entirely worthy of the name his mother bore,--and her mother before
her, and many a handsome man and many a beautiful woman back to
times when a great duke stood unjustly attainted, and the Ormonds
served their king with steel sword and golden ewer; and served him
faithfully and well.


Camilla Lent called a little later. Ailsa was in the backyard
garden, a trowel in her hand, industriously loosening the earth
around the prairie roses.

"Camilla," she said, looking up from where she was kneeling among
the shrubs, "what was it you said this morning about Mr. Berkley
being some unpleasant kind of man?"

"How funny," laughed Camilla. "You asked me that twice before."

"Did I? I forgot," said Mrs. Paige with a shrug; and, bending over
again, became exceedingly busy with her trowel until the fire in
her cheeks had cooled.

"Every woman that ever saw him becomes infatuated with Phil
Berkley," said Camilla cheerfully. "I was. You will be. And the
worst of it is he's simply not worth it."

"I--thought not."

"Why did you think not?"

"I don't know why."