"That isn't the question. Even a privileged servant ought not to presume
too far."
Gorham did not speak for a moment. "Do you know, Eleanor," he said at
length, "that idea regarding Riley never entered my head before. He was
the bloody tyrant of my childhood, and I would have incurred even my
much-dreaded father's wrath rather than risk a disagreement with Riley.
Actually, if he had disapproved, I question whether I should have dared
to marry you! Even now I can feel my old-time trembling coming on at the
thought of reproving him because he prevented you from overdoing. He
would consider me an ingrate for not recognizing that it was done in my
best interests, and I should positively lose caste."
Mrs. Gorham laughed in spite of her temporary chagrin in the face of
her husband's genuine discomfiture, which he tried to conceal by
the lightness of his words. She wondered at the extremes he
manifested--quiet but firm and immovable as the rock of Gibraltar in his
business dealings, unaggressive and yielding in all which had to do with
his home life. She hastened to withdraw her complaint.
"Don't worry about Riley," she laughed. "The next time I want to do
something of which he doesn't approve, I'll have it done before he
knows anything about it."
"You don't think I'm supporting Riley against you, do you?"
"No, indeed," Eleanor replied, smiling; "I understand your feelings
about him."
Gorham drew a sigh of relief. "I always want you to bring everything to
me, Eleanor--everything, no matter how slight, which worries you. You
will always do that, won't you?"
"Of course"; Mrs. Gorham looked up quickly.
"You always have, haven't you, dear?"
"Why, yes, Robert; do you doubt it?"
"Sometimes I have a feeling that there might have been something in
those sad years of yours which I could make lighter if you shared it
with me."
"You have made everything lighter and brighter," she replied,
gratefully, yet without directly answering his question.
V
Patricia would also have made complaints of Riley had she not considered
herself entirely competent to cope with the situation. The child's
disappointment at being left behind had made this a trying day for the
whole family, and Eleanor's delay in joining Alice and Allen for the
ride had been caused by her efforts to straighten matters out before
leaving Patricia alone for the afternoon with the declaration of open
warfare still in force between her and the old man. Nine times out of
ten, Patricia played the tune to which Riley danced, but this was the
tenth, and an older understanding would have heeded the signals of the
approaching storm.
"I don't say she has more iv it than other childern," Riley explained to
Mrs. Gorham; "but th' divvle is in 'em all. Go 'long wid ye'er ride,
Missus Gorham, an' lave her ter me. 'Tis th' firm hand I'll be afther
showin' her, but th' tinder wan, like I done wid her fa-ather forty year
ago. Ye lave her ter me, ma'm."
So the motor-party set out with one member of it uncertain of what might
happen during her absence; but there was no uncertainty in Patricia's
mind. She watched the departure of the car from the window, and then
slammed the door, knowing well that the noise would arouse all sorts of
apprehensions in Riley's soul. A vigorous knock soon rewarded her
efforts.
"Come in," she called, innocently.
Riley stood in the doorway, with a hand resting on each hip, astonished
into silence by the peaceful scene before him. Patricia was seated in
the middle of the bed, completely surrounded with pillows, and fanning
herself nonchalantly.
"Phwat made ye slam th' dure?" he demanded.
"Did it slam?" she asked. "It must have been the draught. There's an
awful draught around this apartment--haven't you noticed it, Riley?"
"I haven't noticed nuthin' excep' that ye are a bad little gurl."
"It's the 'divvle' in me--coming out, isn't it, Riley? That's what you
told mamma Eleanor, and you ought to know."
"Shure, I ought ter know, an' I do know."
"I thought you did." Patricia smiled sweetly. "But if a person has the
'divvle' in him, it is much better to let it get out."
"'Twud take more room than there is here ter let it all out iv ye,"
retorted the irate Riley.
"You are no gentleman, Mr. Riley, to speak to a lady like that," she
said, severely. "You may go now."
"Will ye be th' good gurl if I lave ye by yersel'?"
"How do I know if it's all out of me?"
"Shure, it oughter be," he declared, in despair. "Will ye thry?"
"Certainly, _I'll_ try." Patricia was demureness itself. "If anything
happens, it will be the 'divvle's' fault, so you mustn't hold me
responsible."
"It's ye'er own divvle, ain't it?--ye can make it do what ye want."
"_I_ don't know," protested Patricia. "I didn't even know I had a
'divvle.' It was you who discovered it; and people who discover things
have to be responsible for them, don't they?"
Riley shook his head in desperation. His arguments were exhausted, and
all that was left to him was retreat.
"I wuddent be that child's gov'ness f'r all th' money in th' world," he
muttered, as he shuffled through the hall. "An' ter think they lift her
home fr'm ch'ice. 'Twas th' lucky day f'r Miss Mary--but I wish her
here."
Finding the coast clear, Patricia moved the scene of her activity to the
reception-room. Here she undertook to put into execution the latest idea
which had struck her fancy, which was nothing less than a medieval
tournament on as elaborate a scale as the properties at hand would
permit. The hotel had not been furnished with an eye to contests of
chivalry, but chairs, turned wrong-side up and covered with
table-cloths, made richly caparisoned steeds; and Patricia's imagination
easily supplied the riders.
At first the Knights and their horses were ranged together at one end of
the room.
"You are Front-de-B[oe]uf," the child announced, laying her hand upon
the first overturned chair; "and you are Bois-Guilbert, and you
Malvoisin. We ought to have some others, but there aren't any more
table-covers."
Then she moved Front-de-B[oe]uf into the centre of the arena.
"You stay there 'til I get my shield and lance," she said, and the
war-like Knight made no protest.
Patricia next appeared with an open umbrella dexterously held in front
of her, and a heavy cane belonging to her father in her hand.
Front-de-B[oe]uf may have been intimidated by the militant figure which
approached him, but he stood his ground bravely.
"I'm the Disinherited Knight," Patricia announced to the assembled
multitude, pausing a moment to receive their enthusiastic plaudits.
"Largesse, largesse, gallant Knights!" she cried, boldly. "That means
that I'm bigger than any one else," she explained. "Love of the
Ladies--Glory to the Brave!"
With this ample notice of her intentions, the Disinherited Knight
charged Front-de-B[oe]uf with a frenzy which resulted in his utter
disgrace. The trappings were torn from his steed by the fury of the
onslaught, the horse itself was overthrown, and Patricia surveyed the
carnage with the utmost satisfaction.
"We shall meet again, I trust, where there is none to separate us," she
said, solemnly.
A truce was declared while she dragged Bois-Guilbert into the lists.
"To all brave English hearts and to the confusion of foreign tyrants,"
was the war-cry, and in a moment more Bois-Guilbert had shared the fate
of his predecessor. This time, however, the Disinherited Knight did not
escape unscathed, as the front foot of the adversary's steed made a
dismal rent in her umbrella shield.
Malvoisin alone remained, and he in turn took his stand against the
redoubtable champion. But Malvoisin, contrary to history as Patricia
knew it, proved the most stubborn adversary of the three. The heralds
had not properly cleared away the débris from the tilting-field, so when
the Disinherited Knight forced Malvoisin back, Bois-Guilbert supported
him from behind. Patricia had found the other two so yielding that she
was unprepared for this unexpected defence, and the result of her attack
was the complete demolition of the umbrella and a bad fall for herself,
in the course of which her lance struck the glass door of a bookcase
standing near.
The noise of the fall, together with the crash of glass, brought Riley
rushing to the room. Patricia recognized his indignation without need of
explanation. Forgetful of her bump, she again seized the cane, and
repeating her cry, "To the confusion of foreign tyrants," she charged
the old man with such vigor that he stepped aside with astonishing
agility, allowing her to pass him into the hall. This was all that the
now thoroughly frightened Patricia desired to accomplish. Dropping the
cane, she rushed into the bedroom, and retreated underneath the bed,
whither she well knew Riley's infirmities would not permit him to
follow.
"Come out o' there," the old man commanded, close behind her.
"It's lovely under here," the child answered; "I'd rather stay."
"Phwat in th' name o' Hiven have ye been doin'?"
"Playing tournament, Riley," came back the voice from under the bed.
"It's a splendid game. Do you want to learn it some time?"
"'Tis mesel' has sumthin' to learn ye," he retorted. "Come out o' there,
I say."
"I couldn't think of it. I'm tired."
"Well, ye oughter be--smashin' up th' furnichure, an' makin' a noise
like a wake. Wait 'til I gits hold iv ye."
"You are a foreign tyrant, Riley--I shall never yield to you."
"Furrin fiddlesticks--I'll lave th' whole mess f'r ye'er mother ter see
when she gits home, d'ye mind."
"All right, Riley; I'll wait for her here."
Again the old man retreated, his indignation increasing as he waited for
the return of the motor-party. Mrs. Gorham was given no opportunity even
to remove her wraps before she was solemnly led to the scene of the
disaster. Allen and Alice followed close behind, ignorant of the nature
of the calamity, but feeling certain by Riley's manner that it was a
serious one. They gazed for a moment at the wreck before them.
"What has happened, Riley?" Eleanor cried, anxiously.
"It looks as if a vacuum-cleaner had been at work," volunteered Allen.
The old man's emotions were so strong that he could scarcely speak.
"What has happened?" again demanded Eleanor.
"Miss Pat," was all that Riley could articulate.
"But where is she--has she been hurt?"
"No, ma'am; but she done it. She's under th' bed in ye'er room."
The entire party rushed to the bedroom, not knowing what they might
find. Mrs. Gorham knelt on the floor and raised the counterpane. There
lay the Disinherited Knight, fast asleep, exhausted from her first
jousting victories.
"Pat!" cried Eleanor, "are you all right?"
"Hello, mamma Eleanor," she answered, sweetly; "is Riley after you,
too?"