"Your engagement is a minor matter," replied Mrs. Radigan pleasantly; "you must remember that while it may seem important to you, it is Pearl's third or fourth, for before Plumstone Smith she had several devoted admirers in Kansas City. As for Ethel, I have plainly intimated to his Highness that if worst comes to worst, Radigan and I will make up a purse between us to quite bring Pearl's dot to Bumpschus proportions." Truly, when Mrs. Radigan sets her mind on accomplishing anything, one might as well get out of her way. But I die hard myself. "Has the Duke proposed?" I asked. "Pearl tells me not," was the quiet reply. "But you know his Highness is waiting for his solicitor, and when Sir Charles Wigge arrives from London, we can look for doings, real doings. I tell you, any girl might well be proud of having a 'Sir' come to her to lay the hand of a duke at her feet." "A ghastly ceremony," said I, thinking of one thing. "You are not qualified to judge," said she smiling, and evidently misinterpreting my remark. But how clever she is! Most women conducting such a campaign would seek to separate the Duke from the Bumpschuses and bring him entirely within their own sphere of influence. But Mrs. Radigan regards Ethel Bumpschus as her chief ally, though an unwitting one, and when she gets possession of his Grace she likes to have the great heiress around. She says Pearl shows so well against a plain background. The poor Duke is almost distracted. What with Pearl's beauty and my insidious remarks to him about the enormous wealth of the house of Bumpschus and the speculative character of the Radigan fortunes, he flutters about as aimlessly as a wounded butterfly and has about as much to say. When the dog-fancier is particularly pressing for a payment on the bull pups his Grace will concentrate his attentions on one heiress or the other for a day at a time, then he will go all to pieces again and aimlessly wander up and down the Park Mall or stand on the Battery wall watching the steamships come in.