picked up the groom's tile. "Didn't you bring me a hat?"--dismayed.
"You said nothing about it,"--and I roared with laughter.
"How shall I get out of here? I can't wear this thing through the
streets."
"I've a mind to make you wear it. And, by Jove, you shall! You'll wear
it to the hatter's, or stay here. That's final. I never back down,
either."
"I'll wear it; only, mark me, I'll get even with you. I always did."
"_I_ am not a boy any longer,"--with an inflection on the personal
pronoun. "Well, to continue about that excuse. You left the house
without a hat, and you met the boys and played poker all night. That
hitches wonderfully. You didn't feel well enough to go to the embassy,
but you could go and play poker. That sounds as if you cared a lot for
your sister. And you wanted to stay at home the first night, because
you had almost forgotten how the inside of a private dwelling looked.
Very good; very coherent."
"Cut it, Chuck. What the deuce excuse _can_ I give?"--worriedly
lighting the cigar I had given him.
"My boy, I'm not making up your excuses; you'll have to invent those.
I'll be silent, but I refuse to lie to Nancy on your account. Poker is
the only excuse that would carry any weight with it. You will have to
let them believe you're a heartless wretch; which you are, if you
persist in this idiotic exploit."
"You don't understand, Chuck. I wish I could tell you; honestly, I do.
The girls will have to think mean things of me till the farce is over.
I couldn't escape if I wanted to."
"Is it Miss Annesley, Bob? Was it she whom you ran away with? Come,
make a clean breast of it. If it's she, why, that altogether alters the
face of things."
He walked the length of the cell and returned. "I give up. You've hit
it. You understand now. I simply can't back away; I couldn't if I
tried."
"Are you in love with the girl?"
"That's just what I want to find out, Chuck. I'm not sure. I've been
thinking of her night and day. I never had any affair; I don't know
what love is. But if it's shaking in your boots at the sound of her
name, if it's getting red in the face when you only just think of her,
if it's having a wild desire to pick her up and run away with her when
you see her, then I've got it. When she stepped out of that confounded
carriage last night, you could have knocked me over with a paper-wad.
Come, let's go out. Hang the hat! Let them all laugh if they will. It's
only a couple of blocks to the hatter's."
He bravely put the white hat on his head, and together we marched out
of the police-office into the street. We entered the nearest hatter's
together. He took what they call a drop-kick out of the hat, sending it
far to the rear of the establishment. I purchased a suitable derby for
him, gave him ten dollars for emergencies, and we parted.
He proceeded to a telegraph office and sent a despatch to a friend up
North, asking him to telegraph him to come at once, taking his chances
of getting a reply. After this he boarded a north-going car, and was
rolled out to Chevy Chase. He had no difficulty in finding the house of
which he was in search. It was a fine example of colonial architecture,
well back from the road, and fields beyond it. It was of red brick and
white stone, with a wide veranda supported by great white pillars.
There was a modern portico at one side. A fine lawn surrounded the
whole, and white-pebble walks wound in and out. All around were thickly
wooded hills, gashed here and there by the familiar yet peculiar red
clay of the country. Warburton walked up the driveway and knocked
deliberately at the servants' door, which was presently opened. (I
learned all these things afterward, which accounts for my accurate
knowledge of events.)
"Please inform Miss Annesley that Mr. Osborne has come in reply to her
letter," he said to the little black-eyed French maid.
"Ees Meestaire Osborrrrne zee new groom?"
"Yes."
"I go thees minute!" _Hein!_ what a fine-looking young man to make eyes
at on cold nights in the kitchen!
Warburton sat down and twirled his hat. Several times he repressed the
desire to laugh. He gazed curiously about him. From where he sat he
could see into the kitchen. The French chef was hanging up his polished
pans in a glistening row back of the range, and he was humming a little
_chanson_ which Warburton had often heard in the restaurants of the
provincial cities of France. He even found himself catching up the
refrain where the chef left off. Presently he heard footsteps sounding
on the hardwood floor, which announced that the maid was returning with
her mistress.
He stood up, rested first on one foot, then on the other, and awkwardly
shifted his new hat from one hand to the other, then suddenly put the
hat under his arm, recollecting that the label was not such as servants
wore inside their hats.
There was something disquieting in those magnetic sapphire eyes looking
so serenely into his.
IX
THE HEROINE HIRES A GROOM
Remarkable as it may read, his first impression was of her gown--a gown
such as women wear on those afternoons when they are free of social
obligations, a gown to walk in or to lounge in. The skirt, which barely
reached to the top of her low shoes, was of some blue stuff (stuff,
because to a man's mind the word covers feminine dress-goods generally,
liberally, and handily), overshot with gray. Above this she had put on
a white golfing-sweater, a garment which at that time was just
beginning to find vogue among women who loved the fields and the road.
Only men who own to stylish sisters appreciate these things, and
Warburton possessed rather observant eyes. She held a bunch of freshly
plucked poppies in her hand. It was the second time that their glances
had met and held. In the previous episode (on the day she had leaned
out of the cab) hers had been first to fall. Now it was his turn. He
studied the tips of his shoes. There were three causes why he lowered
his eyes: First, she was mistress here and he was an applicant for
employment; second, he loved her; third, he was committing the first
bold dishonesty in his life. Once, it was on the very tip of his tongue
to confess everything, apologize, and take himself off. But his
curiosity was of greater weight than his desire. He remained silent and
waited for her to speak.
"Celeste, you may leave us," said Miss Annesley.
Celeste courtesied, shot a killing glance at the tentative groom, and
departed the scene.
"You have driven horses for some length of time?" the girl began.
If only he might look as calmly and fearlessly at her! What a voice,
now that he heard it in its normal tone! "Yes, Madam; I have ridden and
driven something like ten years."
"Where?"
"In the West, mostly."
"You are English?"
"No, Madam." He wondered how much she had heard at the police-court
that morning. "I am American born."
"Are you addicted to the use of intoxicants?"--mentally noting the
clearness of the whites of his eyes.
The barest flicker of a smile stirred his lips.
"No, Madam. I had not been drinking last night--that is, not in the
sense the officers declared I had. It is true that I take a drink once
in a while, when I have been riding or driving all day, or when I am
cold. I have absolutely no appetite."
She brushed her cheeks with the poppies, and for a brief second the
flowers threw a most beautiful color over her face and neck.
"What was your object in climbing on the box of my carriage and running
away with it?"
Quick as a flash of light he conceived his answer. "Madam, it was a
jest between me and some maids." He had almost said serving-maids, but
the thought of Nancy checked this libel.
"Between you and some maids?"--faintly contemptuous. "Explain, for I
believe an explanation is due me."
His gaze was forced to rove again. "Well, Madam, it is truly
embarrassing. Two maids were to enter a carriage and I was to drive
them away from the embassy, and once I had them in the carriage I
thought it would be an admirable chance to play them a trick."
"Pray, since when have serving-maids beein allowed exit from the main
hall of the British embassy?"
Mr. Robert was positive that the shadow of a sarcastic smile rested for
a moment on her lips. But it was instantly hidden under the poppies.
"That is something of which I have no intimate knowledge. A groom is
not supposed to turn his head when on the box unless spoken to. You
will readily understand that, Madam. I made a mistake in the number.
Mine was seventy-one, and I answered number seventeen. I was confused."
"I dare say. Seventy-one," she mused, "It will be easy to verify this,
to find out whose carriage that was."
Mr. Robert recognized his mistake, but he saw no way to rectify it. She
stood silently gazing over his shoulder, into the fields beyond.
"Perhaps you can explain to me that remarkable episode at the carriage
door? I should be pleased to hear your explanation."
It hard come,--the very thing he had dreaded had come. He had hoped
that she would ignore it. "Madam, I can see that you have sent for me
out of curiosity only. If I offered any disrespect to you last night, I
pray you to forgive me. For, on my word of honor, it was innocently
done." He bowed, and even placed his hand on the knob of the door.
"Have a little patience. I prefer myself to forget that disagreeable
incident." The truth is, "on my word of honor," coming from a groom,
sounded strange in her ears; and she wanted to learn more about this
fellow. "Mr. Osborne, what were you before you became a groom?"
"I have not always been a groom, it is true, Madam. My past I prefer to
leave in obscurity. There is nothing in that past, however, of which I
need be ashamed;"--and unconsciously his figure became more erect.
"Is your name Osborne?"
"No, Madam, it is not. For my family's sake, I have tried to forget my
own name." (I'll wager the rascal never felt a qualm in the region of
his conscience.)
It was this truth which was not truth that won his battle.
"You were doubtless discharged last night?"
"I did not return to ascertain, Madam. I merely sent for my belongings."
"You have recommendations?"--presently.
"I have no recommendations whatever, Madam. If you employ me, it must
be done on your own responsibility and trust in human nature. I can
only say, Madam, that I am honest, that I am willing, that I possess a
thorough knowledge of horse-flesh."
"It is very unusual," she said, searching him to the very heart with
her deep blue eyes. "For all I know you may be the greatest rascal, or
you may be the honestest man, in the world." His smile was so frank and
engaging that she was forced to smile herself. But she thought of
something, and frowned. "If you have told me the truth, so much the
better; for I can easily verify all you have told me. I will give you a
week's trial. After all,"--indifferently--"what I desire is a capable
servant. You will have to put up with a good deal. There are days when
I am not at all amiable, and on those days I do not like to find a
speck of rust on the metals or a blanket that has not been thoroughly
brushed. As for the animals, they must always shine like satin. This
last is unconditional. Besides all this, our force of servants is
small. Do you know anything about serving?"
"Very little." What was coming now?
"The chef will coach you. I entertain some, and there will be times
when you will be called upon to wait on the table. Come with me and I
will show you the horses. We have only five, but my father takes great
pride in them. They are all thoroughbreds."
"Like their mistress," was Warburton's mental supplementary.
"Father hasn't ridden for years, however. The groom I discharged this
morning was capable enough on the box, but he was worse than useless to
me in my morning rides. I ride from nine till eleven, even Sundays
sometimes. Remain here till I return."
As she disappeared Warburton drew in an exceedingly long breath and
released it slowly. Heavens, what an ordeal! He drew the back of his
hand across his forehead and found it moist. Not a word about the fine:
he must broach it and thank her. Ah, to ride with her every morning, to
adjust her stirrup, to obey every command to which she might give
voice, to feel her small boot repulse his palm as she mounted! Heaven
could hold nothing greater than this. And how easily a woman may be
imposed upon! Decidedly, Mr. Robert was violently in love.
When she returned there was a sunbonnet on her head, and she had pinned
the poppies on her breast. (Why? I couldn't tell you, unless when all
is said and done, be he king or valet, a man is always a man; and if
perchance he is blessed with good looks, a little more than a man. You
will understand that in this instance I am trying to view things
through a woman's eyes.) With a nod she bade him precede her, and they
went out toward the stables. She noted the flat back, the square
shoulders, the easy, graceful swing of the legs.
"Have you been a soldier?" she asked suddenly.
He wheeled. His astonishment could not be disguised quickly enough to
escape her vigilant eyes. Once more he had recourse to the truth.
"Yes, Madam. It was as a trooper that I learned horsemanship."
"What regiment?"
"I prefer not to say,"--quietly.
"I do not like mysteries,"--briefly.
"Madam, you have only to dismiss me, to permit me to thank you for
paying my fine and to reimburse you at the earliest opportunity."
She closed her lips tightly. No one but herself knew what had been on
the verge of passing across them.
"Let us proceed to the stables," was all she said. "If you prove
yourself a capable horseman, that is all I desire."
The stable-boy slid back the door, and the two entered. Warburton
glanced quickly about; all was neatness. There was light and
ventilation, too, and the box-stalls were roomy. The girl stopped
before a handsome bay mare, which whinnied when it saw her. She laid
her cheek against the animal's nose and talked that soft jargon so
embarrassing to man and so intelligible to babies and pet animals.
Lucky horse! he thought; but his face expressed nothing.
"This is Jane, my own horse, and there are few living things I love so
well. Remember this. She is a thoroughbred, a first-class hunter; and I
have done more than five feet on her at home."
She moved on, Warburton following soberly and thoughtfully. There was a
good deal to think of just now. The more he saw of this girl, the less
he understood her purpose in hiring him. She couldn't possibly know
anything about him, who or what he was. With his beard gone he defied
her to recognize in him the man who had traveled across the Atlantic
with her. A highbred woman, such as she was, would scarcely harbor any
kind feelings toward a man who had acted as he was acting. If any man
had kissed Nancy the way he had kissed her, he would have broken every
bone in his body or hired some one to do it. And she had paid his fine
at the police-station and had hired him on probation! Truly he was in
the woods, and there wasn't a sign of a blazed trail. (It will be seen
that my hero hadn't had much experience with women. She knew nothing of
him whatever. She was simply curious, and brave enough to attempt to
have this curiosity gratified. Of course, I do not venture to say that,
had he been coarse in appearance, she would have had anything to do
with him.)
"This is Dick, my father's horse,"--nodding toward a sorrel, large and
well set-up. "He will be your mount. The animal in the next stall is
Pirate."
Pirate was the handsomest black gelding Warburton had ever laid eyes on.
"What a beauty!" he exclaimed enthusiastically, forgetting that grooms
should be utterly without enthusiasm. He reached out his hand to pat
the black nose, when a warning cry restrained him. Pirate's ears lay
flat.
"Take care! He is a bad-tempered animal. No one rides him, and we keep
him only to exhibit at the shows. Only half a dozen men have ridden him
with any success. He won't take a curb in his mouth, and he always runs
away. It takes a very strong man to hold him in. I really don't believe
that he's vicious, only terribly mischievous, like a bullying boy."
"I should like to ride him."
The girl looked at her new groom in a manner which expressed frank
astonishment. Was he in earnest, or was it mere bravado? An idea came
to her, a mischievous idea.
"If you can sit on Pirate's back for ten minutes, there will not be any
question of probation. I promise to engage you on the spot,
recommendation or no recommendation." Would he, back down?
"Where are the saddles, Madam?" he asked calmly, though his blood moved
faster.
"On the pegs behind you,"--becoming interested. "Do you really intend
to ride him?"
"With your permission."
"I warn you that the risk you are running is great."
"I am not afraid of Pirate, Madam," in a tone which implied that he was
not afraid of any horse living. The spirit of antagonism rose up in
him, that spirit of antagonism of the human against the animal, that
eternal ambition of the one to master the other. And besides, I'm not
sure that James didn't want to show off before the girl--another very
human trait in mankind. For my part, I wouldn't give yesterday's rose
for a man who wouldn't show off once in a while, when his best girl is
around and looking on.
"On your head be it, then,"--a sudden nervousness seizing her. Yet she
was as eager to witness the encounter as he was to court it. "William!"
she called. The stable-boy entered, setting aside his broom. "This is
James, the new groom. Help him to saddle Pirate."
"Saddle Pirate, Miss Annesley!" cried the boy, his mouth open and his
eyes wide.
"You see?" said the girl to Warburton.
"Take down that saddle with the hooded stirrups," said Warburton,
briefly. He would ride Pirate now, even if Pirate had been sired in
Beelzebub's stables. He carefully inspected the saddle, the
stirrup-straps and the girth. "Very good, indeed. Buckles on saddles
are always a hidden menace and a constant danger. Now, bring out
Pirate, William."
William brought out the horse, who snorted when he saw the saddle on
the floor and the curb on Warburton's arm.
"There hasn't been anybody on his back for a year, sir; not since last
winter. He's likely to give you trouble," said the boy. "You can't put
that curb on him, sir; he won't stand for it a moment. Miss Annesley,
hadn't you better step outside? He may start to kicking. That heavy
English snaffle is the best thing I know of. Try that, sir. And don't
let him get his head down, or he'll do you. Whoa!" as Pirate suddenly
took it into his head to leave the barn without any one's permission.
The girl sprang lightly into one of the empty stalls and waited. She
was greatly excited, and the color in her cheeks was not borrowed from
the poppies. She saw the new groom take Pirate by the forelock, and,
quicker than words can tell, Mr. Pirate was angrily champing the cold
bit. He reared. Warburton caught him by the nose and the neck. Pirate
came down, trembling with rage.
"Here, boy; catch him here," cried Warburton. William knew his
business, and he grasped the bridle close under Pirate's jaws. "That's
it. Now hold him."
Warburton picked up the saddle and threw it over Pirate's glossy back.
Pirate waltzed from side to side, and shook his head wickedly. But the
man that was to mount him knew all these signs. Swiftly he gathered up
the end of the belly-band strap and ran it through the iron ring. In
and out he threaded it, drawing it tighter and tighter. He leaped into
the saddle and adjusted the stirrups, then dismounted.
"I'll take him now, William," said James, smiling.
"All right, sir," said William, glad enough to be relieved of all
further responsibility.
James led Pirate into the small court and waited for Miss Annesley, who
appeared in the doorway presently.
"James, I regret that I urged you to ride him. You will be hurt," she
said. Her worry was plainly visible on her face.
James smiled his pleasantest and touched his hat.
"Very well, then; I have warned you. If he bolts, head him for a tree.
That's the only way to stop him."
James shortened the bridle-rein to the required length, took a firm
grip on Pirate's mane, and vaulted into the saddle. Pirate stood
perfectly still. He shook his head. James talked to him and patted his
sleek neck, and touched him gently with his heel. Then things livened
up a bit. Pirate waltzed, reared, plunged, and started to do the _pas
seul_ on the flower-beds. Then he immediately changed his mind. He
decided to re-enter the stables.
"Don't let him get his head down!" yelled William, nimbly jumping over
a bed of poppies and taking his position beside his mistress.
"The gates, William! The gates!" cried the girl, excitedly. "Only one
is open. He will not be able to get through."
William scampered down the driveway and swung back the iron barrier.
None too soon! Like a black shadow, Pirate flashed by, his rider's new
derby rolling in the dust.
The girl stood in the doorway, her hands pressed against her heart. She
was as white as the clouds that sailed overhead.
X
PIRATE
On the opposite side of the road there was a stone wall about five feet
in height; beyond this was a broad, rolling field, and farther on, a
barb-wire fence and a boggy stream which oozed its way down toward the
Potomac. Far away across the valley the wooded hills were drying and
withering and thinning, with splashes of yellow and red. A flock of
birds speckled the fleecy October clouds, and a mild breeze sent the
grasses shivering.
Toward the wall Pirate directed his course. Warburton threw back his
full weight. The effort had little or no effect on Pirate's mouth. His
rider remembered about the tree, but the nearest was many yards away.
Over the wall they went, and down the field. Pirate tried to get his
head down, but he received a check. Score one for the man. Warburton,
his legs stiffened in the stirrups, his hands well down, his breath
coming in gasps, wondered where they would finally land. He began to
use his knees, and Pirate felt the pressure. He didn't like it at all.
Oddly enough, Warburton's leg did not bother him as he expected it
would, and this gave him confidence. On, on; the dull pounding of
Pirate's feet, the flying sod, the wind in his face: and when he saw
the barb-wire fence, fear entered into him. An inch too low, a stumble,
and serious injuries might result. He must break Pirate's gait.
He began to saw cow-boy fashion. Pirate grew very indignant: he was
being hurt. His speed slackened none, however; he was determined to
make that fence if it was the last thing he ever did. He'd like to see
any man stop him. He took the deadly fence as with the wings of a bird.
But he found that the man was still on his back. He couldn't understand
it. He grew worried. And then he struck the red-brown muck bordering
the stream. The muck flew, but at every bound Pirate sank deeper, and
the knees of his rider were beginning to tell. Warburton, full of rage,
yet not unreasonable rage, quickly saw his chance. Once more he threw
back his weight; this time to the left. Pirate's head came stubbornly
around; his gait was broken, he was floundering in the stream. Now
Warburton used his heels savagely. He shortened the reins and whacked
Mr. Pirate soundly across the ears. Pirate plunged and reared and,
after devious evolutions, reached solid ground. This time his head was
high in the air, and, try as he would, he could not lower his neck a
solitary inch.
[Illustration: "He's a newspaper man and makes his living by telling
lies."--ACT II.]