In coquetry as in other matters, the old saying about the natural and the acquired taste holds good. Leonore, having once tasted blood, was not to be kept from it; exasperation and despair were thrown to the winds in the triumph of her first victory, and the ease with which she had brought Valentine Purcell to book turned her head. Its consequence was immediate. "That's the jolliest little widow I have seen for ages," pronounced Mr. George Augustus Butts, after seeing the Boldero ladies to their carriage at the close of a prolonged call at his uncle's house. "It's all right, Aunt Laura. If she's on, I am. Mrs. Stubbs may become Mrs. Butts--why the very names seem to melt into each other, ha--ha--ha!" "Really, George!" But George's aunt, who was very little older than himself, laughed sympathetically. It was she who had summoned him to the spot; she who had instructed him in the why and wherefore of the visit; and had the two been alone, she would not even have exclaimed, "Really, George!" But Lady Butts had a daughter, and Gwendoline was listening with the curious ears of thirteen. "Gwenny will think you mean that," continued her ladyship, with a warning intonation. "She takes your little jokes _au serieux_, you know." "Jokes?" But he perceived his mentor was in earnest, and mentally confounded Gwenny for a nuisance. What business had that long-legged, staring, pigtailed brat in her mother's drawing-room? She had as a fact been brought in to make a third to match the three visitors; but having fulfilled her end, and escorted Sybil Boldero in one direction while Leonore was piloted by her cousin in another, round the gardens--(Sue and her hostess meanwhile sitting in state within)--Gwen's mission was over, and the point was to get rid of her. It is not so easy, however, to get rid of a spoilt child. Gwen admired George Butts very much indeed. She hung about him whenever he came to the house, believed in him whenever he spoke, and had secret ideas of marrying him as soon as she should be grown up. She was now bursting with jealousy and curiosity, and meant to hold her ground by hook or by crook. "Hadn't you ever met Leonore before, Cousin George?" The elders exchanged glances. "No," said Cousin George, bluntly. (Damn it all, was he to be cross-questioned next?) "You seemed to like her. How you and she did talk! And you got away from us altogether," proceeded Gwenny, stabbing her own wound as a greenhorn will. "I suppose you think her very pretty?" "If I do, do you think I should tell you, Tailywags?" He tossed the thick plait of her hair up and down in returning good-humour. After all, he might as well hear if she had anything amusing to say. "I believe it is only because she wears black," continued Gwenny, watching to see how this was taken. "Black, with a little white stuff about the throat, _is_ so becoming, and Leo doesn't look a bit like a widow now."