world, were very attractive, and it is just possible that he felt the
influence of her piquantly-pretty face. At any rate, he had found a great
number of imperative reasons for going to Brown's, when one morning, as he
was opening the little wicket-gate that admitted him to their
croquet-field, he saw something that gave him an unpleasant shock. It was
a buggy in front of the door, in which sat Bijou, charmingly arrayed,
smiling upon a gentleman who had just helped her in and was only deterred
from taking the seat waiting for him by her calling out, "Stop, till I fix
my skirts and put up my parasol," the gentleman being his cousin, Mr.
Edward Plummer, _alias_ Drummond. The sight of Mr. Plummer enraged him.
Bijou's cheerful air did not improve matters, and for the first time he
felt irritated at her American speech and accent. "'Fix my skirts,'" he
quoted discontentedly, as he watched them drive off, and then, after a
moment's indecision, he stalked angrily up to the front door, pulled the
bell fiercely, and asked to see Mr. Brown. He was almost immediately
ushered into the library, where Mr. Brown was sitting.

"Good-morning, sir. I am glad to see you. I am sorry to say that Bijou is
out. She has gone driving with our guest: an English guest, by the way,
--Mr. Drummond. He came on with us from New York, and has been here ever
since, except the last two weeks, which he has spent in Chicago," said Mr.
Brown.

"That's what I've come about," blurted out Mr. Ramsay, the moment there
was a pause. "His name isn't Drummond at all: it is Plummer. And he isn't
fit to be a guest in any decent house, and I've come to tell you so and
have you give him the sack and put him to the door at once. Excuse me
meddling, but you have been very kind to me and received me most
hospitably, and I am not going to see you taken in by a rascal and a
blackguard."