"Two months of relief from their silly worship at least, for I shall not go to Rosemont any sooner if I can possibly avoid it," she cried angrily. One thing that pleased her well was that Lord Chester and Precious had not yet met, for the young lord had gone away from the city as soon as it was announced that Precious would recover. Washington had lionized him after his heroic act, and in sheer bashfulness he had run away to travel round a few weeks until his fame blew over, he laughingly explained to his friend Earle. Perhaps there was more in it than he had confessed. Lord Chester regretted with a bitter pain that he had given Ethel Winans cause to expect an offer of his hand and heart. From the day that he had first seen the portrait of Precious his heart had turned away from proud, queenly Ethel to her gentle younger sister. The strange chance by which he had saved her sweet young life only drew her closer to his heart. Yet in all honor his fealty belonged to dark-eyed Ethel. In desperation he went away to try to forget the blue eyes that were luring him from his honor. And he remained away until he received a letter from Earle Winans, telling him of all that had happened since he left Washington. "We are here at Rosemont--Precious and I; the _mater_ and Ethel are still in the Capitol City. Precious is improving slowly but surely in the fine mountain air, and I--well, I fear I'm losing my heart to a village coquette, the daintiest fairy I ever saw. Rosemont is a very gay little town, with some nice people--old Virginia stock, you know." Then Lord Chester resolved to go back to Washington and see Ethel again. Perhaps now that Precious was gone his heart might return to its first love. CHAPTER XII. "A VILLAGE COQUETTE." "Laughing eyes, curly hair, dainty robes, They had crazed his hot, fiery brain, then. Ah, the silliest maiden can make A fool of the wisest of men!" --MAY AGNES FLEMING. "I am seventeen to-day, and I have thirteen lovers!" cried pretty, saucy Ladybird, pirouetting on the velvet greensward in front of her father's house at Rosemont until her short golden-brown locks danced in fluffy rings all over her round, white, babyish forehead. "Thirteen is always an unlucky number. Thee ought to jilt thy last lover," cried Auntie Prue from the porch. "Ay, but I won't, for I like the thirteenth best of all," laughed the little beauty. "You'll rue the day if you marry him," cried Aura Stanley sharply. She leaned against a rose-wreathed pillar of the porch, a tall girl in pink, with hard black eyes and thick brown hair in a rich braid. She lived next door and was the village lawyer's only daughter.