rode past the grand stand, from which there was
another outburst of applause. Returning upon his
tracks, the knight of the crimson sash paused before
the group where Warwick and his sister sat, and
lowered the wreath thrice before the lady whose
token he had won.

"Oyez! Oyez!" cried the herald; "Sir George
Tryon, the victor in the tournament, has chosen
Miss Rowena Warwick as the Queen of Love and
Beauty, and she will be crowned at the feast to-night
and receive the devoirs of all true knights."

The fair-ground was soon covered with scattered
groups of the spectators of the tournament. In
one group a vanquished knight explained in elaborate
detail why it was that he had failed to win the
wreath. More than one young woman wondered
why some one of the home young men could not
have taken the honors, or, if the stranger must win
them, why he could not have selected some belle of
the town as Queen of Love and Beauty instead
of this upstart girl who had blown into the town
over night, as one might say.

Warwick and his sister, standing under a spreading
elm, held a little court of their own. A dozen
gentlemen and several ladies had sought an
introduction before Tryon came up.