 Title Market, The. By Emily Post. 
 Vigilante Girl, A. By Jerome Hart. 
 Village of Vagabonds, A. By F. Berkeley Smith. 
 Wanted A Chaperon. By Paul Leicester Ford. 
 Wanted: A Matchmaker. By Paul Leicester Ford. 
 Watchers of the Plains, The. By Ridgwell Cullum. 
 White Sister, Tha By Marion Crawford. 
 Window at the White Cat, The. By Mary Roberts Rhinehart 
 Woman in Question, The. By John Reed Scott.
 
 Popular Copyright Books 
 
 AT MODERATE PRICES 
 
 Any of the following titles can be bought of your 
 bookseller at the price you paid for this volume 
 
 Anna the Adventuress. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 
 Ann Boyd. By Will N. Harben. 
 
 At The Moorings. By Rosa N. Carey. 
 
 By Right of Purchase. By Harold Bindloss. 
 
 Carlton Case, The. By Ellery H. Clark. 
 
 Chase of the Golden Plate. By Jacques Futrelle. 
 
 Cash Intrigue, The. By George Randolph Chester. 
 
 Delafield Affair, The. By Florence Finch Kelly. 
 
 Dominant Dollar, The. By Will Lillibridge. 
 
 Elusive Pimpernel, The. By Baroness Orczy. 
 
 Ganton & Co. By Arthur J. Eddy. 
 
 Gilbert Neal. By Will N. Harben. 
 
 Girl and the Bill, The. By Bannister Merwin. 
 
 Girl from His Town, The. By Marie Van Vorst. 
 
 Glass House, The. By Florence Morse Kingsley. 
 
 Highway of Fate, The. By Rosa N. Carey. 
 
 Homesteaders, The. By Kate and Virgil D. Boyles. 
 
 Husbands of Edith, The. George Barr McCutcheoa 
 
 Inez. (Illustrated Ed.) By Augusta J. Evans. 
 
 Into the Primitive. By Robert Ames Bennet. 
 
 Jack Spurlock, Prodigal. By Horace Lorimer. 
 
 Jude the Obscure. By Thomas Hardy. 
 
 King Spruce. By Holman Day. 
 
 Kingsmead. By Bettina Von Hutten. 
 
 Ladder of Swords, A. By Gilbert Parker. 
 
 Lorimer of the Northwest. By Harold Bindloss. 
 
 Lorraine. By Robert W. Chambers. 
 
 Loves of Miss Anne, The. By S. R. Crockett.
 
 Popular Copyright Books 
 
 AT MODERATE PRICES 
 
 Any of the following titles can be bought of your 
 bookseller at the price you paid for this volume 
 
 Marcaria. By Augusta J. Evans. 
 
 Mam' Linda. By Will N. Harben. 
 
 Maids of Paradise, The. By Robert W. Chambers. 
 
 Man in the Corner, The. By Baroness Orczy. 
 
 Marriage A La Mode. By Mrs. Humphry Ward. 
 
 Master Mummer, The. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 
 Much Ado About Peter. By Jean Webster. 
 
 Old, Old Story, The. By Rosa N. Carey. 
 
 Pardners. By Rex Beach. 
 
 Patience of John M oreland, The. By Mary Dillon. 
 
 Paul Anthony, Christian. By Hiram W. Hays. 
 
 Prince of Sinners, A. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 
 Prodigious Hickey, The. By Owen Johnson. 
 
 Red Mouse, The. By William Hamilton Osborne. 
 
 Refugees, The. By A. Conan Doyle. 
 
 Round the Corner in Gay Street. Grace S. Richmond. 
 
 Rue : With a Difference. By Rosa N. Carey. 
 
 Set in Silver. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson. 
 
 St. Elmo. By Augusta J. Evans. 
 
 Silver Blade, The. By Charles E. Walk. 
 
 Spirit in Prison, A. By Robert Hichens. 
 
 Strawberry Handkerchief, The. By Amelia E. Bartv 
 
 Tess of the D'Urbervilles. By Thomas Hardy. 
 
 Uncle William. By Jennette Lee. 
 
 Way of a Man, The. By Emerson Hough. 
 
 Whirl, The. By Foxcroft Davis. 
 
 With Juliet in England. By Grace S. Richmond. 
 
 Yellow Circle, T>*. By Charles E. Walk.
 
 Popular Copyright Books 
 
 AT MODERATE PRICES 
 
 Any of the following titles can be bought of your 
 bookseller at 50 cents per volume. 
 
 The Shepherd of the Hills. By Harold Bell Wright. 
 
 Jane Cable. By George Barr McCutcheon. 
 
 Abner Daniel. By Will N. Harben. 
 
 The Far Horizon. By Lucas Malet. 
 
 The Halo. By Bettina von Hutten. 
 
 Jerry Junior. By Jean Webster. 
 
 The Powers and Maxine. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson. 
 
 The Balance of Power. By Arthur Goodrich. 
 
 Adventures of Captain Kettle. By Cutcliffe Hyne. 
 
 Adventures of Gerard. By A. Conan Doyle. 
 
 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. By A. Conan Doyle. 
 
 Arms and the Woman. By Harold MacGrath. 
 
 Artemus Ward's Works (extra illustrated). 
 
 At the Mercy of Tiberius. By Augusta Evans Wilson. 
 
 Awakening of Helena Richie. By Margaret Deland. 
 
 Battle Ground, The. By Ellen Glasgow. 
 
 Belle of Bowling Green, The. By Amelia E. Barr. 
 
 Ben Blair. By Will Lillibridge. 
 
 Best Man, The. By Harold MacGrath. 
 
 Beth Norvell. By Randall Parrish. 
 
 Bob Hampton of Placer. By Randall Parrish. 
 
 Bob, Son of Battle. By Alfred Ollivant. 
 
 Brass Bowl, The. By Louis Joseph Vance. 
 
 Brethren, The. By H. Rider Haggard. 
 
 Broken Lance, The. By Herbert Quick. 
 
 By Wit of Women. By Arthur W. Marchmont 
 
 Call of the Blood, The. By Robert Kitchens. 
 
 Cap'n Eri. By Joseph C. Lincoln. 
 
 Cardigan. By Robert W. Chambers. 
 
 Car of Destiny, The. By C. N. and A. N. Williamson. 
 
 Casting Away of Mrs. Leeks and Mrs. Aleshine. By Frank 
 
 R. Stockton. 
 Cecilia's Lovers, By Amelia E. Barr.
 
 Popular Copyright Books 
 
 AT MODERATE PRICES 
 
 Any of the following titles can be bought of your 
 bookseller at 50 cents per volume. 
 
 Circle, The. By Katherine Cecil Thurston (author of "The 
 
 Masquerader," "The Gambler"). 
 
 Colonial Free Lance, A. By Chauncey C. Hotchkiss. 
 Conquest of Canaan, The. By Booth Tarkington. 
 Courier of Fortune, A. By Arthur W. Marchmont 
 Darrow Enigma, The. By Melvin Severy. 
 Deliverance, The. By Ellen Glasgow. 
 Divine Fire, The. By May Sinclair. 
 Empire Builders, By Francis Lynde. 
 Exploits of Brigadier Gerard. By A. Conan Doyle. 
 Fighting Chance, The. By Robert W. Chambers. 
 For a Maiden Brave. By Chauncey C. Hotchkiss. 
 
 Fugitive Blacksmith, The. By Chas. D. Stewart 
 God's Good Man. By Marie Corelli. 
 Heart's Highway, The. By Mary E. Wilkins. 
 Holladay Case, The. By Burton Egbert Stevenson. 
 Hurricane Island. By H. B. Marriott Watson. 
 In Defiance of the King. By Chauncey C. Hotchkiss. 
 Indifference of Juliet, The. By Grace S. Richmond. 
 Infelice. By Augusta Evans Wilson. 
 
 Lady Betty Across the Water. By C. N. and A. M. Will 
 
 iamson. 
 
 Lady of the Mount, The. By Frederic S. I sham. 
 Lane That Had No Turning, The. By Gilbert Parker. 
 Langford of the Three Bars. By Kate and Virgil D. Boyles. 
 Last Trail, The. By Zane Grey. 
 Leavenworth Case, The. By Anna Katharine Green. 
 Lilac Sunbonnet, The. By S. R. Crockett. 
 Lin McLean. By Owen Wister. 
 Long Night, The. By Stanley J. Weyman. 
 Maid at Arms, The. By Robert W. Chambers.
 
 Popular Copyright Books 
 
 AT MODERATE PRICES 
 
 Any of the following titles can be bought of youf 
 bookseller at 50 cents per volume. 
 
 Man from Red Keg, The. By Eugene Thwing. 
 
 Marthon Mystery, The. By Burton Egbert Stevenson. 
 
 Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes. By A. Conan Doyle. 
 
 Millionaire Baby, The. By Anna Katharine Green. 
 
 Missourian, The. By Eugene P. Lyle, Jr. 
 
 Mr. Barnes, American. By A. C. Gunter. 
 
 Mr. Pratt. By Joseph C. Lincoln. 
 
 My Friend the Chauffeur. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson 
 
 My Lady of the North. By Randall Parrish. 
 
 Mystery of June 13th. By Melvin L. Severy. 
 
 Mystery Tales. By Edgar Allan Poe. 
 
 Nancy Stair. By Elinor Macartney Lane. 
 
 Order No. 11. By Caroline Abbot Stanley. 
 
 Pam. By Bettina von Hutten. 
 
 Pam Decides. By Bettina von Hutten. 
 
 Partners of the Tide. By Joseph C. Lincoln. 
 
 Phra the Phoenician. By Edwin Lester Arnold. 
 
 President, The. By Afred Henry Lewis. 
 
 Princess Passes, The. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson. 
 
 Princess Virginia, The. By C. N. and A. M. Williamsoo. 
 
 Prisoners. By Mary Cholmondeley. 
 
 Private War, The. By Louis Joseph Vance. 
 
 Prodigal Son, The. By Hall Caine. 
 
 Quickening, The. By Francis Lynde. 
 
 Richard the Brazen. By Cyrus T. Brady and Edw. 
 
 Rose of the World. By Agnes and Egerton Castl* 
 
 Running Water. By A. E. W. Mason. 
 
 Sarita the Carlist. By Arthur W. Marchmont. 
 
 Seats of the Mighty, The. By Gilbert Parker. 
 
 Sir Nigel. By A. Conan Doyle. 
 
 Sir Richard Calmady. By Lucas Malet. 
 
 Speckled Bird, A. By Augusta Evans Wilson.
 
 Popular Copyright Books 
 
 AT MODERATE PRICES 
 
 Any of the following titles can be bought of your 
 bookseller at 50 cents per rolume. 
 
 Spirit of the Border, The. By Zane Grey. 
 
 Spoilers, The. By Rex Beach. 
 
 Squire Phin. By Holman F. Day. 
 
 Stooping Lady, The. By Maurice Hewlett. 
 
 Subjection of Isabel Carnaby. By Ellen Thorneycroft Fowler. 
 
 Sunset Trail, The. By Alfred Henry Lewis. 
 
 Sword of the Old Frontier, A. By Randall Parrish. 
 
 Tales of Sherlock Holmes. By A. Conan Doyle. 
 
 That Printer of Udell's. By Harold Bell Wright 
 
 Throwback, The. By Alfred Henry Lewis. 
 
 Trail of the Sword, The. By Gilbert Parker. 
 
 Treasure of Heaven, The. By Marie Corelli. 
 
 Two Vanrevels, The. By Booth Tarkington. 
 
 Up From Slavery. By Booker T. Washington. 
 
 Vashti. By Augusta Evans Wilson. 
 
 Viper of Milan, The (original edition). By Marjorie Bowea. 
 
 Voice of the People, The. By Ellen Glasgow. 
 
 Wheel of Life, The. By Ellen Glasgow. 
 
 When Wilderness Was King. By Randall Parrish. 
 
 Where the Trail Divides. By Will Lillibridge. 
 
 Woman in Grey, A. By Mrs. C. N. Williamson. 
 
 Woman in the Alcove, The. By Anna Katharine Green. 
 
 Younger Set, The. By Robert W. Chambers. 
 
 The Weavers. By Gilbert Parker. 
 
 The Little Brown Jug at Kildare. By Meredith Nicholson. 
 
 The Prisoners of Chance. By Randall Parrish. 
 
 My Lady of Cleve. By Percy J. Hartley. 
 
 Loaded Dice. By Ellery H. Clark. 
 
 Get Rich Quick Wallingford. By George Randolph Chester. 
 
 The Orphan. By Clarence Muiford. 
 
 A Gentleman of France. By Stanley J. Weyman.
 
 Popular Copyright Books 
 
 AT MODERATE PRICES 
 
 Any of the following title* out be bought of your 
 bookseller at 50 cents per rolume. 
 
 Purple Parasol, The. By George Barr McCutcheon. 
 Princess Dehra, The. By John Reed Scott. 
 Making of Bobby Burnit, The. By George Randolph 
 Chester. 
 
 Last Voyage of the Donna Isabel, The. By Randall 
 
 Parrish. 
 
 Bronze Bell, The. By Louis Joseph Vance. 
 Pole Baker. By Will N. Harben. 
 Four Million, The. By O. Henry. 
 Idols. By William J. Locke. 
 Wayfarers, The. By Mary Stewart Cutting. 
 Held for Orders. By Frank H. Spearman. 
 Story of the Outlaw, The. By Emerson Hough. 
 Mistress of Brae Farm, The. By Rosa N. Carey. 
 Explorer, The. By William Somerset Maugham. 
 Abbess of Vlaye, The. By Stanley Weyman. 
 Alton of Somasco. By Harold Bindloss. 
 Ancient Law, The. By Ellen Glasgow. 
 Barrier, The. By Rex Beach. 
 Bar 20. By Clarence E. Mulford. 
 Beloved Vagabond, The, By William J. Locke. 
 Beulah. (Illustrated Edition.) By Augusta J. Evans. 
 Chaperon, The. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson. 
 Colonel Greatheart. By H. C. Bailey. 
 Dissolving Circle, The. By Will Lillibridge. 
 Elusive Isabel. By Jacques Futrelle. 
 Fair Moon of Bath, The. By Elizabeth Ellis. 
 54-40 or Fight. By Emerson Hough.
 
 University of California 
 
 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388 
 
 Return this material to the library 
 
 from which it was borrowed. 

 
 A 000119856 3