AN OLD FRIEND OF THE FAMILY
I WAS _wrong_.
She will have another caller first.
In fact, she has had another caller. When we got back to our--I really
must remember to say her--rooms at the Cecil we were met, even as I
unlocked the door, by a whiff of wonderful perfume, heady, intoxicating.
The scent of carnations. A great sheaf of the flowers was laid on the
table near the window. Red carnations, Carmen's carnations, the flowers
that always seem to me to stand for something thrilling.... In the
language of flowers it is "a red rose" that spells the eternal phrase,
"I love you." But how much more appropriate would be one handful of the
jagged petals of my favourite blood-red carnations!
"Lor'! Ain't these beauties!" cried Million, sniffing rapturously. "Talk
about doin' things in style! Well, it's a pretty classy kind of hotel
where they gives you cut flowers like this for your table decorations."
"My dear Million, you don't suppose the hotel provided these
carnations," I laughed, "as it provided the palms downstairs?"
"Lor'! Do I pay more money for 'em, then, Miss--Smith, I mean?"
"Pay? Nonsense. The flowers have been sent in by some one," I said.
"Sent? Who'd ever send flowers to me?"
I thought I could guess. I considered it a very pretty attention of Mr.
Reginald Brace, Million's only new friend so far, the young bank
manager.
I said: "Look and see; isn't there a note with the flowers?"
Million took up the fragrant sheaf. Something white was tucked in among
the deep red blooms.
"There is a card," she said. She took it out, and glanced at it. I heard
her exclaim in a startled voice: "Lor'! Who may he be when he's at
home?"
I looked up quickly.
"What?" I said. "Don't you remember who Mr. Brace is?"
"I remember Mr. Brace all right, Miss--Smith, I mean. But these here
ain't from no Mr. Brace," said Million, in a voice of amazement. "Look
at the card!"
I took the card and read it.
On one side was:
"To Miss Million, with kindest greetings from an old friend of
the family!"
On the other side was the name:
"The Honourable James Burke, Ballyneck, Ireland."
"The Honourable!" echoed Million, breathing heavily on the H in
"honourable." "Now who in the wide world is the gentleman called all
that, who thinks he's a friend of my family (and one that hasn't any
family), whoever's he?"
"It's very mysterious," I agreed, staring from the flowers to the card.
"Must be some mistake!" said Million.
An idea occurred to me.
"Ring the bell, Million," I said. Then, remembering my place, I crossed
the room and rung the bell myself.
"For the chamber-maid. She may be able to tell us something about this,"
I explained. "We'll ask her."
More surprises!
The rather prim-faced and middle-aged chamber-maid who appeared in
answer to our summons had a startling announcement to make in answer to
my query as to who was responsible for that sheaf of glorious carnations
that we had found waiting.
"The flowers, Madam, yes. Mr. Burke gave them to me himself with orders
that they were to be placed in Miss Million's room."
"Yes," I answered for Miss Million; "but who is this Mr. Burke? That is
what we--I mean that is what Miss Million wants to know."
The sandy eyebrows of the chamber-maid rose to the top of her forehead
as she replied: "Mr. Burke? I understood, Madam, that----" Then she
stopped and began again: "Mr. Burke is staying in the hotel just now,
Madam."
A sudden presentiment chilled me. I glanced from the small, ill-clad
figure of the new heiress sitting at the table with her carnations,
through the open door into her bedroom with the pyramidal new trunks
which had attracted their full share of glances this morning!
Then I looked back to the chamber-maid standing there so deferentially
in front of the two worst-dressed people at the Cecil. And I said
quickly: "Is he--is Mr. Burke the man who drove up in the four-in-hand
this morning?"
"Yes, Madam. A black-and-yellow coach with four white horses; that would
be Mr. Burke's party."
"Lor'!" broke for the fiftieth time this day from the lips of Million.
"That young gentleman with all those grand people, and the trumpet"
(this was the posthorn), "and what not? Him with the red rose in his
buttonhole?" Million was as red as that rose in her flattered
excitement, as she spoke. "Well, I never! Did you ever, Miss--er--Smith!
Did you ever? Sending me in these beautiful flowers and all. Whatever
made him think he knew me?"
"I can't say, Madam," took up the chamber-maid, "but I certainly
understood from Mr. Burke that he knew your family--in the States, I
think he said."
"Would that be me uncle that I got my money from?" murmured the artless
Million to me.
I thought of the confab that I'd overheard in the central hall between
the hotel porter and that loudly dressed young man who had raised his
hat as we passed. It had been ascertained for him, then, that Miss
Million and "The Sausage King" had something to do with each other!
Awful young man! Million, looking visibly overcome, murmured: "Fancy
dad's own brother having such classy friends out there! A Honourable!
Doesn't that mean being relations with some duke or earl?"
"Mr. Burke is the second son of Lord Ballyneck, an Irish peer, I
believe, Madam," the chamber-maid informed us--or rather me. I wish all
these people wouldn't turn to me always, ignoring the real head of
affairs, Million. Never mind. Wait until I've got her into her new
gowns, and myself into the cap and apron! There'll be a difference then!
The chamber-maid added: "Mr. Burke left a message for Miss Million."
"A message----"
"Yes, Madam; he said he would give himself the pleasure of calling upon
you to-morrow afternoon here at about four o'clock, to have a talk about
mutual friends. I said that I would let Miss Million know."
"Glory!" ejaculated Million, as the chamber-maid withdrew. "Jer hear
that, Miss Beatrice?"
"I hear you calling me by my wrong name again," I said severely.
"Smith, I mean! D'you take it in that we're going to have that young
gentleman coming calling here to-morrow to see us? Oh, lor'! I shall be
too nervous to open my mouth, I know.... Which of me new dresses d'you
think I'd better put on, M--Smith? Better be the very grandest I got,
didn't it? Oh! I shall go trembly all over when I see him again close
to, I know I shall," babbled Million, starry-eyed with excitement.
"Didn't I ought to drop him a line to thank him for them lovely flowers
and to say I shall be so pleased to see him?"
"Certainly not!" I said firmly. "In the first place, I don't think you
ought to see him at all." Million gaped at me.
"Not see----But he's coming here to call!"
My voice sounded as severe as Aunt Anastasia's own as I returned: "I
don't think he seemed a very desirable sort of visitor."
"Not----But, Miss, dear, you heard what the maid said. He's a
Honourable!"
"I don't care if he's a Serene Highness. I didn't like the look of him."
"I thought he looked lovely!" protested the little heiress, gazing
half-timidly, half-reproachfully upon me. "Look at the beautiful kind
smile he'd got, and so good-lookin'! And even if he wasn't a lord's son,
you could see at a glance that he was a perfect gentleman, used to every
luxury!"
"Yes, I daresay," I began. "But--well! I don't know how to explain why I
don't think we--you ought to get to know him, Million. But I don't. For
one thing, I heard him making inquiries about you as we went through
this afternoon. I heard him tell the hall porter to find out if you had
anything to do with Mr. Million, of Chicago!"
"Very natural kind of remark to pass," said little Million. "Seeing new
people come in, and knowing uncle's name. It's because of uncle, you
see, that he wants to make friends."
"Because of uncle's money!" I blurted out rather brutally.
"Oh, Miss--oh, Smith!" protested Million, all reproachful eyes. "What
would he want with more money, a young gentleman like that? He's got no
end of his own."
"How do you know?"
"But--w'y! Look at him!" cried Million. "Look at his clothes! Look at
that lovely coach an' those horses----"
"Very likely not his own," I said, shaking my head at her. "My dear
Million--for goodness' sake remind me to practise calling you 'Miss';
I'm always reminding you to practise not calling me it! My dear Miss
Million, I feel in all my bones one sad presentiment. That young man is
a fortune-hunter. I saw it in his bold and sea-blue eye. As it says in
the advertisement, 'It's your money he wants.' I believe he's the sort
of person who makes up to any one with money. (I expect all those other
men he was with were rich enough.) And I don't think you ought to make
friends with this Mr. Burke until we've heard a little more about him.
Certainly I don't think you ought to let him come and see you here
without further preliminaries to-morrow afternoon!"
"What am I goin' to do about it, then?" asked Million in a small voice.
Her mouth drooped. Her grey eyes gazed anxiously at me, to whom she now
turns as her only guide, philosopher, and friend. She was evidently
amazed that I didn't share her impressions of this "lovely" young
"Honourable." She had wanted to see him "close to"--a fearful joy! She
had meant to dress up in her grandest new finery for the occasion. And
now she was woefully disappointed.
Poor little soul!
Yes; evidently her eyes had already been dazzled by that vision
this morning outside the Cecil; that gay picture that had looked
likesome brightly coloured smoking-room print. The brilliant,
lemon-yellow-and-black coach, the postilion behind, the spanking white
horses, the handsome, big, ruddy-faced young sportsman who was
driving....
But it was my duty to see that only her eyes were caught. Not her
heart--as it probably would be if she saw much more of that very showy
young rake! And not her fortune.
I said, feeling suddenly more grown-up and sensible than I've ever been
in my life: "You will have to leave word that you are not at home
to-morrow afternoon."
"Very well, Miss Smith," said my employer blankly. She sat for a minute
silent in the hotel easy-chair, holding the carnations. Then her small,
disappointed face lighted up a little.
"But I shall be at home," she reminded me, with a note of hope in her
tone. "Got to be. It's Thursday to-morrow."
"What about that?" I said, wondering if Million were again harking back
to the rules of her previous existence. Thursday is my Aunt Anastasia's
"day" for the stair-rods and the fenders, and the whole of No. 45 is
wont to reek with Brasso. Could Million have meant----
No.
She took up: "Don't you remember? Thursday afternoon was when that other
young gentleman was going to drop in. Him from the bank. That Mr.
Brace. He'll be coming. You said he might."
"So he is," I said. "But that won't make any difference. You'll be 'at
home' to him. Not to Mr. Burke. That's all."
"I can't be in two places at once, and they're both coming at four,"
argued the artless Million. "How can I say I'm not at home, when----"
"Oh, Million! It just shows you never could have been in service in very
exalted situations," I laughed. "Don't you know that 'not at home'
simply means you don't wish to see that particular visitor?"
Little Million's whole face was eloquent of the retort. "But I do wish
to see him!" She did not say it. She gave a very hard sniff at the
carnations in her hand, and suggested diffidently and rather shakily:
"P'raps Mr. Brace might have liked to see another gentleman here? More
company for him."
I paused before I answered.
A sudden thought had struck me.
Men are supposed to be so much better at summing up other men's
characters at a glance than women are.
In spite of what Aunt Anastasia has said about "insufferable young
bounders," I believe that this Mr. Reginald Brace is a thoroughly nice,
clear-sighted sort of young man. I feel that one could rely upon his
judgment of people. I'm sure that one could trust him to be sincere and
fair.
Why not consult him about this new, would-be friend of Million's?
Why not be guided by him? He was the only available man I could be
guided by, after all.
So I said: "Well, Million, on second thoughts, of course, if you have
another man here, it isn't quite the same thing as receiving this Mr.
Burke by himself. It puts him on a different footing. And----"
"D'you mean I may have him here after all, Miss?" cried Million,
lighting up again at once. "Mr. Burke, I mean."
"Oh, yes, have him," I said resignedly. "Have both of them. We'll see
what happens when they meet."