"Aw, Miss Winship, really, y'know, you have no rivals," said my partner.
I hadn't supposed him clever enough to guess what I was thinking.
"Oh, yes I have—one," I said; "isn't there somewhere here a real live Lord?"
But just then we joined Meg, and it was she who pointed out to me "The Earl of Strathay—the Twelfth Earl of Strathay," in a whisper of comical respect and deference.
He wasn't very impressive—just a thin, pale young fellow with a bulbous head, big above and small below; but I was glad to do Meg a service; for of course she wished to meet him, and of course Lord Strathay was presented to the beautiful Miss Winship and her chaperons.
Then I danced with him. I felt as if I were amusing a nice boy; he hardly came to my shoulder. I asked him if he liked America.
He wasn't too much of a boy to reply:—
"Like is a feeble word to voice one's impressions of the land of lovely women."
And then he looked at me. Oh, he did admire me immensely, and I took quite a fancy to him in turn, though it seemed pathetic that such a poor little fellow—I don't believe he's twenty-one—should carry the weight of his title. I danced with his cousin, too, a Mr. Poultney; and wherever I went Strathay's eyes followed me wistfully.
Meg danced with Strathay and amused me by her elation. She hadn't really recovered from it to-day.