“Clarence Augustus” was evidently, in his mother’s eyes, the perfection of manly beauty and grace, a great genius, and indeed everything that could be desired.

“He is still single,” she one day said significantly to the younger Elsie, “though I know plenty of lovely girls, desirable matches in every way, who would have been delighted with the offer of his hand.  Yes, my dear, I am quite sure of it,” she added, seeing a slight smile of incredulity on the young girl’s face; “only wait till you have seen him.  He will be here to-morrow.”

Elsie was quite willing to wait, and no dreams of Mrs. Faude’s idol disturbed either her sleeping or waking hours.

Clarence Augustus made his appearance duly the next day at the dinner table; a really handsome man, if regular features and fine coloring be all that is necessary to constitute good looks; but his face wore an expression of self-satisfaction and contempt for others, which was not attractive to our Ion friends.

But it soon became evident to them, that to most of the other ladies in the house, he was an object of admiration.

His mother seized an early opportunity to introduce him to the Misses Travilla, coming upon them as they stood talking together upon the veranda.

But they merely bowed and withdrew, having, fortunately, an engagement to drive, at that hour, with their parents and cousins, along the beach.

“What do you think of him?” asked Violet, when they had reached their room.

“He has good features, and a polished address.”

“Yes; but do you like his looks?”

“No; I do not desire his acquaintance.”

“Nor I; he’s not the sort that papa and grandpa would wish us to know.”

“No; so let us keep out of his way.”

“But without seeming to do so?”

“Oh, yes; as far as we can.  We don’t wish to hurt his feelings or his mother’s.”

They carried out their plan of avoidance, and so skilfully that neither mother nor son was quite sure it was intended.  In fact, it was difficult for them to believe that any girl could wish to shun the attentions of a young man so attractive in every way as was Clarence Augustus Faude.

“I should like you to marry one of those girls,” the mother said to her son, chatting alone with him in her own room; “you could not do better, for they are beautiful, highly educated and accomplished, and will have large fortunes.”

“Which?” he added sententiously, and with a smile that seemed to say, he was conscious that he had only to take his choice.

“I don’t care; there’s hardly a pin to choose between them.”

“Just my opinion.  Well, I think I shall go for the brown eyes; as you tell me the other is not yet out, and I hear the father refuses, on that plea, to allow any one to pay his addresses—­though, between you and me, Mrs. F., I fancy he might make an exception in my favor.”