The route planned led to Bangor, where the tourists stayed over-night. No one cared to cross St. George’s Channel and arrive in Dublin at night, for they had been hearing too much about the Irish riots, to deliberately choose to stay at any hotel where bricks and shot might strike innocent heads at any time.
It was during the evening spent at Bangor, that Jimmy beheld Eleanor Maynard with different eyes. Ruth had suddenly palled on him, and his heart grew cold towards her charm and beauty. But Ruth paid no attention to his change of tactics. She had smilingly accepted homage, and she as smilingly waived it again. Jimmy’s ardent protests of enduring faith and love were empty words to her. The candy and tokens were tangible delights.
What opened Jimmy’s “love-eyes” to Eleanor’s apparent value was her remark about butterfly lovers.
“I never could stand a man who buzzed about from one blossom to another like a butterfly,” commented Eleanor.
“Nor I. But then, you and I, Nolla, always knew real men,” added Polly.
“If other girls had the advantages we western girls have, of knowing great big heroes of the plains, they’d soon sicken of society idiots,” declared Dodo.
Ruth and Nancy were the audience to these remarks, but Angela was having a tête-à-tête with Mrs. Alexander. Jimmy stood eagerly watching the five girls, comparing notes on each other.
“Well, I never was west, so I only know the kind of a beau that Jimmy Osgood represents,” giggled Ruth. “As long as they are not serious, and are useful in giving you candy and flowers, they answer a certain purpose.”
Ruth had been so cloyingly sweet and responsive to all his (Jimmy’s) advances, that this speech from her suddenly broke the spell he had been under. From that moment on, Jimmy had no eyes for a girl who could be so unkind.
“Poor Jimmy! Ruth, you will break his heart if he ever hears of what you said,” remarked Eleanor, and that sympathetic rejoinder to Ruth’s heartless chatter drew Jimmy to a new star in the firmament of his hopes.