“My dear, there’s French Pembroke talking to my niece, Eliza Peyton--” Mrs. Peyton was a Peyton before she married one--“Madame Elise Koller she now calls herself.” “Yes, I see.” “I suppose you saw a good deal of her in Paris, and my sister-in-law, Sarah Scaife that was--now Madame Schmidt. She showed me the dear departed’s picture the other day--a horrid little wretch he looked, while my brother, Edmund Peyton, was the handsomest young man in the county.” “We saw Madame Koller quite often,” said Olivia. Mrs. Peyton was amazingly clever as a mind reader, and saw in a moment there was no love lost between Olivia Berkeley and Madame Koller. “And that Mr. Ahlberg. Sarah Scaife says he is a cousin of Eliza’s--I mean Elise’s--husband.” “I should think if anybody knew the facts in the case it would be Sarah Scaife, as you call her,” replied Olivia laughing. “I believe he is a very harmless kind of a man.” At that Mrs. Peyton took off her spectacles and looked at Olivia keenly. “I hate to believe you are a goose,” she said, good-naturedly; “but you must be very innocent. Harmless! That is the very thing that man is not.” “So papa says, but I think it comes from Mr. Ahlberg eating asparagus with his fingers and not knowing how to play whist, or something of the kind. I have seen him on and off at watering places, and in Paris for two or three years. I never saw him do anything that wasn’t quite right--and I never heard anything against him except what you and papa say--and that is rather indefinite.” “And you didn’t observe my niece with French Pembroke, did you?” Olivia Berkeley’s face turned a warm color. Such very plain spoken persons as Mrs. Peyton were a little embarrassing. But just then came the sound of the Colonel’s voice, raised at a considerable distance. “Olivia, my love--God bless my soul--Mrs. Peyton--there’s that charming niece of yours--what a creature she was when she lived in this county as Eliza Peyton--a regular stunner, begad--I must go and speak to her--and my particular friend, Ahlberg--excuse me a moment, my love.” Colonel Berkeley stalked across the track, receiving all the attention which Pembroke had tried to avoid. Life in his beloved Virginia had almost driven the Colonel distracted by its dullness, and he could not but welcome a fellow creature from the outside. He buttoned his light overcoat trimly around his still handsome figure, and bowed majestically when he reached the carriage. Madame Koller returned the bow with a brilliant smile. She was beginning to feel very much alone, albeit she was in her native county, and she welcomed Colonel Berkeley as a deliverer. Evidently she soothed him about Dashaway. Pembroke, passing by, heard scraps like the following: “I have seen just such things at the Grand Prix--” “Madame, the infernal system here of putting up irresponsible negro boys--” “I could see he had a superb stride--” “Dashaway, Madame Koller, comes from the very best stock in the State of Virginia.”