giving a small dinner on Monday evening, and I shall have to call on
you to serve the courses. Later I shall seek a butler, but for the
present you will have to act in that capacity."
He wasn't sure; it might have been a flash of sunlight from behind a
cloud. If it was a smile, he would have given much to know what had
caused it.
He tramped off to the stables. A butler! Well, so be it. He could only
reasonably object when she called upon him to act in the capacity of a
chambermaid. He wondered why he had no desire to laugh.
XII
A TICKLISH BUSINESS
Pierre was fierce and fat and forty, but he could cook the most
wonderful roasts and ragouts that Warburton ever tasted; and he could
take a handful of vegetables and an insignificant bone and make a soup
that would have tickled the jaded palate of a Lucullus. Warburton
presented himself at the kitchen door.
"Ah!" said Pierre, striking a dramatic pose, a ladle in one hand and a
pan in the other. "So you are zee new groom? Good! We make a butler out
of you? Bah! Do you know zee difference between a broth and a soup? Eh?"
The new groom gravely admitted that he did.
"Hear to me!"--and Pierre struck his chest with a ladle. "I teach you
how to sairve; _I_, Pierre Flageot, will teach a hostler to be a
butler! Bah!"
"That is what I am sent here for."
"Hear to me! If zay haf oysters, zay are placed on zee table before zee
guests enter. _V'la_? Then zee soup. You sairve one deesh at a time.
You do _not_ carry all zee deeshes at once. And you take zee deesh,
_so_!"--illustrating. "Then you wait till zay push aside zee soup
deesh. Then you carry zem away. _V'la_?"
Warburton signified that he understood.
"_I_ carve zee meats," went on the amiable Pierre. "You haf nozzing to
do wiz zee meats. You rest zee deesh on zee flat uf zee hand, _so_!
Always sairve to zee _right_ uf zee guest. Vatch zat i zay do not move
vhile you sairve. You spill zee soup, and I keel you! To spill zee soup
ees a crime. Now, take hold uf thees soup deesh."
Warburton took it clumsily by the rim. Pierre snatched it away with a
volley of French oaths. William said that there was to be no "cussing,"
but Pierre seemed to be an immune and not included in this order.
"Idiot! Imbecile! _Non, non! Thees_ way. You would put zee thumb in zee
soup. Zare! You haf catch zat. Come to zee dining-hall. I show you. I
explain."
The new groom was compelled to put forth all his energies to keep his
face straight. If he laughed, he was lost. If only his old mates could
see him now! The fop of Troop A playing at butler! Certainly he would
have to write Chuck about it--(which he most certainly never did).
Still, the ordeal in the dining-room was a severe one. Nothing he
attempted was done satisfactorily; Pierre, having in mind Celeste's
frivolity and this man's good looks, made the task doubly hard. He
hissed "Idiot!" and "Imbecile!" and "Jackass!" as many times as there
are knives and forks and spoons at a course dinner. It was when they
came to the wines that Pierre became mollified. He was forced to
acknowledge that the new groom needed no instructions as to the varying
temperatures of clarets and burgundies. Warburton longed to get out
into the open and yell. It was very funny. He managed, however, on
third rehearsal, to acquit himself with some credit. They returned to
the kitchen again, where they found Celeste nibbling crackers and
cheese. She smiled.
"Ha!" The vowel was given a prolonged roll. "So, Mademoiselle, you haf
to come and look on, eh?"
"Is there any objection, Monsieur?" retorted Celeste in her native
tongue, making handsome eyes at Warburton, who was greatly amused.
"Ha! if he was hideous, would you be putting on those ribbons I gave
you to wear on Sundays?" snarled Pierre.
Warburton followed their French without any difficulty. It was the
French of the Parisian, with which he was fairly conversant. But his
face remained impassive and his brows only mildly curious.
"I shall throw them away, Monsieur Flageot, if you dare to talk to me
like that. He _is_ handsome, and you are jealous, and I am glad. You
behaved horribly to that coarse Nanon last Sunday. Because she scrubs
the steps of the French embassy you consider her above me, _me!_"
"You are crazy!" roared Pierre. "You introduced me to her so that you
might make eyes at that abominable valet of the secretary!"
Celeste flounced (whatever means of locomotion that is) abruptly from
the kitchen. Pierre turned savagely to his protege.
"Go! And eef you look at her, idiot, I haf revenge myself. Oh, I am
calm! Bah! Go to zee stables, cattle!" And he rattled his pans at a
great rate.
Warburton was glad enough to escape.
"I have brought discord into the land, it would seem."
But his trials were not over. The worst ordeal was yet to come. At
five, orders were given to harness the coach-horses to the coupe and
have them at the steps promptly at eight-thirty. Miss Annesley had
signified her intention of making a call in the city. Warburton had not
the slightest suspicion of the destination. He didn't care where it
was. It would be dark and he would pass unrecognized. He gave the order
no more thought. Promptly at eight-thirty he drove up to the steps. A
moment later she issued forth, accompanied by a gentleman in evening
dress. It was too dark for Warburton to distinguish his features.
"I am very sorry, Count, to leave you; but you understand perfectly. It
is an old school friend of mine whom I haven't seen in a long time; one
of the best girl friends I have ever known. I promised to dine with her
to-night, but I broke that promise and agreed to spend the evening."
"Do not disturb yourself on my account," replied the man in broken
English, which was rather pleasant to the ear. "Your excellent father
and I can pass the evening very well."
Karloff! Warburton's chin sank into his collar and his hands trembled.
This man Karloff had very penetrating eyes, even in the dark.
"But I shall miss the music which I promised myself. Ah, if you only
knew how adorable you are when you play the violin! I become lost, I
forget the world and its sordidness. I forget everything but that
mysterious voice which you alone know how to arouse from that little
box of wood. You are a great artist, and if you were before the public,
the world would go mad over you--as I have!"
So she played the violin, thought the unhappy man on the box of the
coupe.
"Count, you know that is taboo; you must not talk to me like
that,"--with a nervous glance at the groom.
"The groom embarrasses you?" The count laughed. "Well, it is only a
groom, an animal which does not understand these things."
"Besides, I do not play nearly so well as you would have me
believe,"--steering him to safer channels.
"Whatever you undertake, Mademoiselle, becomes at once an
art,"--gallantly. "Good night!"--and the count saluted her hand as he
helped her into the coupe.
How M'sieu Zhames would have liked to jump down and pommel Monsieur le
Comte! Several wicked thoughts surged through our jehu's brain, but to
execute any one of them in her presence was impossible.
"Good night, Count. I shall see you at dinner on Monday."
She would, eh? And her new butler would be on duty that same evening?
Without a doubt. M'sieu Zhames vowed under his breath that if he got a
good chance he would make the count look ridiculous. Not even a king
can retain his dignity while a stream of hot soup is trickling down his
spinal column. Warburton smiled. He was mentally acting like a
school-boy disappointed in love. His own keen sense of the humorous
came to his rescue.
"James, to the city, No.--Scott Circle, and hurry." The door closed.
Scott Circle? Warburton's spine wrinkled. Heaven help him, he was
driving Miss Annesley to his own brother's house! What the devil was
getting into fate, anyhow? He swore softly all the way to the
Connecticut Avenue extension. He made three mistakes before he struck
Sixteenth Street. Reaching Scott Circle finally, he had no difficulty
in recognizing the house. He drew up at the stepping-stone, alighted
and opened the door.
"I shall be gone perhaps an hour and a half, James. You may drive
around, but return sharply at ten-thirty." Betty ran up the steps and
rang the bell.
Our jehu did _not_ wait to see the door open, but drove away,
lickety-clip. I do not know what a mile lickety-clip is generally made
in, but I am rather certain that the civil law demands twenty-five
dollars for the same. The gods were with him this time, and no one
called him to a halt. When he had gone as far away from Scott Circle as
he dared go, his eye was attracted by a genial cigar sign. He hailed a
boy to hold the horses and went inside. He bought a dozen cigars and
lit one. He didn't even take the trouble to see if he could get the
cigars for nothing, there being a penny-in-the-slot machine in one
corner of the shop. I am sure that if he had noticed it, it would have
enticed him, for the spirit of chance was well-grounded in him, as it
is in all Army men. But he hurried out, threw the boy a dime, and drove
away. For an hour and twenty minutes he drove and smoked and pondered.
So she played the violin! played it wonderfully, as the count had
declared. He was passionately fond of music. In London, in Paris, in
Berlin, in Vienna, he had been an untiring, unfailing patron of the
opera. Some night he resolved to listen at the window, providing the
window was open. Yes, a hundred times Chuck was right. Any other girl,
and this jest might have passed capitally; but he wanted the respect of
this particular woman, and he had carelessly closed the doors to her
regard. She might tolerate him, that would be all. She would look upon
him as a hobbledehoy.
He approached the curb again in front of the house, and gazed wistfully
at the lighted windows. Here was another great opportunity gone. How he
longed to dash into the house, confess, and have done with it!
"I wish Chuck was in there. I wish he would come out and kick me good
and hearty."
(Chuck would have been delighted to perform the trifling service; and
he would not have gone about it with any timidity, either.)
"Hang the horses! I'm going to take a peek in at the side window,"--and
he slid cautiously from the box. He stole around the side and stopped
at one of the windows. The curtain was not wholly lowered, and he could
see into the drawing-room. There they were, all of them; and Miss
Annesley was holding the baby, which Mrs. Jack had awakened and brought
down stairs. He could see by the diffident manner in which Jack was
curling the ends of his mustache that they were comparing the baby with
him. "The conceited ass!" muttered the self-appointed outcast; "it
doesn't look any more like him than it does like me!" Here Miss
Annesley kissed the baby, and Warburton hoped that they hadn't washed
its face since he performed the same act.
Mrs. Jack disappeared with the hope of the family, and Nancy got out a
bundle of photographs. M'sieu Zhames would have given almost anything
he possessed to know what these photographs represented. Crane his neck
as he would, he could see nothing. All he could do was to watch.
Sometimes they laughed, sometimes they became grave; sometimes they
explained, and their guest grew very attentive Once she even leaned
forward eagerly. It was about this time that our jehu chanced to look
at the clock on the mantel, and immediately concluded to vacate the
premises. It was half after ten. He returned to his box forthwith. (I
was going to use the word "alacrity," but I find that it means
"cheerful readiness.") After what seemed to him an interminable wait,
the front door opened and a flood of light blinded him. He heard
Nancy's voice.
"I'm so sorry, Betty, that I can't dine with you on Monday. We are
going to Arlington. So sorry."
"I'm not!" murmured the wretch on the box. "I'm devilish glad! Imagine
passing soup to one's sister! By George, it was a narrow one! It would
have been all over then."
"Well, there will be plenty of times this winter," said Betty. "I shall
see you all at the Country Club Sunday afternoon. Good night, every
one. No, no; there's no need of any of you coming to the carriage."
But brother Jack _did_ walk to the door with her; however, he gave not
the slightest attention to the groom, for which _he_ was grateful.
"You must all come and spend the evening with me soon," said Betty,
entering the carriage.
"That we shall," said brother Jack, closing the door for her. "Good
night."
"Home, James," said the voice within the carriage.
I do not know whether or not he slept soundly that night on his stable
cot. He never would confess. But it is my private opinion that he
didn't sleep at all, but spent a good part of the night out of doors,
smoking very black, strong cigars.
Celeste, however, could have told you that her mistress, as she
retired, was in a most amiable frame of mind. Once she laughed.
XIII
A RUNAWAY
Four days passed. I might have used the word "sped," only that verb
could not be truthfully applied. Never before in the history of time
(so our jehu thought) did four days cast their shadows more slowly
across the dial of the hours. From noon till night there was a madding
nothing to do but polish bits and buckles and stirrups and ornamental
silver. He would have been totally miserable but for the morning rides.
These were worth while; for he was riding Pirate, and there was always
that expectation of the unexpected. But Pirate behaved himself
puzzlingly well. Fortunately for the jehu, these rides were always into
the north country. He was continually possessed with fear lest she
would make him drive through the shopping district. If he met Nancy, it
would be, in the parlance of the day, all off. Nancy would have
recognized him in a beard like a Cossack's; and here he was with the
boy's face--the face she never would forget.
He was desperately in love. I do not know what desperately in love is,
my own love's course running smoothly enough; but I can testify that it
was making Mr. Robert thin and appetiteless. Every morning the impulse
came to him to tell her all; but every morning his courage oozed like
Bob Acres', and his lips became dumb. I dare say that if she had
questioned him he would have told her all; but for some reason she had
ceased to inquire into his past. Possibly her young mind was occupied
with pleasanter things.
He became an accomplished butler, and served so well in rehearsals that
Pierre could only grumble. One afternoon she superintended the comedy.
She found a thousand faults with him, so many, in fact, that Pierre did
not understand what it meant, and became possessed with the vague idea
that she was hitting him over the groom's shoulder. He did not like it;
and later, when they were alone, Warburton was distinctly impressed
with Pierre's displeasure.
"You can not please _her_, and you can not please _me_. Bah! Zat ees
vat comes uf teaching a groom table manners instead uf stable manners.
And you vill smell uf horse! I do _not_ understand Mees Annesley; no!"
[Illustration: "May I go now, Miss?"--ACT II]
And there were other humiliations, petty ones. She chid him on having
the stirrup too long or too short; the curb chain was rusting; this
piece of ornamental silver did not shine like that one; Jane's fetlocks
were too long; Pirate's hoofs weren't thoroughly oiled. With dogged
patience he tried to remedy all these faults. It was only when they had
had a romping run down the road that this spirit fell away from her,
and she talked pleasantly.
Twice he ran into Karloff; but that shrewd student of human nature did
not consider my hero worth studying; a grave mistake on his part, as he
was presently to learn. He was a handsome man, and the only thing he
noticed about the groom was his handsome face. He considered it a crime
for a servant to be endowed with personal attractions. A servant in the
eyes of a Russian noble excites less interest than a breedless dog. Mr.
Robert made no complaint; he was very well satisfied to have the count
ignore him entirely. Once he met the count in the Turkish room, where,
in the capacity of butler, he served liqueur and cigars. There was a
certain grim humor in lighting his rival's cigar for him. This service
was a test of his ability to pass through a room without knocking over
taborets and chairs. Another time they met, when Betty and the two of
them took a long ride. Karloff _did_ notice how well the groom rode his
mettlesome mount, being himself a soldier and a daring horseman.
Warburton had some trouble. Pirate did not take to the idea of
breathing Jane and Dick's dust; he wanted to lead these second-raters.
Mr. James' arms ached that afternoon from the effort he had put forth
to restrain Pirate and keep him in his proper place, five yards to the
rear.
Nothing happened Sunday; the day went by uneventfully. He escaped the
ordeal of driving her to the Chevy Chase Club, William being up that
afternoon.
Then Monday came, and with it Betty's curious determination to ride
Pirate.
"You wish to ride Pirate, Miss?" exclaimed James, his horror of the
idea openly manifest.
"Saddle him for me,"--peremptorily. "I desire to ride him. I find Jane
isn't exciting enough."
"Pardon me, Miss Annesley," he said, "but I had rather you would not
make the attempt."
"You had rather I would not make the attempt?"--slowly repeating the
words, making a knife of each one of them, tipped with the poison of
her contempt. "I do not believe I quite understand you."
He bravely met the angry flash of her eyes. There were times when the
color of these eyes did not resemble sapphires; rather disks of
gun-metal, caused by a sudden dilation of the pupils.
"Yes, Miss, I had rather you would not."
"James, you forget yourself. Saddle Pirate, and take Jane back to the
stables. Besides, Jane has a bit of a cold." She slapped her boot with
her riding-crop and indolently studied the scurrying clouds overhead;
for the day was windy.
Soberly Warburton obeyed. He was hurt and angry, and he knew not what
besides. Heavens, if anything should happen to her! His hopes rose a
bit. Pirate had shown no temper so far that morning. He docilely
permitted his master to put on the side-saddle. But as he came out into
the air again, he threw forward his ears, stretched out his long black
neck, took in a great breath, and whinnied a hoarse challenge to the
elements. William had already saddled Dick, who looked askance at his
black rival's small compact heels.
"I am afraid of him," said Warburton, as he returned. "He will run away
with you. I did not wholly subjugate him the other day. He pulls till
my arms ache."
Miss Annesley shrugged and patted Pirate on the nose and offered him a
lump of sugar. The thirst for freedom and a wild run down the wind
lurked in Pirate's far-off gazing eyes, and he ignored the sign of
conciliation which his mistress made him.
"I am not afraid of him. Besides, Dick can outrun and out jump him."
This did not reassure Warburton, nor did he know what this comparison
meant, being an ordinary mortal.
"With all respect to you, Miss Annesley, I am sorry that you are
determined to ride him. He is most emphatically not a lady's horse, and
you have never ridden him. Your skirts will irritate him, and if he
sees your crop, he'll bolt."
She did not reply, but merely signified her desire to mount. No sooner
was she up, however, than she secretly regretted her caprice; but not
for a hundred worlds would she have permitted this groom to know. But
Pirate, with that rare instinct of the horse, knew that his mistress
was not sure of him. He showed the whites of his eyes and began pawing
the gravel. The girl glanced covertly at her groom and found no color
in his cheeks. Two small muscular lumps appeared at the corners of her
jaws. She would ride Pirate, and nothing should stop her; nothing,
nothing. Womanlike, knowing herself to be in the wrong, she was furious.
And Pirate surprised them both. During the first mile he behaved
himself in the most gentlemanly fashion; and if he shied once or twice,
waltzed a little, it was only because he was full of life and spirit.
They trotted, they cantered, ran and walked. Warburton, hitherto
holding himself in readiness for whatever might happen, relaxed the
tension of his muscles, and his shoulders sank relievedly. Perhaps,
after all, his alarm had been needless. The trouble with Pirate might
be the infrequency with which he had been saddled and ridden. But he
knew that the girl would not soon forget his interference. There would
be more humiliations, more bitter pills for him to swallow. It pleased
him, however, to note the ease with which Dick kept pace with Pirate.
As for the most beautiful person in all the great world, I am afraid
that she was beginning to feel self-important. Now that her confidence
was fully restored, she never once spoke to, or looked at, her groom.
Occasionally from the corner of her eye she could see the white patch
on Dick's nose.
"James," she said maliciously and suddenly, "go back five yards. I wish
to ride alone."
Warburton, his face burning, fell back. And thus she made her first
mistake. The second and final mistake came immediately after. She
touched Pirate with her heel, and he broke from a trot into a lively
gallop. Dick, without a touch of the boot, kept his distance to a foot.
Pirate, no longer seeing Dick at his side, concluded that he had left
his rival behind; and the suppressed mischief in his black head began
to find an outlet. Steadily he arched his neck; steadily but surely he
drew down on the reins. The girl felt the effort and tried to frustrate
it. In backing her pull with her right hand, the end of her crop
flashed down the side of Pirate's head--the finishing touch. There was
a wild leap, a blur of dust, and Mr. Pirate, well named after his
freebooting sires, his head down where he wanted it, his feet rolling
like a snare-drum, Mr. Pirate ran away, headed for heaven only knew
where.
For a brief moment Warburton lost his nerve; he was struck with horror.
If she could not hold her seat, she would be killed or dreadfully hurt,
and perhaps disfigured. It seemed rather strange, as he recalled it,
that Dick, instead of himself, should have taken the initiative. The
noble sorrel, formerly a cavalry horse, shot forward magnificently.
Doubtless his horse-sense took in the situation, or else he did not
like the thought of yonder proud, supercilious show-horse beating him
in a running race. So, a very fast mile was put to the rear.
The girl, appreciating her peril, did as all good horsewomen would have
done: locked her knee on the horn and held on. The rush of wind tore
the pins from her hair which, like a golden plume, stretched out behind
her. (Have you ever read anything like this before? I dare say. But to
Warburton and the girl, it never occurred that other persons had gone
through like episodes. It was real, and actual, and single, and tragic
to them.)
The distance between the two horses began slowly to lessen, and
Warburton understood, in a nebulous way, what the girl had meant when
she said that Dick could outrun Pirate. If Pirate kept to the road,
Dick would bring him down; but if Pirate took it into his head to vault
a fence! Warburton shuddered. Faster, faster, over this roll of earth,
clattering across this bridge, around this curve and that angle. Once
the sight of a team drawing a huge grain-wagon sent a shiver to
Warburton's heart. But they thundered past with a foot to spare. The
old negro on the seat stared after them, his ebony face drawn with
wonder and the whites of his eyes showing.