Rebecca Mary and Joan sat beside Peter while he ate his strawberries and
his eggs and toast and bacon. Rebecca Mary poured two cups of coffee for
him in a demure little way which Peter found quite enchanting, and his
eyes told her so as they followed her to the other side of the table.
But there was nothing sentimental to Joan in the fact that Rebecca Mary
had poured Peter two cups of coffee. She found it only interesting, and
her eyes grew big when Peter broke a third egg.
"Gentlemen hold a lot more than ladies, don't they?" she asked with
frank interest. "Granny only ate berries and toast and drank half a cup
of coffee, and you, dear Miss Wyman, had an egg with your toast and
coffee and so did I, but Mr. Simmons already has eaten----"
"Spare me the list of my victories," begged Peter. "And bear in mind,
Friend Joan, that men are hard working creatures who have to be well
stoked to do their job."
"But ladies work, too." Joan objected to such sex discrimination. "I've
seen them, haven't I, Miss Wyman?"
"You have unless you kept your eyes shut, which is what so many of our
busy gentlemen do," twinkled Rebecca Mary. "If you are quite sure you
won't have another cup of coffee, Mr. Simmons, I'll run up and see if
Granny is awake and tell her the surprise that is waiting for her."
But Granny was still asleep under the rose strewn coverlet, and Rebecca
Mary slipped out as quietly as she had slipped in.
Peter had finished his breakfast when she returned to the dining room,
and they all walked out to the garden where he smoked a cigarette.
"But you know Granny can't stay here without sending word to
grandfather," insisted Peter.
"Why can't she?"
"Why can't she?" Peter stared as if Rebecca Mary should have known
better than to waste words on such a question. "My grandfather adores my
grandmother, Miss Wyman, although he does tease her to death, and he'll
worry his old gray head off if he doesn't know where she is."
"Mrs. Simmons left a message with Pierson."
"That she had gone to Seven Pines. When grandfather calls up Seven
Pines Granny won't be there. No, she must send him a message at once."
"You can't send any messages from Riverside. Major Martingale told us so
most emphatically."
"I rather guess we could get a word to old Peter Simmons if we went
about it in the right way." Young Peter seemed much amused to hear that
she imagined that they couldn't. "Don't you know----" he began, and then
he laughed and stopped short.
Rebecca Mary knew, of course, that he had meant to tell her what an
important man his grandfather was, and she liked him the better for
breaking his sentence off in the middle and not boasting. He chuckled to
himself several times as he walked with Rebecca Mary through the garden
which was such a riot of gorgeous color, around the flower-bordered
pool, by the old lichen-studded sun dial and through the green wreathed
pergola to the river bank, where Peter forgot his grandparents as he
remembered his history and told Rebecca Mary the legend the Indians had
written on the big rock on the other side. It was a gruesome tale, and
Joan shook in her small shoes. Rebecca Mary would have shivered in her
larger oxfords if she had not remembered that the gruesomeness was some
two hundred years old. They had a most delightful morning and strolled
back when they heard the clang of a big bell, a bell which Peter told
Joan talked of absolutely nothing but food.
"The mechanics are quartered in the farmhouse," he explained.
There was one word in his sentence which reminded Rebecca Mary that she
was a member of Granny's detective bureau, and she looked up quickly.
"Just what is this experiment which is going to mean so much to the
world?" she asked with serpent guile. The minute she had seen young
Peter Simmons she knew that Major Martingale's story was true, but she
should like to know more of his experiment. She had no doubt Peter would
tell her more.
Peter squirmed uneasily. He wanted to tell her what he knew but a man's
tongue is sometimes tied.
"I'm sorry," he said as Wallie Marshall had said earlier in the morning.
"But we aren't allowed to breathe a word. We're under oath, you know.
Can't run the risk of any leak."
"You don't trust me?" For just a second Rebecca Mary threatened to be
injured or indignant. Peter held his breath. "Never mind!" She decided
to smile, and Peter drew a sigh of relief. "It must have something to do
with aëroplanes----"
"I'm not here as an aviator," Peter told her quickly, and then seemed
sorry that he had spoken.
"You're not?" But as Peter refused to say in what capacity he was at
Riverside she went on rather scornfully; "I suppose it has nothing to do
with chemistry or electricity, either, although Mr. Marshall told me he
was one kind of an engineer and Mr. Barton was the other."
"The dickens he did!" Peter grinned at her powers of deduction.
"I dare say I'll know all about it in time." Rebecca Mary tossed her
head with a fair show of indifference. "That is if there is anything to
know. Come, Joan, I'm sure Granny is awake now."
"I say, you're not angry with me?" Peter did not see why he should be
intrusted with secrets which would make Rebecca Mary angry with him. He
caught her hand.
She looked down at the five fingers which rested on Peter's broad palm
and then up at his face, and to his delight there was no anger in her
eyes, nothing but the most innocent surprise.
"Why should I be angry?" And when he didn't tell her she went on
lightly: "Of course, I should want to know anything I shouldn't know,
any girl would, and equally, of course, you must keep your oath,
but----" She shrugged her shoulders and took her fingers away from
Peter.
"I see," muttered Peter ruefully as he followed her. But he didn't see
at all.
They found Granny awake, and on the terrace. She was surprised to see
Peter for she had not believed a word of Rebecca Mary's dream, and she
asked him at once if Major Martingale's story were true or should she
and Rebecca Mary run away and warn Joshua Cabot that queer things were
taking place at Riverside? There was no beating about the bush with
Granny. She did not hesitate a second, and she looked very crestfallen
when Peter told her that Major Martingale had told nothing but the
truth.
"You'd never believe how important the experiment is nor how much
Germany wants it," he said. "Old Martingale has to be suspicious and
careful. He can't trust any one who isn't on oath. You were lucky you
weren't shot at sunrise. No, you can't do a thing but stay until the
Major lets you go. I'm glad you're here. It will make it pleasanter for
me," he explained with a grin. "Although I'll confess that I didn't
realize that things were on quite such a military footing. I didn't
bring you here to be locked up but because I thought it was safer than
to leave you on the high road. I didn't know you would have to stay," he
insisted. "Better send a message to grandfather," he told his
grandmother.
She shook her head. "I can't. I'm not allowed to send messages to any
one."
"I'm sure I can get old Martingale to let you write a letter." There was
a funny twinkle in Peter's eyes as he told what he could do.
But Granny just shook her head again. "It won't do your grandfather any
harm to worry about me for a while. He has been too sure of me, and I've
been too good-natured. You know yourself, Peter, that we never would
have left Waloo if we hadn't gone before he came home. I made allowances
for him during the war, but that is over. No, Peter, I'm just full of
things it wouldn't be safe to say to him now. I want a peaceful golden
wedding, so I'll just stay where Fate has put me. If he were to come
here and ask me what I want for a golden wedding present I'm afraid I
should lose my temper. Why, we've talked of it hundreds of times and he
should know. Perhaps it is a little thing, Peter, but you're old enough
to know that life is made up largely of little things and they must be
right. The big things come so seldom that we can overlook the wrong in
them."
"Grandfather's an awfully busy man just now," Peter began, but she would
not let him finish.
"That's what I've been told for fifty years, and I've overlooked a lot
because he was so busy and so important. But I rather think I'll be
important for a while now. No, Peter Simmons, and if you say anything to
Major Martingale I shall be cross. I don't know why I feel this way, I
never did before, but I do feel that I can't be teased now. There is no
use arguing with me. You might as well save your breath."
"It's all wrong," Peter grumbled to Rebecca Mary the minute they were
alone. "Grandfather shouldn't have this private worry when he has so
much public responsibility. Women have no sense of proportion."
"How can they have any when men have so much?" Rebecca Mary spoke as if
there was just so much sense of proportion in the world and the men had
taken it all. She showed how sarcastic she could be in a few words. "I
don't blame Granny a bit, but I'll give you a little advice. If you
leave her alone she will agree with you a lot sooner than if you argue
with her. That's the way I manage the children and it succeeds nine
times out of ten."
"I'll bet it does!" Peter was all admiration as he heard her method.
"All right, I'll stop badgering the old dear--for a while anyway. Come
and have a try at tennis. I'll wager you play a good game."
Rebecca Mary did not play a good game,--how could she when she had had
so little practice?--but she obediently followed Peter to the court and
let him knock balls toward her. She made up in effort what she lacked in
skill.
She jumped up to hit a ball, which flew high above her head and struck
it in such a way that it bounded from the court and went off at a
tangent to strike the shoulder of a man who was hurrying to the house.
He stopped and swung around to throw the ball back to the court.
"Oh!" Joan gave a shriek. "It's my father! It's my own father!" And she
dashed to him as fast as her two feet would take her. He met her half
way and caught her in his arms.
Rebecca Mary and Peter drifted toward each other.
"I thought her father was dead!" exclaimed Peter.
"Oh, no!" Rebecca Mary was dying to turn and look at Count Ernach de
Befort but she was withheld by a fine delicacy from staring at Joan's
father.
Joan brought him across the court at once, clinging to his hand.
"I've found him!" She was tremulously triumphant. "I'm the first to find
what we came for. This is my own father, dear Miss Wyman."
Her own father took the hand which Miss Wyman offered him and clasped it
warmly. Now that she could see more than his back, Rebecca Mary felt
rather than knew that Joan had not drawn him from her imagination. He
was very different from the father in the photograph, older and more
serious. There was a tired, worn look in the face which showed where
Joan had found her black eyes and broad forehead and he had an
absent-minded, detached air which explained how he had been able to
leave his little daughter alone in Waloo with a housekeeper. He drew his
heels together as Rebecca Mary had seen German officers draw their heels
together in the movies, and Rebecca Mary caught her breath for she
remembered the Prussian uniform he had worn in his photograph, the
German eagle on his breast, and she remembered also that Major
Martingale had said no Germans were to be at Riverside.
"I cannot understand," he said, bewildered and surprised as he tried to
follow Joan's incoherent explanation, and although his English was quite
correct there was a foreign intonation which Rebecca Mary found
fascinating for it told her that Joan might be right and her father
might really be Count Ernach de Befort. Counts of any nationality were a
novelty to Rebecca Mary. She had not met one of them in the third grade
of the Lincoln school.
She assisted Joan to explain that Mrs. Muldoon had been called away by
the illness of her son and had left Joan with her teacher.
"She loaned me, daddy," emphasized Joan. "I'm so glad she did."
But Joan's father frowned as if he were not glad that his only daughter
had been loaned to any one, and the explanation went on to state how
they had come to Riverside.
"And we're prisoners!" exclaimed Joan. "Are you a prisoner, too, daddy?"
"The same kind of a prisoner that you are. Isn't that right, Mr.
Befort?" laughed Peter.
Rebecca Mary breathed easier. If Peter laughed that way it must be all
right for Frederick Befort to be at Riverside.
Frederick Befort smiled as if he thought it would be very pleasant to
have his daughter and her teacher fellow prisoners at Riverside before
he said that he was one of the men working on the great experiment.
"I am surprised at Mrs. Muldoon," he went on with a frown. "She has been
so honest and faithful that I was sure I could trust her to take care of
Joan until I returned. My work here I could not leave to another. You
know----" He looked at Peter.
Peter nodded. "Sure, I know." And he put his hand on the older man's
shoulder. Yes, decided Rebecca Mary, it must be all right. "Funny I
never connected you with the kid, for Befort isn't a common name. I
guess I was so interested in your job I never thought of you as a
father."
"I have," confessed Rebecca Mary impulsively. "I've thought of you a
lot. Because we knew so little," she hastened to explain when Frederick
Befort looked surprised to hear that he had occupied so many of Rebecca
Mary's thoughts. "Granny Simmons and I have searched the map of Germany
for Echternach, the place Joan said you came from, but we couldn't find
it anywhere. We began to think that Joan had made up the name."
"You searched all Germany?" asked Frederick Befort, putting his fingers
over Joan's lips as she tried to tell them that she hadn't made up the
name of Echternach. "No wonder you could not find it. It is a small
place, Miss Wyman, but old, very old. One of your English saints,
Willibrod, came there in the seventh century as a missionary. You should
have looked down in the southern part of Germany"--Rebecca Mary was
conscious of a feeling of disappointment. So Granny was right and he was
a German--"to the very edge of Rhenish Prussia until you found the river
Sure, and on the other side of that river you would have discovered
Echternach. But it is not in Prussia, it is in the Grand Duchy of
Luxembourg." He drew himself up proudly as he told her where Echternach
was.
"Oh?" Rebecca Mary could not say another word to save her soul. She
could only look at him with the pinkest of cheeks. "I was so afraid that
you were a German!" she told him honestly.
The laughter left his lips and a grave light took the place of the smile
in his eyes.
"No, Echternach is not in Germany. It is not strange that you thought it
was, Miss Wyman. And if you traveled in our duchy you often would be
puzzled to know whether you were in Germany or in France. German is
spoken almost as much as French and we used German money. But a German
regiment was garrisoned in Luxembourg for fifty years and we have not
forgotten. Germany tried to swallow us as she tried to swallow so many
principalities, but Luxembourg would not be swallowed. Can you repeat
for Miss Wyman our national hymn, _ma petite_?" he said to Joan. "The
words the Cathedral bells ring out every other hour for fear we shall
forget them. Now then." His voice prompted Joan's as they repeated the
Luxembourg anthem:
"_Mîr welle jô kê Preise gin;
Mîr welle bleime wat mor sin!_"
"That means we shall never become Prussians. We shall remain what we
are," he translated, and his eyes flashed.
Rebecca Mary's eyes were larger than any saucer as she gazed at him. She
had known Russians and Italians and Bohemians and Roumanians and
Serbians, she had taught children of almost every nationality, but she
had never met a Luxembourger before, and she tried to remember something
of the grand duchy. But she couldn't remember a thing.
"Joan should have told you." Frederick Befort did not understand why she
should look so pleased. "You have been away from your native country
many months, _mignonne_, but you have not forgotten which side of the
Sure was your home?"
"No," wriggled Joan. "But no one knows of Luxembourg and the grand
duchess, and every one knows of Germany and the old kaiser."
"Alas, that it is so!" Frederick Befort shook his head sadly before he
looked at Rebecca Mary and said, oh, so feelingly: "I cannot understand
how Mrs. Muldoon could desert my little girl, but I am grateful to the
good God that he sent her such a friend in you. I cannot thank you for
your heavenly kindness to my little daughter." And before Rebecca Mary
realized what he was doing he had taken her hand and kissed it.
If it had thrilled Rebecca Mary to have her fingers kissed by fat Mrs.
Klavachek you may imagine how shaken inwardly she was to have them
kissed by Count Ernach de Befort.
"It wasn't anything," she stammered, wishing for goodness' sake that she
could think of something clever to say.
"It was everything!" he insisted, gazing into her eyes.
"Aren't you glad I found my daddy, Miss Wyman!" Joan was jumping up and
down as she clung to her father's hand. "But I'm sorry you haven't
found any payment for your memory insurance," she went on regretfully.
"Oh, but I have!" Rebecca Mary forgot to be shy because a Luxembourg
count had kissed her fingers, and she laughed. "I've found a tremendous
payment!"