“Oh, that darling child.  She is my only niece though I have never met her until this very afternoon.  Isn’t she a beauty?  Think what a sensation she will be sure to create a year or two hence when she comes out.  Don’t you envy me? for, of course, there is no one else to introduce her to society.  Her mother died years ago.”

“And the young man with her?” questioned the lady, wondering why the darling niece had not figured more prominently in the aunt’s life hitherto.  “Is he her brother?”

“No.  He is the hero of the day.  The young naval cadet [save the mark!] who so nobly sprang overboard after sweet little Clare and saved her under such harrowing circumstances.  Isn’t he simply stunning!  Have you ever seen a more magnificent figure?  I think he is the handsomest thing I’ve ever laid my eyes upon.  And so devoted to dear Peggy.  And they say he has a fortune in his own right.  But, that is a minor consideration; the dear child is an heiress herself.  Magnificent old home in Maryland and, and, oh, all that, don’t you know.”

Madam’s information concerning her niece’s affairs seemed to have grown amazingly since that chance encounter during the afternoon.

At that moment the dance came to an end and by evil chance Peggy and Durand were not ten feet from Mrs. Stewart.  She beckoned to them and, of course, there was nothing to do but respond.  They at once walked over to her.

“Oh, Mrs. Latimer, let me present my dear niece Miss Stewart to you, and Peggy darling, I must know this young hero.  You dear, dear boy, weren’t you simply petrified when you saw that darling child plunge overboard?  You are a wonder.  A perfect wonder of heroism.  Of course the girls are just raving over you.  How could they help it?  Uniforms, brass buttons, the gallant rescuer and—­now turn your head the other way because you are not supposed to hear this—­all the gifts and graces of the gods.  Ah, Peggy, I suspect you have rare discrimination even at your age, and well—­Mr. Leroux—­you have not made any mistake, I can assure you.”

Perhaps two individuals who have suddenly stepped into a hornet’s nest may have some conception of Peggy’s and Durand’s sensations.  Peggy looked absolutely, hopelessly blank at this volley.  Durand’s face was first a thunder-cloud and then became crimson, but not on his own account:  Durand was no fool to the ways of foolish women; his mortification was for Peggy’s sake; he loathed the very thought of having her brought in touch with such shallowness, exposed to such vulgarity, and the charm of their rarely frank intercourse invaded by suggestions of silly sentimentality.  Thus far there had never been a hint, nor the faintest suggestion of it; only the most loyal good fellowship; and his own attitude toward Peggy Stewart was one of the highest esteem for a fine, well-bred girl and the tenderest sense of protection for her lonely, almost orphaned position.  He looked at Mrs. Peyton Stewart with eyes which fairly blazed contempt and she had the grace to color tinder his gaze, boy of barely nineteen that he was.