Elise, feeling that she was being thus thrown at Mr. Rutledge’s head, came to the mark with spirit and kept him guessing for an hour. She resented his possible inference that she had chosen him for an evening’s _tête-à-tête_, and set about to show him that such was not the fact by a display of perversity and brilliance which dazzled while it irritated him. She would assume for a moment an intimately friendly, even confiding, manner that like the breath of the honeysuckle at his Pacolet plantation home would set his senses a-swim,—and in the next moment chill his glowing heart with the iciest of conventional reserve or answer his sincerest speeches with the light disdain and indifference of a mocking spirit. At one time she would kindle his admiration for her quickness of thought and keenness of repartee; and again appear so dull and careless that he must needs explain his own essays at wit. Her caprices, so plainly intentional yet inexplicable, exasperated him almost to the point of open rebellion, and the more evident his perturbation became, the more spirit she put into the game. She won him back from a half-dozen fits of resentful impatience to the very edge of intoxication,—only to bait him again more outrageously. Lola DeVale, perfectly familiar with the theme of Oliver Hazard’s serial, found time even while admiring Hazard’s ability to decorate his story in ever-changing and ever pleasing colours, to note that Elise was giving Rutledge a tempestuous hour. "It’s a shame for her to treat him so," she said to Hazard, interpreting her meaning by a nod toward Elise and Evans. "I hadn’t noticed. What’s she doing to him?" "I believe he loves her, and she has been treating him shamefully all evening." "So that was it," murmured Hazard. "She certainly ought to be good to him." "Beg pardon, I didn’t understand you," said Lola. "I said she ought to be good to him." "I heard that. But the other remark you made?" Hazard caught himself, and looked at Lola steadily. "I was so bold as to express an opinion—which had not been requested—and to aver that—she—er—ought to be good to him," he repeated with an over-done blankness of countenance. "You come on," said Lola as she rose. "We are going to scare up something for you people to eat," she remarked to the others. "Now, sir," she said when she had gotten him into the dining-room, "I’ll see what sort of a reporter I could be. Stand right there, and look at me. Now.—why did Mr. Rutledge knock Congressman Smith down? No, no, stand perfectly still—and no evasion." "What are you talking about?" asked Hazard. "Don’t be silly," the girl said impatiently. "I read something more than the society and fashion columns in the newspapers. Tell me. Why did he break Mr. Smith’s jaw?—who was the young lady?—and what did Mr. Smith say of her? I know it was Elise; but tell me about it—and hurry, for those people are getting hungry." "I must not tell that, Lola," Hazard answered her seriously.