There was some excitement in the street wherein stood Westminster
Chambers. The old lodging house itself was all astir. Maria Cortinas
stood on the balcony waving a white scarf and smiling as divinely as she
smiled when she acknowledged the applause of great audiences.
Mrs. Ruggles, her mother, was also on the balcony in a rolling chair,
nodding her fine old head and smiling gravely down the street at an old
friend. The "Comet" was there. He wore a new scarlet coat spic and span,
and boasted new red leather cushions, but he was still the "Comet,"
polished and cleaned and oiled,--"tuned up," as Billie said.
The Motor Maids and Miss Campbell were to say farewell to London that
morning. They had seen all the sights and enjoyed themselves immensely,
but the wander-thirst had taken hold of them now and they were off. The
tea basket and the luncheon hamper were safely stored within; suit cases
were strapped on and faces and forms swathed with motor veils and coats.
It was exactly like all the old, familiar starts of the "Comet" and his
burden of ladies; a last waving of hands and handkerchiefs, a last call
of good-by, and off he flashed down the street, his red coat shining in
the morning sunlight.
So eager were these seasoned travelers to be on the road, that the whir
of the motor engine was music to their ears. The truth is, they were
just a little tired of sight seeing. Their days had been filled with
excursions to Windsor Castle and Hampton Court, visits to picture
galleries, museums, bridges, cathedrals and the houses of parliament,
and trips on the River Thames. It was a relief now to feel themselves
flying along toward the country.
"If we make a hundred miles to-day, I shall not be disappointed," Billie
remarked.
London had not been without its disappointments to Miss Campbell and the
girls. They had looked for a visit from their steamer friend, Feargus
O'Connor, but he had not taken advantage of their invitation to call.
Mr. Kalisch, also, had dropped out of sight, and they had seen him no
more after the meeting at London Bridge.
But how easy it was to lose oneself in that vast city,--like a drop of
water in the ocean! And yet, in the great ocean of humanity that
overflows London, people drift together in the strangest way, and those
who have been lost to each other for months turn the corner one morning
and meet face to face. Of course, our young girls had no such ideas
regarding Feargus O'Connor. No doubt he had gone to Ireland to see his
people without waiting to call on his steamer friends. And yet, that
very day, they were to meet the young Irishman under the strangest
circumstances.
By the afternoon they were well on the road to St. Albans. The way lay
between hedges all a-bloom with hawthorn blossoms. An occasional lane
branched off between meadows of surpassing green, and here and there a
pretty lodge proclaimed that somewhere hidden back of a splendid park
was a great house.
"Shall we slip quietly down one of these little sylvan lanes for tea?"
asked Billie. "It will be so jolly and English, don't you know, drinking
tea under an oak tree, perhaps; and I am that thirsty I can hardly wait
for the water to boil!"
It was agreed that the hour for tea had arrived, if not by the clock at
least by taste and inclination, and at the next shady lane they turned
in. It led through a charming little village. Smoke curled lazily from
the chimneys of cottages that were built with low hanging eaves and tiny
little windows. At the foot of the one street was a bridge spanning a
small stream. Being of an exploring mind, the mistress of the "Comet"
guided him across the bridge and followed the windings of the wilful
little road until it dwindled into a path and was absorbed by a meadow.
Lifting the bars that separated the meadow from the path, they made
themselves at home on the greensward.
"Here's the very place," exclaimed Mary, her heart leaping with pleasure
over the romance of this retired spot.
"Even the roadsides in England are like parks," observed Elinor
presently, as she spread the contents of the tea basket on the grass and
put the kettle over the lamp to boil.
Having departed from the high road, they seemed to be alone in a little
world of green. They were on some one's grounds, perhaps, but where was
the harm? The air was scented with the fragrance of apple blossoms and
wild flowers; their spoons made a musical tinkle against the delicate
china of the teacups.
Into the midst of this quiet pastoral scene came the thump of hoofs and
there emerged on the brow of the hill an immense bull. To their excited
and frightened fancies, he seemed really gigantic as he stood looking at
them suspiciously. They sat frozen to the spot, too overcome to make the
effort to stand on their feet.
"Oh, my dear! Oh, my dear! What are we to do?" whispered Miss Campbell.
"Look at the creature. If we move, he'll be at us. Oh, oh!" she groaned.
Even Billie's ingenious mind did not respond to the situation;
especially since she saw three men with spiked poles, who had run up
behind the great quivering beast, now pause irresolutely, seeing the
party of tea drinkers.
Now, if they had been able to nerve themselves to sit perfectly still
without so much as moving a muscle, it is highly probable the bull would
have sniffed at them contemptuously and passed them by. But, in the
first place, not one of the five motorists was aware of this peculiarity
of the bovine family, and, in the second place, seeing the beast toss
his head with a low, angry bellow, it was impossible for human flesh to
remain inert.
With wild cries, they got to their feet somehow, but there was no time
to scatter as the bull charged into their midst and toppled them over
like so many ten pins. It was a moment of such paralyzing terror, that
what happened next was a sort of blur on their minds.
Billie remembered being tossed in the air and at the same moment hearing
the crack of a pistol three times in quick succession. A most blissful
period of unconsciousness followed this incident. Perhaps, when the bull
had tossed her, she had not come down but was still floating above the
heads of her friends, whose voices she could dimly hear a great way off.
"This is a bad day's work you've done, sir, and bad luck to you," said
some one quite near.
Billie opened her eyes and tried to sit up, but her head seemed to be
weighted with lead and there was a pain in her side.
Miss Campbell was kneeling beside her dabbing her face with a wet
handkerchief. Elinor and Nancy were chafing her wrists, while Mary sat
at her feet and gazed at her with the sorrowful expression of one who is
looking upon the face of a dead friend.
"Nonsense," said another voice, and Billie, twisting her head, saw that
it was Feargus O'Connor who spoke, "do you think I'm the man to stand by
while a mad bull charges a party of ladies?"
Never had his Irish brogue been more distinct than at that moment.
"Ye might ha' winged him without killin' 'im dead. Five hundred pounds
he were worth, and no less. A grand animal! What will His Grace say to
this day's doin's, I wonder?"
"Whoever he is, if he has any manhood in his soul, he'll say I did
right," cried Feargus with a laugh. "Are five ladies to be gored to
death for the sake of a few pounds of beef? You English are all alike.
Afraid to call your souls your own; afraid to do right; afraid to save a
life because of what some lord can do to you. You're a poor set of
cringing peasants, that's what you are. Do you think I'm afraid of
having defended five ladies against a mad bull? Bring on 'His Grace,'
whoever he is. I'll tell him so to his face."
Feargus had become very excited with the injustice of the men's views.
He gesticulated like a speech maker and his voice had an oratorical
ring.
"And who, pray, is the owner of this dead creature?" demanded Miss
Campbell, rising with dignity from her ministrations to Billie.
"The Duke of Kilkenty, ma'am."
"What," cried Feargus, "that low villain? The meanest man in three
kingdoms, who has turned against his own people, robbed the widows and
orphans of their lands and trodden on the poor? Now, by all the saints
in heaven, I'm glad I killed his beast, and if I had it to do ten times
over, I should do the same thing."
"Take this man and these women into custody," said a cold, calm voice.
"They are trespassers on my ground and I order them to be arrested."
Billie sat up without assistance. Anger and amazement stirred her blood
into action, and she no longer felt the throbbing in her head or the
pain in her side.
Standing nearby was a very tall man with a cold, insolent face.
Everything about him had a look of steel: his eyes were steel-gray, his
clothes and hair, even his skin, had a touch of gray. His lips were thin
and his nose like the beak of a bird of prey.
Now, when Miss Helen Campbell's blood was up, she was a match for any
foe, no matter how formidable. She drew herself to her full height of
some five feet two inches; bright spots of red burned on her cheeks and
her eyes turned almost black.
"May I ask who you are and by what right you give this unjust order?"
she asked.
"I am the Duke of Kilkenty," answered the man sternly.
"Duke or no duke," exclaimed Miss Campbell, "you had better take back
that order, or you will regret it to the last day of your life. We are
not cringing peasantry and we are not cowards. We are Americans, thank
God, and you'd better be careful how you deal with us. If this man
killed a mad bull who was about to kill one of us, he did right, and
there is not a court in England that would not uphold him in his action.
Are you going to place the life of a human being in the balance with the
life of a dangerous beast? Take it to court and see how such a thing
would sound. A creditable action for the Duke of Kilkenty to arrest a
man for saving five lives!"
Miss Campbell was growing more angry every moment.
"As trespassers on my private grounds, you are all subject to arrest,"
said the Duke of Kilkenty, pointing to a signboard near the bars which
they had not noticed before. It read:
"A FINE OF FIVE POUNDS WILL BE CHARGED AGAINST PERSONS FOUND
TRESPASSING ON THESE GROUNDS."
Miss Campbell turned to the Motor Maids, who had gathered about her as
lieutenants around their chief officer.
"Bring me my hand bag," she ordered.
Mary Price, at her elbow, hastened with swift obedience to the motor,
returning with the bag.
"Now," announced the redoubtable General Helen Eustace Campbell,
searching in the depths of the bag, "we may consider the case as
settled." She brought forth a five-pound note which she almost tossed at
the Duke of Kilkenty. "It will give me great pleasure to tell in America
that we were made to pay five pounds by an English duke----"
"Irish----" put in Feargus.
"For just escaping being gored to death by one of his own beasts."
The Duke of Kilkenty actually took the money and examined it carefully.
"I shall demand five pounds of each one of you," he said. "This is not
enough, as you will see by the sign."
Again they turned toward the sign.
Miss Campbell was somewhat nonplussed. It seemed rather a stiff price to
pay for having stepped across the bars into a meadow. But Mary Price,
well up in English grammar and quick to notice shades of meaning, now
stepped into the breach. She was trembling a little at her own boldness,
but her voice, with its sweet high note, was clear and steady.
"Five pounds is the correct amount," she said. "The sign reads: 'A fine
of five pounds will be charged against persons found trespassing on
these grounds.' You should have said 'each person' if you meant to
charge so much."
Mary's friends could have hugged her for this astute observation, and
even the cold and bloodless Duke of Kilkenty showed a flicker of
admiration.
"You are a very clever young woman," he said. "It's the first time in my
life I have ever been outwitted by a woman, old or young. You may go
free."
Miss Campbell tossed her head.
"Free, indeed! We are free. Free-born Americans," she thought.
"As for you, young man," continued the Duke, turning to Feargus, whose
blue eyes were still blazing with rage. "Take yourself out of this
neighborhood at once or it will be the worse for you."
Feargus gazed fearlessly into the man's eyes.
"Now, by all the saints, neither you nor any other man can order me out
of this neighborhood for doing no wrong. I'll take myself off your
grounds, and take pleasure in doing it. I would not have put foot to the
soil here if I'd known who owned it. But as for leaving the
neighborhood, I'll leave it when I get ready and no sooner, and I'm not
afraid of the Duke of Kilkenty nor any other Irishman turned English."
All this time Billie had been trying to keep her balance. The fields
seemed to be swimming around her and she had a dizzy feeling, as if her
feet were going to rise over her head.
There was something she had to say when they had all finished talking.
What was it? She had almost forgotten. Oh, yes. Taking one uncertain
step toward the Duke of Kilkenty, she looked inquiringly in his face.
"Are you little Arthur's father?" she asked. "If you are, you should
know that this young man saved his life not long ago on board ship."
"So much the better for you, then," said the Duke to Feargus.
Turning on his heel, he strode across the fields. Billie remembered very
little more after that. Mary must have run the "Comet" to the city of
St. Albans and Feargus ridden with them, for she heard him say:
"Devil incarnate."
She also gathered that he was walking from London to St. Albans and
expected to meet Mr. Kalisch there.
A doctor was sent for as soon as they arrived at the inn, and with a
poultice on her side and a bandage on her head, Billie at last dropped
off to sleep.