emselves,--who will judge the morals
of a Duke, and tear the reputation of a Duchess to shreds, for the
least, the most trifling error of conduct! If you can stand well with
your servants, you can stand well with the whole world--if not--carry
yourself as haughtily as you may--your pride will not last long, depend
upon it!

Meanwhile, as Briggs and Britta strolled in the side paths of the
shrubbery, the gay guests of the Manor were dancing on the lawn. Thelma
did not dance,--she reclined in a low basket-chair, fanning herself.
George Lorimer lay stretched in lazy length at her feet, and near her
stood her husband, together with Beau Lovelace and Lord Winsleigh. At a
little distance, under the shadow of a noble beech, sat Mrs.
Rush-Marvelle and Mrs. Van Clupp in earnest conversation. It was to Mrs.
Marvelle that the Van Clupps owed their invitation for this one day down
to Errington Manor,--for Thelma herself was not partial to them. But she
did not like to refuse Mrs. Marvelle's earnest entreaty that they should
be asked,--and that good-natured, scheming lady having gained her point,
straightway said to Marcia Van Clupp somewhat severely--

"Now, Marcia, this is your last chance. If you don't hook Masherville at
the Carringten fete, you'll lose him! You mark my words!"

Marcia had dutifully promised to do her best, and she was not having
what she herself called "a good hard time of it." Lord Algy was in one
of his most provokingly vacillating moods--moreover, he had a headache,
and felt bilious. Therefore he would not dance--he would not play
tennis--he did not understand archery--he was disinclined to sit in
romantic shrubberies or summer-houses, as he had a nervous dread of
spiders--so he rambled aimlessly about the grounds with his hands in his
pockets, and perforce Marcia was compelled to ramble too. Once she tried
what effect an opposite flirtation would have on his mind, so she
coquetted desperately with a young country squire, whose breed of pigs
was considered the finest in England--but Masherville did not seem to
mind it in the least. Nay, he looked rather relieved than otherwise, and
Marcia, seeing this, grew more resolute than ever.

"I guess I'll pay him out for this!" she thought as she watched him
feebly drinking soda-water for his headache. "He's a man that wants
ruling, and ruled he shall be!"

And Mrs. Rush-Marvelle and Mrs. Van Clupp observed her manoeuvres with
maternal interest, while the cunnin