Good-looking, of course, Claire Blackwood was,—she took care to be that,—but her utmost care could not make her beautiful,—much to her own chagrin. Her scarlet lips were too thin, and the angle of her jaw too hard. Yet she was handsome, and by virtue of her personality and her implicit belief in her own importance, she was the leader socially, notwithstanding the fact that the colony disclaimed any society element in its life. “Tell us about the Headland House people, Claire. You’ve called, haven’t you?” This from Ted Landon, who by reason of his sheer impudence was forgiven any unconventionality. No other man at the Harbor would have dreamed of addressing Mrs Blackwood by her first name. “Yes; I’ve called. They’re delightful people.” The words said more than the tone. “With reservations?” asked North. “Oh, in a way. They’re quite all right,—it’s only that they’re not picture mad,—as we all are.” “Ignorant?” “Oh, no,—not that. Well, I’ll sketch them for you. Mr Varian is a Wall Street man,——” “Magnate?” “Yes, I daresay. Wealthy, anyway. He’s big and Vandyke-bearded. Well mannered,—but a bit preoccupied,—if——” “Yes, we get what you mean,” said the irrepressible Ted. “Go on,—what about the daughter?” “I haven’t come to her yet. The mother is due first. Mrs Varian is the clingingest vine I ever saw. I only saw her on parade, of course, but I’m positive that in curl-papers, she can whine and fret and fly into nervous spasms! Her husband spoils her,—he’s far too good to her,——” “What a lot you gathered at one interview,” murmured Lawrence North. “That’s what I went for,” Mrs Blackwood returned, coolly. “Well. Mother Varian is wrapped up in her blossom-child. Betty is a peach,—as I know you boys will agree,—but I never saw greater idolatry in any mother than Mrs Varian shows.” “Betty worth it?” asked John Clark, idly. “Rather!” Mrs Blackwood assured him. “She’s a dear thing. I don’t often enthuse over young girls, but Betty Varian is unusual.” “As how?” “Prettier than most girls, more charm, better manners, and,—a suspicion of brains. Not enough to hurt her, but enough to make it a pleasure to talk to her. Moreover, she’s a wilful, spoiled, petted darling of two worshipping parents, and it’s greatly to her credit that she isn’t an arrogant, impossible chit.” “Sounds good to me,” commented Ted; “when can I meet her?” “I’ll introduce you soon. They want to meet some of our best people——” “Of course. That lets me in at once. When will you take me?” “Tomorrow afternoon. They’re having a small picnic and they asked me to bring two amusing young men.” “May I go?” asked Lawrence North. “_Young_ men, I said,” and Mrs Blackwood looked at him calmly. “You are old enough to be Betty Varian’s father!” “Well, since I’m not, that needn’t prevent my meeting her.”