and then Kalora patted him on the arm and sent him away to wait for her.
They sat and talked for an hour--sat and talked and laughed and pieced
out between them the wonderful details of that very lively day in
Morovenia.
"And you have come all the way to Washington, D.C. in order to increase
your weight?" he asked. "That certainly would make a full-page story for
a Sunday paper. Think of anybody's coming to Washington to fatten up!
Why, when I come down here to regulate these committees, I lose a pound
a day."
"I never dreamed that there could be a country in which women are given
so much freedom--so many liberties."
"And what we don't give them, they take--which is eminently correct. Of
all the sexes, there is only one that ever made a real impression on
me."
"And to think that some day I shall have to return to Morovenia!"
"Forget it," urged Mr. Pike, in a low and soothing tone. "Far be it from
me to start anything in your family, but if I were you, I would never
go back there to serve a life sentence in one of those lime-kilns, with
a curtain over my face. You are now at the spot where woman is real
superintendent of the works, and this is where you want to camp for the
rest of your life."
"But I can not disobey my father. I dare not remain if he--"
She paused, realizing that the talk had led her to dangerous ground, for
Mr. Pike had dropped his large hand on her small one and was gazing at
her with large devouring eyes.
"You won't go back if I can help it," he said, leaning still nearer to
her. "I know this is a little premature, even for me, but I just want
you to know that from the minute I looked down from the wall that day
and saw you under the tree--well, I haven't been able to find anything
else in the world worth looking at. When I met you again to-night, I
didn't remember your name. You didn't remember my name. What of that? We
know each other pretty well--don't you think we do? The way you looked
at me, when I came across to speak to you--I don't know, but it made me
believe, all at once, that maybe you had been thinking of me, the same
as I had been thinking of you. If I'm saying more than I have a right to
say, head me off, but, for once in my life, I'm in earnest."
"I'm glad--you like me," she said, and she pushed back in her chair and
looked down and away from him and felt that her face was burning with
blushes.
"When you have found out all about me, I hope you'll keep on speaking to
me just the same," he continued. "I warn you that, from now on, I am
going to pester you a lot. You'll find me sitting on your front
door-step every morning, ready to take orders. To-morrow I must hie me
to New York, to explain to some venerable directors why the net earnings
have fallen below forty per cent. But when I return, O fair maiden, look
out for me."
He would be back in Washington within three days. He would come to her
hotel. They were to ride in the motor-car and they were to go to the
theaters. She must meet his mother. His mother would take her to New
York, and there would be the opera, and this, and that, and so on, for
he was going to show her all the attractions of the Western Hemisphere.
The night was thinning into the grayness of dawn when he took her to
the waiting carriage. She put her hand through the window and he held it
for a long time, while they once more went over their delicious plans.
After the carriage had started, Popova spoke up from his dark corner.
"I am beginning to understand why you wished to come to America. Also I
have made a discovery. It was Mr. Pike who overcame the guards and
jumped over the wall."
"I shall ask the Governor-General to give you Koldo's position."
An enormous surprise was waiting for them at the hotel. It was a cable
from Morovenia--long, decisive, definite, composed with an utter
disregard for heavy tolls. It directed Popova to bring the shameless
daughter back to Morovenia immediately--not a moment's delay under pain
of the most horrible penalties that could be imagined. They were to take
the first steamer. They were to come home with all speed. Surely there
was no mistaking the fierce intent of the message.
Popova suffered a moral collapse and Kalora went into a fit of weeping.
Both of them feared to return and yet, at such a crisis, they knew that
they dared not disobey.
The whole morning was given over to hurried packing-up. An afternoon
train carried them to New York. A steamer was to sail early next day,
and they went aboard that very night.
[Illustration: They were to come home with all speed.]
Kalora had left a brief message at her hotel in Washington. It was
addressed to Mr. Alexander H. Pike, and simply said that something
dreadful had happened, that she had been called home, that she was
going back to a prison the doors of which would never swing open for
her, and she must say good-by to him for ever.
She tried to communicate with him before sailing away from New York.
Messenger boys, bribed with generous cab-fares, were sent to all the
large hotels, but they could not find the right Mr. Pike. The real Mr.
Pike was living at a club.
She leaned over the railing and watched the gang-plank until the very
moment of sailing, hoping that he might appear. But he did not come, and
she went to her state-room and tried to forget him, and to think of
something other than the reception awaiting her back in the dismal
region known as Morovenia.
XIII
THE HOME-COMING
The Governor-General waited in the main reception-room for the truant
expedition. He was hoping against hope. Orders had been given that
Popova, Kalora and the whole disobedient crew should be brought before
him as soon as they arrived. His wrath had not cooled, but somehow his
confidence in himself seemed slowly to evaporate, as it came time for
him to administer the scolding--the scolding which he had rehearsed over
and over in his mind.
He heard the rolling wheels grit on the drive outside, and then there
was murmuring conversation in the hallway, and then Kalora entered. His
most dreadful suspicions were ten times confirmed. She wore no veil and
no flowing gown. She was tightly incased in a gray cloth suit, and there
was no mistaking the presence of a corset underneath. On her head was a
kind of Alpine hat with a defiant feather standing upright at one side.
Before her father had time to study the details of this barbaric
costume, he sat staring at her as she was silhouetted for an instant
between him and the open window.
Merciful Mahomet! She was as lean and supple as an Austrian race-horse!
He could say nothing. She ran over and gave him a smack on the forehead
and then said cheerily:
"Well, popsy, here I am! What do you think of me?"
While Count Selim Malagaski was holding to his chair and trying to sort
out from the limited vocabulary of Morovenia the words that could
express his boiling emotions, he saw Popova standing shamefaced in the
doorway. Was it really Popova? The tutor wore a traveling-suit with
large British checks, a blue four-in-hand, and, instead of a fez, a
rakish cap with a peak in front. As he edged into the room the young
women attendants filed timidly behind him. Horror upon horrors! They
were in shirt-waists, with skirts that came tightly about the hips, and
every one of them wore a chip hat, and not one of them was veiled!
The Governor-General tried to steady himself in order to meet this
unprecedented crisis.
"So this is how you have managed my affairs?" he said in angry tones to
the trembling Popova.
[Illustration: Popsy.]
"What is the meaning of this shocking exhibition?"
"Don't blame him, father," spoke up Kalora. "I am responsible for
whatever has happened. We have seen something of the world. We have
learned that Morovenia is about two hundred years behind the times. They
knew that you would not approve, but I have compelled them to have the
courage of their convictions. You can see for yourself that we no longer
belong here. There is but one thing for you to do, and that is to send
us away again."
"No!" exclaimed her father, banging his fist on the table, and then
coming to his feet. "You shall remain here--all of you--and be punished!
You have ruined your own prospects; you have condemned your poor sister
to a life of single misery, and you have made your father the
laughing-stock of all Morovenia! If I can not reform you and make you a
dutiful child, at least I can make an example of you!"
"Stop!" she said very sharply. "Let us not have an unfortunate scene in
the presence of the servants. If you have anything to say to me, send
them away, and remember also, father, I have certain rights which even
you must respect. Also, I have a great surprise for you. I am beautiful.
Hundreds of young men have told me so. Under no circumstances would I
permit myself to become large and gross and bulky. You are disheartened
because no young man in Morovenia wishes to marry me. Bless you, there
isn't a young man in this country worth marrying!"
"Young woman, you have taxed my patience far beyond the limit," said
her father, speaking low in an effort to control his wrath. "Hereafter
you shall never go beyond the walls of this palace! You shall be a
waiting-maid for your sister! The servants shall be instructed to treat
you as a menial--one of their own class! These shameless women are
dismissed from my service! As for you"--turning upon the old tutor--"you
shall be put away under lock and key until I can devise some punishment
severe enough to fit your case!"
That night Kalora slept on a hard and narrow cot in a bare apartment
adjoining her sister's gorgeous boudoir--quite a change from the suite
overlooking the avenue.
The shirt-waist brigade had been sent into banishment, and poor Popova
was sitting on a wooden stool in a dungeon, thinking of the dinners he
had eaten at Old Point Comfort and wondering if he had not overplayed
himself in the effort to be avenged upon the Governor-General.
XIV
HEROISM REWARDED
A month later Popova was still in prison, and had demonstrated that even
after one has lunched for several months at the Shoreham, the New
Willard and the Raleigh, he may subsist on such simple fare as bread and
water.
Kalora had been humiliated to the uttermost, but her spirit was unbroken
and defiant.
She was nominally a servant, but Jeneka and the others dared not attempt
any overbearing attitude toward her, for they feared her sharp and ready
wit.
The fires of inward wrath seemed to have reduced her weight a few
pounds, so that if ever a man faced a situation of unbroken gloom, that
man was the poor Governor-General.
Count Malagaski sat in the large, over-decorated audience room, alone
with his sorrowful meditations. An attendant brought him a note.
"The man is at the gate," said the attendant. "He started to come in. We
tried to keep him out. He pushed three of the soldiers out of the way,
but we finally held him back, so he sends this note."
A few lines had been written in pencil on the reverse side of a
typewritten business letter. The Governor-General could speak English,
but he read it rather badly, so he sent for his secretary, who told him
that the note ran as follows:
You don't know me and there is no need to give my name. Must see you
on important matter of business. Something in regard to your daughter.
"Great Heavens, another one!" said the Governor-General. "There are one
thousand young men ready and willing to marry Jeneka and not one in all
the world wants Kalora. Send him away!"
"I am afraid he won't go," suggested the attendant. "He is a very
positive character."
"Then send him in to me. I can dispose of his case in short order."
A few moments later Count Selim Malagaski found himself sitting face to
face with a ruddy young man in a blue suit--a square-shouldered, smiling
young gentleman, with hair of subdued auburn.
"I take it that you're a busy man and I'll come to the point," said the
young man, pulling up his chair. "I try to be business from the word go,
even in matters of this kind. You have a daughter."
"I have two daughters," replied the Governor-General sadly.
"You have only one that interests me. I have been around a good deal,
but she is about the finest looking girl I--"
"Before you say any more, let me explain to you," said the
Governor-General very courteously. "Perhaps you are not entitled to this
information, but you seem to be a gentleman and a person of some
importance, and you have done me the honor to admire my daughter, and,
therefore, it is well that you should know all the facts in the case. I
have two daughters. One is exceedingly beautiful and her hand has been
sought in marriage by young men of the very first families of Morovenia,
notably Count Luis Muldova, who owns a vast estate near the Roumanian
frontier. I have another daughter who is decidedly unattractive, so
much so that she has never had an offer of marriage. I am telling you
all this because it is known to all Morovenia, and even you, a stranger,
would have learned it very soon. Under the law here, a younger sister
may not marry until the elder sister has married. My unattractive
daughter is the elder of the two. Do you see the point? Do you
understand, when you come talking of a marriage with my one desirable
daughter, that not only are you competing with all the wealthy and
titled young men of this country, but also you are condemned to sit down
and patiently wait until the elder sister has married,--which means, my
dear sir, that probably you will wait for ever? Therefore I think I may
safely wish you good day."
"Hold on, here," said the visitor, who had been listening intently,
with his eyes half-closed, and nodding his head quickly as he caught the
points of the unusual situation. "If I can fix it up with you and
daughter--and I don't think I'll have any trouble with daughter--what's
the matter with my rustling around and finding a good man for sister?
There is no reason why any young woman with a title should go into the
discard these days. At least we can make a try. I have tackled
propositions that looked a good deal tougher than this."
"Do you think it possible that you could find a desirable husband for a
young woman who has no physical charms and who, on two or three
occasions, has scandalized our entire court?"
"I don't say I can, but I'm willing to take a whirl at it."
"My dear sir, before we go any further, tell me something about
yourself. You are an Englishman, I presume?"
"Great Scott! You're the first one that ever called me that. I have been
called a good many things, but never an Englishman. I'll have to begin
wearing a flag in my hat. I'm an American."
"American!" gasped the Governor-General. "I am very sorry to hear it. I
have every reason for regarding you and your native country as my
natural enemies."
"You're dead wrong. America is all right. The States size up pretty well
alongside of this little patch of country."
"I do not blame you for being loyal to your own home, sir, but isn't it
rather presumptuous for you, an American, to aspire to the hand of a
Princess who could marry any one of a dozen young men of wealth and
social position?"
"What's the matter with my wealth and social position? I'm willing to
stack up my bank-account with any other candidate. I happen to be worth
eighteen million dollars."
"Dollars?" repeated the Governor-General, puzzled. "What would that be
in piasters?"
"It's a shame to tell you. Only about four hundred million piastres,
that's all."
"What!" exclaimed the Governor-General. "Surely you are joking. How
could one man be worth four hundred million piasters?"
"Say, if you'll give me a pencil and a pad of paper and about a
half-day's time, I'll figure out for you what Henry Frick is worth in
piasters and then you _would_ have a fit. Why, in the land of ready
money I'm only a third-rater, but I've got the four hundred million, all
right."
"But have you any social position?" asked the Governor-General. "Any
rank? Any title? Over here those things count for a great deal."
"I am Grand Exalted Ruler of the Benevolent and Protective Order of
Elks," said the visitor calmly.
"Really!"
"I am a Knight Templar."
"A knight? That is certainly something."
"Do you see this badge with all the jewels in it? That means that I am a
Noble of the Mystic Shrine."
"I can see that it is the insignia of a very distinguished order," said
the Governor-General, as he touched it admiringly.
"What is more, I am King of the Hoo-Hoos."
"A king?"
"A sure-enough king. Now, don't you worry about my wealth or my title.
I've got money to burn and I can travel in any company. The thing for us
to do is to get together and find a good husband for the cripple, and
fix up this whole marriage deal. But before we go into it I want to meet
your daughter and find out exactly how I stand with her."
"That will be unnecessary, and also impossible. Whatever arrangements
you make with me may be regarded as final. My daughter will obey my
wishes."
"Not for mine! I am not trying to marry any girl that isn't just as keen
for me as I am for her. Why, I've seen her only twice. Let me talk it
over with her, and if she says yes, then you can look me up in
Bradstreet and we'll all know where we stand."
"I am sorry, but it is absolutely contrary to our customs to permit a
private interview between an unmarried woman and her suitor."
"Whereas in our country it is the most customary thing in the world!
Now, why should we observe the customs of _your_ country and disregard
the customs of _my_ country, which is about forty times as large and
eighty times as important as your country? Don't be foolish! I may be
the means of pulling you out of a tight hole. You go and send your
daughter here to me. Give me ten minutes with her. I'll state my case to
her, straight from the shoulder, and, if she doesn't give me a lot of
encouragement, I'll grab the first train back to Paris. If she _does_
give me any encouragement, then you'll see what can be accomplished by
a real live matrimonial agency."
The Governor-General hesitated, but not for long. The confident manner
of the stranger had inspired him with the first courage that he had felt
for many weeks and revived in him the long-slumbering hope that possibly
there was somewhere in the world a desirable husband for Kalora. He was
about to violate an important rule, but there was no reason why any one
on the outside should hear about it.
"This is most unusual," he said. "If I comply with your request, I must
beg of you not to mention the fact of this interview to any one. Remain
here."
He went away, and the young man waited minute after minute, pacing back
and forth the length of the room, cutting nervous circles around the big
office chairs, wiping his palms with his handkerchief and wondering if
he had come on a fool's errand or whether--
He heard a rustle of soft garments, and turned. There in the doorway
stood a feminine full moon--an elliptical young woman, with half of her
pink and corpulent face showing above a gauzy veil, her two chubby hands
clasped in front of her, the whole attitude one of massive shyness.
"I--I beg pardon," he said, staring at her in wonder.
She tried to speak, but was too much flustered. He saw that she was
smiling behind the veil, and then she came toward him, holding out her
hand. He took the hand, which felt almost squashy, and said:
"I am very glad to meet you."
Then there was a pause.
"Won't you be seated?" he asked.
She sank into one of the leather chairs and looked up at him with a
little simper, and there was another pause.
"I--I never have seen you before, have I?" she asked, with a secretive
attempt to take a good look at him.
"You can search me," he replied, staring at her, as if fascinated by her
wealth of figure. "If I had seen you before, I have a remote suspicion
that I should remember you. I don't think it would be easy to forget
you."
"You flatter me," she said softly.
"Do I? Well, I meant every word of it. Will you pardon me for being a
wee bit personal? Are there many young ladies in these parts that are
as--as--corpulent, or fat, or whatever you want to call it--that is, are
you any plumper than the average?"
"I have been told that I am."
"Once more pardon me, but have you done anything for it?"
"For what?" she asked, considerably surprised.
"I wouldn't have mentioned it, only I think I can give you some good
tips. I had a Cousin Flora who was troubled the same way. About the time
she went to Smith College she got kind of careless with herself, used to
eat a lot of candy and never take any exercise, and she got to be an
awful looking thing. If you'll cut out the starchy foods and drink
nothing but Kissingen, and begin skipping the rope every day, you'll be
surprised how much of that you'll take off in a little while. At first
you won't be able to skip more than twenty-five or fifty times a day,
but you keep at it and in a month you can do your five hundred. Put on
plenty of flannels and wear a sweater. And I'll show you a dandy
exercise. Put your heels together this way,"--and he stood in front of
her,--"and try to touch the floor with your fingers--so!"--illustrating.
"You won't be able to do it at first, but keep at it, and it'll help a
lot. Then, if you will lie flat on your back every morning, and work
your feet up and down----"
She had listened, at first in utter amazement. Now her timid
coquettishness was giving way to anger.
"What are you trying to tell me?" she asked.
"It's none of my business, but I thought you'd be glad to find out
what'd take off about fifty pounds."
"And is this why you came to see me?" she demanded.
"_I_ didn't come to see _you_."
"My father said you were waiting and he sent me to you."
"Sent _you_," replied Mr. Pike in frank surprise. "My dear girl, you may
be good to your folks and your heart may be in the right place, and I
don't want to hurt your feelings, but father has got mixed in his dates.
I certainly didn't come here to see _you_."
As he was speaking Jeneka wriggled forward in her chair and then arose.
She stood before him, heaving perceptibly.
"Your manner is most insulting," she declared. She had expected to be
showered with compliments, and here was this giggling stranger advising
her to be thin! She toddled over to the door and pushed a bell. Then she
turned upon the bewildered stranger and remarked coldly: "Unless you
have something further to communicate, you may consider this interview
at an end."
A servant appeared in the doorway.
"Show this person out," said the portly princess.
The servant gave a little scream.
"Mr. Pike!"
"Kalora!"
And then he was holding both her hands.
"You are _here_--here in Morovenia? You came all the way?"
"All the way! I'd have come ten times as far. Before I left New York I
heard about all those messenger boys hunting me around the hotels, but I
didn't know what it meant. When I got back to Washington I found your
note, and, as soon as I could get Congress calmed down, I started--got
in here last night."
"But why did you come?"
[Illustration: "Mr. Pike!" "Kalora!"]
"Can't you guess?" Mr. Pike wasted no time in circumlocution.
During this hurried interview Jeneka had been holding a determined thumb
against the electric button. The Governor-General, waiting impatiently
up the hallway, heard the prolonged buzzing and came to investigate. He
found the adorable Jeneka, all trembling with indignation, in the
doorway. She saw him and pointed. He looked and saw the distinguished
stranger, the man of many titles and unbounded wealth, standing close to
the slim princess, holding both her hands and beaming upon her with all
of the unmistakable delirious happiness of love's young dream.
"What does it mean?" asked the Governor-General. "Is it possible----"
"He was rude to me," began Jeneka, "He was most insulting----"
Mr. Pike turned to meet his prospective father-in-law.
"You meant well, but you got twisted," he remarked. "This is the one I
was looking for."
At first Count Selim Malagaski was too dumfounded for speech.
"Are you sure?" he asked. "Can it be possible that you, a man worth
millions of piasters, an exalted ruler, a Noble of the Mystic Shrine,
have deliberately chosen this waspy, weedy----"