Eight briarwood pipes were instantly removed from eight mouths opened
wide with astonishment, and seven painfully embarrassed young men
withdrew into a corner of the room behind the table, as if Nancy had
been an object to flee from. The one young man who remained in the
foreground to face the danger reminded her of the poor craven bridegroom
who said never a word, in "Lochinvar."
"Why, I thought----" began Nancy Brown and paused. Perhaps she had
mistaken the room. "Didn't you call to me to come up?" she asked the
cowardly creature who looked as if he preferred death to the torture he
was now enduring.
"I beg your pardon," he replied, in an excessive state of embarrassment,
"I believe I did."
"But you were not expecting me?"
"Oh, yes, of course----" stammered the student, trying to be polite. "It
was awfully good of you to come, don't you know----" he broke off and
cleared his throat.
"Then, where is Timothy?"
"Timothy?"
"Yes, Timothy Peppercorn and the others? I was to come right here and
have tea with them after I left the hotel. This was the house, I'm sure.
And where are the two Edward Paxtons and Miss Campbell?"
Nancy Brown was assuredly a most bewildering mixture of child and woman.
She must have known that she had come to the wrong house and that the
only thing for her to do was quickly to descend those uncarpeted stairs
and return to the hotel, or search again for the lodgings of Timothy and
the Paxtons. But the sight of the eight bashful students, desperately
shy, and still unable to lift their gaze from her charming face,
inspired her with the spirit of mischief.
"I'm a little frightened," she said suddenly looking about the room, as
if she had only just noticed it was filled with people. "I--I'm lost,"
she added with a choke in her voice.
This was not the first time that Nancy had practiced the role of
coquette, young as she was.
"Oh, don't be frightened," exclaimed the spokesman for the eight,
forgetting to be shy in the presence of this alarmed beauty. "No one is
ever really lost in Oxford. It isn't big enough."
"But I am," insisted Nancy. "It's dreadful to be lost in a strange
country. It's so lonely."
There was actually a suspicion of a sob in her voice when she made this
statement.
"Hang it all," exclaimed one of the shadowy company in the background,
"we are a lot of brutes not to have offered to help the young lady.
Madam," he said,--was not that the way to address a strange
lady?--"won't you let me go with you to find your friends?"
Nancy put her handkerchief to her mouth to conceal the smile that would
curve her charming lips.
"It would be very kind of you," she replied with a gesture of
helplessness that drew first one and then another of the bashful youths
to the center of the room.
"It's my place to help the young lady, Bulger," said the boy who had
first spoken.
"And why? You didn't offer to."
"But she is my guest. I am sure she expects me to find her friends."
"Stuff and nonsense!" exclaimed the other, half angrily.
Nancy again put her handkerchief to her face. It was impossible to keep
from smiling.
"I'll show the young lady the way," here put in a voice much deeper than
the others. "I've met Peppercorn. He belongs to Magdalen College."
"Yes!" exclaimed Nancy with some excitement.
"I'm afraid I don't know where he lodges, but we can inquire at the
offices of the college."
"I suppose I could do that just as well as you, Bixby," put in the young
man who was host of the party.
"Won't all of you come? I shouldn't mind," murmured Nancy.
There was a general movement at this astonishing invitation, a shuffling
of feet on the floor and a simultaneous disappearance of pipes, and
appearance of hats and caps.
"Won't you let me carry your parasol?" asked one who craved that honor
so deeply that he forgot to stammer and blush.
"Allow me to carry your bag," another requested, as if Nancy were a
queen and he her most devoted subject.
And even as a queen did she now descend the steps and pass out of the
lodging house, surrounded by a noble escort of eight; nor did she heed
that sorrowful token of her impatience, the uprooted bell.
As she went out, she said:
"Perhaps I had better introduce myself. I am an American girl----"
A telegraphic smile flashed from one member of the company to the other.
"And--my name is Nancy Brown."
If anything could have been more captivating than herself, it was her
name, and her eight cavaliers pressed about her in order to catch a
glimpse of her pretty face under the pink-lined drooping brim of her
hat.
As they strolled along, the young man named "Bixby" proceeded to
enumerate the names of his seven friends to Nancy, who paused at the
archway to get them straight. And of all the escort, she liked the
handsomest best. His name was Edward Bacon.
"Jolly afternoon for boating," remarked the handsome Edward, pointing to
the pretty river below dotted with small craft. "Wouldn't it be good
sport, Miss Brown, to bring Peppercorn and your friends along for a row
before supper? Would they like it, do you suppose?"
"Like it? They would love it," cried Nancy. "That is what they expected
to do anyway. Do hurry."
It took some time, however, to find Timothy's address and then locate
his lodgings, which were indeed very much like those Nancy had mistaken
for his. A neat-looking woman answered the bell this time, and curtseyed
with an old-world politeness.
"Please, Miss, are you Miss Nancy Brown?" asked the woman respectfully.
"Yes."
"The lady says as how they couldn't wait for you any longer. You wuz to
follow with the young man down High Street to Carfax Tower; then to
Oxford Castle and His Majesty's Prison."
Nancy felt rather hurt. But of course she had no means of knowing that
Billie and Edward had gone back to the hotel to find her before they had
proceeded on their way to Carfax Tower and Oxford Castle. It was much
too beautiful an afternoon to waste indoors, and not being especially
uneasy about Nancy, remembering that she was with Feargus, they had
concluded that she could not possibly miss the way, and so departed with
easy consciences.
"I say, you know, that's jolly mean of them to leave you in the lurch
like that, Miss Brown," exclaimed one of the cavaliers. "Oxford Tower is
way over on the other side of town. We could get in a little row before
they finished looking at it. What do you say?"
Nancy hesitated; drooped her lashes; looked serious a moment, and then
smiled.
"I believe I'll risk it," she said. "It would be fun and I don't feel a
bit like taking that long walk. I have already walked miles, I believe."
We will admit that it was naughty of Nancy to do this reckless
thing,--rowing off in a college barge with eight strange young men. But
she did not intend to be naughty. She only wanted to enjoy herself under
the drooping pink brim of her pretty hat. And after all, it isn't every
girl who has eight handsome cavaliers to row her on one of the loveliest
rivers in all England. Once in the long boat with her small feet on
somebody's coat to keep them dry, one young man holding the white silk
parasol and another the hand bag, and all of them entertaining her at
once, Nancy quite forgot that she was engaged in an unconventional
adventure. It did not seem to occur to the bashful students, either, so
bewildered were they by this charming young American who was modest and
demure and still not shy. They had not met a girl like her before.
"Why don't you sing?" she suggested, as the boat cut through the little
rippling waves with a gentle, soothing music.
"Would you care to hear us? We have a pretty good double quartette?"
"Oh, do," she ordered, settling herself down to listen to the music and
watch the green shores glide past.
They sang "Nancy Lee" out of compliment to the guest of honor, and when
they came to the chorus the vibration of their combined voices rocked
the boat and the guest of honor clutched the sides and looked fearfully
toward shore.
Gradually an uneasiness began to creep into Nancy's heart. It may have
been caused by the rocking of the boat, and it may have been a very
black cloud that now obscured the heavens, forming an angry background
to the vivid green of the trees and shrubbery on the shores of the
little river.
What would Miss Campbell say, and Billie, and the others, when they
heard of her unladylike behavior? She was actually taking a boat ride
with eight strangers! And all for what?
Because she was wearing her most becoming hat lined with pink!
There was a distant rumble of thunder. Then a sudden draught of damp
air. All along the river's placid surface little boats were scurrying to
shore like schools of frightened tadpoles.
"To the shore," shouted Edward Bacon. "The rain's upon us!"
A sheet of rain blew into their faces and a gust of wind, as if with
malicious intent, lifted Nancy's prized hat, pins and all, straight off
her head and landed it on the water, where it floated along like a big
pink lily pad.
"Oh, oh!" she cried, the tears rolling down her cheeks. "My hat! My
pretty pink hat!"
Then into the water jumped the gallant Edward Bacon, seized the hat
before he was waist deep and composedly brought it to land.
"Oh, I know it was wrong for me to come," wept the young girl. "Oh,
dear, I shouldn't have done it and now I'm being punished!"
It was a hard price, surely, to pay for this escapade: to lose her most
cherished possession,--for the pink hat bore only a bedraggled and
distant resemblance to its former self.
"Come along," exclaimed Edward Bacon, almost brusquely. "There's no time
now to cry over spilt hats. We'll have to beat it to some house out of
the rain."
Nancy was nearly carried by two of her cavaliers as she ran. They rushed
up a wood path which led apparently to a pretty little rustic house in a
garden. And as the rain was now falling in torrents, they rushed through
the open door into the hall without waiting for an invitation.