Lady Nora laughed, “I am sure, Aunt Molly,” she said, “that Phelim would rather you bought the butterfly, I’ll take care of your subscription to Father Flynn.”

With an exclamation of joy, Miss O’Kelly ran into the shop.

“Nora,” said the earl, “the treasury is still closed.”

“Oh,” said Lady Nora, “why do you remind me of such tiresome things as the treasury?  Didn’t you hear Aunt Molly say that Phelim is on the Continent?  I had a wire from him this morning.  Read it; it’s quite Irish.”

She handed the earl a telegram.

“Shall I read it?” he asked.

“Of course,” she answered.

He read—­“I’m richer, but no shorter.  Is there a hotel in Venice big enough to take me in?  Wire answer. Phelim.”

“Will you send this reply for me?” she asked, when the earl had read Phelim’s telegram.

“To be sure I will,” he said.

“How many words are there?” she asked.  “I’ll pay for it.”

Thus compelled, the earl read her answer—­“Come, rich or poor, long or short.  Come. NORA.”

The earl went off with the telegram, thinking.

The next afternoon the earl came out of the church—­his fifth visit since ten o’clock—­and there, near the fountain, were Lady Nora and her aunt.  The earl marked them from the church steps.  There was no mistaking Miss O’Kelly’s green parasol.

This time Lady Nora met him with animation.  She even came toward him, her face wreathed in smiles.

“Phelim has come!” she exclaimed.

“Quite happy—­I’m sure,” said the earl.  “He’s prompt, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” said Lady Nora, “he’s always prompt.  He doesn’t lose shirt-studs, and he never dawdles.”

“Ah!” said the earl.

“Here he comes!” exclaimed Lady Nora, and she began to wave her handkerchief.

The earl turned and saw, coming from the corner by the clock-tower, a man.  He had the shoulders of Hercules, the waist of Apollo, the legs of Mercury.  When he came closer, hat in hand, the earl saw that he had curling chestnut locks, a beard that caressed his chin, brown eyes, and white teeth, for he was smiling.

“Nora,” he cried, as he came within distance, “your friend the cardinal is a good one.  He puts on no side.  He had me up on the balcony, opened your letter, took out the check, and read the letter before even he looked at the stamped paper.  When a man gets a check in a letter and reads the letter before he looks at the check, he shows breedin’.”

“The Earl of Vauxhall,” said Lady Nora, “I present Mr. Phelim Blake.”

The two men nodded; the earl, guardedly; Phelim, with a smile.

“I think, my lord,” said Phelim, “that you are not in Venice for her antiquities.  No more am I. I arrived this mornin’ and I’ve been all over the place already.  I was just thinkin’ that time might hang.  Twice a day I’ve to go out to the yacht to propose to Nora.  Durin’ the intervals we might have a crack at piquet.”