One evening Arthur, his patience well-nigh exhausted, talked seriously with Louise.

“This fellow Mershone,” said he, “is a bad egg, a despicable son of a decadent family.  His mother was Hedrik Von Taer’s sister, but the poor thing has been dead many years.  Not long ago Charlie was tabooed by even the rather fast set he belonged to, and the Von Taers, especially, refused to recognize their relative.  Now he seems to go everywhere again.  I don’t know what has caused the change, I’m sure.”  “Why, he has reformed,” declared Louise; “Diana told me so.  She said he had been a bit wild, as all young men are; but now his behavior is irreproachable.”

“I don’t believe a word of it,” insisted Arthur.  “Mershone is a natural cad; he’s been guilty of all sorts of dirty tricks, and is capable of many more.  If you’ll watch out, Louise, you’ll see that all the girls are shy of being found in his society, and all the chaperons cluck to their fledglings the moment the hawk appears.  You’re a novice in society just yet, my dear, and it won’t do you any good to encourage Charlie Mershone, whom everyone else avoids.”

“He’s very nice,” returned Louise, lightly.

“Yes; he must be nicer than I am,” admitted the young man, glumly, and thereupon he became silent and morose and Louise found her evening spoiled.

The warning did not fall on barren ground, however.  In the seclusion of her own room the girl thought it all over and decided she had teased her true lover enough.  Arthur had not scolded or reproached her, despite his annoyance, and she had a feeling that his judgment of Charlie Mershone was quite right.  Although the latter was evidently madly in love with her the girl had the discretion to see how selfish and unrestrained was his nature, and once or twice he had already frightened her by his impetuosity.  She decided to retreat cautiously but positively from further association with him, and at once began to show the young man coolness.

Mershone must have been chagrined, but he did not allow Louise to see there was any change in their relations as far as he was concerned.  He merely redoubled his attentions, sending her flowers and bonbons daily, accompanied by ardently worded but respectful notes.  Really, Louise was in a quandary, and she frankly admitted to Arthur that she had brought this embarrassment upon herself.  Yet Arthur could do or say little to comfort her.  He longed secretly to “punch Mershone’s head,” but could find no occasion for such decided action.

Diana, during this time, treated both Arthur and Louise with marked cordiality.  Believing her time would come to take part in the comedy she refrained from interfering prematurely with the progress of events.  She managed to meet her accomplice at frequent intervals and was pleased that there was no necessity to urge Charlie to do his utmost in separating the lovers.

“I’m bound to win, Di,” he said grimly, “for I love the girl even better than I do her fortune.  And of one thing you may rest assured; Weldon shall never marry her.”