Cupids Understudy | Page 9

arrived
on a special train direct from Del Monte. Having captured a grand duke,
these "Choicest Flowers" (ten in number) were loath to lose him, so
they accompanied him. They did more; they paid for the special train.
Blakely's mother greeted them, one and all, in a most friendly manner.
There was an aristocratic air about the whole proceeding that was
distinctly uplifting.
And now began a round of gaieties, the first being a tea were real
Russian samovars were in evidence, and sandwiches of real Russian
caviar were served. Real Russian cigarettes were smoked, real Russian
vodka was sipped; the Czar's health was drunk; no bombs were thrown,
no bonds were offered for sale, the Russian loan was not discussed; the
Japanese servants were not present, having been given a half holiday.
Oh, it was a little triumph, that tea! Blakely's mother was showered
with congratulations. The "Choicest Flowers" vied with one another in
assurances of their distinguished approval.
Indeed, they were all crazy about it--except the grand duke. Blakely
said the grand duke was bored to death, and that he had led him off to
the bar and given him a whisky-and-soda out of sheer pity. From that
time on the duke stuck to him like a postage stamp, so that Blakely had
an awful time escaping that night to dine with Dad and me. He told us
all about the tea at dinner, and I was surprised to learn (I hadn't seen
him yet) that the duke was just Blakely's age, and, as Blakely put it, "a
very decent sort." Not that there is any reason why a grand duke
shouldn't be a decent sort, but Rumor was busy just then proclaiming
that this particular grand duke was a perfect pig.
The next day I had a chance to judge for myself. It seems the duke
noticed me as I got into my automobile for my morning ride, and after
finding out who I was, sent for Blakely and demanded that I be
presented to him.

Blakely was awfully angry. He said: "Look here, I don't know what
you've been used to, but in this country, where a man wishes to meet a
young lady, he asks to be presented to her. Not only that, but he doesn't
take it for granted that she'll be honored by the request. Miss Middleton
is my fiancee. I don't know whether she cares to meet you or not. If she
does, I'll let you know." The duke was terribly mortified. He
apologized beautifully.
Then Blakely apologized for getting angry, and they became better
friends than ever, with the result that the duke was presented to me that
very afternoon.
The Grand Duke Alexander was short and fat and fair, with a yellow
mustache of the Kaiser Wilhelm variety. It was rather a shock to me,
for I had expected a dashing black-haired person with flashing eyes and
a commanding presence. No, he wasn't at all my idea of what a grand
duke should look like; he looked much more like a little brother to the
ox (a well-bred, well-dressed, bath-loving little brother, of course) than
a member of an imperial family. Not that he didn't have his points: he
had nice hands and nice feet, and his smile was charming.
You should have seen his face light up when he found I spoke French.
The poor fellow wasn't a bit at home in the English language and the
eagerness with which he plunged into French was really pathetic.
Luckily, Blakely spoke French, too--not very well, but he understood it
lots better than he spoke it--so we three spent a pleasant hour together
on the veranda. Of course, in a way, it was a little triumph for me; the
women whom Blakely's mother had snubbed enjoyed the sight
immensely, and when she appeared, accompanied by Mrs.
Sanderson-Spear and some of the "Choicest Flowers," and saw what
was happening to her duke, she was too angry for words. Heavens, how
that woman did hate me that afternoon!
The next morning six more "Choicest Flowers" arrived from San
Francisco (rare orchids whose grandfathers had come over from Ireland
in the steerage). The third son of an English baronet who owned a
chicken-ranch near Los Angeles and a German count who sold Rhine
wines to the best families also appeared; for that night Blakely's mother

was to give such a dinner as had never before been given in Santa
Barbara.
Under the heading:
SANTA BARBARA NOW THE MOST COSMOPOLITAN CITY IN
AMERICA
an enterprising Los Angeles newspaper devoted a whole page to the
coming event. Adjective was piled on adjective, split infinitive on split
infinitive. The dinner was to be given in the ballroom of the hotel....
The bank accounts of the assembled guests would total