Evening dress was becoming to Hood, enhancing the distinction which his
rough corduroys never wholly obscured. He surveyed Deering critically,
gave a twist to his tie, and said it was time to be off. As they drove
slowly through the country he discussed the various houses they passed,
speculating as to the entertainment they offered. He finally ordered
Cassowary to stop at the entrance to an imposing estate, where a large
colonial mansion stood some distance from the highway.
"This strikes me as promising," he remarked, rising in the car and
craning his neck to gain a view of the house through the shrubbery.
"Drive in, Cassowary, and stand by with the car till you see whether we
have to run for it."
He gave the electric annunciator a prolonged push, and as a butler opened
the door advanced into the hall with his most authoritative air.
"Mr. Hood and Mr. Tuck. I trust I correctly understood that we dine at
seven." The man eyed them with surprise but took their coats and hats.
"We are expected. Please announce us immediately."
Deering followed him bewilderedly into the drawing-room and planted
himself close to the door.
"Assurance, my dear boy, conquers all things," Hood declaimed. "This
stuff looks like real Chippendale, and the rugs seem to be genuine." He
sniffed contemptuously as he posed before a long mirror for a final
inspection of his raiment. "It always pains me to detect the odor of
boiled vegetables when I enter a strange house. Architects tell me that
it is almost impossible to prevent----"
A woman's figure flashed in the mirror beside him, and he whirled round
and bowed from the hips.
"I trust you are not so lacking in the sense of hospitality that you find
yourself considering means of ejecting us. My comrade and I are weary
from a long journey."
Turning quickly, her gaze fell upon Deering, who was stealing on tiptoe
toward the door.
"Halt!" commanded Hood.
Deering paused and sheepishly faced his hostess.
She was a small, trim, graceful woman, of the type that greets middle
life smilingly and with no fear of what may lie beyond. Her dark hair had
whitened, but her rosy cheeks belied its insinuations. She viewed Deering
with frank curiosity, but with no indication of alarm. She was not a
woman one would consciously annoy, and Deering's face burned as he felt
her eyes inspecting him from head to foot. He had never before been so
heartily ashamed of himself; once out of this scrape, he meant to escape
from Hood and lead a circumspect, orderly life.
"Which is Hood and which is Tuck?" the woman asked with a faint smile.
"The friar is the gentleman standing on one foot at your right," Hood
answered. "Conscious of my unworthiness, I plead guilty to being
Hood--Hood the hobo delectable, the tramp incomprehensible!"
"Incomprehensible," she repeated; "you strike me as altogether obvious."
"You never made a greater mistake," Hood returned with asperity. "But the
question that now agitates us is simply this: do we eat or do we not?"
Deering looked longingly at a chair with which he felt strongly impelled
to brain his suave, unruffled companion. Hood apparently was hardened to
such encounters, and stood his ground unflinchingly. All Deering's
instincts of chivalry were roused by the little woman, who had every
reason for turning them out of doors. He resolved to make it easy for her
to do so.
"I beg your pardon--" he faltered.
Hood signalled to him furiously behind her back to maintain silence.
"No apology would be adequate," she remarked with dignity. "We'd better
drop that and consider your errand on its strict merits."
"Admirably said, madam," Hood rejoined readily. "We ask nothing of you
but seats at your table and the favor of a little wholesome and
stimulating conversation, which I refuse to believe you capable of
denying us."
A clock somewhere began to boom seven. She waited for the last stroke to
die away.
"I make it a rule never to deny food to any applicant, no matter how
unworthy. You may remain."
[Illustration: "I make it a rule never to deny food to any applicant,
no matter how unworthy. You may remain."]
Deering had hardly adjusted himself to this when an old gentleman entered
the room, and with only the most casual glance at the two pilgrims walked
to the grand piano, shook back his cuffs, and began playing Mendelssohn's
"Spring Song," as though that particular melody were the one great
passion of his life. When he had concluded he rose and shook down his
cuffs.
"If that isn't music," he demanded, walking up to the amazed Deering, who
still clung to his post by the door, "what is it? Answer me that!"
"You played it perfectly," Deering stammered.
"And you," he demanded, whirling upon Hood, "what have you to say, sir?"
"The great master himself would have envied your touch," Hood replied.
The old gentleman glared. "Rot!" he ejaculated; and then, turning to the
mistress of the house, he asked: "Do these ruffians dine with us?"
"They seem about to do us that honor. My father, Mr. Hood, and--Mr. Tuck.
Shall we go out to dinner?"
The gentleman she had introduced as her father glared again--a separate
glare for each--and, advancing with a ridiculous strut, gave the lady his
arm.
In the hall Hood intercepted Deering in the act of effecting egress by
way of the front door. His fingers dug deeply into his nervous
companion's arm as he dragged him along, talking in his characteristic
vein:
"My dear Tuck, it's a pleasure to find ourselves at last in a home whose
appointments speak for breeding and taste. The portrait on our right
bears all the marks of a genuine Copley. Madam, may I inquire whether I
correctly attribute that portrait to our great American master?"
"You are quite right," she answered over her shoulder. "The subject of
the portrait is my great-great-grandfather."
"My dear Tuck!" cried Hood jubilantly, still clutching Deering's arm,
"fate has again been kind to us; we are among folk of quality, as I had
already guessed."
The dining-room was in dark oak; the glow from concealed burners shed a
soft light upon a round table.
"You will sit at my right, Mr. Hood, and Mr. Tuck by my father on the
other side."
Deering pinched himself to make sure he was awake. The next instant the
room whirled, and he clutched the back of his chair for support. A girl
came into the room and walked quickly to the seat beside him.
"Mr Hood and Mr. Tuck, my daughter----"