She laughed.  After all, there was something old-fashioned about this man.  “And I never think of plucking a five-leaf.  That’s bad luck.”

“The worst kind of bad luck.  I remember, when I was a kid, I never played hooky without first hunting up my four-leaved amulet.  If I got a licking when I returned home, why, I consoled myself with the thought, that it might have been ten times worse but for the four-leaf.”

They moved about, looking here and there, while the horses buried their noses in the wet grass and threatened never to return to the road again.  After a diligent search Patty found a beautiful four-leaf clover.  She exhibited it in triumph.

“You’ve better luck than I,” said Warrington.  “We shall have to go on without my finding one.”

“You may have this one,” she replied; “and I hope it will bring you all sorts of good luck.”

He took out his card-case and made room for the little amulet.

“It is impossible not to be fortunate now,” he said, with a gravity that was not assumed.

She looked at him dubiously.  No, there was no laughter in his eyes; he was perfectly serious.

They walked the horses over a small hill, then mounted.  It was a very pleasant morning for Warrington.  It had been years since he had talked to a young woman who was witty and unworldly.  He had to readjust himself.  He had written down that all witty women were worldly, but that all worldly women were not witty.  But to be witty and unsophisticated was altogether out of his calculations.

At the Country Club they stabled the horses and wandered about the golf links.  Luncheon was served on the veranda; and presently Warrington found himself confiding in this young girl as if he had known her intimately all his life.  The girl felt a thrill of exultation.  It flattered her young vanity to hear this celebrity telling her about his ambitions.

“Everything becomes monotonous after a while,” he said.  “And I have just begun to grow weary of living alone.  Day after day, the same faces, the same places, the same arguments, the same work.  I’ve grown tired.  I want to live like other human beings.  Monotony leads very quickly into folly, and I confess to many acts of folly.  And no folly is absolutely harmless.”  He stirred his tea and stared into the cup.

“Why, I should think you ought to be the most contented of men,” she cried.  “You are famous, wealthy, courted.  And when you return to Herculaneum, every girl in town will set her cap for you.  I warn you of this, because I’ve taken a friendly interest in you.”

“It is very good of you.  Come,” he said, draining his cup; “surely you tell fortunes in tea-cups; tell mine.”

“Four-leaf clovers and tea-grounds,” she mused.  “You strike me as being a very superstitious young man.”

“I am.”

She passed the cup back to him.  “Pour a little fresh tea in, spill it gently, turn the cup against the saucer and twirl it three times.  That’s the incantation.”