“Well,” said Olive, “you have objected to two of my candidates, and I positively decline the one you offer, so we have left only the diplomat.  He has proposed, and he has not yet received a definite answer.  You have told me yourself that he belongs to an aristocratic family in Austria, and I am sure that would be a grand match.  We have talked together a great deal, and he seems to like the things I like.  I should see plenty of court life and high society, for he will soon be transferred from this legation, and if I take him I shall go to some foreign capital.  He is very sharp and ambitious, and I have no doubt that some day he will be looked upon as a distinguished foreigner.  Now, as it is the ambition of many American girls to marry distinguished foreigners, this alliance is certainly worthy of due consideration.”

“Stuff!” said Mrs. Easterfield.

Olive was not annoyed, and replied very quietly:  “It is not stuff.  You must know young women who have married foreigners and who did not do anything like so well as if they had married rising diplomats.”

Mrs. Blynn now knocked at the door on urgent household business.

“I shall want to see you again about all this, Olive,” said Mrs. Easterfield as they parted.

“Of course,” replied the girl, “whenever you want to.”

“Mrs. Blynn,” said the lady of the house, “before you mention what you have come to talk about, please tell one of the men to put a horse to a buggy and come to the house.  I want to send a message by him.”

The letter which was speedily on its way to Mr. Richard Lancaster was a very brief one.  It simply asked the young gentleman to come to Broadstone, with bad news or good news, or without any news at all.  It was absolutely necessary that the writer should see him, and in order that there might be no delay she sent a conveyance for him.  Moreover, she added, it would give her great pleasure if Mr. Lancaster would come prepared to spend a couple of days at her house.  She felt sure good Captain Asher would spare him for that short time.  She believed that at this moment more gentlemen were needed at Broadstone, and, although she did not go on to say that she thought Dick was not having a fair chance at this very important crisis, that is what she expected the young man to understand.

Just before luncheon, at the time when Claude Locker might have been urging his suit had he been less kind-hearted and generous, Olive found an opportunity to say a few words to Mrs. Easterfield.

“A capital idea has come into my head,” she said.  “What do you think of holding a competitive examination among these young men?”

“More stuff, and more nonsense!” ejaculated Mrs. Easterfield.  “I never knew any one to trifle with serious subjects as you are trifling with your future.”

“I am not trifling,” said Olive.  “Of course, I don’t mean that I should hold an examination, but that you should.  You know that parents—­foreign parents, I mean—­make all sorts of examinations of the qualifications and merits of candidates for the hands of their daughters, and I should be very grateful if you would be at least that much of a mother to me.”