and all-round athlete."
"There's no use going any further than Irene," interrupted Edith, with a disheartened sigh; "after that description, Clarence won't read any more."
"Wait and see," said her husband, laughingly. "Next, we have Mrs. Whiting; a perfect blonde, of the peaches and cream variety. Sings like an angel and plays the mandolin to beat the band."
"That ought to charm any old earl," declared Crane; "now hit off Milly, though no mere words can do her justice."
"Ah, there's the rub!" exclaimed Tom. "If anyone can describe Mildred Leslie they're welcome to do it. I can't."
"I'll try," said Crane, "and if my descriptive powers give out, somebody else can take up the tale. To begin with, I should say Miss Mildred Leslie is a mischievous, roguish, saucy, adorable bit of humanity, who flirts with everybody within hailing distance."
"I don't!" put in Milly, making a moue.
"You do," asserted Philip. "Go on, Gilbert; a willful, perverse, spoiled child, who always has her own way."
"Because everybody is so good to her," interrupted Milly again.
"Because everybody loves her," said Miss Maxwell, looking affectionately at the young girl. At which Mildred kissed that lady's hand, and suddenly jumped up and ran away.
Later, when their hostess declared it was growing chilly, and they would go indoors and have some music, Philip came upon Milly and myself in a vine-draped corner of the veranda.
"See here, Milly," he said, "you're not to let that foreign popinjay tie himself to your apron-strings."
"Oh, do you suppose that's what he is coming over here for?" asked the girl, dropping her voice to an awe-struck tone.
"If you weren't you, Milly, I should say you are a goose!" and Philip's tone actually sounded vexed.
Mildred's manner became coldly dignified, but her eyes gleamed as she said, "Why, that's what I wanted to say to you."
At that Philip laughed genially. "Then let me beg you again not to let the Britisher tie himself up with any of your danglers."
"I certainly sha'n't ask him to," said Mildred carelessly, "but if he sees fit to tie himself, I can't help it. And you must admit, Phil, it would be a novel experience to have a real earl at my beck and call! Oh, I'd love to be proposed to by a nobleman! How do you suppose they do it, Philip?"
"You ought to know all there is to know about how men propose; you've been through it often enough."
"Yes, but it's almost always you, you know."
"I only wish that were true."
"Well, it is—almost," Mildred sighed. "But anyway, I like you better than most of the others; you're a lot nicer than Gilbert Crane, for instance."
"Well, I am glad you think so!" and Philip squared his shoulders with an unconscious air of superiority.
"You needn't act so conceited over it!" Mildred exclaimed. "Of course, you're big and handsome—and he's insignificant looking; but he can't help that, and you oughtn't to be vain."
Philip tried to look modest and self-depreciatory, but only succeeded in achieving a satisfied grin, whereat we all laughed.
"But you know," Mildred went on, "it isn't everything to be big and handsome and rich, as you are; and if I promised to marry you, I might afterward see someone I liked better."
"An earl, perhaps," said Philip, not noticing me, but looking at her steadily.
"Yes," said Mildred, returning his look with an unflinching gaze, "an earl, perhaps."
"Well," said Philip, giving her a curious look, "you might do worse."
"Indeed I might," she responded, a little curtly; "very much worse."
And, laughing a little at their foolish banter, I left them and went into the house.
Chapter III.
The Belted Earl
Clarence, Earl of Clarendon, was arriving. Wherefore, the feminine guests at Maxwell Chimneys were peeping with careful discretion through curtains and window blinds, in their impatience to comment upon the appearance of the distinguished visitor.
But from their vantage ground they could see only a big, heavy-coated figure emerging from a motor-car, followed by a quantity of foreign-looking luggage.
"He's gone to his rooms," announced Milly, after a skirmishing peep into the hall, "and of course we won't see him until dinner time. Come on, Irene, let's go and put on our very bestest frocks. I wish I had a tiara or a coronet! Do you think I'd better wear feathers in my hair or just a wreath of roses?"
"I'm sure I don't know about earls," I put in, "but I'm sure, Miss Leslie, that most men prefer natural flowers to those fanciful confections that you young ladies sometimes perch on your heads."
"You tell us, Mr. Maxwell," said Irene Gardiner, as our host entered the room, "do you suppose earls prefer made-up hair ornaments or natural flowers?"
"Bless my soul! I'm sure I don't know," declared the bewildered old gentleman; "I never was an earl!"
"You ought to be," said Mildred, smiling at him; "your manners are courtly enough to grace any,—any—what do earls grace, anyway?"
"Well, as one will grace our dinner table pretty soon, it would be wise for you girls to run away and get ready to do your part of the gracing," said Miss Maxwell, smiling at pretty Milly, who was in her most roguish mood.
"I simply can't dress, Miss Miranda, until I decide between my silver filigree headdress and a wreath of pink roses."
"Nor I," said Edith; "I believe I'll wear a single rosebud."
"Yes, do," said Mildred; "do wear the simple little blossom, dear; it will make you look younger!" As Edith was only two years older than her sister this could not be called an unkind sarcasm.
"Baby-face!" she retorted; "nothing could make you look younger, unless, perhaps, you carry a Teddy Bear in your arm."
"I've a notion to do just that!" said Mildred, laughing. "I must shock that English prig, somehow."
"How do you know he's a prig?"
"All Englishmen are. I've never met any, but I'm sure they're snippy and critical, and not a bit like our own brave lads. I've lost interest in him anyhow. You may have him, Irene, if you want to."
"That's all very well, now, but as soon as you see him, you'll appropriate him."
"No, I won't, honest; I hereby make over to you whatever interest I may have had in the noble Earl of Clarendon, and promise not to interfere with your game, if you choose to add his very likely bald scalp to your other trophies of the chase."
"Oh, pshaw, that won't do a scrap of good if you even talk to him or look at him at all," said Irene, putting on a rueful look. "Just as Mr. Crane said, if you sweep your eyelashes round once, he'll be done for."
"All right," said Mildred; "then, furthermore, I promise not to talk or converse with the abovementioned Clarence beyond the ordinary civilities of the house; never to smile at him voluntarily and never to wave my eyelashes at him across the table. And now," she rattled on, "I know I'll be late for dinner!" and then she ran away to her own room. Presumably, she took great pains with her toilette, for it happened that she was the latest to enter the drawing-room. She had elected to wear a gown of palest blue organdy, which, though of simple effect, was in reality a marvelous confection, born of art and science. Her hair was massed in a curly top-knot, secured by shining combs, and on her soft fair neck rested a string of wax beads, which she chose to call "The Leslie Pearls."
Her cheeks were a little flushed with the exertion