Mr. Chester Humphreys [she began],
Dear Earl:
I am glad you’re coming [the letter went on] Hurry, oh, hurry, the day draws near. I hope you are the right one, but I can tell the minute I look at you. I will be in the plum-orchard, at half-past three Thursday afternoon. Come, oh, come.
Ladybird Lovell, Primrose Hall.
“He may not be an earl,” she thought, “but then he may; and if he is, it will be dreadful if I don’t tell him so.”
CHAPTER XV
THE ARRIVAL OF THE EARL
At half-past three Thursday afternoon Ladybird was in the plum-orchard. It had never occurred to her to doubt the arrival of Chester Humphreys, or that he could experience any difficulty in finding her at her somewhat indefinite address.
And being a fairly clever and up-to-date young man, Chester Humphreys did not experience any difficulties, or, if he did, he overcame them; for promptly at the appointed hour he stood before Ladybird, and bowed politely, saying, “Miss Ladybird Lovell?”
“Yes,” said Ladybird, rising from her seat on the grass, and suddenly acquiring a new dignity as she heard her name pronounced in such a formal tone. Then she looked at him steadily, without a touch of impertinence, but with an air of gravest criticism.
She saw a tall, well-built young man with broad, strong shoulders, and a frank, honest face which showed both perception and responsiveness.
“You’re not an earl,” she said; and though her tone showed disappointment, it was more in sorrow than in anger.
“How do you know I’m not?” he said, smiling a little.
“By your clothes,” said Ladybird, simply. “Of course I know you wouldn’t wear your coronet and robes; but you’d wear something prettier than blue serge.”