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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e4d4c54 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #52447 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/52447) diff --git a/old/52447-8.txt b/old/52447-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 5727246..0000000 --- a/old/52447-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6905 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Truthful Jane, by Florance Morse Kingsley - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Truthful Jane - -Author: Florance Morse Kingsley - -Release Date: June 30, 2016 [EBook #52447] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRUTHFUL JANE *** - - - - -Produced by David Edwards, Martin Pettit and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -_Truthful Jane_ - -_By_ - -FLORENCE MORSE KINGSLEY - -AUTHOR OF "THE SINGULAR MISS SMITH," -"THE TRANSFIGURATION OF MISS PHILURA," ETC. - -[Illustration: Logo] - -D. APPLETON AND COMPANY -NEW YORK -1907 - - -COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY -FLORENCE MORSE KINGSLEY - -COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY -D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - -_Published February, 1907_ - - - - -TRUTHFUL JANE - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -Miss Jane Evelyn Aubrey-Blythe stared steadily at the toes of her damp, -shabby little boots which peeped out from beneath the hem of an equally -damp and shabby gown, her youthful brows puckered thoughtfully over a -pair of extraordinarily bright, long-lashed hazel eyes. Miss Blythe, was -for the moment, feeling very much out of it, and consequently very -unhappy. - -The room in which she was sitting, drying her damp boots and petticoats -by a smoldering fire of logs, was a sufficiently cheerful one, its two -large windows commanding a wide view of red-tiled London roofs and -glazed chimney-pots, all of which glistened wetly in the dull light of -the late afternoon. For the rest, the red Turkey carpet was badly worn -in spots; the chairs presented the appearance of veterans staunchly -surviving a long and stormy career; while the two small desks piled -with dog-eared school-books exhibited tokens of strenuous usage in the -shape of ineradicable ink-stains, which served to diversify the cuttings -and carvings of inexpert jackknives, stealthily applied. - -At opposite sides of a table in the center of the room two small boys in -knickerbockers were actively engaged in a competition in which large -china mugs of milk and water, and thick slices of bread and butter and -jam figured conspicuously. - -"You'd better come to your tea, Jane, before we eat all the bread and -butter," advised one of the boys thickly. - -"I don't want any tea, Cecil; and you shouldn't talk with your mouth -full; it's very rude," replied the girl tartly. - -"You'll get no dinner, you know, because there's company," observed the -other boy, slamming his mug on the table. "Old Gwendolen won't have you -down because you're so much handsomer than she is." - -Jane turned a distractingly pretty profile toward the speaker, a slight -smile dimpling the corners of her mouth. "You oughtn't to say such -things, Percy," murmured the girl "--though I dare say it's true -enough," she added plaintively. - -The two boys, having variously disposed of the thick slices of bread and -butter, were now causing startling explosions to issue from the depths -of their mugs. - -"Put down your mugs this instant!" ordered Miss Blythe sternly. "Haven't -I forbidden you to make those disgusting noises in your milk?" - -"You have--yes," admitted Cecil coolly, as he sent his empty mug -spinning across the table; "but who cares for you, anyway! You're only a -poor relation!" - -With a smothered howl of rage the smaller Percy arose from his place and -fell upon his brother, who received the attack with practiced courage, -while Miss Blythe resumed her moody contemplation of her steaming boots. - -"You're a cad!" - -"You lie!" - -"You're another!" - -"Ouch!" - -"Leggo!--Leggo, I say!" - -The tugging and panting of the small combatants, and the scuffling of -their stout little shoes on the threadbare carpet, quite drowned the -slight sound of the opening door. - -"Cecil--Percy--_my sons_!" exclaimed a voice. - -Jane Blythe shrugged her slim shoulders wearily in anticipation of what -was to follow. - -"I am surprised and displeased, Jane, that you should permit such a -disgraceful scene to take place in the school-room without even -attempting to quell it," went on the lady, advancing majestically into -the center of the floor. "What do I see?--bread and butter on the -_floor_, on the _sofa_, on the--yes, actually, _on the mantle!_ and -_milk_-- Really, Jane, I fear you sadly forget your duties at times." - -Miss Blythe had risen, apparently that she might bring her bright hazel -eyes more nearly on a level with the frozen blue ones behind the double -glasses which pinched the lady's aquiline nose. - -"I don't forget my duties, Aunt Agatha," she said distinctly; "but I -think you have forgotten to pay me for them." - -"What do you mean, ungrateful girl?" - -"I mean that if I am to perform the duties of a nursery governess in -your house I should be paid regular wages the same as the rest of the -servants. My shoes are worn through the soles, and I need--everything. -Even Parks dresses better than I do. She can afford to." - -A dead silence followed this clear statement of fact. The two small boys -were sulkily regarding their mother from beneath their light lashes, -who, in her turn, attempted to quell the militant light in the eyes of -the girl. - -"How--_dare_ you say such a thing to me!" cried the lady at length. "And -before the children, too! You may come to me in the library to-morrow -morning, Jane, when I am examining the accounts. I will talk with you -then. In the meantime"--Lady Agatha Aubrey-Blythe paused to draw her -rustling gown more closely about her tall figure--"I would advise you to -reflect on the fact that when you were entirely alone in the world, -_helpless_ and _penniless_, I took you into my house and cared for you -like--like----" - -Jane Blythe laughed aloud. It was a dreary little sound; somehow it -caused Percy to clench his small fist and draw a little nearer to his -cousin. - -But it appeared to enrage the lady. Her patrician countenance assumed a -peculiar, sickly, mottled pink colour. "To-morrow, at ten, in the -library," she said coldly. "And, Jane, as Parks will be occupied with my -toilet, I should like you to assist Gwendolen. You may go down now. -Susan will put this disgracefully untidy room to rights. Cecil and -Percy, you will go to bed at once--_at once!_ do you hear?" - -"Yes, mother," piped the two small scions of the house of Aubrey-Blythe -in a respectfully subdued chorus. After which they proceeded to thrust -their agile tongues into their red cheeks and bulge out their round, -blue eyes behind their maternal relative's august back as she turned to -leave the room. - -"You'll catch it to-morrow, Miss Jane--at ten--in the library!" opined -Master Cecil sagely. "I'll bet she'll smack you with the ruler." - -"Hold your tongue, Cecil, and come on to bed!" bawled Percy, "or you'll -be the one to get smacked with the ruler." - -Miss Blythe had walked over to the window and was looking out with -unseeing eyes into the gathering dusk. - -"It is true," she told herself forlornly. "I am poorer than any of the -maids in the house. I hate it! Oh, how I _hate it all_!" She wiped away -two or three rebellious tears on a grimy little pocket-handkerchief. - -A servant had entered and was somewhat noisily gathering the empty -dishes onto a tray. "I see you've 'ad no tea, miss," she observed -kindly. "Shan't I toast you a bit o' bread at the fire an' fetch some -more jam?" - -"No, Susan, thank you; I must go down now. But you're very kind to have -thought of it." - -Jane's smile was beautiful, and the warm-hearted Susan, for one, -appreciated it. "They'd orto to be 'shamed o' theirsel's," she observed -vaguely to the tea things, as the girl closed the door softly behind -her. "An' she's pretty's a pink, an' that sweet-mannered! She'd orto -marry a r'yal dook, that she 'ad; an' dress in di'mon's an' satings!" - -Susan was in the habit of solacing herself with yellow-covered romances -in the scant leisure stolen from her duties as housemaid, and of late -Miss Jane Evelyn had figured as the heroine of everyone of these tales -in the honest damsel's rather crude imaginings. - -As Miss Blythe passed down the dimly lighted staircase on her way to her -cousin's room, she was startled to the point of uttering a slight scream -by a dark figure which darted out upon her from behind a tall suit of -armor stationed on the landing. - -"O Reginald!" she exclaimed, "why will you play such baby tricks, now -that you are nearly grown?" - -"'Nearly grown,' indeed!" echoed the tall youth in a displeased voice. -"I am grown. Look at me--away over your head, Miss Jane! I say, give us -a kiss, will you?" - -"No, indeed, I'll not! Get out of my way directly. I'm in a hurry!" - -"Oh, no, you've lots of time to talk to me," chuckled Reginald, planting -his ungainly figure directly across the stair. "And you'll not go a step -farther till you've paid toll. Do you know, Jane, you're growing -deucedly pretty--upon my word!" - -"Impudence!" cried Jane sharply. "If you don't let me go this instant -I'll call your mother." - -"If you do that," drawled the boy, wagging his head threateningly, "I'll -tell the mater you were trying to kiss me. Then you'd catch it; she'd -believe me every trip." - -By way of reply to this taunt Miss Blythe reached up and dealt the tall -youth a stinging slap on his beardless cheek. - -"Tell her that a girl cuffed you, too, baby!" she retorted, and slipped -past him like a shadow. - -"I'll pay you out for that, miss! See if I don't!" threatened Reginald. -But Jane was safely out of sight and hearing, too. - -The tall girl seated before a dressing table, carefully inspecting a -rather rough and muddy complexion by the light of two wax candles, -turned frowning eyes upon Jane as she entered the room. - -"Where have you been keeping yourself, slow-poke?" she inquired crossly. -"Don't you know I'll be late if I don't make haste?" - -"You'd better make haste then," advised Jane coolly, advancing with her -hands behind her back. Her usually pale cheeks were flushed to a lovely -pink by her triumphant escape from Reginald; her brown hair, ruffled -into crisp waves, fell about her brilliant eyes. "What do you want me to -do, Gwen--hook up your frock?" she added carelessly. - -"I want you to dress my feet first, and be quick about it, too," replied -Miss Gwendolen haughtily. "No; not those pink stockings!-- I've decided -to wear all white this evening. The open-work silk ones, stupid! What is -the matter with you, anyway, Jane? You're as red as a lobster." - -Jane's little hands trembled as she pulled the designated hose from a -pile of party-colored ones in the tumbled drawer. "Here are your -stockings," she said briefly. "Which shoes do you want?" - -"The white suede with straps; they're the freshest--and do make haste!" -replied Gwendolen impatiently. - -Jane set the large, white, high-heeled shoes down on the floor beside -her cousin's chair with a loud thump. - -"Well, aren't you ever going to put them on?" demanded Miss Gwendolen, -kicking her satin bedroom slippers half across the room. - -"No; I'm not. You can put them on yourself," said Jane deliberately. -"Why should I put on your shoes and stockings for you, Gwendolen? You -never put on mine for me--do you?" - -Gwendolen stared at Jane's rebellious face in silence. She was a dull -girl, and it took her some time to understand what Jane had really said -to her. - -"Why, why--" she stammered, "you have always done as you were told -before, and--I'll tell mother," she added, an ugly frown distorting her -face. "She'll not allow you to be impertinent to me, you know." - -"It is quite impossible for me to be impertinent to you, Gwendolen," -said Jane, drawing up her little figure superbly. "One cannot be -impertinent to one's equals. I'll hook up your frock for you, if you -like, because you are my cousin, and I ought on that account to be -willing to be civil to you. But I won't put on your stockings and shoes -for you, so you may as well begin." - -Gwendolen stooped and drew on her stockings in sullen silence; then she -put on her shoes. "I'll tell mother," she repeated stupidly. - -"You may tell her if you like," said Jane airily. "And you may tell Lady -Maybury that you haven't sense enough to pull on your stockings -straight, if you like. I don't care." - -Gwendolen looked actually frightened; she peered into her cousin's face -with her ugly, shortsighted eyes. "What _has_ come over you, Jane?" she -asked anxiously. "Oh, I do believe you've got a fever and are out of -your head! Get away from me--do! Suppose it should be smallpox, and I -should catch it--oh! Go away--quick! Ring the bell for Susan as you go -out. She can hook my frock, and----" - -Jane pirouetted out of the door like a sprite. "Thank you, Gwen!" she -cried mockingly. "Yes, I fancy I have a fever. But you'll not catch it, -you poor, dear, stupid thing, you!" - -Then she darted up two flights of stairs to her own cold little room -under the roof, where she flung herself face downward across the narrow -bed and wept tempestuously. - -"O God, _please_ let me go away from this house!" she prayed between her -sobs. "I've been good and patient just as long as I possibly can. Things -will _have_ to change!" - -The girl was truthful--even with herself--even with her Creator. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -Jane Aubrey-Blythe was not in the habit of weakly shedding tears; -nevertheless on this occasion she wept herself into a state of -somnolence like a whipped child, when she lay quite still, her -handkerchief rolled into a tight, damp ball, her limp figure shaken with -an occasional recurrent sob. - -"They are all too hateful," she murmured brokenly. "I wish something -would happen--anything; I don't care what." - -As a matter of fact, something did happen almost immediately. As Jane -was sleepily pulling the blankets about her chilly shoulders, Susan's -honest face, shining like a hard red apple in the light of the candle -she carried, was thrust inside the door. - -"O Miss Jane Evelyn," she whispered, "are you 'ere?" - -"What is it, Susan?" demanded Jane, sitting up and winking drowsily at -the candle flame. - -"W'y, you've 'ad no dinner, miss, an' so I've brought you a bite of -chicken and a mouthful of salad," said Susan briskly. "Just you lie back -comfortable-like on these 'ere pillows, miss, an' I'll bring it in -directly." - -"But I'm not ill, Susan, and I'm not hungry," protested Jane. "I--I'm -just tired." - -"You'll be ill directly if you don't pick a bit o' somethink," Susan -declared oracularly, "an' you that slender an' delicate, Miss Jane -Evelyn." She was arranging the contents of a neat tray before Jane as -she spoke. "Now you jus' try a mossel o' that bird, an' you'll find it -tastes moreish, or I'm mistook i' the looks o' it. Miss Gwendolen, now, -is that thick i' the waist she might go wi'out her dinner for a -fortnight, that she might, miss. It was all I could do a-'ookin' up 'er -frock this very evenin'. 'You're such a stoopid, Susan,' she says, 'your -fingers is all thumbs.' Then she turns an' twists afore 'er glass as -proud as proud, though the Lord knows she's nothink to be proud of, wi' -that rough, muddy skin o' hers, alongside of yours, Miss Jane Evelyn." - -"You are very impertinent, Susan," said Jane reprovingly. "Gwen can't -help her complexion, nor her thick figure, though of course they must -get on her nerves, poor thing." And Jane dimpled demurely, as she tasted -her salad with appetite. "I was hungry, after all," she acknowledged. - -Susan gazed at the young lady with admiring eyes. "Of course you were, -Miss Jane Evelyn," she exulted, "an' I knowed it. As I says to cook, -'Miss Jane Evelyn's 'ad nary bite o' supper,' I says; an' cook says to -me, 'Susan,' she says, 'you'll find a tray i' th' buttry, once I'm -through wi' dishin' up.'" - -Jane's eyes filled with fresh tears; and she choked a little over her -tea. "You're too good, Susan," she murmured, "and so is cook, to think -of me at all." - -"All I hasks in return, miss, is that you'll take me on as lidy's maid -once you're married an' settled in a 'ome o' your own." - -Jane fixed wistful eyes upon Susan's broad, kindly face. "O Susan," she -said, "do you suppose I'll ever have a home of my own?" - -"Do I suppose you'll ever-- W'y, land o' love, Miss Jane Evelyn, in -course you will! Mussy me, don't I _know_? Ain't I seen young ladies in -my time? There was Miss Constance and Mary Selwyn, both of 'em thought -to be beauties, an' me scullery maid an' seein' 'em constant goin' in -an' out of their kerridge through the area windy, where I was put to -clean vegetables; an' they wasn't a patch on you, miss, fer figure, nor -yet fer complexion, nor yet fer eyes, nor yet----" - -"O Susan!" exclaimed Jane soulfully, "you oughtn't to talk that way. I'm -not at all pretty." - -"You're jus' beautiful, Miss Jane Evelyn," said Susan firmly, "beautiful -enough fer a dook or a prince, if it's only me as says it; an' you'll -see what you'll see some o' these days, that you will. W'y, only last -night I was tellin' your fortin' wi' cards, miss, an' the dark man wi' -a crown was fightin' a dool wi' the light man, an' all for the love of -you, miss; an' if that ain't a sign o' somethin' serious then I don't -know cards nor fortins neither." - -"That will do, Susan," said Jane, very dignified indeed. "Thank you so -much for bringing me something to eat, and will you thank cook for me, -too. I think I will go to bed now, Susan, and you may take the tray -away." - -"I'll take the tray down directly, Miss Jane Evelyn," said honest Susan, -quite unabashed, "but go to bed you'll not, miss, because the master -wishes to see you quite pertic'lar in the library when 'e's through 'is -dinner." - -"What! Uncle Robert?" exclaimed Jane, flying out of bed, and beginning -to pull the pins out of her tumbled hair. "I wonder what he can possibly -want with me." Her little hands trembled. "Oh, I'm afraid Aunt -Agatha----!" - -"No; it ain't, miss," beamed Susan encouragingly. "I'll bet it's -somethink himportant, that I do. I was jus' a-comin' downstairs after -Miss Gwendolen's flowers, an' the master was standin' in the 'all. -'Where's Jane?' he says to my Lidy. 'She should be down by this.' An' my -Lidy she says, 'aughty an' cold-like, 'Jane 'ad her supper in the -school-room with the children, as usual, to-night,' she says. 'She -didn't care to come down.' 'Why, dang it,' 'e says, or some such word, -'Jane ought to be down to-night of all nights; 'aven't you told her, -madam?' 'No,' says my Lidy, 'I 'aven't. I left that to you. Then 'e -turns to me, an' horders me to tell you to be in the library at ten -o'clock, an' to say that you was to wait for 'im there till 'e come. It -ain't much after nine, miss, so you've time a-plenty, an' I'll 'elp you -to dress." - -Jane's eyes were shining like frightened stars. "Oh!" she murmured -brokenly, "I wonder what it can be!" - -"Now, don't you be scared ner yet worrited, Miss Jane Evelyn," exhorted -Susan, her head in Jane's little wardrobe. "You just put on this 'ere -white frock an' I'll 'ook it up fer you. But first I'll do your 'air, if -you'll let me." - -Jane resigned herself with a sigh to Susan's deft hands. "You do brush -my hair so nicely, Susan," she murmured, after a long silence filled -with the steady stroking of the brush through her long brown tresses. - -"It's the Lord's own mussy you'll let me do it, miss," cried Susan -fervently, "else a 'ouse-maid I'd live an' die, an' me wantin' to be a -lidy's maid sence I was knee high to a grass-'opper. I says to Miss -Gwendolen on'y yesterday, 'Mayn't I brush your 'air, miss,' I says, -'Parks bein' busy, I think I can do it satisfactory.' 'Go 'way, Susan!' -she snaps out, 'do you s'pose I'd 'ave your great, rough, clumsy 'ands -about my 'ead?' she says." - -"Your hands are not rough, nor clumsy, either," said Jane, understanding -the pause, and filling it exactly as Susan wished; "and if I ever do -have a lady's maid it shall be you, Susan." - -"Thank you kindly, Miss Jane Evelyn," beamed Susan. "Now ain't that a -lovely coffer? I'll bet Parks couldn't do no better nor that in a -hundred years! But it 'ud be a simple idgit what couldn't do your 'air, -miss; it's that soft an' shinin' an' curls itself better nor -curlin'-tongs could do it." - -All of which was strictly true, as Jane's brown eyes told her. Then the -white frock was carefully put on, and Susan next produced from somewhere -three great creamy buds, one of which she fastened behind Miss Blythe's -pretty pink ear; the other two she pinned to the modest little bodice, -standing off to survey her handiwork with an air of honest pride. - -"I 'ooked them three roses from Miss Gwendolen's bouquet," she announced -unblushingly, "an' a mighty good job it were." - -"Then I'll not wear them," said Jane decidedly. "You may take them away, -Susan. I may be forced to wear Gwen's cast-off frocks; but I'll _not_ -wear her flowers!" - -An ethical differentiation which it would have puzzled Miss Blythe to -explain, and which left poor Susan in open-mouthed dismay. - -"She's a reg'lar lidy, is Miss Jane Evelyn, as ever was," cogitated -that worthy hand-maiden, as Jane's light step passed down the corridor, -"'igh an' 'aughty as the 'aughtiest, yet that sweet an' lovely in her -w'ys I can't 'elp a-worshipin' the ground she walks on. It's a dook or a -lord as ought to marry Miss Jane Evelyn, an' it's me as 'll be her -lidy's maid." And she proceeded to put the poor little room with its -shabby appointments into truly exquisite order with all the zeal born of -her anticipations. - -There was no one in the library when Jane entered it, so she sat down in -one of the great carved chairs by the fire, feeling very small and young -and lonely. The gentle hum of conversation and the subdued tinkle of -glass and silver reached her where she sat, and between curtained -doorways she could catch glimpses of the softly lighted drawing-room -beyond, gay with masses of azaleas and ferns. - -After a little Jane found herself busy with dim memories of her past. -She had been a child of three when her father and mother died, within a -month of each other, she had been told; the broken-hearted young wife -apparently not caring enough for her one child to face her bleak future. - -"Oliver Aubrey-Blythe's wife was an exceedingly weak woman," Lady Agatha -had once told Jane cruelly; "and I feel that it is my duty to train -_you_ into something far different, if such a thing is at all possible." - -Jane's little hands grew quite cold, as she strove vainly to fix the -illusive memory of the two faces which had bent over her on the day she -had fallen into the fountain at Blythe Court. She remembered the -fountain distinctly, with its darting goldfish and the stout cherub in -the middle staggering under the weight of an impossible dolphin from -whose open mouth gushed a dazzling jet of water. - -There were blue flowers growing about the edge of the marble basin, and -she had recklessly trampled them under foot in her baby efforts to grasp -a particularly beautiful goldfish. The rest was a blur, wherein dazzling -blue sky seen through green waving treetops an immense distance away -made a background for the two shadowy figures which stood out from the -others. It was pleasant at the bottom of the fountain, Jane remembered, -where one could look up through the clear water and see the far blue sky -and the waving trees. For an instant she paused to wonder what would -have happened had the shadowy figures of her parents been farther away -when she shrieked and fell--quite at the other side of the garden, say. -Would the blue sky and the waving trees have faded quite away into -nothingness after a little? And was somethingness so much better than -nothingness, after all? - -But all this ghostly cogitation being quite at variance with Miss -Blythe's usual optimistic and cheerfully human way of looking at things, -she presently abandoned it altogether to speculate on the nature of the -interview with her uncle, an event which certainly concerned her -immediate fortunes much more intimately. Mr. Robert Aubrey-Blythe was an -exalted personage with whom Jane felt herself to be very slightly -acquainted. He was kind; yes, certainly. Jane could not recall a single -occasion upon which he had spoken to her in a manner even remotely -approaching unkindness. Indeed, he very rarely spoke to her at all -beyond a curt 'Good evening, Jane' when she slipped into her place at -the family dinner table. Twice before this she had been summoned to the -library; each time to receive a perfunctory rebuke for some childish -piece of mischief, reported presumably by Lady Agatha; whereat she had -gone away shaking in her small shoes to lead a blameless existence for -many days thereafter. - -"Aunt Agatha has told Uncle Robert what I said to her about being paid -for teaching Percy and Cecil," the girl decided. "Well, I hope she has. -I don't mind being a nursery governess, not in the least; but I -hate--hate--_hate_ the way I am living now. Even the servants pity me!" - -She stood up and drew her slight figure to its full height as she heard -the swish and rustle of silken skirts in the corridor; the women were -coming away from table. It was a small party, after all. Jane watched -the vanishing trains of the five dinner-gowns with a speculative smile. -How would it seem, she wondered, to be beautifully dressed every night -and dine with guests who were not forever carping at one, but whose -chief business in life it was to be agreeable. Then she faced about at -sound of her cousin Gwendolen's voice. - -"What are you doing in here, Jane?" demanded that young lady snappishly, -as she advanced to the fire. - -"Waiting for Uncle Robert," Jane told her briefly. - -Gwendolen frowned and twisted her rings so as to make them sparkle in -the firelight. "How _very_ coy and unconscious we are!" she said -sneeringly. Then suddenly she burst into a disagreeable laugh. - -"What are you laughing at, Gwen?" asked Jane, with real curiosity. - -"At you, goose," replied Miss Aubrey-Blythe crossly. She turned and -moved toward the door. "Don't you know what papa wants with you?" she -paused to demand. - -"No, I don't," said Jane steadily. "Do you?" - -But Miss Gwendolen merely shrugged her ugly shoulders as she dropped the -heavy curtains into place behind her. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -When Mr. Robert Aubrey-Blythe finally entered the library, it was with -the pleasant glow of a good dinner, good wine, and good company -enveloping his portly form like a visible halo. He actually bowed before -Jane, as though she were a great lady of his acquaintance, instead of -his niece, left on his hands to bring up with scarce a penny to her -name. - -"Ah, Jane," he began, swelling out the shining expanse of his shirt -front like a pouter pigeon, "I see--er--that you are here, as I bade -you." - -"Yes, Uncle Robert," murmured Jane, with a beating heart; "you wished to -speak with me, sir?" - -"I did, Jane; I did indeed. Ah--er--you may be seated, if you please, -Jane." - -Jane obeyed. - -"Why--er--did you not come down to dinner to-night, Jane?" Mr. -Aubrey-Blythe wanted to know next, his remark being prefaced by a long -and speculative stare at Jane's small person. He appeared indeed to be -looking at his niece for the first time. - -"Because I wasn't asked, sir." - -"Hum--ah; it was an oversight, Jane. You should have dined with us -to-night." - -Jane was puzzled. She stole a glance at her uncle's eminently -respectable British visage, with just a fleeting wonder as to the amount -of wine he had drunk at dinner. But no; he was undeniably sober, not to -say serious; his eyes were still fixed upon herself with that singularly -speculative gaze. - -"You have--er--made your home with us for many years--that is to say, -since your infancy, Jane, and I--er--trust that these have been not -unhappy years--eh, Jane?" - -Jane folded one cold little hand over the other; it was as she thought, -she told herself angrily, Aunt Agatha had blabbed. "Since you have -asked me, Uncle Robert," she said distinctly, "I will tell you that they -have been very unhappy years. I simply hate my life in this house." She -leaned back in her chair and fixed her clear eyes upon her uncle. -Manifestly he was astounded by her reply. - -"Why, why, why--upon my word!" he stammered at length. "I -am--er--shocked to hear you speak in that manner. What--er--what, in -short, do you mean?" - -"I should rather go away and earn my living," said Jane desperately. "I -suppose Aunt Agatha has told you what I said to her in the schoolroom -to-night; but I meant it; I shouldn't mind being a nursery governess in -the least, and"--forlornly--"it is all I am good for." - -"Tut, tut!" remonstrated Mr. Aubrey-Blythe with some sternness. "You -quite misunderstand me, I see. Now, I beg that you will have the -goodness to attend me while I explain more fully why I have sent for -you." - -But he made no haste to enter upon the promised explanation, again -fixing his eyes upon his niece in a long, contemplative gaze. What he -saw must have clarified his ideas somewhat, for he presently went on -more briskly. - -"Whether you have been happy or not during your years of residence under -my roof matters little with regard to--er--what I am about to say, Jane. -I have, in short, a proposal for your hand." - -"A what?" gasped Jane. - -"A proposal of marriage was what I said," repeated Mr. Aubrey-Blythe -rebukingly. "A most honorable and--er--highly flattering proposal, in -short. I own that I was surprised, and so--er--was my wife, Lady -Agatha." - -Jane's own emotions were clearly depicted upon her young face. She was -leaning forward in her chair, her large eyes fixed upon her uncle. - -"Who--" she began; then stopped short. - -"You have, of course, met the gentleman who has paid you this great -compliment--the highest compliment--er--that man can pay to woman," -proceeded Mr. Aubrey-Blythe grandly. "The proposal reached me by letter -last week, and the author of that letter was"--he paused -dramatically--"the Hon. Wipplinger Towle." - -The girl burst into a hysterical laugh. - -"Jane, I beg-- Will you not control yourself, madam? Ah--er--I see I -shall be forced to call Lady Agatha." - -Jane instantly became calm. "Don't--please don't call Aunt Agatha," she -begged. "It was only--I couldn't help thinking----" - -"I trust you will reflect carefully as to what this proposal means for -you, Jane. I confess that I should have been--er--not displeased had the -proposal embraced a different--that is to say--er--had the recipient of -it been my own daughter, I should have been disposed to consider it not -unfavorably. Lady Agatha was at first convinced that the gentleman had, -in short, committed a most egregious blunder; but I am assured by word -of mouth that this is not the case. It is you, Jane, he wishes to make -his wife; you and no other. And I congratulate you sincerely upon the -auspicious event. I will not deny that your future has been an -occasional source of keen anxiety to me, and also, I believe, to my -wife, Lady Agatha; portionless brides are not commonly sought by -men--er--whose position in life is that of the Hon. Wipplinger Towle." - -"But--Uncle Robert; you can't mean that I-- You know I--couldn't _marry_ -that man, Uncle Robert." - -"You could not marry the Hon. Wipplinger Towle? Surely, I do not -understand you correctly, Jane. I perceive that you have been greatly -surprised by the nature of my disclosure, totally unprepared for it as -you were. And this much I regret, my dear child. You should have been -apprised of the facts, you should indeed." - -Jane's heart was touched by the faint cadence of affection in the man's -voice. "O Uncle Robert!" she cried, "do you look at all like my father? -Do tell me that you do; I should so love to think so!" - -Mr. Aubrey-Blythe shook his head. "I do not resemble my deceased brother -Oliver in the smallest particular," he said dryly. "And I have never -felt that this was a cause of regret. Oliver was a most injudicious and -hasty tempered person; his early death and many misfortunes were -undoubtedly brought about by his own deplorable imprudence. I have often -thought"--deliberately--"that you resemble him, Jane." - -"I'm glad I do!" retorted Jane. "And I may as well say once for all, -Uncle Robert, that I will _not_ marry the Hon. Wipplinger Towle. You may -tell him so." - -Mr. Robert Aubrey-Blythe regarded his niece with a portentous gathering -of his bushy eyebrows. "I beg, Jane," he said, "that you will not decide -this matter hastily. There are, in short, many reasons why you should -marry, and I will not deny that I regard the present proposal as most -opportune. I have, in short, given the Hon. Wipplinger Towle my full -permission to pay his addresses to you. He dined with us this evening, -and--er--expects, I believe, the opportunity of pleading his own cause." - -"Do you want me to go away, Uncle Robert?" faltered Jane, quite -overcome. "Do you hate me, too?" - -"Certainly not--decidedly not, Jane. You--er--put the matter in most -unwarranted terms. But I believe that you would be far happier in an -establishment of your own. In fact, you have already intimated something -of the sort in the course of our conversation. Am I not right?" - -"I said I should rather be a nursery governess," said Jane doggedly. "I -can do that; I have taught Percy and Cecil ever since Miss Craddock went -away, and----" - -Mr. Robert Aubrey-Blythe rose abruptly. "No, Jane--I beg-- Keep your -seat, if you please. I will send Mr. Towle to you at once. You are, of -course, at liberty to do as you wish in the matter. But as your eldest -surviving male relative I most strongly advise that you listen to his -suit patiently and give him the answer that he wishes and--er--expects." - -Jane stretched out her hands imploringly. "Dear Uncle Robert," she -whispered; "please, Uncle Robert--just a minute!" - -But he was gone, and Jane sank back in her chair with a sob. "Oh, if he -would only love me a little!" she thought. Then she sat up very straight -and calm; somebody was approaching. - -The Hon. Wipplinger Towle was a tall man, even taller than Mr. Robert -Aubrey-Blythe. He was also exceedingly lean, and bald--quite bald. Jane -mechanically noted the dull pale glisten of his scalp as he crossed the -wide expanse of Turkey carpet which intervened between herself and the -curtained doorway. - -"Good evening, Mr. Towle," she said calmly, offering the tips of her -chilly little fingers with extreme nonchalance. - -The Honorable Wipplinger was evidently somewhat agitated in a -perfunctory, elderly way. That he was likewise perfectly confident as to -the outcome of the interview Jane thought she perceived, with an -involuntary deepening of the dimple at the corner of her mouth. - -"Hum--ah," he began, fixing his glass firmly in place. "You were not -dining at home this evening, Miss Blythe? I was--er--frightfully -disappointed, upon my word; I had been--ah--led to expect--ah--that is, -I hoped that I should see you earlier in the evening." - -"I never come down when Aunt Agatha has guests," said Jane, putting her -pretty head on one side and gazing at her elderly suitor -contemplatively. He was quite as old as Uncle Robert, she decided, and -sufficiently ugly to look at, with his bald head and his tall, -square-shouldered figure. For the rest, the Hon. Wipplinger Towle was -possessed of a stubborn-looking chin, deep-set gray eyes, and a well-cut -mouth, amply furnished with strong white teeth. - -Jane gently shrugged her shoulders as she dropped her bright eyes to her -lap. "I fancy I should have starved if it hadn't been for Susan," she -finished. - -Mr. Towle glanced at her quickly. "Hum--ah, Susan?" he hesitated; "and -who, if I may ask, is Susan?" - -"Susan is the under housemaid," replied Jane sweetly. "She brought me -up some supper on a tray. Wasn't it nice of her?" - -Mr. Towle made several small uncertain sounds in his throat, which -resembled--Jane reflected--the noises made by an ancient clock on the -point of striking. Then he stared hard at Jane, again adjusting his -monocle. "Hum--ah, Miss Blythe," he began, "I--er--in point of fact, I -have the very great honor to be permitted to pay you my addresses, and -so----" - -Jane turned pale. "Please don't mention it," she interrupted. - -"I beg your pardon," observed Mr. Towle interrogatively, "you were -saying----" - -"I said, please don't talk about it. I--I couldn't, you know; though I'm -sure it's very kind--at least, Uncle Robert said it was-- A compliment, -I believe he called it." - -"One I am--er--delighted to pay to so lovely a creature as yourself," -murmured Mr. Towle laboriously. - -"How _dare_ you say such a silly thing to me!" snapped Jane, her hazel -eyes blazing. "I'm not a lovely creature, and I won't be called so." - -"Why--er--I beg your pardon, I'm sure," stuttered the abashed suitor. -"But I have the full permission of Lady Agatha and Mr. Aubrey-Blythe, -and I thought-- But surely you cannot have understood that I"--welling -visibly with a sense of his own importance, Jane was resentfully -sure--"desire to make you my wife. I wish you, in short, to make me the -happiest man in London by--er--becoming Mrs. Towle. And may I, my dear -Miss Aubrey-Blythe, beg you to name an early day--a very early day for -the celebration of our nuptials. The matter of settlements and all that -can be quickly arranged; and I beg to assure you that they shall be -satisfactory--quite satisfactory, as I have already taken the pains to -assure your uncle, Mr. Aubrey-Blythe. I can, in short, afford to be -generous, and--er--I desire to be so." - -Mr. Towle paused in his halting discourse to draw a small box from his -waistcoat pocket. Jane watched him in fascinated silence as he opened -it and drew from its satin nest a hoop of diamonds. - -"I hope you will allow me," murmured the Honorable Wipplinger, bending -forward. - -"No!" cried Jane. "I say _no_!" She stood up, very pale and -unapproachable. "I ought not to have allowed you to say all this to me," -she said. "I do thank you for wanting me to marry you; but, of course, -it is impossible." - -"Why do you say 'of course'?" asked Mr. Towle, in a surprisingly human -voice. "Do you enjoy your life here so much?" - -"No," said Jane, "I do not; but I'll not marry to escape from it." - -The Honorable Wipplinger deliberately returned the hoop of diamonds to -its nest, snapped the lid of the box shut, and slipped it back into his -waistcoat pocket. "I didn't go at it right," he observed meditatively. -"Robert should have warned me." He turned to Jane once more. "Do -you--er--mind telling me just why you have turned me down so squarely?" - -"I'd much rather not," said Jane, blushing. "You wouldn't like it." - -"Oh, yes, I should. For one thing, you think I'm horribly old; don't -you?" - -"Well, you are; aren't you?" - -"Not so very. I lost my hair in a beastly fever I had in India ten years -ago, and it would never grow on top after that. As a matter of fact I'm -only forty." - -"Forty!" repeated Jane, in an indescribable voice. "Why that--" She -stopped short. "I'd much better say good night at once," she said -contritely, "and--and truly I do thank you. I didn't suppose anyone in -the world would ever care about me. And you----" - -"I certainly do," said Mr. Towle resignedly. "But I went about saying it -like a jackass. To tell you the honest truth I was in a regular blue -funk. I never proposed marriage to a woman before, and I never shall -again. Of course, you don't know me very well, Miss Blythe; but I'm a -whole lot nicer than I look. If you only could----" - -Jane shook her head decidedly. "I'd like you awfully well for--for an -uncle," she said regretfully, "or a--grandfather-- There! I oughtn't to -have said that. You're really not old enough for a grandfather. But mine -are both dead, and I've always thought it would be lovely to have one." - -Mr. Towle swallowed hard. "Go on," he said encouragingly, "you'd like me -well enough for a--a grandfather, but not for a husband. Is that what -you meant to say?" - -"It wasn't a bit nice of me to say it; but then I'm always saying -dreadful things. That is why"--dejectedly--"nobody likes me." - -The Hon. Wipplinger Towle gazed down at the little figure with a very -kind look indeed in his deep-set gray eyes. "Oh, well," he said, "I -might have known better. I did know better, in fact. But from something -Lady Agatha said to me I fancied that perhaps I--that perhaps you----" - -Jane held out her hand. "Good night," she said. - -Mr. Towle took the offered hand in his very gently. It was cold, and -the small fingers trembled a little in his own big, warm palm. "Good -night," he said; "I can't--by force of cruel circumstances--be -your--er--grandfather; but I'd like to be your friend, Jane; may I?" - -"Why, yes," said Jane, smiling up into the keen gray eyes, "you may. -And--and I thank you a whole lot for being so--game." - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -Lady Agatha Aubrey-Blythe looked up from the housekeeper's book which -she was inspecting with displeased interest, and turned her light blue -eyes upon her husband's niece, as she stood a forlorn yet rigidly -defiant little figure, her back against the closed door. "You may come -in, Jane, and sit down," said Lady Agatha, in precisely the same tone -she would have used to a delinquent housemaid. - -Jane advanced and sat down, every line of her face and figure expressing -an exasperating indifference to the stately hauteur of the lady, who on -her part proceeded to concentrate her entire attention upon a bundle of -tradesmen's accounts, which she compared one by one with the entries in -the housekeeper's book. - -This went on for some twenty minutes, during which period Jane stared -unremittingly out of the window against which a cold rain was beating. - -Then Lady Agatha spoke: "I have purposely detained you in complete -silence, Jane, that you might reflect quietly upon your present position -in life. I trust you have made good use of the opportunity." - -Jane made no reply; but she withdrew her eyes from the dripping window -pane and fixed them upon her aunt. In return, Lady Agatha focused her -frozen stare upon the girl. "Is it _possible_ that you had the -_presumption_ to refuse Mr. Towle's offer of marriage last night?" she -asked with an indescribable mixture of unwilling respect and cold -dislike in her voice. - -"Yes, Aunt Agatha, I did," said Jane, a faint expression of regret -passing over her face. - -"Why?" - -"Because I--couldn't--love him." - -Lady Agatha scowled. "I _cannot_ understand what attracted the man to -you in the first place," she said disdainfully. "I believe he only saw -you twice." - -"Three times," Jane corrected her. - -"You are not," said Lady Agatha, pausing to contemplate the girl's face -and figure with the air of one examining a slightly damaged article of -merchandise, "at all attractive. You have neither beauty nor style, and -you are not in the least clever." - -Jane appeared to grow smaller in her chair. She sighed deeply. - -"Besides all this," went on Lady Agatha mercilessly, "you are -practically penniless. I cannot understand how such a man as Mr. Towle, -exceptionally well connected and very wealthy, _ever_ came to think of -such a thing as marrying _you_! But"--spitefully--"I dare say _you_ know -well enough how it came about." - -"I don't know what you mean, Aunt Agatha," stammered poor Jane. - -"Have you never met Mr. Towle, quite by accident, we will say, on the -street, or----" - -"How can you say such a thing to me, Aunt Agatha!" cried Jane, "as if I -were a--servant, or a--a quite common person. I never saw Mr. Towle -except in this house, and I never spoke three words to him before last -night. And--and I do like him, because he--likes me. But I cannot marry -him on that account." - -Lady Agatha shrugged her shoulders with a hateful smile. "Oh, I dare say -Mr. Towle will be very glad of the outcome later on," she said -carelessly. "It is not easy to account for the vagaries of elderly men. -But it was not to speak of this absurd _contretemps_ that I sent for you -this morning, Jane; Gwendolen reported to me what took place in her room -last night, and at first I contemplated referring the whole matter to -your uncle; but----" - -Lady Agatha paused to note the gleam of hope which lighted up the girl's -expressive features, only to fade as she went on in her peculiarly -frigid, precise way: - -"I finally thought best to settle the question with you. Your proposal -that I should pay you the wages of a servant shocked and grieved -me--_inexpressibly_. Your position in this household is that--er--of--a -relative--an unfortunate relative, it is true; but still a relative. -You bear our name, and as an Aubrey-Blythe you ought to consider what is -due your--er--position. You ought, in short, to fill your humble niche -in the family life cheerfully and uncomplainingly. Do you follow me?" - -"Yes, Aunt Agatha," said Jane stonily. - -"It is little indeed that you can do for us in return for all the -benefits which are continually heaped upon you," went on Lady Agatha, -with an air of Christian forbearance. "It ought not to be necessary for -me to remind you of this, Jane. I regret that it is so. But I cannot -permit a discordant element to disturb the peace of my home. You are -aware that Percy and Cecil should be required to conduct themselves like -gentlemen. You will see to it that the disgraceful scene of last night -is not repeated. As for Gwendolen, any little service that you are -requested to do for her ought to be gladly performed. Do you know, the -poor, dear child was quite overcome by your rudeness; she thought you -must be ill." - -"I shall never put on Gwendolen's stockings and shoes for her again," -remarked Jane, with disconcerting finality. - -"Jane, you forget yourself!" - -"No, aunt; you are mistaken. I am not forgetting myself; I am -remembering that I am an Aubrey-Blythe." - -Lady Agatha stared blankly at the girl for a full minute. Then she -recovered herself. "You are an ungrateful, impertinent girl!" she said -slowly. "If you were younger I should feel it my duty to ferule you -severely. There is one other thing I wish to speak to you about; then -you may go. I have observed that you are far too familiar and presuming -in your manner toward your cousin Reginald. His future position in the -world as my oldest son and his father's heir does not warrant any such -attitude on your part." - -"Did Reginald tell you that he tried to kiss me on the stairs last -night, and that I slapped him for it?" inquired Jane, in a businesslike -tone. "It was 'familiar' of me, I admit; but Reginald is such a cub, -you know." - -Lady Agatha rose to her full height. "You may go to your room, Jane, and -stay there for the remainder of the day," she said in an awful voice. "I -see that my Christian charity is entirely misplaced in your case. I -shall, after all, be obliged to consult your uncle with regard to some -other disposal of your person. I cannot bear you about me longer. Your -influence on my dear children is _most unfortunate_!" - -Jane turned sharply--she already had her hand upon the door. "I hope -uncle will send me away!" she exclaimed passionately. "I hate this house -and everyone in it--except Percy and Susan!" - -Lady Agatha, shaken out of her usual icy self-control, darted forward. -She was a tall, big woman and she swept the girl before her in a blast -of cold fury up the stairs--two flights of them--to the little attic -room; there she thrust the slight figure within, and locked the door -upon it. - -Jane stood in the middle of the floor and listened to the ugly click of -the key and the sound of Lady Agatha's retreating boot heels on the -uncarpeted corridor. - -"Well," said Jane ruefully. "I _have_ made a mess of it!" She had -completely forgotten her prayer of the night before. - -Somebody had laid a fire in her rusty little grate. It was Susan, of -course, who was continually going out of her way to be kind to the girl -to whom everyone else was so persistently and pointedly unkind. Jane's -sore heart warmed toward honest Susan, as she hunted for a match in the -ugly little safe on the mantel. "I've a day off, anyway," she told -herself, "and I'll cobble up that old gown of Gwen's so that I can wear -it." - -Miss Blythe was well used to cobbling up old gowns and clever at it, -too. She waxed increasingly cheerful as she spread the faded breadths -across her knee and discovered that the wrong side of the fabric was -fresh and bright. Later she congratulated herself upon a stray sheet of -_The Times_, left behind by Susan after laying the fire; it would do -admirably for pattern material. As she spread its crumpled folds upon -her counterpane, preparatory to evolving a wonderful yoke design, her -eye fell upon a line in the column of "Female Help Wanted." It read as -follows: - - - "A lady about to travel in America wishes to engage intelligent - young female as companion. Good wages. Duties nominal. Apply - mornings to Mrs. Augustus Markle, 10 Belgravia Crescent." - - -"Oh!" murmured Jane Blythe. She sank down on the edge of her hard little -bed and read the fateful lines again. "A lady about to travel in -America--an intelligent young female as traveling companion. Why, _I_ am -an intelligent young female!" exclaimed Jane, with the air of a -discoverer; "I wonder if I look the part?" - -She stared at her young reflection in the dim mirror over her little -dressing table. "I believe I look sufficiently 'intelligent' to perform -'nominal duties' as a companion," she told herself candidly. Then she -hunted for the date of the paper, and was ready to shed tears of -disappointment when she discovered that it was that of the previous day. - -"There are so many intelligent young females, and I suppose everyone of -them would like to travel in America," said Jane, still eying the -brown-eyed young person in the glass. "Besides, I'm locked in." - -The brown eyes twinkled as they turned toward the one window of the -attic room. More than once, when she was a small girl, Jane had escaped -from durance vile by way of the projecting gutter just outside her -window. It was a perilous feat; but Jane was muscular and agile as a -boy, and of a certain defiant courage withal, born perhaps of her -unhappy lot in life. - -"It would vex Aunt Agatha frightfully if I should fall and get killed on -the conservatory roof," murmured Jane, as she pinned up her long skirts -securely, "and it would cost Uncle Robert a whole lot in broken glass -and potted plants and things; but I don't care!" - -In another minute she had crawled out of her little window and -commenced her dangerous journey to a neighboring window, which, luckily -for the bold adventuress, stood wide open. Twice the girl's cautious -feet slipped unsteadily on a bit of ice, and once the gutter itself -cracked ominously under her weight; but at last she gained the window, -climbed in, and sank white and shaken to the floor. - -"Jane Blythe, you must be losing your nerve," she told herself sternly, -when she had gathered sufficient strength to stumble dizzily to her -feet; "the last time you tried that you didn't turn a hair!" - -The rest was easy, and in less than an hour's time Miss Blythe found -herself ringing the bell at 10 Belgravia Crescent. The slatternly maid, -distinguished by the traditional smudge over one eye, informed her that -Mrs. Markle was within, and in the same breath that she was "clean wore -out with interviewin' young females." - -Jane's heart sank; nevertheless she bestowed a sixpence upon the dingy -maid with an air of regal unconcern, and was straightway ushered into -the presence of Mrs. Augustus Markle, with a flourish of the dingy one's -plaided pinafore and the brief announcement: "'Ere's another of 'em, -ma'am!" - -The stout lady, solidly enthroned upon a sofa before the dispirited -fire, did not turn her elaborately coiffured head. - -"Ze young woman may come in," intoned a full, rich, foreign-sounding -voice which somewhat prepared Jane for the large, dark, highly colored -visage, flanked with dubious diamond eardrops, which Mrs. Markle turned -upon her visitor. - -"You wis' to inquire about ze situation--eh?" pursued this individual, -without any token of impatience. "I haf already seen feefty of ze London -demoiselles _ce matin_." - -"Oh, if you have already engaged some one, I will not trouble you!" -stammered Jane, edging toward the door. - -"Not so fast--not so fast, madmoiselle; it iss true I haf already -engage; but-- Ah, zis iss bettaire! More _chic--oui_. Your name, _s'il -vous plait_?" - -"Jane Evelyn Aubrey-Blythe," murmured the girl. - -"An' you wis' to go to ze ozzer side--to America--_oui_?" - -"I wish to leave London; yes." - -"To-morrow evenin', zen, I go by ze train. Zen I sail on ze so gra-a-nd -ship. You go wiz me--eh?" - -Jane stared at the woman with some astonishment. "What would be my--my -duties?" she asked. - -"Your duties? Why, to go wiz me--my _compagnon de voyage_--_comprenez_? -Nossing else, I assure you; I wait on myself. But I am--what you call -it--lone-some--see? An' I require a nize, young lady to go wiz me." - -Mrs. Markle smiled affably, revealing a double row of glistening white -teeth. She looked very kind and good-natured, and Jane drew a quick -breath. - -"I will go," she said decidedly. - -The final arrangements were quickly concluded, and Jane presently found -herself walking down the street, her cheeks flushed, her brown eyes -blazing with excitement. - -"I am going to America to-morrow--to-morrow!" she told herself. "I shall -travel! I shall see the world! I shall never--never come back!" - -The girl was so absorbed in her thoughts, which had for the moment flown -quite across seas to the America of her imaginings, that she failed to -see the tall, square-shouldered person who had turned the corner and was -approaching her at a leisurely pace. She became aware of his presence -when he spoke, and flushed an indignant scarlet as Lady Agatha's -insinuating words recurred to her mind. "Yes," she returned vague answer -to his greetings, "it is very pleasant to-day." - -"But you," said Mr. Towle, smiling down at the little figure, "seem to -be in great haste about something. You are quite out of breath. Suppose -we go into this little park and sit down quietly and rest a bit. Your -face is uncomfortably flushed." - -"I can't help my color," murmured Jane confusedly; "it isn't because I -was walking fast, but only----" - -"Is it because you are vexed at seeing me?" Mr. Towle wanted to know. -"We agreed to be friends last night, remember." - -"I know it," said Jane, glancing up at him quickly. He looked much -younger in his hat, she reflected, and he really had very nice eyes. -"But I am going out of town directly," she made haste to add, "so we -shall not see each other again--at least not for a long time." - -"You are going away?" said Mr. Towle blankly. "Where--if I may ask -without seeming impertinent?" - -"I don't know exactly," replied Jane, with a provoking smile. "I am -going to travel." Then she bit her tongue till it hurt. "Really, now you -will see why I must hurry home at once. And--and, please don't mention -what I have said to--to Aunt Agatha or Uncle Robert." - -Mr. Towle regarded her in puzzled silence. "I beg your pardon," he said -stiffly. "You were referring to what passed between us last night? I -have already told your--ah--guardians the result of my proposals, and -they----" - -"Oh, I didn't mean that!" cried Jane. "How could you think so? I meant-- -Oh, _won't_ you go away and not talk to me any more about it! You -oughtn't to have liked me anyway. Aunt Agatha said so. She told me this -morning that I was not at all attractive, and I am poor, too--perhaps -you didn't know that--and--and--I am not at all clever; you can't help -seeing that for yourself. I hope you will forget that you ever saw me -those three times at Uncle Robert's." - -"One time would have been enough for me," said Mr. Towle earnestly; "but -as a matter of fact I have seen you more than three times. I never -counted the occasions, but I saw you as often as possible, as for -example when you went out with the two little boys in the governess -cart, and when you walked with them in the Park, and twice in the -Museum. Do you remember the day you showed them the mummies? You were -telling them a long story about a little Egyptian princess; then you -showed them the toys found in her tomb, and the mummy itself wrapped in -browned linen, a withered lotus flower stuck in the bandages." - -Jane stared at him meditatively. "I didn't see you anywhere about," she -said. - -"No; I took good care that you should not," Mr. Towle observed. "Now I -am sorry for it." - -"Why?" asked Jane; then bit her tongue again in her confusion. "I--I -mean it would have been very--nice. I should have said I----" - -"I was a bally idiot," pursued Mr. Towle steadily, "not to have taken -the pains to become acquainted with you in any way, however -unconventional. If I had, perhaps you would not have disliked me so." - -"Oh, but I do not dislike you in the least!" protested Jane. - -"If you could like me a very little," he said eagerly, "perhaps in time -you could--Jane, if you are fond of travel I would take you all over the -world. You should see everything. I thought I was done with happiness -till I saw you. I had nothing to look forward to. I had seen everything, -tested everything, and found everything empty and hateful, but with -_you_ at my side-- Won't you try to like me, Jane?" - -What Jane would have replied, had she not glanced up on the instant, she -never afterwards felt entirely sure. But glance up she did to meet -Gwendolen's scornful eyes fixed full upon her as she whirled past them -in the Aubrey-Blythe victoria, with a great show of Aubrey-Blythe -liveries on the box. - -Instantly the forlorn little shoot of gratitude which was trying its -feeble best to masquerade as sentiment in Jane's lonely heart withered -and died under the icy blast of impotent anger and fear which passed -over her. "She will tell Aunt Agatha," thought poor Jane, "and Aunt -Agatha will think I have lied to her about seeing Mr. Towle on the -street." - -By some untoward psychological process, quite unperceived by herself, -the full torrent of Miss Blythe's wrath was instantly turned upon the -man at her side. - -"I think I must say good morning, Mr. Towle," she said coldly. "I am -really very much occupied to-day. I am sure I thank you for thinking of -me so kindly--" She stopped determinedly and held out her hand. - -And the Hon. Wipplinger Towle, feeling himself to be dismissed in all -the harrowing length and breadth of the word, took his leave of her -instantly, with a courteous lifting of his hat which afforded Jane a -parting glimpse of his prematurely bald head. - -"It must be dreadful to be bald," reflected Jane, with vague contrition, -as she walked away; "but I can't help it." The correlation of these two -ideas being more intimate and profound than appears in a cursory reading -of them. - -The door of Lady Agatha's morning room stood open as Jane attempted to -slip past it like a guilty shadow. Gwendolen, still attired in her hat -and jacket, evidently saw her and apprised her mother of the fact, for -Lady Agatha's pursuing voice arrested the girl in full flight toward her -own room. - -"You will, perhaps, be good enough to inform me, Jane, how you came to -be on the street after I had locked you into your own room for the day," -intoned Lady Agatha, in a terrible voice. "_Deceitful, ungrateful, -vulgar_ girl, that you are!" - -"I saw you, sly-boots; so you needn't deny it," put in Gwendolen, with a -spiteful laugh. "It was passing strange how our demure Jane chanced to -have a proposal, was it not? Do you know, mamma, Ethel Brantwood told me -this morning that _that man_ had been seen tagging Jane all over London. -It is quite the common talk." - -"Oh!" cried Jane, wringing her hands. "What _shall_ I do?" - -"Do not attempt to hoodwink me longer, unhappy girl," pursued Lady -Agatha. "Your deceit, ingratitude, and _vulgar intrigues_ are all laid -bare. I have not decided what I shall do with you. It -appears"--dramatically--"that locks and bars are no barriers to _you_. -My commands you defy, my counsels you ignore, my affections you trample -under foot!" - -"Stop, Aunt Agatha!" cried Jane. "I did climb out of the window after -you had locked me in--I wish now that I had fallen on the conservatory -roof and killed myself; you wouldn't have minded anything but the broken -glass--but you _must_ believe that I never saw Mr. Towle on the street -before. He _has_ followed me about; he told me so this morning. But he -never spoke to me once, and I did not know it. I never have thought of -seeing him." - -"How extremely ingenuous and naive!" put in Gwendolen, with an ugly -titter; "quite after the pattern of a cheap variety actress, indeed! I -wonder, mamma, that Mr. Towle took the pains to propose marriage to Jane -in the dull, old-fashioned way. He might as well have eloped without -ceremony." - -Jane stared at her cousin, her face slowly whitening. "Do you realize -what you have said to me, Gwendolen?" she asked in a stifled voice. -"Yes. I see that you do. If you were a man I should--_kill_ you. But you -are only _you_, so I shall content myself by never speaking to you -again." - -"Gwendolen, my _love_, will you kindly leave us for a few minutes," said -Lady Agatha, very calm and stately. "I cannot permit your young ears to -be sullied by this mad talk. Really, I fear that the unfortunate girl's -reason has been--" She paused significantly and touched her forehead. "I -am told there has always been a marked weakness in her mother's family. -Go, my love, go!" - -"I shall go, too," said Jane bitterly. "I have nothing more to say to -you, Aunt Agatha. I have told you the exact truth, and you may believe -it or not as you like." She turned and followed Gwendolen out of the -room. - -That young lady, hearing the step behind her, fled with a hysterical -shriek to the shelter of her mother's room. "What do you think, mamma, -the creature was actually pursuing me!" Jane heard her say. - -Then Jane went slowly up the stairs to her own room, where she remained -quite alone and undisturbed for the remainder of the day. At intervals, -during the course of the dreary afternoon, she could hear faint sounds -of opening and shutting doors below stairs. Once Percy's loud voice and -the clatter of his stout little shoes appeared to be approaching her -room; then some one called him in a subdued voice; there was a short -altercation carried on at a gradually increasing distance; then silence -again. - -A horrible sense of disgrace and isolation gradually descended upon the -girl. She sobbed wildly as she looked over her few cherished possessions -preparatory to packing them in the box she dragged in from the attic; -her mother's watch, a locket containing her father's picture, a ring or -two, her shabby little gowns and meager toilet things. By the time she -had locked and strapped the box with shaking fingers she was shivering -with cold and faint with hunger. - -The latter primal urge finally drove her forth and down the rear -stairways to the kitchen, where she found the servants in full tide of -preparation for dinner. - -"Lud ha' mussy, Miss Jane Evelyn!" cried Susan. "Where 'ave you be'n to -look that white an' done hup?" - -"In my room," said Jane shortly. "Will you give me some tea and bread, -Susan? I'll take it up myself. No; please don't follow me. I wish to be -alone." - -"Somethink's hup wi' 'er," observed cook sagaciously, as Jane -disappeared with a brace of thick sandwiches cut by the zealous Susan. - -"They'd orto be 'shamed o' theirsels; that they 'ad, a-puttin' upon a -sweet young lady like Miss Jane Evelyn," opined Susan. "I'd like to give -'em all a piece o' my mind; it 'ud do me good. It would so!" - -"You're a goose, Susan," laughed cook. "An' so is she, if all I 'ear is -c'rrect. Tummas says as 'ow that military-appearin' gent wot comes 'ere -is crazy to marry 'er. An 'e's rich's cream!" - -"Oh, lud!" sniffed Susan, her nose in the air, "'e may be rich, but 'e's -bald as a happle! She'd never 'ave 'im; I'll bet me hown 'air an' me -combin's to boot." - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -When Jane awoke the next morning she stared for a moment at the brownish -spot in the ceiling just over her bed, as she had done every morning -during a series of London seasons. It was a sprawling indefinite stain, -caused no doubt by some leak long since stopped in the roof overhead, -but it possessed in Jane's eyes the weird peculiarity of assuming -various pictorial shapes which matched the girl's own passing -experiences. Once she remembered seeing in it a train of gypsy wagons, -with a peculiarly alluring and picturesque gypsy plodding on -before--this in the days when she longed to run away, yet did not quite -dare for fear of being caught and brought back ignominiously to taste -the sharp sting of the ferrule, which lay darkly in wait for evil doers -in the upper left-hand drawer of Lady Agatha's private desk. - -Of late years the stain had assumed the appearance of a mountain -valley, with a lofty castle perched high amid inaccessible cliffs. There -was a long series of romances connected with this imaginary abode, in -every one of which Jane herself, in a robe of white samite, bound about -the waist with a girdle of red gold, figured as heroine. Sometimes a -hostile army, their spears and pennants showing dimly through the trees, -would defile stealthily through the dark passes, to intrench themselves -before the castle moat, where Jane would parley with them, intrepid and -unblenching in a glistening coat of chain armor fitting her lithe figure -like a serpent's skin. Again, a solitary knight with closed visor -overshadowed by ebon plumes could be seen pulling in his foaming charger -below the embattled terraces awaiting a glimpse of the white figure -above. - -On this particular morning beetling cliffs, castle and all had vanished -and Jane, rubbing the dreams from her eyes, beheld a wide expanse of -tumbling ocean, with a sky piled high with flying clouds, and in the -foreground, ploughing its way through the foam, a stately ship. Jane -stared unwinkingly at the vision for a long minute, then her eyes -descended in startled haste to the floor, where rested the locked and -strapped box, with O. A. B. in white letters on its end. Jane sat up in -the bed with a queer choking in her slender throat. If Oliver -Aubrey-Blythe were alive, his one daughter would not be driven forth -friendless into the wide world to make her difficult way. - -Twenty minutes later, refreshed by her bath and dressed in the gown she -had chosen for her travels, Jane was quite her cheerful self again. She -was also unromantically hungry, and after a brief period of indecision -descended boldly to the breakfast room, where she was tolerably certain -of finding none of the female members of the household. - -Mr. Robert Aubrey-Blythe was apparently just about finishing his repast -and his newspaper. He looked up as his niece entered the room. "Good -morning, Jane," he said fussily. "You are late." - -"Yes, Uncle Robert," very meekly, "I overslept this morning." - -"I--er--in short, Jane, I saw Towle again yesterday, at the Club," -pursued Mr. Aubrey-Blythe, thoughtfully gazing at the girl through his -double eyeglasses. "The man is--er--quite daft about you, Jane. I own I -was astonished. Ha-ha! very amusing, I'm sure." - -"I'll never speak to Mr. Towle again--_never_!" cried Jane, her cheeks -flaming. "The idea of his daring----" - -"Tut-tut, girl; don't be a fool!" advised Mr. Aubrey-Blythe testily. -"What Towle said was--er--quite correct, quite as it should be, in -case--you--er--. By the by, Jane, why can't you hit it off better with -Lady Agatha and Gwendolyn? I'm infernally bored with having to hear -about your interminable squabbles; I am, indeed. And it's beastly bad -taste in you, Jane, to be always getting up scenes. You ought to know -that." - -"There'll be no further scenes between Gwendolen and myself," said Jane, -very calm and dignified. "I can promise you that, sir." - -"Well now, upon my word, that sounds something like," said Mr. -Aubrey-Blythe, pushing back his chair. "I trust you'll keep that in mind -hereafter. We--er--shall endeavor to do our duty by you, Jane; and you, -on your part----" - -The girl's sudden and unexpected response to this well-meant attempt at -reconciliation shocked and astonished her worthy relative beyond -measure. She arose from her chair and put her two young arms about his -neck with something very like a sob. "I do thank you, Uncle Robert, for -all you've done for me," she said. "I've not meant to be disagreeable or -ungrateful since I've lived in your house; indeed I've not. But -I--couldn't help it, and I'm sorry for--everything!" - -"Come--come--er--I say!" spluttered Mr. Aubrey-Blythe. "You mustn't, you -know, or I shall have to call Lady Agatha. I dare say you'll go on quite -as you should after this." - -"Good-by, uncle," said Jane, smiling and winking fast to keep the tears -from falling off her thick lashes. "I'm glad I said it. You'll not -forget." - -Then she sat down with a very good appetite to the fresh coffee and eggs -and bacon which were set before her. One must eat to live, however young -and beautiful one may be, and whatever the base and undeserved cruelty -of one's relations. She had not finished when Percy and Cecil clattered -into the breakfast room, with every evidence of having carried on a -spirited skirmish on the way downstairs. - -"Hello, Jane, you here?" growled Cecil, drawing a long face. "We're to -have no lessons to-day, mind!" - -"Who said so?" inquired Miss Blythe tranquilly. - -"Mamma said so. She said you were going to be sent away directly, and -we're to go away to school. Hooray!" - -"I don't want to go to school," whined Percy dismally. "I want Jane." - -"Shut up, baby; you don't know what you're talkin' about. I don't want -Jane, an' I'm glad the mater's goin' to ship her; so there! Here, you, -Calkins, fetch us some hot muffins; these ain't fit to eat. And, I say, -hustle some marmalade while you're about it!" - -Miss Blythe arose from her place. "If you can't ask civilly for your -food, Cecil, you don't deserve to have anything fetched," she said -rebukingly. - -"Cecil's a cad, anyhow," muttered Percy, staring truculently at his -brother from under his light lashes. - -"Aw! an' you're a bally baby!" retorted Master Cecil, stuffing half a -muffin into his cheek. "My, won't you catch it in school, though!" - -"See here, boys," said Jane seriously, "very likely I'll not see you -again, for I am going away----" - -"You're to be _sent_, you mean," interrupted Cecil impudently. - -"Be quiet, sir, and pay attention to what I have to say; it's the last -time I shall take the trouble. You, Percy, have the instincts of a -gentleman. If you'll go on telling the truth every trip, no matter what -bully threatens you, and if you'll stand for what's decent and right -you'll have nothing to fear, in school or anywhere else. As for you, -Cecil, you've a lot to learn, and I heartily hope the big boys will -thrash your meanness and cowardliness out of you before you're entirely -spoiled, and I dare say they will. Good-by." - -She stooped to kiss Percy warmly, and that small boy blubbered outright -as he rubbed his smeary little face against the girl's smooth cheek. To -Cecil she offered her hand, but withdrew it with a smile, as the -grateful recipient of her counsels thrust his tongue into his cheek with -a frightful grimace. "Good-by, boys," she repeated. "You'll find what -I've told you is true before you've done." - -It was a long, lonely day, passed in a dreary attempt to hasten the -lagging hours with one of Susan's "shilling shockers," which that -worthy damsel had pressed upon her adored young lady's attention as -being "perfec'ly el'gant an' that thrillin' it ud raise yer 'air to read -it." Jane found "The Duke's Revenge, or the Secret of the Hidden -Staircase" insufficient to keep her wandering attention from the water -stain on the ceiling, which by this time had assumed the appearance of a -coach and pair careering at full gallop on the verge of a precipice. She -passed the morning in momently dreading a summons from Lady Agatha, but -none came, and after luncheon (which Jane decided to omit) peeping from -her lofty window she caught a glimpse of that stately matron and her -daughter magnificently attired sailing forth to their carriage. Later in -the day she beheld the Hon. Wipplinger Towle, immaculately groomed and -wearing a gardenia in his buttonhole, advancing up the street. - -Ten minutes later Susan tapped at the door, the proud bearer of a slim -white card on a diminutive salver. "I told Jeems as 'ow I thought I'd -find you 'ere, miss," she said. - -"You may say that I'm not at home, if you please, Susan," said Jane. - -But Susan stood still in her tracks. "'Is 'air ain't much to brag of, I -know, miss," she ventured at length; "an' 'e can't be called 'an'some in -other pertic'lers, but I ain't sure as I wouldn't tak' up wi' 'im, -seein' there ain't no lord nor dook 'andy. 'E's a gent'man, that 'e is; -'an you'd be a-ridin' in a kerridge o' yer own wi' nobody to worrit you, -an' _me_ lidy's maid a-waitin' on you constant, instead of occasional -like, as I'm forced now along wi' my reg'lar dooties." - -Jane laughed outright. "You're a good soul, Susan," she said; "but your -advice isn't exactly to my taste. Go down at once and do as I've told -you. Later I've something to say to you; and I shall want your help, -too." - -By this Susan's eyes had lighted upon Jane's modest box, which stood -locked and strapped for its long journey at the foot of Jane's little -bed. "Oh, Miss Jane Evelyn," she blubbered, "you ain't a-goin' away!" - -"I must," said Jane. "I can't stay here any longer. I'll tell you about -it when you come up again. You must go down directly now and tell James -to excuse me to Mr. Towle." - -But James was engaged in parleying with another visitor when Susan -arrived at the level of the reception room, and after an instant's -reflection she smoothed down her immaculate apron, touched up the frills -of her cap, and boldly presented herself before the Hon. Wipplinger -Towle, who was waiting with his wonted middle-aged patience. - -"Miss Jane Evelyn's be'n took bad wi' a wi'lent 'eadache, sir, an' will -you kindly excuse 'er, sir." And Susan bobbed her very best courtesy. - -Mr. Towle stood up and fixed his glass in his eye. "Hum--ah! I am very -sorry to hear it. You will--er--tell Miss Aubrey-Blythe so, with my -compliments, my good girl." - -"Yes, sir; I will, sir; an' thank you kindly, sir," said Susan, slipping -something into her apron pocket, with a broad grin. - -Mr. Towle appeared to be gazing rebukingly at the frills on Susan's -cap; but that astute damsel knew better than to withdraw too hastily. -Presently he spoke again. "You are--ah--Susan; are you not?" - -"Yes, sir; thank you, sir. I ain't nobody else but Susan, sir," beamed -the girl encouragingly. "An' I'm that fond of Miss Jane Evelyn, if -you'll believe it, sir, 'as I'd lay down willin' i' the mud an' let her -walk over me, that I would, sir!" - -"Hum--ah!" murmured the Hon. Mr. Towle, "that is very good of you, I'm -sure, Susan; most praiseworthy, in short. Do you--er--attend Miss Blythe -when she--er--travels? She is going out of town, I believe." - -"I don't know no mor'n nothink what Miss Jane Evelyn's a-goin' to do, -sir. I'd give me heyes to go wi' 'er; that I would; but I'll not be let, -sir." - -"Then you don't know where she is going?" - -"No, sir; not yet, sir; but she'll tell me, sure, afore ever she goes. I -'ate to say it as I shouldn't, but Miss Jane Evelyn 'arsn't many -friends in this 'ere 'ouse but me an' cook an' may'ap Master Percy, 'im -bein' the youngest of hall. I 'ear below stairs as 'ow she's to be sent -off somewheres directly, sir, an' the young lads'll go to school hafter -she's gone wot teached 'em faithful since the las' gov'ness went away." - -"Hum--ah," mused Mr. Towle, scowling fiercely. "I say," he added -abruptly, "this doesn't seem a very civil thing for me to do; but it's -important I should know where Miss--er--your young mistress goes. I -might be able to be of service to her, you know." - -"Yes, sir; I gets your meanin' quite, sir," pursued the ecstatic Susan, -feeling herself to be nothing less than confidential lady in a real, -live novel of absorbing interest. "I'll let you know, sir, as soon as -ever I finds out, an' find out I will, sir; you may depend upon it, -sir." - -"Thank you, Susan, my good girl; do so by all means," said Mr. Towle; -then a second something clinked against the first in an adjacent apron -pocket. - -After which Susan sped up the stairs as fast as her feet could carry -her, to find Miss Jane Evelyn calmly putting on her hat and veil before -her little mirror. - -"I wish you would call a cab for me, directly, Susan," said the young -lady; "and could you help me carry this box down to the area door, do -you think?" - -"Oh, Miss Jane Evelyn, where _are_ you goin'?" implored Susan, wild-eyed -with haste and sudden alarm. "Don't do nothink rash, I himplore you, -miss!" - -"Don't be a goose, Susan; but do as you're bid. I have arranged to -travel in America with a--lady. And you must help me get away out of the -house without a scene; there's a good girl." - -Susan sighed deeply. She was as wax in Miss Jane Evelyn's hands, and she -knew it. "Does the missus know where you're a-goin', miss?" she ventured -to inquire. - -"No, Susan," Jane told her firmly. "I have decided to look out for -myself from now on; I am plenty old enough." Miss Blythe looked very -tall and dignified as she said this, and Susan went meekly away to call -the cab, fingering Mr. Towle's money as she did so with an air of guilty -reserve. - -It was quite dusk when Jane's modest luggage was finally strapped atop -the cab, and Jane herself was seated within. Poor Susan stood blubbering -at the curb. "I wisht to 'eavin's you'd think better of it, Miss Jane -Evelyn," she whimpered. "I 'ate to see you a-goin' hoff like this wi' -nobody to say good-by but me, an' a nice gent'man likely a-breakin' 'is -'eart to bits when 'e finds you're gone." - -"Pooh!" said Jane, rather faintly; "he'll not care. Nobody will care but -you, my good Susan. Good-by, _dear, dear_ Susan! And thank you again for -everything you've always been doing for me!" - -"Oh, Miss Jane Evelyn, if you do be set on going'--as I see you be, I -'ope as 'ow you'll 'ave a most 'eavinly time, an' come back merried to a -rich gent'man--for they do say as 'ow all the gents in Hamerica is -a-rollin' in gold an' di'mon's; an' 'eavin knows you deserve the best of -heverythink, Miss Jane Evelyn; that you do! God bless you, miss, an' -thank you kindly! Good-by!" - -Then the cabby slammed the door and Jane found herself rolling away to -Belgravia Crescent, where Mrs. Markle, clad in a voluminous traveling -cloak and heavily veiled, was waiting to join her. Mrs. Markle pressed -the girl's hand in her fat, moist palm. "I was beginning to fear you -would not, after all, come wiz me, dear child," she said sweetly. "I -should have wept wiz ze disappointment." - -Once on board ship Mrs. Markle's manner changed perceptibly. "You will -not bozzer me while at sea," she said to Jane, rather sharply, -"_not--at--all_--you comprend? I am seeck--ah! I suffer wiz ze _mal de -mer_, an' I not talk--nevaire. You sleep in anozzer cabin--ze stewardess -she will show you. But stay, your jacket iss too--what you call it--too -theen--not war-rm for the sea. It iss so cold--ugh! see! I make you -warm wiz zis." And Mrs. Markle drew from her steamer trunk a luxurious -fur-lined cloak which she threw upon Jane's slender shoulders. - -"Do you mean that you want me to wear this cloak?" asked Jane, -astonished beyond measure. "Oh, thank you! You are very kind; but I -think my own jacket will be quite comfortable. I could not wear a -borrowed garment." - -The woman was smiling broadly, but the smile slowly faded as she stared -at Jane's flushed face. - -"Eh--but w'y not?" she demanded. "You evaire cross ze ocean before zis?" - -"No," confessed Jane; "but----" - -"Zen you do as I say. You would fr-r-eeze in zis sing," and she fingered -Jane's modest wrap contemptuously. "Come," she murmured persuasively; -"you will please me--yes? I ha-a-te to have anyone wiz me feel ze -discomfort. Ah, now, see!" - -Jane blushed resentfully, then sighed, as the luxurious folds fell about -her little figure. - -"Why, it just fits me!" she exclaimed in an astonished voice. - -"_Certainment!_" smiled the woman, passing her fat, jeweled fingers -complacently over the girl's shoulders. "I am very good judge of ze -figure. I was sure it would fit." - -"What, did you buy it for me?" cried Jane, quite overcome by such -kindness. - -"Why sure I did!" purred the woman. "An' ze leetle cap, too--see?" And -she settled a coquetish yachting cap into place on Jane's head. "Ze hats -wiz fezzers, zey blow into bits an' fly away at sea. You leave zis -leetle coat an' hat wiz me till we come in port, zen I gif zem to you -alright. But mind, you mus' not spik to anybody on ze -ship--_not--one--word--of--me_! You un'erstan'--eh?" - -Jane stared at the woman's scowling face with something like fear. But -as she looked the frown on Mrs. Markle's large face melted into quick -laughter. "You're alright--alright, a real nize young lady," she -murmured, "you will not spik to men or to any womans--no, nevaire. Go -now, an' make ze voyage. I see you once every day after ze _dejeuner_." - -Jane stepped out rather uncertainly into the brilliantly lighted -corridor beyond the stateroom door, then paused with a startled face. -Something strange and powerful had begun to throb in the unknown depths -beneath her feet, slowly at first, then steadying to a monotonous -beat--beat. The screw of the great ship, which was to bear her to new -and strange experiences beyond the sea, was in motion. - -Several hours later Lady Agatha returning from a dinner party, very much -out of temper because her hostess had stupidly given the rich American -wife of an up-country baronet precedence over her, found a note skewered -to her cushion with a big black-headed hat pin (Susan's device, borrowed -from a shilling shocker). - - - "Aunt Agatha:" (she read) "I am going to America, and as I do not - intend to return, you will have no further reason to regret my - 'unfortunate influence' over your children. - - "Please say good-by to Percy for me. He is a _real Aubrey-Blythe_, - and I am sorry that I shall never see him again. But I shall not - pretend that I am sorry to be leaving your house. You will be glad - to be rid of me, I know; and I am equally glad of this opportunity - of going away. So we are quits. - - "You seemed to feel that I do not appreciate what you have done for - me in the past. I think I have and do appreciate _everything_; I - have thought of little else of late. And this has led quite - directly to my present determination. Good-by, good-by! - - "JANE EVELYN AUBREY-BLYTHE." - - -On the day following, the Hon. Wipplinger Towle was likewise the -recipient of a communication, the contents of which he finally -deciphered with difficulty. It was written on pink paper, strongly -scented with cheap perfumery, and was fetched to his lodgings, so his -man informed him, "by a very respectable appearin' pusson in blue an' -scarlet livery." - -"i sed as ow i wud leve yu no, sir, wen mis Jane Evelyn went away,"--he -read--"shes gon to America, that is awl i no, sir, she went suddint, or -i wud ave towld yu. if i ad munny i wud follo. if the shu fitz, put it -awn. Susan Haythorne." - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -The six days of the voyage passed uneventfully enough. Jane Blythe, -obeying Mrs. Markle's instructions, spoke to no one, and although one or -two women, muffled to their eyes in wraps, stared at her in sleepy -curiosity from their steamer chairs, and an elderly man restored her -head covering, which on one occasion escaped its moorings and blew -across the deck, no one attempted to enter into conversation with her. -Jane accepted this circumstance as she accepted everything else in her -new and strange surroundings. She ate regularly, which could be said of -very few of the other passengers, and slept soundly at night after long, -delightful days spent on deck in the keen mid-ocean air, and with it all -her thin face rounded into a lovely radiance of girlish bloom, which -caused the retiring Mrs. Markle to exclaim in fretful amazement. - -That lady's large, flaccid countenance had assumed a peculiar, -olive-green tint which the glaring electric lights in her cabin -accentuated to an unpleasant ghastliness. She was very short in her -communications with Jane in the brief interviews which took place each -day after luncheon. - -"You spik to anyone since I see you--_n'est-ce-pas_?" she would demand, -staring eagerly at Jane from the midst of her pillows. "_Non? Tres -bien!_ say nossing to womans asking questions; to mens, nossing. I -ha-a-te zem all." - -"But no one has spoken to me, except to say 'good morning' at the -table," Jane made haste to assure her. - -"Alright--_tres bien_," muttered Mrs. Markle. "Go now--_vite_! and -to-morrow--no, next day, we come in port. Zen I tell you one leetle sing -you do for me." - -"I have done nothing for you yet," replied Jane, in genuine distress. -"Would you not like me to read aloud to you for a while, or bathe your -head with cologne? I should be so glad to do something to make you -comfortable." - -But Mrs. Markle waved her aside with a fretful motion of her dingy, -jeweled hands. "Go; make ze voyage as you like. I want nossing--nossing -till we come in port. Zen I say what you mus' do. A mos' leetle sing, I -tell you." - -On the last day when the women passengers were beginning to look less -like rows of Egyptian mummies put out for an airing, and a buzz of -cheerful conversation pervaded the decks and cabins, Jane was astonished -to find Mrs. Markle sitting in her stateroom, fully dressed and -elaborately frizzled and coiffured, as on the day she had first seen -her. - -"Oh, are you better? I am so glad!" exclaimed Jane. "Won't you come up -on deck for a while, and see all the people?" - -"_Non!_" snorted Mrs. Markle. "I will not. I am not able to walk yet. I -am--what you call it--we-e-k from ze illness. Now leesten to _moi_, I -gif you your hat an' coat. Put zem on, an' leave ze fur wiz me. Zen stay -in cabin till ze customs officer comes aboard. You have no articles -dutiable--_non_?" - -Jane stared at her in mute amazement. "I don't--know," she stammered. - -"Have you di'mon's, watches, fezzers--laces--eh?" sneered Mrs. Markle, -"kid gloves, silks, bronzes--in your so leetle box?--_non_? Say so, zen; -when zey ask you. Zes so gra-a-nd United Sta-a-tes mek you -pay--_comprenez_?--for all such sings. An' see, before we land at ze -dock, you come back to me here. I s'all ask you to help wiz ze luggage." - -But Jane was not asked to carry anything, when at last, the big ship -securely fast at her dock, the two prepared to go ashore. - -"See, now, Jane," said Mrs. Markle, "zere is one leetle sing I wis' not -to lose--a so small package. Do you mek it safe inside your jacket, so -it be not lost for me. I haf no place to keep it. Do not take it out. -Say nossing to nobody. I gif you money ven you gif it safe to _moi_. Zen -in ze customs, you will go by your box in ze place marked 'B'; I mus' -stay in 'M.' After all is passed we go on. You haf nossing dutiable-- I -haf nossing; we are quick through. Zen we go to see ze so gr-r-and -sights in America--_oui_!" - -Jane permitted the woman to fasten a flat package, securely wrapped in -soft paper, in the loose folds of her blouse. Then the two made their -way to the deck, and from thence across the gang plank into the great, -noisy place, where the luggage of the passengers was being rapidly -sorted into vast piles. - -As Mrs. Markle had predicted, they seemed likely to be quickly passed -through the customhouse. Jane's modest luggage was thrown down almost at -her feet, and, following Mrs. Markle's careful directions, she at once -drew the attention of a waiting official to it. - -The man gruffly demanded her keys; unlocked the trunk; rumpled its scant -contents with a perfunctory hand; replaced it; scribbled a cabalistic -design upon its lid with a piece of chalk. Then, as if moved by an after -thought, he turned to the girl who stood looking on. - -"Have you anything dutiable about your person?" he asked sharply; "any -jewelry--laces--or such like?" - -"I have my locket with my father's picture," confessed Jane, trembling, -"and mother's wedding ring; oh, sir, please don't take them away from -me. They'd be no good to anyone but me." - -The man was gazing at her keenly. Something in his stern eyes reminded -Jane of the mysterious flat package Mrs. Markle had given into her -charge. - -"And I have a--a small parcel, too," she faltered; "I don't know what is -in it." - -"Give it to me; I'll soon tell you," said the man grimly. - -"It doesn't belong to me, sir," added Jane, trembling still more as the -inspector's practiced fingers quickly undid the wrappings. - -Then she stared in astonishment as the man shook out yards and yards of -costly, filmy lace. - -"You didn't know what was in it--eh?" - -"No, sir," said Jane. - -"Where did you get it, miss?" - -"The lady I am traveling with asked me to carry it for her," faltered -Jane. "Oh, but I mustn't lose it. You must give it to me directly. I am -sure it looks very valuable." - -"You're right it does," said the man grimly. "I guess you'll have to -come with me, young woman, and we'll see what else you're carrying for -the lady." - -"Oh, I've nothing else!" protested Jane, "and Mrs. Markle is waiting for -me; I see her now." - -"Where?" demanded the official, keenly alert. "Point her out to me!" - -"The large lady yonder with the long cloak--. Oh, she is looking at me -now! I am afraid she will be displeased about the lace. But of course, I -had to tell you when you asked me." - -"Of course!" echoed the man, with a sneer, "the ladies are always -careful to tell me everything of the sort. Now, you'll go with this -woman; she'll look into your case. And I'll just step across and speak -to Mrs. Markle." - -The next hour in Jane Blythe's history is best passed over in pitying -silence. At the end of it a pallid, tremulous girl was confronting a -stern-faced official to whom she related in detail the circumstances of -her short acquaintance with Mrs. Markle. - -"She asked you to leave your hat and jacket in her cabin, did she?" he -interrupted sharply, at one point in the narrative. - -"She said it was too thin for the sea," Jane told him. "She was very -kind and loaned me a warm cloak lined with fur." - -"Did you notice anything peculiar about your own jacket when you put it -on to leave the ship?" - -"No, sir," said Jane; "I was too much taken up with having reached -America to notice that it was thicker and lumpy in spots." - -"It was very neatly done," put in the female inspector, whose name was -Forbes. "The woman had ample time during the voyage to quilt thousands -of dollars' worth of laces between the lining and the outside. It is -evidently an old game successfully played before this." - -Then she stepped to one side to make room for a second inspector who -entered from the rear accompanied by Mrs. Markle herself, unbending and -majestic. - -"I s'all complain of zis outra--a--ge! You s'all be arrest, _bêtes_, -animals--all!" announced Mrs. Markle in a shrill, high-pitched voice. -"Zere was nossing dutiable in my luggage--I was alright -_aussi_--_n'est-ce pas?_" - -The woman inspector shrugged her shoulders. "I found nothing," she -agreed. "But--" She glanced expressively at Jane who had fixed her clear -hazel eyes reproachfully upon Mrs. Markle. - -"Is this the person in whose employ you crossed from England?" demanded -the presiding official of Jane. - -"Yes, sir, this is Mrs. Markle," replied Jane politely. - -"_Lies!--all lies!_" snapped the stout woman. "Nevaire before have I -seen zis young woman. My name is Madame Melbrun. I dema-a-nd my release -_immediatement_. Zis adventuress is a stra-a-nger to _moi_; I have -nossing to do wiz her." - -Jane's eyes opened wide with shocked surprise. "Oh!" she cried. "How can -you say that?" - -Mrs. Markle had folded her fat hands across her capacious form with an -air of haughty innocence. She did not once look at Jane. "I have no -articles dutiable," she repeated. "I am first-class passenger--name -Madame Melbrun--you find it so on ze passenger list. I dem-a-and my -r-r-rights!" - -"Let her go," ordered the presiding official, shrugging his shoulders, -"she's got us; but then we've got her, too." - -Mrs. Markle swept out without so much as a glance in Jane's direction; -nevertheless that young person shivered a little as if conscious of the -woman's murderous thoughts. - -The inspector was writing something in a ledger with a pen which -scratched sharply. He raised his eyes as the pen ceased its mordant -protest. "You may go," he said to Jane. - -"Where may I go?" asked the girl piteously. - -"Anywhere you like," returned the inspector briskly. "You are free. -Better keep out of Madame Melbrun's way, though. You owe her something -like five thousand dollars, and she'd like to collect. Better be more -careful in your choice of mistresses next time you hire out, young -woman." - -The woman inspector looked pityingly at Jane. "You come with me," she -said. "I'll help you put your jacket together again." - -Bertha Forbes was as good as her word, and better. When she found Jane -had no friends in America and little money, she took her to her own -boarding house in a narrow, dirty street near the North River pier, and -later introduced her to a reliable employment agency. - -Jane was far too young and inexperienced in the ways of the great and -wicked city of New York to be suitably grateful for these kind offices; -but she thanked Miss Forbes warmly, even while she declined to follow -her later counsels. - -"You'd better go back to your aunt," Miss Forbes had said grimly. "It -isn't pleasant to be snubbed by rich relatives, I'll admit, but it's far -better than--some other things I could tell you of; and I'll see to the -transportation." - -Jane set her small white teeth. "I'll not go back to Aunt Agatha," she -murmured passionately. "I am strong--far stronger than I look. I can -work." - -"Very good," said Bertha Forbes, who was merely a lonely, good-hearted -woman, when she was off duty. "I'll help you get a place." - -But the stars in their courses seemed to fight against Jane. There were -numbers of persons indeed who were looking for a "refined young woman, -English preferred," to act as nursery governess; but, unluckily, the -refined and undeniably attractive Miss Blythe had no references beyond a -manly-looking scrawl of Bertha Forbes's composition, in which Jane was -described as being a young English woman known to the writer as a -well-educated person of good, moral character. - -"I am afraid," said Jane, with an ingenuous blush, "that it hurts your -conscience to say all that about me, considering the circumstances of -our first acquaintance." - -"No," said Miss Forbes, "my conscience is not of the abnormally -sensitive variety, in the first place; in the second, I am morally -certain that you are exactly what you say you are. But the truth is, my -good girl, that my convictions, while entirely satisfactory to myself, -will not hold water if it comes to investigating them, and the people -who are willing to pay well for having their children kept out of their -way are quite apt to investigate. It gives them an easy conscience, you -see." - -Added to this unconvincing dimness of her immediate background was -Jane's ingrained habit of telling the truth upon occasions when an -elusive reticence would have been far more prudent. - -One impulsive lady, it is true, was about to engage Jane out of hand, -being irresistibly attracted by her smile and manner. But before -concluding the matter she chanced to ask Miss Blythe why she had come to -America. - -"I came to America," said Jane, endeavoring to be discreet "because I -was--very unhappy in England." - -"Indeed!" exclaimed Mrs. Newport, scenting a mystery, "and why were you -unhappy in England?" - -Jane was silent for a space. "I don't see why I should tell you," she -said at last, with a proud lifting of her little head; "my troubles -concerned no one but myself." - -Mrs. Newport raised her eyebrows. "I must _insist_ upon knowing -everything about your past," she said conclusively, "else I cannot -engage you." - -Jane arose with the air of a duchess in disguise. "Good morning, Mrs. -Newport," she said. - -Bertha Forbes shook her head when she heard of this circumstance. "I'm -sorry you didn't see fit to tell the woman something about yourself," -she said. "There is really nothing to be ashamed of in your story, -except the smuggling part--that I'd advise you to keep to yourself." - -"No," said Jane stonily. "I have nothing to be ashamed of; but the fact -that I wish to work for my living does not give that woman, or any -other, the right to ask impertinent questions about my private affairs." - -"Why, yes," disagreed Miss Forbes dryly; "it does. Mrs. Newport was -about to engage you to play the young mother to her three darlings, -while she golfed and motored and otherwise disported her fashionable -self; the very least she could do was to assure herself of your fitness -for the position. And this involved a knowledge of your Alpha as well as -your Omega; you see that; don't you?" - -Being very far from stupid, Jane saw, and when, on the following day, -Mrs. Narragansett's housekeeper interviewed Miss Blythe, that young -person was prepared to be frank and open to the point of telling all her -pitiful little story. - -"My name," she began, in response to Mrs. Pott's initial question, "is -Jane Evelyn Aubrey-Blythe." - -Mrs. Potts bestowed a supercilious glance upon the young person. "And -what was your last position as nursery governess?" she further demanded. - -"I taught my cousins, Percy and Cecil Aubrey-Blythe, in London and at -Blythe Court." - -"Indeed! And why did you leave that situation, _if_ you please?" - -Jane drew a quick breath. "Must I answer that question?" she entreated, -blushing hotly, a circumstance which the experienced Mrs. Potts noted -with growing disfavor. - -"You certainly must," that lady assured her with business-like coldness. - -"I--I thought my aunt was unkind to me," faltered Jane, with every -appearance of guilt. "I was very much vexed with her and--and with my -Cousin Gwendolen, and so----" - -"Your aunt's name, if you please? And you may also state the occasion -of her being unkind to you." - -"My aunt's name is Lady Agatha Aubrey-Blythe," said Jane, endeavoring to -pull herself together with very little success. "She was unkind to me -because--because-- She accused me of-- No; I--I cannot tell you." - -"It is quite unnecessary, Miss--Aubrey-Blythe," Mrs. Potts assured her, -with an unpleasant smile. "You are not, I am sure, a suitable person for -the situation. Good morning." - -Jane wept a little when she confided this last failure to Bertha -Forbes's sympathizing ear. "I couldn't tell that woman what Aunt Agatha -said to me about Mr. Towle; now, could I?" - -"She wouldn't have believed it, if you had," said Miss Forbes gruffly. -"Better try another tack," she added, still more gruffly. "Better yet, -go back to your uncle. He can't be a bad sort, from what you tell me." - -"Uncle Robert? Oh, no! he is--he has never been unkind to me. I--I quite -love Uncle Robert; that is to say, I should love to love him, if he -would let me." - -"Then you'll go back to England like a sensible girl; tell your uncle -you've made a fool of yourself, but you'll try not to do it again. Think -it over till to-morrow morning, and remember I'll take care of the -transportation." - -Jane reflected upon this eminently sane proposition over night; then she -faced her new-found friend and advisor with a pale but determined face. -"Thank you for offering to pay my passage back to England," she said, -"but I really can't accept it. I couldn't face Aunt Agatha and Gwendolen -and--and the others. I'd rather scrub floors than to do that! Perhaps -I'll have to scrub in the end, for my money is almost gone." - -Bertha Forbes stared at the girl speculatively. "If you will tell them -at the employment agency that you're willing to do house work, you'll -soon find a place," she said; "there are plenty of people who will hire -you to work in their houses, and ask few questions about your past. But -it's no fun to scrub floors, my young friend, unless the floors happen -to be your own. I never tried _that_ myself; but I've seen deluded young -women who seemed to think it a vastly agreeable pastime, if there was -only a young man in the case." - -And this is how it came about that Miss Jane Evelyn Aubrey-Blythe--just -two weeks from the time she informed the invisible forces of the -universe that things would have to change--found herself humbly seeking -entrance at the side door of a modest, detached villa, situated in a -modest, detached suburb of New York. "Things" had changed, indeed! - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -There was, apparently, no one at home in the modest detached villa; for, -although Jane could hear the trill of the electric bell within, the door -remained fast shut. After a discreet interval she ventured to sit down -for a minute's rest on a little green bench set beneath the budding -vines. Then she drew a deep breath. It was very quiet, and the air -blowing over wide expanses of vacant lots was sweet and warm. Dandelions -were in bloom amid the green April grass, and an American robin sang -loudly in a tall elm near the front gate. Jane looked about her with a -homesick flutter of her sore heart. The raw suburb, with its muddy road, -its hastily constructed sidewalks, its ornate houses with their -protruding balconies, bay-windows and hideous roof lines, broken by -extraneous ornamental railings and dormer windows of no known style of -architecture, offended eyes accustomed to the garden trimness and -ordered beauty of England. - -Bertha Forbes's parting advice recurred to her mind with an added touch -of poignancy: "It may not be pleasant to be snubbed by one's rich -relations; but it's better than some other things I know of." - -Jane wondered--for a fleeting minute--if she had made a fool of herself. -If, after all, she would not better have endured accustomed woes than to -fly to ills she knew not of. - -But such tardy reflections were speedily ended by the sound of voices -and footsteps from the rear. Jane rose hastily to her feet just in time -to behold a tall, broad-shouldered young man appear around the corner of -the veranda at an ambling trot, while a small boy of two or three plied -a switch about his heels and jerked the scarlet lines attached to his -person. - -"Det-tup!" shouted the boy vociferously. "Det-tup, I say!" - -But the young man had already caught sight of Jane. "Hold on, Buster," -he said, turning to the child, "till I speak to the lady. Did you ring?" -he added, addressing Jane, with a polite bow. - -"Yes," she told him; "but no one answered. I wish to see Mrs. -Belknap--on business," she added hastily. - -"Ah, yes," he returned, apparently absorbed in his contemplation of -Jane's undeniable beauty. "Mrs. Belknap is not at home; but--oh, don't -go--er--she'll be at home soon. In fact, she told me she was expecting -some one, and asked me to----" - -"I think she expected me," said Jane coldly. "I am the new maid--that -is, if I suit." - -The young man stared incredulously. "I--I beg your pardon," he -stammered, a wave of color passing over his boyish face. "I don't know -what you'll think of me; but I--er--fancied you were a friend of Mrs. -Belknap's. She was expected this afternoon, and I----" - -"No; I am the maid," said Jane haughtily. "If Mrs. Belknap is coming -home directly, I will wait here till she comes." - -She sat down again on the green bench and fixed her hazel eyes on the -remote distance. - -The small boy threw down his whip and climbed up the steps. "I want a -piece of bwead an' butter," he said confidentially, "an' I want a dwink -of water, an' I want----" - -"Buster!" called the young man warningly. "Come here!" - -But the infant paid no heed. "I want a piece of bwead an' butter," he -repeated in a louder voice, "an' I want a dwink of water, an' I -want----" - -"Were you speaking to me?" inquired Jane, withdrawing her eyes from the -safe horizon and looking down at the child. - -"Yeth," he assented, "I want a piece of bwead an' butter, an' I want a -dwink of water, an' I----" - -"Come with me, Buster! I'll get them for you," volunteered the young -man. He was deliberately divesting himself of the scarlet harness. -"Won't you come in?" he went on, turning to Jane. "I see it's beginning -to rain." - -Reluctantly she passed in at the door he held wide for her. "Please sit -down," he urged. "I'm sure Mrs. Belknap will be at home very soon. She's -only gone out for an hour or so." - -"I want a d-w-i-nk!" vociferated the small boy. - -"Yes, I gathered as much from your remarks; come on, old fellow." - -Jane sat down, and the young man and the child disappeared into the -unknown regions beyond. Jane could hear the boy's shrill voice, and the -deeper replies of the man. Her cheeks were very red, and she sat stiffly -erect. She felt unreasonably vexed with herself, with the child, but -most of all with the young man. He was unlike any masculine person of -her acquaintance, she reflected; still he had spoken to her very -civilly, though not in the tone a gentleman should use to an inferior. -But was he, after all, a gentleman? These class distinctions were said -to be very puzzling in America, Jane remembered. She resolved not to -speak to this particular young American again. It would not, she -concluded sagely, be the correct thing to do. - -A distant crash of breaking crockery, an infantile shriek, an -exclamation of deep dismay preceded a hasty opening of the closed door. -The ingenuous countenance of the man was thrust hastily within. "Oh, I -beg your pardon! but could you come out and--er--help me a minute? -Buster has tipped the milk all over himself, and I--oh, please -do--that's a good girl--. I don't know what in thunder--. Hold hard, old -fellow, I'm coming!" - -The last by way of reply to the frenzied shrieks of rage and despair -which issued from the rear. - -Jane's austere expression relaxed perceptibly as she surveyed the -agitated and imploring countenance of the young American. - -"Oh, thanks; you're awfully good!" he was saying, as Jane arose, -preparatory to accompanying him to the scene of the disaster. "I just -set the bowl of milk on the table, you know--he wanted milk by the time -we had reached the commissariat--and while I was hustling for the bread, -he reached up to investigate and--you see what followed." - -The infant was seated in a pool of milk on the floor; milk dripped -slowly from his flaxen curls, the tip of his chubby nose, and his pink -cheeks. His round fists were applied to his milky eyes, while his rosy -mouth emitted scream after scream of anguish. - -"Is he hurt?" inquired Jane, in a business-like tone. - -"He must have caught a whack of the bowl as it fell, I suppose," -admitted the man. "What shall we do?" - -Jane had already helped herself to an apron which hung conveniently -near; she turned up her cuffs. "A towel and a basin, please," she -suggested. Then she stooped over the howling infant and lifted him -gently to his feet. - -"Do 'way!" he shrieked, thrashing out vigorously with fists and feet; "I -want my muzzer!" - -Jane skillfully evaded the attacks, while she plied the towel with a -calm mastery of the situation, which roused the wonder and warm -admiration of the man. - -"Just quit that kicking, won't you, Buster?" he suggested, in a -conciliatory tone. "I declare, I believe I've found a--stick of -candy--no--but it's a nickel to buy one with." - -The magic word so mendaciously inserted acted with its accustomed power. -Jane, busy with her beneficent offices in which the towel and basin -played a conspicuous part, scarcely noticed the fact that the young -American, whom she had so recently decided to ignore, was kneeling close -at her side apparently intent upon a well-meant attempt at assistance. - -"Why, Jack Everett--what in the world!" exclaimed an unfamiliar voice -from the doorway. - -All three participants in the late tragedy raised their eyes to the -pretty and--to Jane's notion--somewhat too smartly dressed young woman, -who was surveying the scene in an attitude of extreme surprise. - -The man rose rather shamefacedly to his feet; the small boy, breaking -away from Jane, dashed forward with a loud, ecstatic whoop to -precipitate himself and his milky pinafore upon the lady; while Jane -hastily turned down her cuffs, a deep flush of vexation mounting to her -forehead. - -"I 'pilled all 'e milk, muzzer!" shouted the infant. "Zen I bumped my -head, an' I _cwied_ an' I _cwied_!" - -"Where is Mary?" demanded the newcomer. - -"Mary has just 'shtipped out for a minut'," explained the young man -mildly. "She announced her intention of doing so shortly after you left -the house. Buster and I have been keeping house as well as we knew how; -and then--this--er--young lady----" - -"I am the maid from the Streeter agency," said Jane distinctly. She felt -sure now that the man was not a gentleman; she also decided that she -disliked him exceedingly. - -"Oh!" murmured the lady, turning a keenly penetrating and speculative -gaze upon Jane. "Well, I am glad you've come. What is your name?" - -"My name is--Jane," replied that individual, drawing a deep breath. The -"Aubrey-Blythe" refused to be uttered. - -"And I am Mrs. Belknap," graciously returned the young woman, apparently -paying no heed to the omission. "I do hope," she added plaintively, -"that Mary's sister hasn't been taken suddenly ill again. Mary has so -many relatives, and they are nearly always ill--or dead." - -Jane looked her astonishment. - -"Mary is perfectly devoted to her family," Mrs. Belknap went on, "and -that is really why I am hiring another girl. Mr. Belknap says I _must_ -have somebody to fall back upon when Mary is away. Can you cook?" - -"Why, no, madam," said Jane stiffly. "I understood that I was to be a -nursery governess, or parlor maid. Mrs. Streeter didn't seem to -understand exactly." - -"Why, of course, I shall want you to help me look after Buster," chimed -in Mrs. Belknap, with a somewhat offended air, "and wait at table, and -answer the bell, and do the sweeping and dusting, and the cooking and -dish washing on Mondays and Tuesdays--regular second work, you know. -Mary is really an excellent servant--when she's here. But now that she's -out she may not come back for three or four days. If it wasn't so nearly -impossible to get a good cook out here I should have changed long ago. -But we're so near New York. I dare say, though, I shall get along very -well now that I've got you." - -The young man had turned his broad back on the two, and now strolled out -of the kitchen with an air of extreme unconcern which ruffled Jane's -temper afresh. - -Her new mistress had disburdened herself of several parcels. "If you'll -bring these upstairs for me," she said pleasantly, "I'll show you how to -dress Buster--this the _third_ time to-day--then I'll help you with the -dinner. Of course, Mary may come back. But I'm afraid not. She hasn't -been out for nearly a week, and I suppose she took advantage of my being -in town." - -Mrs. Belknap sighed profoundly, and Jane gathered up the parcels with a -hesitating air. Unknown ills loomed very large at the present moment. - -"Oh, by the way, did you bring your working clothes?" Mrs. Belknap -wanted to know. She paused, with one foot on the stairs, for Jane's -answer. - -"Yes, madam; that is, I brought a black frock and some white aprons." - -Jane's proud little head was flung back haughtily. - -"And caps? You've no objections to a cap, I hope, because I shall -require you to wear one. I bought some sweet little frilled ones to-day. -I want you to put one right on. There's one thing more, I'm sorry I -haven't two rooms for servants; but this house is so small, you see it's -impossible. You won't mind rooming with Mary; she's very -good-natured--as a rule. If you'll just come upstairs to the attic -floor, I'll show you the way. Mary isn't so very neat about her room, -though she's a splendid cook and laundress, and _so willing_--when she's -here. Oh, dear! this is worse than I thought. Mary is so careless about -opening her windows!" - -Mrs. Belknap tip-toed daintily across the floor and flung the two -windows wide. Then she turned a dismayed face upon Jane. "Mary isn't so -very orderly," she repeated, rather vaguely. "But"--briskly--"now that -you're here I do hope you'll try and keep this room in better order. -That's always a second girl's work." - -"What is a 'second girl,' if you please?" asked Jane. "I'm afraid I -couldn't----" - -"Oh, _don't_ say that!" implored Mrs. Belknap hastily. "I'll explain -about the work later. You won't find it hard. We're a small family, only -myself and husband, and little boy--_only one child_--and my brother, -Mr. Everett, is staying with us for a while." - -"I couldn't sleep in this room, Mrs. Belknap," said Jane, in a low -voice. Her eyes said plainly "I will not." - -Mrs. Belknap fetched a deep, dispirited sigh. "I could put a cot in the -trunkroom, I suppose," she said. "But, just for the present, won't you -change your dress and-- Oh, yes, we haven't spoken of wages or days out; -have we? I was so upset to find Mary gone and Buster in such a mess. -I'll tell you all about that later. I'll make everything satisfactory. -But you see, I must hurry and get dinner started. I'm afraid the range -fire is out, and Mr. Belknap will be at home at six. Please come down as -soon as you can." - -Jane relented a little at the tone of entreaty in the young woman's -voice. "She's very young to be keeping house," she told herself wisely, -as she invested her trim little figure in the black housemaid's gown -with white cuffs and collar, which she had purchased at Mrs. Streeter's -suggestion. "And she's certainly very odd in her manners toward a -servant. But then, she's an American." - -When at last she made her way to the kitchen Jane found her young -mistress in a neat shirt waist and short skirt actively engaged in -preparing a meal. Mrs. Belknap appeared to know exactly what to do, and -in a miraculously short time had vegetables cooking, a salad in course -of preparation, and a steak neatly trimmed and ready for broiling. - -"Won't you set the table, Jane? You'll find the linen in the sideboard -and the silver, too. Then put the plates to warm and a medium-sized -platter and two vegetable dishes. I see Mary had the decency to leave a -custard ready, and there's plenty of fruit." - -As Jane awkwardly spread the cloth, and rummaged in the drawers for the -required silver, she heard Mrs. Belknap's distinct American voice in the -kitchen: "--not a bit of good, I'm _awfully_ afraid, Jack,--afraid of -doing anything, I could see that at a glance--Yes, one of those -'high-class servants.' _Pretty?_ No, I don't think so--not at all. I'm -surprised at you, Jack! I fear she's only one more in the long list of -failures. Oh, _dear_, I'd give anything for a real _good_ girl! It does -seem----" - -Jane guiltily opened the door. "Did you say I should lay the table for -four, ma'am?" she asked. - -"No, indeed; Buster will eat first, and he's almost starved, too, poor -little darling! Yes, sweetheart, mother's hurrying. Jane, won't you take -his bread and milk and this soft egg, and feed him at that little side -table in the dining room? Or, no--" as the youngster vociferated his -displeasure at this arrangement. "Do you want mother to feed you, -darling? Carry him in the other room, please, Jack, and I'll come and -feed him. Do you think you can broil this steak, Jane, and mash the -potatoes?" - -"I'll try, ma'am," said Jane coldly; "but I don't know anything at all -about cooking." - -"You don't? Why, how extraordinary!" exclaimed Mrs. Belknap -suspiciously. "I should think you would know enough to broil a steak and -mash potatoes, even if you have always been a parlor maid or a nursery -governess. Do you think you can coax Buster to eat his supper?" - -"I'll try, ma'am," repeated Jane; "but of course I'm a stranger -to--Master Buster." - -"Well, I think if you will try to look pleasant, and if you'll not be -quite so _wooden_ in your manner that he'll not dislike you. He likes -almost everybody. If Buster doesn't like you, you will be of very little -use to _me_." - -Mrs. Belknap spoke in a tone of crisp decision which betrayed her -rapidly growing conviction that Jane would not "do." - -Jane divined this, and it piqued her pride, already sorely wounded. She -walked into the dining room, with her pretty head held very high indeed, -to encounter Mr. John Everett's blue eyes fixed upon her with an -expression of respectful sympathy. He had thoughtfully installed his -small nephew in a tall highchair, and was awkwardly tying a bib about -his neck. - -"I'm to feed Master Buster, if you please, sir," said Jane, with a -severe tightening of her pretty lips. - -"All right," agreed Mr. Everett cheerfully. "Now Buster, if you'll be a -good boy and eat your supper without howling for your mother, I'll go -down to the grocery store and buy you some candy. Do you hear, young -man?" - -"Yeth," assented the infant, fixing solemn, expectant eyes upon Jane. -"Will you bwing her some, too?" - -Apparently Mr. Everett did not hear this question. "Now, mind, Buster," -he said seriously, "no kicking, no howling for mother. Sit up; be a man, -and eat this supper like a Trojan. I'll be back before you're through, -with at least four chocolate drops." - -Jane sternly suppressed the feeling of gratitude, which threatened to -well up in her homesick heart, with an exuberance entirely -disproportionate to the occasion. But John Everett had already caught -the upward flicker of the girl's long lashes, and the shadow of a smile -which hovered about her mouth. This particular young American was -thinking of many things as he strode briskly toward the grocery; but -chiefly of the arena presented by his sister's small kitchen, and of the -varied actors therein. - -"Man's inhumanity to man may be a live topic," reflected Mr. Everett -sagely, "but what about woman's inhumanity to woman? And yet sis doesn't -mean to be unkind." - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -The growing conviction of her own folly haunted Jane even in her belated -dreams, in which she found herself once more in the pleasant English -schoolroom superintending her two small cousins in their youthful -efforts to comprehend the fundamental principles of good conduct. "You -should always be considerate to those beneath you, Percy," she seemed to -be saying, "and help them whenever you can." Then she had quoted the -grand old motto of the French aristocracy, "_noblesse oblige_," -explaining how one's superiority in any particular only added to one's -obligation to those less fortunate. - -It was hard to awaken from this dream to find the rain beating heavily -upon the roof of Mrs. Belknap's trunkroom, and to realize, from an -inspection of the loud-voiced nickel clock which she had been told to -take upstairs, that she was very late indeed. - -Mrs. Belknap was engaged in preparing breakfast as expeditiously as was -possible with her child hanging about her skirts and clamoring for his -food. She bestowed an impatient glance upon Jane as she entered the -kitchen, which had the effect of dispelling that young person's -contrition as effectually as one of Lady Agatha's ill-timed reproaches. - -"I am sorry to be late," said Jane stiffly. - -Mrs. Belknap did not reply. At the moment she was adding boiling water -to the coffee pot, and stirring its contents with a long-handled spoon. - -Jane shrugged her shoulders. "She's an ill-bred person," she told -herself resentfully. "Shall I lay the table, madam?" she ventured, after -an uncomfortable silence, during which she watched her young mistress's -deft motions with dismayed interest. - -"That is already done," replied Mrs. Belknap, turning her pretty, -flushed face upon Jane. "I believe I told you last night that Mr. -Belknap and Mr. Everett were obliged to leave for the city on the -half-past seven car. You should have been down an hour ago. I never call -a servant," she added severely. - -Jane swallowed hard. Then _noblesse oblige_ recurred to her mind. "You -did tell me," she said, very gently, "and I am sorry I overslept. I will -try not to do that again. Shall I give Master Buster his breakfast, -ma'am?" - -A variety of expressions passed in rapid succession over Mrs. Belknap's -mobile face, astonishment, pleasure, and a subdued twinkle of fun shone -in her eyes as she again turned to Jane. "Why, yes; you may--if he will -go with you." - -A fleeting sense of wonder at this unchanging attitude of subserviency -toward the infant pervaded Jane's English mind. Then she stooped toward -the child. "If you will come with me, Master Buster, I will give you -your breakfast." - -The child stared at her thoughtfully; then to his mother's manifest -astonishment he accepted the invitation. "I will do wiv oo," he said, -with immense condescension. - -Mrs. Belknap heaved a thankful sigh. "How _sweet_ of the darling!" she -murmured. "Here is his breakfast food, Jane. He likes it with cream and -sugar. You may give him the juice of half an orange and two slices of -this whole wheat bread toasted, with butter. He will breakfast with us -this morning." - -As Jane, in her frilled cap and white apron, bearing a tray, entered the -dining room she encountered Mr. John Everett. He looked at her -inquiringly. "Good morning," he said cheerfully. - -"Good morning, sir," replied Jane unsmilingly, then blushed angrily to -find herself blushing. "He is very rude to notice a servant so -particularly," she told herself. Then her curiosity got the better of -her, and she stole a second glance at him. Mr. Everett was apparently -quite absorbed in his paper at the moment, and Jane had ample -opportunity to observe the fine, strong lines of his clean-shaven face. -He was undeniably handsome, Jane was forced to admit, and he looked -kind and sensible. - -The small boy known as Buster now appeared, borne high aloft in his tall -father's arms, and presently the entire family was seated at the table. - -Jane hated herself anew as she waited by her mistress's chair to pass -the cups of coffee on her little tray. Try as she would she could not -rid herself of the vision of Lady Agatha's scornful eyes, while Reginald -and Gwendolen seemed quietly to mock her from across the sea. In an -interval of absence from the dining room, in quest of fresh toast, she -caught a trill of low laughter; then Mrs. Belknap's carrying -voice--"Really quite impressive, isn't she? But I fear she's bound to be -more ornamental than useful." - -Jane's indignant blushes betrayed her to at least one pair of eyes when -she reëntered the dining room, and Mr. John Everett plainly looked his -displeasure at his pretty sister, who was still exchanging smiles with -her husband. - -"How would _you_ like it, sis?" Jane heard him ask pointedly, as the -two men were putting on their coats in the front hall. - -"How _do_ I like it, you mean, Jack. Well, I only hope you'll find me -alive to-night," Mrs. Belknap had replied. Then she came out airily to -the kitchen, where Jane was awkwardly gathering the breakfast things -preparatory to washing them. - -"Now, Jane," said Mrs. Belknap, producing a leather-covered account -book, with a pretty air of importance, "I must have a little talk with -you. What is your full name, please?" - -"Jane Evelyn Aubrey-Blythe," replied Jane distinctly. "My nobleness -obliges me to be truthful and polite," she thought. - -Mrs. Belknap was surveying her with an incredulous smile. "Not -_really_?" she said. "You found that name in a novel, didn't you?" - -"No, madam," said Jane coldly, "that is my full name." - -"Where did you work before you came to me?" went on Mrs. Belknap, with -a pause of her busy pencil. - -Jane hesitated. - -Mrs. Belknap's clear eyes demanded instant answer, somewhat after the -manner of a magistrate conducting a legal examination. Master Belknap, -who was leaning upon his mother's knee in a complacently postprandial -state, also centered his direct gaze upon the girl's face. - -"I--worked, that is, I was last employed by a--Mrs. Markle or--Madam -Melbrun," faltered Jane, loudly clashing the cups in her confusion. - -"Be careful not to break the china, Jane," advised Mrs. Belknap, with -housewifely care. "In what capacity were you employed by this Mrs. or -Madam--what was the name?" - -"I don't know," confessed Jane, with desperate frankness. "She told me -her name was Markle; afterwards she said it was Melbrun." - -Mrs. Belknap shook her head, as she again glanced seriously at the name -with which she had just headed the clear, new page in her book of -accounts. "I cannot understand," she said strongly, "why people should -lie about their names, or, indeed, about anything. It is so much more -_sensible_ to tell the truth. That is what I often tell Mary: '_Do_ tell -me the truth, Mary,' I say to her. But I fear she never does." - -"What, never?" exclaimed Jane, unconsciously plagiarizing from a comic -opera. - -"It is a habit, I fear," said Mrs. Belknap in a depressed tone, "telling -falsehoods, I mean; some persons tell them when they might just as well -tell the truth, even from their own standpoint. Of course," she added -hastily, "it is always _right_ and _best_ to tell the exact truth. I -hope, Jane, that _you_ are a _truthful_ girl. You will get on much -better with _me_ if you are. Now what did you do for this person for -whom you last worked?" - -"I smuggled," said Jane shortly. - -"You--_what_?" - -"Smuggled," repeated Jane; "I smuggled lace--five thousand dollars -worth, the man said. Mrs. Markle sewed it in my jacket between the -lining and the outside. But they found it and took it away." - -Mrs. Belknap looked actually frightened for a minute. "I--I don't -believe it," she murmured weakly. - -"I didn't know Mrs. Markle put the lace there," Jane went on firmly. -"She gave me a beautiful fur coat to wear on the ship, and asked me to -leave my jacket in her stateroom. She sewed the lace in the jacket -during the voyage." - -"You _look_ like a truthful girl," mused Mrs. Belknap. "But-- Then you -have just come to America," she added shrewdly, "and you have no -references, of course?" - -"No, Mrs. Belknap; I have not," replied Jane, expecting no less than an -instant dismissal after this damaging statement. - -To her great surprise the lady closed her book with a slight shrug of -her shapely shoulders. "The matter of wages we discussed last night," -she said tentatively. "Now I am expecting Mrs. Whittaker to wash this -morning; you will put the kitchen to rights as quickly as you can. And -remember, Jane, that although you have no references I shall soon be -able to find out just what sort of a girl you are. I am not easily -deceived." - -This improving conversation was interrupted by the arrival at the back -door of a tall, thin, dyspeptic-looking person attired in a rusty black -gown and a dispirited hat, both of which articles of attire had -obviously seen better days. - -"Good mornin', Mis' Belknap," began this individual, with a trenchant -sniff, as she divested herself of her draggled black skirt, which was -thus revealed as a sort of drop curtain concealing a scant gingham -wrapper beneath, girt about the waist with a decent checkered apron. - -Mrs. Belknap displayed her white teeth in a winning smile as she -replied. "And this is my new maid, Jane Blythe," she added, indicating -that young person with an affable gesture. - -"My! you ain't tellin' me that Mary MacGrotty's left you?" exclaimed -Mrs. Whittaker in a sympathizing tone; "as good an' kind as you've be'n -to her! I sh'd think she'd be 'shamed to treat you so mean. As I says to -m' 'usband this mornin', 'Mary MacGrotty,' I says, 'don't know when -she's well off, a-livin' with that sweet young lady.'" - -"I expect Mary back within a few days," Mrs. Belknap said guardedly. -"She's away just now." - -Mrs. Whittaker bent over the tubs with a deep, discouraged sigh. "M' -back's mos' broke this mornin'," she observed, flapping a wet sheet on -the board and lathering it freely with soap; "but what with five -childern to work fer, an' m' 'usband out o' work since Christmas, it -comes pretty hard on a body. Was you expectin' to stay right along?" - -"Were you speaking to me?" asked Jane coldly. - -Mrs. Whittaker cast a guarded glance about the kitchen. "She's gone; -ain't she? She ain't plannin' to keep _two_, is she?" - -Jane made no reply. Mrs. Whittaker gazed at her for a moment with her -soapy arms akimbo. "You won't like it here," she said at last. "I c'n -see that without ha'f lookin'. _She's turrible to work fur._ _I_ -couldn't stan' her--more'n fur a day now an' then. As I tell m' 'usband, -I wasn't made to be bossed by nobody. I'm awful proud an' independent, -an' _she_ thinks she's the hull thing. I guess if she knew all 'at I -know 'bout the goin's on in this 'ere kitchen she wouldn't be quite so -uppity." - -A light step at the door announced the hasty return of Mrs. Belknap; -Mrs. Whittaker was discovered diligently rubbing, with a sad, but -resigned, expression of countenance. - -"I brought down this embroidered shirt-waist for you to wash, Mrs. -Whittaker, and will you please be careful not to rub the embroidery on -the board; it isn't much soiled, you see; a little of this white soap -will be best for the flannels and for all these fine white things. By -the way, you haven't put any of that washing powder into the water, have -you? I buy that for the floors and tables; Mary thinks she can't get -along without it. But it is very bad for the clothes." - -Mrs. Whittaker received the garment in question with an air of lofty -unconcern. "I wuz never known to put that nasty yellow stuff in m' -clo'es," she said haughtily. "I sh'd think you'd know me well 'nough by -this time to be sure o' that, Mis' Belknap. You don't need to worry -about nothin' when _I'm_ in the kitchen." - -"I know you're very careful, Mrs. Whittaker," the young mistress of the -house made haste to assure her. - -"I 'ope she'll keep out the kitchen the rest of the day," Mrs. Whittaker -observed acridly, as the door closed on Mrs. Belknap's retreating -figure. "The simple idee of _her_ teaching _me_ how to wash! No washin' -powder, indeed! Well, I guess I ain't a-goin' to rub m' fingers to the -bone fur her! That there white soap ain't worth shucks. But I'll take it -'ome with me; it'll do to wash the childern with." - -Mrs. Whittaker sighed deeply as she crossed the floor with the cake of -white soap. "I'll just leave it in m' pocket," she said. "Is there a -drop of tea in that pot? No? Well, I'll make me a cup, I guess. My! I -feel s' kind o' weak an' gone at the pit o' my stomick this mornin', as -I wuz tellin' m' 'usband: 'I guess I'll have to take it 's easy 's I can -to-day,' I says. An' 'e says, 'Do,' 'e says, 'an' come home 's early 's -you can, Maria.' No; you won't be in this place long. You won't like it. -Me an' Mary gits along pretty fair; but she won't stan' another girl -around. Many's the time she's said so to me, right in this kitchen." - -Jane hastily hung up the tea towels; her ears were burning under the -loose waves of her hair. - -"I'll help m'self to what I want to eat," Mrs. Whittaker was saying -amiably; "I know where everythin' is, an' you don't need to stay 'round -here on my account. If you was wantin' to change yer place when your -week's out I know a real nice woman down the street 'at ain't got a -girl. I promised her yeste'd'y 'at I'd inquire 'round. I'd like to -'commodate _her_; her youngest girl's clo'es just fits my Edie May. -She's a nice woman to work for, too; she ain't always a-snoopin' 'round -like some other folks I know of." - -Mrs. Whittaker paused to empty a liberal shower of the tabooed washing -compound into the boiler which was beginning to steam upon the range; -then she rummaged in the pocket of her gown with an abstracted air. -"Gracious! I 'ope I didn't leave that washin' soda to home. No; 'ere it -is." - -Jane observed Mrs. Whittaker's movements with astonished interest as she -proceeded to cast certain large fragments of a whitish substance after -the washing powder. "Washin' soda's m' best friend, as I tell my 'usband -frequent. I most always carry some with me. Most the women I work for -can't abide it; but it takes the dirt out, an' it saves m' back. I don't -ask 'em to buy it, an' 's long 's I furnish it m'self I say it's none o' -their business. Mind, you don't say nothin' to _her_ 'bout my puttin' -washin' soda in the boiler! But I guess you ain't that kind nohow, as I -was sayin'----" - -Jane hurriedly fled, the woman's whining voice sounding in her ears. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -"Now, Jane," Mrs. Belknap observed pleasantly, "you may put the chambers -and bathroom in nice order; and then you may sweep the stairs, the hall, -and the front piazza. As a rule I should like to have all that attended -to before breakfast. When Mary returns I will prepare a schedule of your -work carefully arranged for the different days, so that there can be no -possible misunderstanding with regard to it. Aren't you feeling well?" -she added, with severe kindness, as she eyed Jane's proud little face -which too plainly betrayed the wakeful hours of the previous night and -the heavy, unrefreshing slumber of the early morning. "I hope you are -not delicate." - -Jane straightened her slim figure. "Thank you, Mrs. Belknap, I am -feeling quite well," she replied coldly. - -"Very well, then; you will find the brushes and dusters in this closet, -and I should like you to be careful to keep them in their place.--Dear -me! I wonder what that child can be doing?" - -The sound of running water and the tinkle of broken glass reached their -ears from an adjoining room. "Oh, you _naughty_ boy! What _will_ mother -do with you!" - -"I was dest cweanin' my teef, muzzer, an' I dwopped 'e' gwass, an' it -_b-w-owke_!" explained the small boy earnestly. "An' all 'e' toof-powder -'pilled on 'e' floor! It's nice an' _s-w-e-et_, muzzer! I like -toof-powder." - -"Oh, Buster Belknap, you haven't been _eating_ tooth-powder?" - -"I cweaned my teef, an I dwopped 'e' gwass, an' I----" - -Further explanations were rendered impossible by Mrs. Belknap's prompt -and heroic measures. The naughty pink mouth was forced open and rapidly -explored by maternal eyes and fingers, while Jane was required to fetch -in rapid succession a glass of water, a clean towel, and a fresh -pinafore. - -During the process the small boy screamed and struggled manfully if -ineffectually; but once washed, dried, and freshly arrayed he pranced -gayly away, his countenance composed and cheerful. - -Jane was by this time busily engaged in sweeping the front stairs, while -she wondered miserably if any girl in the whole world could be so -unhappy and friendless as herself. She wished gloomily that she had not -run away from Portland Square. She condemned herself bitterly for the -pride and vainglory of her hasty actions, and with it all wave after -wave of desperate homesickness surged over her young soul. It was -scarcely to be wondered at that dust accumulated in dark nooks and -corners should escape the notice of the tear-blurred hazel eyes, nor -that the unswept rugs should be thoughtlessly pushed to one side. - -She was suddenly recalled to a sense of these shortcomings by Mrs. -Belknap's crisp, American voice. "Why, _Jane_! You are not doing this -work at all properly. One would think it was your first experience in -sweeping!" - -"It is, ma'am," said Jane hopelessly. - -"Dear me! I'm afraid this will never do," went on Mrs. Belknap, with a -discouraged sigh. "Can't you _see_ the dirt? Here, let me show you!" - -Jane stared at the faultless demonstration of housewifely skill with -sullen resentment. In her own eyes she seemed to have sunken to a plane -infinitely beneath that occupied by Susan, the housemaid in the Portland -Square mansion. Susan, at least, knew how to do her work thoroughly and -well. - -"Now, Jane, will you try again?" asked Mrs. Belknap, pleasantly -conscious of a most praiseworthy patience and self-control. "I am sure -you can sweep down these stairs properly, _if you try_, and if you will -put your mind upon what you are doing. Then these rugs--I _think_ I told -you to take them out of doors to brush. They are quite filled with dust -and germs, I dare say." - -Mrs. Belknap appeared to expect some sort of reply to this serious -arraignment, for she eyed Jane searchingly. - -"You didn't mention the rugs, ma'am," said poor Jane, with an -uncontrollable quiver of her mutinous mouth; "but I will take them out, -if you would like me to." - -As she bore her burden through the kitchen Mrs. Whittaker suspended her -monotonous labors to remark: "My! _I_ wouldn't stir a foot to clean them -rugs, if I was you. That's man's work. Mis' Radford--her 'at I was -tellin' you wanted a girl--hires a man to clean the rugs every Thursday. -'Tain't no more'n right, neither!" - -The sun was shining cheerfully out of doors, and a brisk wind was -hurrying the big, white clouds across the April sky. In spite of herself -the clean, wholesome air and active exercise restored Jane's spirits. -"I'll soon earn enough money to pay my passage back to England," she -told herself, "and then--I can easily get a place as governess -somewhere." - -The capricious breeze whipped her brown hair in clouds across her eyes, -quite blinding her to the approach of the stout, rubicund, showily -dressed person who paused to stare curiously at Jane before entering the -kitchen door. - -This individual was discovered in close consultation with Mrs. Whittaker -as Jane passed through the kitchen. - -"That's what I tol' 'er," the laundress was remarking plaintively, as -she passed a succession of dripping articles through the wringer, "Mary -won't never stan' another girl in 'er kitchen, I says, an' it'll likely -lose me a day a week besides. It ain't right to take the bread out o' my -pore childern's mouths to put into hern; that it ain't!" - -Mrs. Belknap was investing her child in coat and cap, with a somewhat -worried expression on her pretty face, as Jane reëntered the hall. -"Please don't talk to Mrs. Whittaker any more than you can help, Jane," -she said seriously. "I think it hinders her in her work." - -"I haven't spoken to the woman, ma'am," replied Jane, justly indignant. -"I can't help it if she talks to me; but I'm sure I'm not interested in -what she says." - -"You shouldn't answer me in that tone, Jane," advised Mrs. Belknap -warmly. "Oh, I do believe Mary has come back!" - -"Yis, mum; I've come back; but I ain't sure as I'll stay," announced a -rich Irish voice from the door. - -"O _Mary_! where have you been? I didn't know what to think when I found -you were gone again." - -"Well, mum, you hadn't no more'n turned the corner before the telephone -bell rang. It was me cousin in Tompkinsville. 'O Mary MacGrotty,' she -says, whin she heard my voice, 'Aunt Bridget's tuk awful bad,' she says; -'you must come to wanst!' 'I'll come,' I says, 'an' stay wid yez just -_wan hour_! I've me dinner to get,' I says, 'an' me leddy's out.' But -whin I got to me cousin's house I found me aunt in strong convulsions. -'Sure, an' you won't have the heart to lave 'er like this,' they all -says to me; an' so I stayed the night. She's some better this mornin', -the saints be praised; but I guess I'll be goin' back, as I see you've -help a-plinty." - -"O Mary!" Mrs. Belknap said earnestly, "I _want_ you to _stay_. I've -hired Jane to help me with Buster, and she'll wait at table besides and -do the upstairs sweeping. You'll find it _much_ easier." - -Miss MacGrotty folded her fat arms and surveyed Jane with coldly -critical eyes. "If I'd a known you was wantin' a sicond gurl, I cud 'a' -got you my niece--me brother's youngest daughter, Annie. She's a -_lovely_ worker an' used to childern. Where did you git the loikes o' -_her_," she added, with a scornful toss of her plumed head. - -"From an agency in New York," replied Mrs. Belknap, with a conciliatory -mildness of demeanor which astonished Jane. "I think you'll find Jane a -pleasant help and companion, and Jane, I hope you'll get along nicely -with Mary. And now that you've finished laying down the rugs, Jane, -won't you put on your hat and go out with Buster. He's in the side -yard; but I fear he'll run away if he's left to himself too long." - -When Jane came down from her attic room attired for the street Mrs. -Belknap stopped her to say pointedly: "You've forgotten your apron, -Jane; you'll find a clean one in the top drawer of the dining-room -closet." - -Poor Jane was quite unaware of the subtle psychological processes which -contributed to her feeling of loathing for that innocent and spotless -article of attire. But the apron appeared to be the last straw added to -the already intolerable burden of her acute discomfort. Her pretty face -was clouded and gloomy as she walked slowly across the muddy road in -pursuit of the brilliant red tam perched on Master Belknap's curly head. - -Mrs. Belknap, watching from an upper window, frowned and shrugged her -shoulders. "I don't know whether it will pay to bother with that girl," -she murmured. "I'm sure I haven't experienced a peaceful moment since -she came, so far; but perhaps I can train her if I am patient." - -The training process presently called for a fresh rebuke, with copious -explanatory notes and commentaries, when Jane returned to the house half -an hour later bearing Master Belknap, who was screaming and kicking with -all the pent-up energy of a young cyclone. - -"What _is_ the matter with Buster, Jane?" demanded his mother excitedly, -as she ran hastily down the front stairs to receive the two. - -"He wanted to play in the muddy water with another little boy named -Buster Bliss," replied Jane, quite breathless with her exertions; "and -when I asked him not to get wet, he threw mud at me and at the other -child; then I thought best to bring him home." - -"Oh, I don't like him to play with that Bliss child at all; he's a very -rude boy!" exclaimed Mrs. Belknap. "I meant to have told you about that, -Jane. Stop crying, darling, and let mother wipe your tears--poor little -sweetheart; his hands are as cold as ice, and--why, Jane, his sleeves -are wringing wet, and covered with mud; and his feet, too! dear, -_dear_!" - -"Yes, ma'am," said Jane, "he _would_ play in the water; that is why I -carried him home. He sat right down in the mud, ma'am." - -"But why did you _allow_ it? Really, Jane, I can see that you are not at -all used to children. Have you ever had the care of one before? One has -to _manage_, you know." - -Jane made no reply. And Mrs. Belknap did not seem to notice the omission -in the strenuous process of rehabilitation which immediately ensued. - -Jane stood meekly by, supplying the needful articles one by one. When -all was over and the child released from his mother's fond arms, with a -rapturous kiss, she ventured upon a single question. - -"When Master Buster says he 'won't' what am I to do, ma'am?" - -Mrs. Belknap leaned back in her chair with a far-away look in her bright -eyes. Finally she replied: "You must _contrive_ not to have him say -'won't' to you, Jane. It requires infinite tact and patience to care for -a high-spirited child like Buster. Of course, I could not allow you to -_punish_ him in any way. I do not believe in corporal punishment; and -even if I approved of it, I should never relegate it to other hands." - -"And about the other children, ma'am; I noticed several in the -neighborhood while I was out. There was another very rude child named -Buster Yates--at least the little girl who was with him said so--I -couldn't help wondering----" - -"About what, Jane?" asked Mrs. Belknap indulgently. "I suppose -everything in America is quite new and strange to you," she added rather -proudly; "I shall always be glad to explain what you do not understand." - -"Would you mind telling me why so many little boys in America are -called--_Buster_? It's a very curious name. I never heard it in -England." - -Mrs. Belknap laughed heartily. "That's very easily explained," she said. -"It is really a nickname taken from a series of humorous pictures in -one of the newspapers. Quite possibly people are overdoing it," she -added meditatively. - -Jane looked mystified. - -"Our Buster's name is really Everett Livingstone, and the Bliss child is -Ralph, I believe; and Mrs. Yates's little boy is named Frederick. The -Caldwells call their Arthur 'Buster,' and in town the Elwells and the -Farleys and--yes, ever so many others have 'Busters.' It must have -struck you as being very singular." - -"Yes, Mrs. Belknap," said Jane pointedly. "It did." - -As John Everett was returning from the city that night, and many nights -thereafter, he found himself dwelling with singular intentness on the -piquant face of his sister's English maid; it seemed to look out at him -wistfully from the damp folds of his evening paper, and to haunt the -twilight seclusion of the ferryboat deck upon which he was accustomed to -tramp many a breezy mile in his daily trips across New York's spacious -harbor. - -John Everett was a graduate of Yale and a budding lawyer, employed in a -down-town law office. He had unhesitatingly expended every cent of a -slender patrimony in obtaining his education, and at present was in the -hopeful position of a strong swimmer striking out unhampered for a -distant shore. He fully expected to reach that shore--some time; but a -man swimming for his life in the deep and perilous current of an untried -profession has no business to dwell upon the alluring vision of any -woman's face. That the woman of his shy boyhood dreams was waiting for -him on that far-off shore, he felt reasonably sure; but even this -conviction could not prevent him from feeling sorry for Jane. She was -struggling in deep water, too, and would she--could she reach the shore -in safety, unless some one---- - -"I am a fool!" John Everett told himself vigorously, and squared his -broad shoulders to the bracing ocean wind, which blew damp and salt from -the vasty deeps outside the Hook. - -Half an hour later he came upon Jane at the corner, whither she had been -sent to post a letter. There were half-dried tears sparkling upon her -long lashes, and her mouth drooped pathetically at the corners. - -"What is the trouble, Jane?" he couldn't help asking; his blue eyes said -more. - -Jane ignored both. "There is nothing the matter, sir," she said icily, -and drew back to let him pass. - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -More than a fortnight had passed and Jane was still engaged in "doing -second work" in the modest detached villa, otherwise known as the -residence of Mr. and Mrs. James Livingstone Belknap. Toward the end of -her first week of service she had received a letter from her good -friend, Bertha Forbes, urging her to return to England at once in the -company of an acquaintance who was to be sent across on customhouse -business. "I will arrange for the transportation," added Miss Forbes -generously; "I want to feel that you are safe at home with your family -once more." - -Jane read this letter at the close of a peculiarly trying day, in which -she had encountered divers rapids and cross currents in both kitchen and -parlor. Mary MacGrotty was downright cross, Master Belknap peculiarly -and aggravatingly mischievous, and Mrs. Belknap, grievously -disappointed in her enlarged _ménage_, inclined to concentrate her -irritation upon Jane's defenseless head. - -"Sure, an' that gurl's more trouble than she's worth to ye," Mary -MacGrotty had declared; "an' I towld yez when I come as how I c'u'dn't -stan' fer no second gurl under me feet." - -"If you weren't away so often, Mary," began Mrs. Belknap weakly, "I -should----" - -"Sure, an' I can't help _that_," interjected Miss MacGrotty strongly. -"Blood is thicker 'an water, I'm thinkin', an' me fambly is that delicut -an' ailin'. Me cousin's wife's mother was tuk bad of a Sunday," she -added darkly. "I'm expectin' to hear of her death most any minute, an' -the fun'ral 'll be to Brooklyn." - -Mrs. Belknap sighed apprehensively. "By the way, Mary," she observed in -a carefully modulated voice, which asked for information only, "have you -chanced to see my carved shell comb anywhere about the house? I must -have dropped it from my hair, I think, and I haven't been able to find -it." - -Mary MacGrotty faced about. "I have _not_!" she said emphatically. Then -she pursed up her lips. "Hev you asked _her_, mum?" she demanded in a -sepulchral whisper. - -"You mean Jane? Oh, yes, I told her of my loss yesterday. Never mind; I -dare say I shall find it soon. I hope so, anyway. It was rather a -valuable comb, given me by Mr. Belknap soon after we were married, so I -think a good deal of it." - -Miss MacGrotty's red elbows vibrated slightly as her mistress left the -kitchen; and Jane, who entered a moment later in quest of a glass of -water for her young charge, found her smiling evilly into the depths of -an iron pot. - -"If you've got her comb hid away anywheres," muttered Mary, "you'd -better watch out; she's onto yez!" - -"But I haven't hidden her comb," retorted Jane, shaken out of her usual -attitude of calm disdain toward the presiding genius of the kitchen. -"You know I wouldn't do such a thing." - -"Aw; do I, thin'!" jeered Miss MacGrotty. "Well, you moind what I say; -that's all! _I_ ain't a-goin' to be blamed fer your doin's, miss." - -"I shall have to go back to England," Jane told herself, as she left the -kitchen hot with rage and shame. - -Master Belknap was for the moment playing peacefully in his sand pile, -and Jane, who had been bidden to keep close watch upon his movements, -stood looking down at him, winking fast to keep the angry tears from -clouding her eyes. One, two, three great sparkling drops got the better -of her and fell flashing into the sand; then Jane glanced up to find -John Everett looking at her with an expression of poignant anxiety on -his honest face. - -"You are crying," he said in a low voice. "Why? Doesn't my sister----" - -"Oh, it is nothing! I----" To her immense dismay Jane choked over an -unmistakable sob which wrenched her slender throat. "I wish you -would--not----" - -"But I can't help it, when I see you so unhappy. Haven't you any friends -in America?" - -"No-o--that is--I have one," said Jane, remembering Bertha Forbes's -unanswered letter. - -"A man?" he asked, with sudden sharp anxiety. - -Jane looked at him indignantly. "I don't know any man," she said. - -"You know me," he murmured. "I should like to be your friend, Jane; may -I?" - -The girl made no reply. Instead she turned and walked steadily toward -the house. "I will go back to England," she assured herself a second -time. But when at last she had leisure to answer Miss Forbes's letter -she found herself refusing her kind offer point blank. "I could not put -myself under so great an obligation to you," she wrote. "Besides, I am -quite safe and not too unhappy here; and I shall soon have earned the -money for my passage." - -Miss Forbes read this ingenuous epistle with a suspicious lifting of -her sagacious brows. "I think I'll try and run over to Staten Island and -see what sort of a place she's in," she said aloud. - -But she forgot this friendly resolution in the rush of the next day's -business, and was only recalled to the memory of it by an interview with -one of the passengers on the incoming liner. The interview was not of an -official nature, and its finish found Miss Forbes nervously chewing her -pencil in a state of singular agitation. - -To search for a person who has ostensibly started upon an indefinite -tour of the United States is not unlike the traditional hunt for a -needle in a haymow; nevertheless the Hon. Wipplinger Towle had gallantly -embarked upon the quest, panoplied with infinite leisure, unlimited -money, and the well-disciplined patience of middle age. - -He had not seen fit to acquaint the house of Aubrey-Blythe with his -intentions; being disposed, quite irrationally, to lay the fact of -Jane's flight at its door. Mr. Towle was an exceedingly calm not to say -mild-tempered man, a fact which very few persons intimidated by his -stern eyes and boldly modeled chin ever found out; but upon occasions he -could be severely implacable in his slowly acquired opinions. With a -sagacity more than masculine he suspected that the failure of his -matrimonial plans and the subsequent disappearance of Jane might be -traced to Lady Agatha Aubrey-Blythe, and he actually had the temerity to -tax that noble lady with both in her own drawing-room. - -Lady Agatha's righteous indignation was kept in leash for some moments -by her knowledge of Mr. Towle's wealth and the hope that his elderly -fancy on matrimony bent might yet be guided toward the unattractive -Gwendolen; but it burst its bonds when the full import of his deliberate -utterances finally penetrated her intrenched understanding. She turned -white with fury as she focused her light-blue stare upon the audacious -Mr. Towle. - -"Do you mean to _intimate_ that you think it _my_ fault that my -husband's niece has _disgraced_ herself and the family by running away -like a governess in a cheap romance?" she demanded, in unequivocal -English. - -"Hum--ah," said Mr. Towle, quite unabashed. "I--er--beg your pardon, -Lady Agatha, if I appear rude, but did you not say some rather nasty -things to Jane the day before she left? I--er--fancy, don't you know, -that it might make me run away to be told that I was absolutely -unattractive, not at all clever, and--ah--dependent upon others for the -bread that I ate." - -"Did the shameless girl tell you that?" cried Lady Agatha, more enraged -by the Honorable Wipplinger's uncompromising manner than by his words. -"And after _all_ that we have done for her, too!" - -"Just--er--_what_ have you done for her, if I may inquire?" - -"What have we done for Jane Blythe? How can you ask such a question! The -girl was left on our hands with scarcely a penny to her name when she -was a mere infant. We have done everything--_everything_, and this is -the way she rewards our kindness--our Christian charity! I trust I may -never see the ungrateful creature again." - -"If there is anything," said the Hon. Wipplinger Towle, with exceeding -deliberation, "which I despise on earth, it is the--er--damnable -sentiment miscalled Christian charity. It has ruined more persons than -gin, in my humble opinion." - -After which he took his leave with scant ceremony, Lady Agatha remaining -stock still in her chair in a state of semipetrifaction. - -An hour later, having recovered the power of speech, she requested her -husband to formally forbid Mr. Towle the house; which Mr. Robert -Aubrey-Blythe, on his part, flatly refused to do. Whereupon ensued one -of an inconsiderable number of battles between the pair, during the -course of which Lady Agatha, having taunted her husband with his -inferior lineage, was reduced to tears by being reminded of her own -dowerless condition when she condescended from her high estate to wed -the rich commoner. - -Perceiving his decisive victory, Mr. Robert Aubrey-Blythe waxed -magnanimous to the point of begging the lady's pardon. "It's deucedly -bad form to quarrel, Agatha; and what's more it's ruinous to the nerves -and digestion," he had concluded sagely. "You've gone off ten years at -least in your looks, my dear, from falling into such a rage over nothing -at all." - -"Nothing at all!" echoed Lady Agatha. "Why, Robert, the man used the -most _frightful_ language in my presence. Fancy being told that -Christian charity has ruined more persons than gin! And as for the -profane adjective he used in connection with that speech, I refuse to -soil my tongue with it!" - -Mr. Aubrey-Blythe cleared his throat with some violence. "Oh--er--as to -that, I've always said that Towle was a clever fellow--a deucedly clever -fellow," he observed meditatively. "He's nobody's fool, is Towle; and -mind you forget all about this the next time I ask him to dine; for ask -him I shall, Lady Agatha, whenever I please; and you'll be careful to be -civil to him, madam." - -But the Hon. Wipplinger Towle was not available as a dinner guest for -several weeks thereafter; the fact being that having duly reflected upon -the information conveyed to him by the grateful Susan, he had found that -the shoe fitted, had instantly put it on, and had started for America on -the trail of Jane. - -Fate, as is her occasional custom, was scornfully kind to this elderly -Sir Galahad, and he struck a warm scent before ever he had landed from -the steamer in the shape of a romantic newspaper story in which figured -an elderly French female smuggler, said to be an old hand at the game, -and a beautiful and innocent young English girl (name not given). -Scornful Fate glued the Honorable Wipplinger's eyes to this spirited -account penned by an enthusiastic young reporter, who chanced to be -nosing about the customhouse after material, and Mr. Towle, although as -devoid of imagination as the average male Briton usually is, -nevertheless pictured Jane as the unlucky heroine of the moving tale. - -The reporter's richly adjectived phrase--"The slender little maiden, -with her true English complexion of cream and roses, lit up by sparkling -hazel eyes"--appeared to fit Jane with disconcerting completeness. - -When he landed, immediately after perusing it, Mr. Towle took the pains -at once to look into the matter; and this explains the unofficial -interview before alluded to, in the course of which Miss Bertha Forbes -reduced the top of her lead pencil to a splintery pulp, more after the -fashion of an embarrassed schoolgirl than a stern-faced customs -official. - -"No, sir, we do not as a rule make it a practice to give out information -regarding what takes place in our department," Miss Forbes informed the -tall Englishman. - -"Hum--ah; can you inform me whether there is any truth in this account?" -Mr. Towle persisted. "The description of the--er--smugglers tallies -with that of the two persons I am in search of." - -Miss Forbes cast her eyes coldly over the newspaper item. "There have -been several similar cases of late," she admitted. "But this states, you -notice, that both parties were immediately dismissed upon confiscation -of the goods. It is not a part of my work to keep track of detected -smugglers, and so of course----" - -"You--er--saw the young girl described in the story; did you not?" - -"I--I couldn't be sure of it," prevaricated Miss Forbes, actually -blushing. - -The Hon. Wipplinger Towle fixed his glass more firmly in his eye and -proceeded to stare the intrepid Bertha out of countenance "I beg your -pardon," he observed masterfully, "but I--er--fancy you're mistaken." - -"In what?" snapped the female inspector. - -"In saying you're not sure you saw Miss Blythe. You--er--recall the -whole incident perfectly, I am confident." - -"Of all the--impudence!" murmured Miss Forbes, somewhat excitedly. -"Well, suppose I do; what then?" - -"If you know where she is, it will be greatly to her advantage if you -will tell me," said Mr. Towle mildly. - -"I don't know about that," mused Bertha Forbes. "Who, for example, are -you? You're not her uncle." - -"Thank you," said Mr. Towle astutely. "No; I am not a relative of Miss -Blythe's. I am--er--merely a friend. But I beg to assure you that I have -her best interests warmly at heart." - -"Humph!--Well, I guess you have," admitted Miss Forbes, after a -prolonged semi-official scrutiny of Mr. Towle's countenance, an ordeal -which that honorable gentleman bore with the calm of conscious -integrity. "But for all that I don't think I shall tell you where she -is." - -"Why not?" urged Mr. Towle, with an agitation which caused him to appear -almost youthful. - -"Because I'm sure she wouldn't thank me for it," said Bertha Forbes -coolly. "Good day, sir." - -"By heavens, madam, I'll not be put off like this!" declared Mr. Towle, -very much in earnest. "I came to America on purpose to find her." - -"Find her then," advised Miss Forbes, with tantalizing brevity. "I can't -talk to you any longer to-day." - -"To-morrow then?" Mr. Towle caught eagerly at the straw of suggestion in -her last word. - -But Miss Forbes was denied to unofficial visitors on the following day, -and for three days thereafter, a period which Mr. Towle endured with -such resignation as he could muster. - -On the fourth day he intercepted that stony-hearted official on her way -home to her lodgings. "Look here, Miss Forbes," he said doggedly, "I -didn't offer you money the other day to tell me of Miss Blythe's -whereabouts. But----" - -"Don't do it to-day either," snapped the lady, with an ominous flash of -her really fine eyes. "You're not in England, remember." - -"Yet I find the cabbies and hotel people more rapacious than in London," -Mr. Towle observed thoughtfully. "Nevertheless I beg your pardon, -Miss--er--Forbes, and I entreat you to tell me where Jane is. I--I -believe I shall be ill if I can't find her." - -"You _are_ looking pretty well done up," acquiesced Miss Forbes; -"but,"--seriously,--"how am I to be sure you are not the last person on -earth she wants to see?" - -"I wish to heavens I could be sure I'm not!" exclaimed Mr. Towle -fervently. "But somebody ought to take her home." - -"Granted," agreed Miss Forbes. "I've offered to send her back to -England; but she won't go--for me. She might for you; but I doubt it." - -"I have at least earned the right to try," he said, with something so -convincing in his tone and manner that Bertha Forbes, who was at heart -neither more nor less than a woman, surrendered at discretion. - -"Very well; I'll give you her address, and you can go and see her, if -you like," she said gruffly. "But I warn you she's an obstinate young -person, quite bent upon having her own silly way." - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -All of the foregoing took place on the same day that Mrs. Belknap wanted -to know if Jane had seen her second-best gold hat pin. The day after -that, three fine embroidered handkerchiefs were said to be missing from -the little inlaid box on her bureau. - -Mary MacGrotty displayed her big teeth in a malevolent smile when Jane -rather fearfully mentioned this last circumstance in the kitchen. "You -don't suppose the wind could have blown them away last Monday, do you, -Mary? It was blowing hard, I remember," Jane said, nervously twisting -her apron strings. - -"It 'ud be a strong wind to lift 'em out the missus's box, I'm -thinkin'," said Miss MacGrotty dryly. "But they wuz lifted, all right; -an' no one knows ut better 'an you, Miss Innocence, wid yer purty face -an' yer big saucer eyes." - -Jane stared at the grinning Irish face, her own paling. "You are a bad, -cruel woman!" she cried; "and you are not honest; I saw you take sugar -out of the jar, and tea out of the caddy!" - -Miss MacGrotty burst into a furious fit of coughing. "Aw, you impident -little spalpeen, you!" she hissed, her face purple with rage. "Git out -o' me kitchen this minute! We'll attind to your case prisintly. Yis, -indade; I'll not have my character blackened by a light-fingered gurl -from nobody knows where. Yis; you may stare, miss. You niver come honest -by the foine rings in yer box, I'm thinkin', an' the little goold watch -wid a di'mon' in the back, an' the locket wid pearls." - -"You have been in my room!--looking at my things!" gasped Jane. "How -dare you!" - -"Git out o' me kitchen, or I'll tak' the procker to yez!" shouted Mary. -"How dare I! Indade! Ye'll find it ain't best to gain the ill will o' -Mary MacGrotty afore you're t'rough." - -Jane went slowly up the stairs revolving many things in her mind. She -was even considering the advisability of confiding her whole story to -Mrs. Belknap, when that young matron's cold, even tones fell upon her -ear. - -"I wish to speak with you, Jane, for a moment," she said, with an air of -severity, which stiffened Jane's pretty upper lip into haughty -indifference. - -"Yes, Mrs. Belknap," said the girl with a perfect propriety of manner, -which aroused a wholly irrelevant resentment in the breast of the other -woman. - -"I wish to tell you, Jane, that last evening after you had retired a -strange _man_ came here--to the front door--inquiring for you. Mr. -Belknap, who answered the bell, referred the matter to me, and I told -him to say to the man that he could not see you." - -Jane stared at her mistress in silence, indignation tempered with a -certain speculative curiosity looking out of her bright eyes. - -"He appeared"--Mrs. Belknap went on, with rising irritation--"quite like -a gentleman. But _why_ should a man--any man--come to my front door to -inquire for _you_? I am sorry, Jane, but this circumstance, in -connection with others, looks very suspicious to me. I do not _approve_ -of a girl in your situation attracting the attention of a man--more -particularly of a man in a higher station of life. It is not at all -proper; you ought to know that." - -"Proper?" echoed Jane inquiringly. - -"Perhaps I should have said _suitable_," amended Mrs. Belknap. "But I -insist that you shall be quite truthful with me. Who was this man?" - -"I'm sure I don't know, Mrs. Belknap," said Jane. "I don't know any -men." Then she blushed guiltily. - -Mrs. Belknap bristled with matronly dignity as she observed the girl's -conscious face. "You may go now, Jane," she said, with an air of stern -virtue. "But I wish to remind you once more that it is _always_ best to -tell the truth no matter how unpleasant the consequences may appear to -you. If young girls in your situation in life could _only_ learn that!" - -Jane's eyes flickered and a shadowy dimple appeared at the corner of -her mouth. "Suppose one does tell the truth, ma'am, and it sounds so -queer that other people will not believe it?" she asked. - -"That," said Mrs. Belknap, magnificently, "is not apt to occur. A -sincere person can hardly be mistaken by another sincere person. And the -_truth_, Jane, _never_ sounds _queer_!" Which aphorism may be accepted -for what it is worth. - -The Hon. Wipplinger Towle, for the time being, had taken up his abode -upon Staten Island, in a certain pretentious hotel which overlooks the -bay, and quite undaunted by his reception of the previous evening he -again presented himself at the street and number furnished him by Bertha -Forbes. On this occasion the door was opened by Jane herself in cap and -apron. - -The mutual start of amazement which followed shook both man and maid out -of the chill precincts of the conventionalities. - -"My God--_Jane_!" exclaimed Mr. Towle. "What are you doing in this -house?" - -This pertinent inquiry brought Jane to herself with all the speed and -thoroughness of a dash of cold water. "I am working for my living," she -replied haughtily. - -Mr. Towle stared helplessly at the girl. "I have come," he said at last, -"to fetch you home." - -"If you wish to talk to me," said Jane defiantly, "you will be obliged -to come around to the back door. I will ask my mistress if I may speak -with you in the kitchen for a few minutes. But there isn't any use of -talking," she added. "I will not go home--at least not yet." Then she -shut the door in his face. - -Mr. Towle said something fierce under his breath; after which, without -any hesitation whatever, he looked about for the kitchen entrance. "I'll -talk with her," he said, "if I have to go to Hades to do it." - -In the meanwhile Jane was interviewing her mistress. "Mr. Towle has come -to see me, ma'am; may I speak with him in the kitchen for a few -minutes?" she asked with haughty subservience. "Mary is out; and Master -Belknap is playing in his sand pile." - -Mrs. Belknap was in the act of putting the finishing touches to a dainty -costume. She stopped short and faced about. "_Who_ is Mr. Towle?" she -demanded. - -"He is a friend of--of Uncle Robert's, from England," replied Jane, -rather sullenly to her mistress's thinking. - -"Dear, _dear_!" murmured Mrs. Belknap, eying her pleasing reflection in -the glass with a frown. "This is _too_ much! And I was just on the point -of going out to a reception; now, of course, I shall be obliged to----" - -Jane looked up suddenly. "I don't wish to talk with him," she said. - -"Then why not send him away? Wait! I will go down myself and speak with -the man. I _hope_ you haven't left him _alone_ below stairs. There have -been so many burglaries lately. He is in the kitchen, I suppose." - -Jane smothered a hysterical laugh, as Mrs. Belknap's rustling skirts -swept down the rear staircase. She heard her young mistress's distinct -American voice in a tone of displeased surprise. Then a door closed -sharply, and the girl heard a man's retreating steps passing beneath the -open window. - -"He must be horribly vexed," she murmured; "but I'll _not_ go back to -England." She did not choose to question herself too sharply as to her -reasons for this dogged resolution. But she reflected that Mr. Towle -appeared much older since she had last seen him. - -Mrs. Belknap called her presently from below stairs. "I am going now, -Jane; for I really must stop at Mrs. Brown's tea if only for a few -minutes. But I shall not be away long. Keep your eye on Buster _every -moment_; I am told there are gypsies about. And, Jane, if Mary isn't -back by five you must open the draughts of the range and prepare the -vegetables." - -Left alone with her small charge, Jane sat down on the little green -bench under the vines with a kitchen towel to hem. It was very quiet -and peaceful, and the occasional distant roar of a passing trolley and -the loud singing of a very fat red-breasted robin, which had its nest in -one of the maples which were planted at stated intervals along the -street, merely served to make the country stillness the more evident. -Master Belknap was pleasantly absorbed in his endeavors to construct a -two-foot mountain in the midst of the sand box, and apparently much -entertained by the ceaseless action of the law of gravitation evidenced -by the conduct of the unstable material at its apex. He did not look up -at sound of the hasty steps which approached the house; but Jane did. -Then she put down the brown towel with a displeased pucker of her white -forehead. - -"I thought that you had gone," she said coldly. - -"I beg your pardon, but I wish to speak with that--er--young woman who -dismissed me a half hour ago," said Mr. Towle, with exceeding politeness -of manner. "I must see her. I wish to--er--explain. She was," he added -thoughtfully, "an exceedingly rude person." - -"If you are referring to Mrs. Belknap," Jane said, "I beg to inform you -that she is my mistress; she sent you away with as little ceremony as -possible for several reasons which it is not necessary for me to -explain." - -"Hum--ah!" murmured Mr. Towle. "Do you--er--mind telling me one of -them?" - -"Oh, if you insist!" said Jane, "I told Mrs. Belknap that I did not care -to talk with you, and since she very particularly wished me to be at -liberty to attend to my work, which is to look after her child, and -to----" - -Mr. Towle made a large gesture expressive of his extreme indifference to -Mrs. Belknap's child and also her brown towel. "I came from England to -find you, Jane," he said earnestly. "Why did you go away?" - -"Why shouldn't I go away--if I chose?" Jane wanted to know, with a -provoking drawl. She set two stitches in her brown towel with exceeding -care, then put her pretty head on one side to survey the effect. - -"There are at least two reasons why you should have stopped at home for -every one you can give for running away," he said deliberately. - -"But I didn't _run away_!" denied Jane crossly. "I--I just _went_. Aunt -Agatha meant to send me somewhere because she hates me, I verily -believe. I preferred to go." - -"Nevertheless you should have stayed," he said gently. "Your position in -life demanded patience and--er--pardon me--self-control. You exercised -neither, it seems, and now--" His expressive look pointed the moral. - -Jane winced under the prick of it. "How did you ever find me?" she -asked, after a long pause filled with industrious stitching on the brown -towel. - -"I saw an account of the smuggling episode in an American newspaper," he -said coolly. "Then, quite naturally, I looked up Miss Forbes at the -customs department, and she gave me your address. It was surprisingly -simple, you see, though it might easily have been far otherwise." - -Jane bent her crimson face over her work. Her needle snapped in her -trembling fingers. "I--I didn't know about that dreadful woman," she -said in a low, shamed voice. "I supposed she was going to travel in -America. How _could_ I have known!" - -Mr. Towle bent forward, his melancholy gray eyes filled with the warm -light of pity and that deeper feeling to which it is said to be akin. -"Poor little girl," he said in a deep voice, which fell upon Jane's ears -like a caress. "You couldn't have known, of course. And I say it's all a -beastly shame--the way they have treated you and all. Won't you let me -take care of you after this, Jane? You shall never suffer so again." - -Jane tried to answer; but somehow the words refused to come. - -"Let me take you away from all this," he pleaded. "Won't you, dear?" - -At this moment Master Belknap slowly climbed up the steps. "My neck is -hot," he said seriously, "an' I want a dwink of water." - -Jane arose with a sigh of relief. "Yes, Buster," she said eagerly. -"I'll go and fetch it for you." - -The little boy turned his clear eyes upon the man and studied him in -silence for a minute. "Why did _you_ come?" he said at length. - -Mr. Towle looked down at the child with resignation. "If I should ask -you the same question, my young man," he observed, "you wouldn't -understand, I suppose. As a matter of fact, if you had--er--stayed away -ten minutes longer, perhaps----" - -"My Uncle Jack has a knife named after him," proceeded the child -confidentially. "It is a Jack-knife. I yuve my Uncle Jack, an'--an' I -yuve my Jane." - -"Hum--ah," observed Mr. Towle. Then he removed his hat--for it was a -warm day--and passed his handkerchief thoughtfully over the top of his -bald head. Jane caught a fleeting glimpse of its dull, pale glisten as -she paused with her hand on the latch of the screen door. - -Her face, as she held the glass for the child to drink, was so severely -grave and sweet that the Honorable Wipplinger's heart gave a sudden -painful throb. "You haven't answered my question, Jane," he murmured, -bending toward her. - -She looked up at him with the merciless eyes of youth. "I really cannot -do as you wish, Mr. Towle," she said slowly. "And--I must ask you to go -away directly; I ought not to have talked with you here without Mrs. -Belknap's permission." - -"I can't leave you here in this false position," he said hoarsely. "For -God's sake, Jane, listen to me! If you'll not marry me, let me take you -home--back to England. This is no place for you." - -Jane's pretty lips set in stubborn lines. "I shall stop here," she said, -"until I have earned money enough to go back to England; then I shall -find a--a position--somewhere." - -She was leaning forward, her gaze riveted on the far end of the street. -"And--and please go at once," she added breathlessly. "You must indeed." - -The small boy had scampered across the weedy little lawn and climbed -upon the fence. Now he hastily scrambled down and swung open the gate. -"Uncle Jack!" he shouted; "I see my Uncle Jack. I'm doin' to meet my -Uncle Jack; may I, Jane?" - -Jane nodded. - -"You really want me to go and leave you here?" the man said heavily. "Is -it because----" - -"If you care for me at all," she answered cruelly, "you would not wish -to annoy me by stopping after I have asked you to go." - -Halfway down the street he encountered a tall, athletic young man -swinging easily along, the child perched upon his shoulder, his small -hands buried in the man's thick waving brown hair. "Det up, Uncle Jack," -shouted the boy gleefully, and drummed his small heels upon his bearer's -broad chest. - -Mr. Towle caught a fleeting glance of inquiry and half-humorous apology -from a pair of honest blue eyes as the two passed on the narrow wooden -sidewalk. - -"You are a bally fool," groaned the Hon. Wipplinger Towle in his own -ear, "and a cad to boot." And having thus frankly labeled his -intentions, he deliberately turned to watch the tall young American, -with his insolently handsome head, as he passed up the street and in at -the gate of number 24 Vanderbilt Avenue. - -"She must have seen him," muttered Mr. Towle, "before the boy did." Then -he allowed the infrequent trolley car to slide past him into the -sparsely settled country, while he tramped, his hat pulled low over his -eyes, for many a dusty mile--how many he neither knew nor cared. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -When the Hon. Wipplinger Towle beheld the inhospitable shores of Staten -Island fade into a dim haze of distance, which he accomplished from the -depths of a comfortable steamer chair, placed in just the proper -position on the deck of the newest Cunarder, it was without any rancor -of soul or bitterness of spirit. He loved Jane Blythe as much (or more) -than ever; but he was not disposed on that account to humiliate himself -to the point of seeking stolen interviews with the object of his -affection upon American back stoops. No; Jane must somehow be led to -return to her native land, and once more in her proper environment, Mr. -Towle could not find it in his heart to despair of finally winning her. -He was a man of wide and varied experience, and he was not unaware that -a period of discreet neglect upon his part might tend to enhance his -apparent value. - -It should be explained that during the course of that long and dusty -tramp over the highways of Staten Island, whereon he had encountered -clouds of bloodthirsty mosquitoes, the evidence of whose fierce attacks -was even yet to be discerned upon his patrician countenance, the -sagacious Mr. Towle had laid out a course of action from which he had -not deviated an iota thus far, and in which his early return to England -figured as a necessary step. In brief, he had taken the pains to satisfy -himself that Jane Blythe's humiliating position was not in any sense an -unsafe one, and that her sojourn under the roof of Mr. and Mrs. James -Livingstone Belknap would result in little beyond what Mr. Towle was -philosophically inclined to look upon as a needful though unpleasant -experience. The only factor in the problem which really perplexed him -was the presence of Mr. John Everett in the home of Mrs. Belknap. That -arrogantly youthful figure suggested a possible painful finale to his -own hopes, which Mr. Towle nevertheless found himself able to -contemplate with resignation. He had arrived, in short, at that -enviable stage of his experience when he had ceased to avidly desire -what did not essentially belong to himself. "A man does not really want -that which is another's," he was accustomed to say to the few intimates -who were admitted to his confidence. "He only thinks or supposes that he -does. The possession of it would make him as wretched as did the fabled -black pudding which the unfortunate old woman acquired with the first of -her three elfin-bestowed wishes. Made irrevocably fast to the end of her -nose by her angry husband by means of the second wish, she was finally -forced to rid herself of it by the sacrifice of the last and final -wish." - -Not that Jane Blythe ever appeared to Mr. Towle in the guise of a -potential black pudding. He thought of her continually and sincerely as -altogether good, lovely, and desirable; but as quite possibly too good, -too lovely, and too desirable a possession for his lonely heart to -selfishly appropriate. Something of this really chivalrous and -exquisitely altruistic devotion was apparent even to the obtuse -perceptions of Mr. Robert Aubrey-Blythe, whom Mr. Towle sought out -immediately upon reaching London. - -"I have found her, Robert," began Mr. Towle, without preamble. - -"You have found----?" - -"Jane," said Mr. Towle. The honorable gentleman did not appear at all -excited, consequently Mr. Aubrey-Blythe, as in duty bound, sprang up -from his chair, where he had been absorbed in a matter antipodally -remote from the fortunes of his niece. - -"Well, well, well!" cried Mr. Aubrey-Blythe excitedly, and "Upon my -soul, Towle!" he said. "I _am_ surprised!" - -He was quite sincere in this statement, for beyond a few perfunctory -efforts to trace the missing girl the Aubrey-Blythes had appeared -piously resigned to the decree of a discerning Providence which had seen -fit to remove so disturbing an element from their midst. Still it was -annoying, not to say intolerable, to have one's acquaintances at the -club and elsewhere preface their ordinary remarks with the query "Found -your niece yet, Blythe?" or "Hear you've a deuced unhappy mystery to -unravel at your house," with an occasional dubious reference to the -morgue and the workhouse. So it was with genuine relief and pleasure -that Mr. Aubrey-Blythe learned of the speedy and successful _dénouement_ -of Mr. Towle's foreign adventures. - -"I am shocked and--er--grieved at what you tell me of the girl's present -position," he added, with genuine mortification depicted upon his rotund -countenance. "An _Aubrey-Blythe_ in a _kitchen_--actually _working_ with -her _hands_! Preposterous, Towle, preposterous! I shall at once take -steps to remove her." - -"Hum--ah," murmured Mr. Towle; "better leave her where she is for a -while longer." - -"What is that you are saying?" inquired the other fussily. "No, no; that -would never do, Towle--never in the world! Bless my soul; what will my -wife, Lady Agatha Aubrey-Blythe, say to all this! Really, Towle, I -dislike to disturb her ladyship with the shocking intelligence." - -"I beg that you will not inform her of it," Mr. Towle said, rather -sharply. "There is nothing to be gained by doing so, and much to be -lost." - -"The girl has never been a favorite with Lady Agatha," observed Mr. -Aubrey-Blythe. "They seem to be--er--totally uncongenial." - -"I can quite believe that," said the other dryly. He stared hard at his -friend in silence for some minutes before he spoke again. "I believe -you--er--informed me that your niece, Miss Jane Aubrey-Blythe, was-- -That is to say, you gave me to understand that she was entirely without -fortune. Am I correct in this--er--particular?" - -"And I," burst out Mr. Aubrey-Blythe, "understood you to say that the -fact made no difference in your--ah-- But, I beg your pardon, Towle; of -course this--er--unfortunate escapade of the girl's ends all that--of -course, of course! I shouldn't have spoken as I did." - -"You misunderstand me, Robert," said Mr. Towle patiently. "My sentiments -toward Miss Blythe are entirely unchanged; quite so, in fact. What I -wished to say is this: I should like to settle some money on Miss -Blythe, and--er--I don't know how to go about it. You must advise me, -Robert." - -"You would like to settle some money! Yes, I see; but this is no time to -talk of marriage settlements, my dear fellow, with the girl in America, -and----" - -"I am not talking of marriage settlements," said Mr. Towle calmly. -"There may never be a marriage between us; in fact I have scarcely any -hope of it. I am too old, and"--with a slight bitterness of -manner--"unluckily I look even older than I am. No; what I want is to -give to Jane a comfortable sum of money outright, and leave her to be -happy in her own way. If I can win her later on, I mean to do it fairly -and squarely; but, as I have already said, I have very little hope of -it." - -"Gad, man! if you give the girl a fortune, she's bound to marry you; -common gratitude, common decency, would demand it." - -"Exactly so," quoth Mr. Towle. "But I'll have no common gratitude and -common decency as you call it--and deuced common it is--mixing up in her -feelings for me. Neither do I want her driven into a marriage with me as -a _dernier ressort_. If she could--er--love me I-- But never mind, -Robert. We'll cut this short, if you please. And I don't intend, mark -you, to give her a fortune; nothing that would attract a crowd of -worthless fellows, you understand, but enough so that she may feel free -and independent of--er--other people, including yourself, and be able to -buy her own frocks and the feathers and frills that women love; a matter -of ten or twelve thousand pounds, say." - -"Very handsome of you, Towle, to have thought of it, I'm sure; -uncommonly generous, by gad! but I doubt if it will be becoming in me to -allow it. I fear that Lady Agatha----" - -"You'll not tell her," interrupted Mr. Towle eagerly. Then he leaned -forward and rested his hand upon the other's broad knee. "I'm not one to -refer over often to the past, Robert, as you know; but I believe you've -told me more than once that you--er--that I-- No; I can't say it. It -sticks in my throat." - -"I know what you mean, Towle," growled Mr. Aubrey-Blythe. "There's no -need for you to remind me that I'm under a tremendous obligation to you. -But do you mean to tell me----" - -"I declare to you that if you will help me to do what I wish in this one -thing, I shall know the obligation to be on the other side. And, mind, -it is to be kept a secret between you and me--forever." - -Mr. Robert Aubrey-Blythe appeared plunged into profound meditation. At -last he raised his head. "She wouldn't touch a penny of it, if she -knew," he said at last. "Jane is deucedly independent and all that." - -"She'd be obliged to take it if it came from a relative," suggested Mr. -Towle; "couldn't you----" - -The other shook his head. "Bless my soul, Towle," he murmured, with -something very like a twinkle of humor in his eyes; "if I should -attempt to settle a shilling piece on Jane there'd be the deuce and all -to pay. I should think you'd know better than to suggest it." - -"It's going to be done somehow, Robert," said Mr. Towle firmly, "if -I--er--have to hang myself to bring it about. She couldn't refuse a -legacy." - -"Oh, I say; that would never do, Towle! You mustn't think of such a -thing," protested Mr. Aubrey-Blythe, fidgeting in his chair. "But, -speaking of a legacy, I wonder, now----" - -He left his sentence suspended in midair, while he rummaged in his desk -for a paper. "Hum--yes, yes. Now, I wonder-- I--er--had a brother once, -a younger brother, a sad rascal of a fellow, quite as improvident as -poor Oliver--Jane's father, you know--and dissolute to boot. We don't -often mention Foxhall Aubrey-Blythe, poor fellow; sad case, very. He's -dead, in short. Died in South Africa a couple of months ago, without a -sixpence to his name, as might have been expected. Now, I wonder-- Of -course, it would be very irregular and all that; but I fancy it could -be arranged, with the help of a discreet attorney--eh? That is to say, -if you won't think better of it, Towle." - -"I should think it might be done," agreed the Hon. Wipplinger Towle -seriously. "There can be no possible harm in it, certainly, to the dead -man, or to anyone else. And it's got to be arranged, Robert. I'm quite -set upon it." - -After which the arch conspirators put their heads together over the -details of a plot which, for the present at least, does not vitally -concern the fortunes of Miss Jane Evelyn Aubrey-Blythe, who at that -moment was industriously engaged in brushing the rugs, which she had -carried out from Mrs. Belknap's little parlor to the untidy grass plot -bristling with spent dandelion stalks, situated at the rear of the -Belknap house. - -Mary MacGrotty was clattering about the range inside the small kitchen, -pausing to cast an occasional malevolent glance through the open window. -Master Belknap was engaged in calmly propelling his tricycle up and down -the sidewalk under the watchful eye of Mrs. Belknap, seated on the -front porch with her sewing. It was an eminently peaceful domestic -scene, which gave no sign of the volcanic possibilities lurking -underneath the deceitful calm of its surface. - -The seventh individual who was in process of being inextricably bound in -the fast-spinning threads of a watchful Fate was Mr. John Everett, who -sat in a certain Broadway office, ostensibly occupied with a very dry -legal paper, whose intricacies he supposed himself to be diligently -mastering. In reality this young gentleman was uncounted leagues away -from the Broadway office, wandering in lands of faerie with Jane. Jane's -eyes were bright and Jane's lips were red and tempting; Jane's little -hands were clasped upon his arm as they two walked slowly (all in the -land of faerie) across a velvet lawn, wherein neither plantain nor -dandelion had ever encroached, toward a house--a little house, with -balconies, perhaps, and dormer windows, certainly--Jack Everett couldn't -be altogether sure of its outlines, since houses (in the land of faerie) -have a way of changing while one looks, like dissolving lantern views. -All of which was very much in the air and exceedingly foolish, as this -worthy young man told himself sternly, when he found, at the expiration -of half of a delightful hour, where he had really been spending his -time. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -Mr. Towle gave no sign of a continued interest in Jane's affairs; and -because he did not, that imprudent young person felt herself to be -lonely and neglected beyond her deserts. At night, in the stuffy -seclusion of the trunkroom, she wept large tears into her thin pillow, -and prayed with truly feminine inconsistency and fervor for numbers of -things which she as resolutely thrust aside by day. - -Twice she sought solace and advice from Bertha Forbes, and as often -spurned both, when both were urged upon her. - -"You remind me," said Miss Forbes at last, "of a horse we used to have -out in the country. My brothers were burning the stumps out of a -ten-acre wood lot one summer, and that animal _would_ jump over the -fence and go and roll in the hot coals and ashes whenever he got a -chance till his hide was burned into holes. The creature must have -suffered frightfully, but he persisted in doing it just the same. We had -to tie him up after a bit." - -"Oh, thanks!" cried Jane angrily, "perhaps you think I need tying up." - -"I do, indeed," agreed Bertha Forbes cheerfully. She studied the pretty, -wilful face in silence for a few moments. "You are much too fond of -having your own way," she added sententiously, "and one's own way is so -seldom the path of pleasantness that the Bible tells about. I know, for -I've tried it." - -She swallowed hard once or twice, then she went on in her gruffest -voice. "Look here, Jane, I don't want to see you make the fool of -yourself that I did. I somehow got the notion that a woman was just as -able as a man to make her way in the world, and that I wasn't going to -depend upon 'petticoat push' for my living. I despised the idea of being -dependent upon anybody, and so I--I-- Well, to cut a long story short, I -told the only man who ever cared enough about me to want to take care -of me, that I could take care of myself. I told him so three times in -all, I remember. The third time he said, 'All right, Bertha; I reckon -you'll have to try.' A year later he married one of those soft -pink-and-white little things that I had always looked down upon as being -too insignificant to despise. Yesterday----" - -Bertha Forbes paused to gulp painfully once or twice. "Yesterday that -woman passed me in her carriage. There was a child on either side of -her, and she was dressed like a flower; which means, you know, a bit -more magnificently than Solomon in all his glory. She didn't know me, of -course. And I tramped on down to my office. You know what my work is, -Jane." - -"Yes, I know," and Jane blushed painfully. "I--I don't really like -taking care of myself," she murmured, after a little, "but I can't see -how I am going to help myself for a while. Anyway, you may be happier in -your horrid office than that woman in her carriage, unless she--loves -the man who gives it to her." The girl finished with a soft, far-away -look in her brown eyes. - -"Right you are!" cried Bertha Forbes, bringing down her capable-looking -hand upon her knee with a businesslike whack. "I'm not envying the -woman; not I. Fancy me with a ridiculous feather bobbing over one eye, -and diamonds and folderols of all sorts disposed upon my person. -Wouldn't I be a holy show?" - -"You're really very good looking, when one looks at you carefully, -Bertha," said the girl seriously, "but you need handsome clothes to -bring out your good points." - -"Guess my points good or bad will have to remain in innocuous desuetude -then," Miss Forbes said gruffly. "'Nough said about B. F., my dear. And -if you're set on staying on in your servile position, and allowing that -absurdly pretentious little matron and her infant to walk all over you, -I've nothing to say, of course. Do the men treat you properly, child?" - -Jane stared at her friend resentfully. "I don't know what you mean," she -said. "Mrs. Belknap's husband and brother are both gentlemen, and I--am -her servant." - -"That's all right, child; but mind you keep that good-looking -chap--what's his name? Oh, Everett--yes; mind you keep him at his -distance, whatever you do." - -"_Bertha!_" cried Jane. - -"You needn't 'Bertha' me," said Miss Forbes severely. "I'm an old maid -all right; but I know a thing or two if I am forty, and now that Mr. -Towle has gone back to England----" - -"Has he gone back?" - -"Well; why not? You didn't want him to stay on in America, did you?" - -"N-o," faltered Jane, "I-I'm glad he's gone." Nevertheless she felt a -more poignant throb of loneliness than usual as she stepped down from -the trolley car in the gathering twilight at the close of her "afternoon -out." Had it fallen to the lot of the Hon. Wipplinger Towle to present -himself at that moment Fortune might have been genuinely kind instead of -amusedly scornful in view of his aspirations. - -That same evening Mrs. Belknap shut her chamber door safely after a -careful reconnaissance of the hall. "Jimmy, dear, I'm _almost_ -distracted," she confided to her husband. - -"Why, what's the matter, dear girl?" he asked, "has Buster been up to -his tricks again? Or is Mary's cousin's wife's mother's brother 'tuk bad -wid cramps'?" - -Mrs. Belknap heaved a deep sigh as she shook her head; her pretty white -forehead was puckered into unbecoming folds of deep anxiety. "_It's -Jane_," she said in a sepulchral whisper. - -"If you don't like the girl, get rid of her," advised Mr. Belknap -strongly. "I've thought all along this two-maid business is a mistake -for us. It's too--er--complicated, somehow." - -"Oh, Jimmy Belknap!" exclaimed his wife reproachfully; "it was you who -advised me to get another girl. You simply made me do it; you know you -did. Mary is away so often, and----" - -"Bounce Mary, too!" cried the perfidious Mr. Belknap cheerfully. "Let's -have a new deal all the way 'round, Margaret. That Mary's a fraud, or -I'm a duffer." - -"Oh, but, Jimmy, she's such a good cook! And I'm sure I couldn't get -another like her. Why, poor Mrs. Bliss hasn't had a girl these last two -months, and she tells me she's tried _everywhere_! And the people across -the street are alone, too, and----" - -"_I_ can cook," put in Mr. Belknap confidently. "You just let me get the -breakfast. When I put my mind to it there's nothing I can't do about a -house." - -"Oh, _you_!" scoffed his wife, reaching up to pull a lock of wavy hair -on Mr. Belknap's tall head. "After you've gotten breakfast, Jimmy, it -takes me all the morning to put the kitchen to rights again." - -"But my coffee is out of sight," pursued Mr. Belknap complacently, "and -my poached eggs can't be beat. I believe,"--boldly,--"I could make a -pie!" - -"Of course you could," agreed his wife ironically, "but I shouldn't want -to be obliged to eat it. But, seriously, Jimmy, I'm _losing_ -things--almost every day some little thing. Do you suppose it's _Jane_?" - -Mr. Belknap looked grave. "It's more likely to be Mary," he said. -"Perhaps," he added hopefully, "it's Buster. He's a regular magpie. Do -you remember about my slippers?" - -Both parents paused to indulge in reminiscent laughter over the memory -of the missing slippers which had been found, after days of fruitless -searching, in the spare bedroom under the pillows. - -"He was helping me pick up--the blessed lamb!" said Mrs. Belknap fondly. -"But I'm sure he hasn't picked up my shell comb, two hat pins, half a -dozen handkerchiefs, my best white silk stockings, and your college -fraternity badge." - -Mr. Belknap whistled sharply. "What?" he exclaimed, "has my frat pin -disappeared? I say, Margaret, that looks serious!" - -"It was in my jewel box," went on Mrs. Belknap solemnly, "pinned -carefully onto the lining of the cover. You know I scarcely ever wear -it now; I'm saving it for Buster. But I happened to go to the box for -something else the other day; and, Jimmy, it's gone!" - -Mr. Belknap fidgeted uneasily in his chair. "Confound it!" he murmured. -"Well, Margaret, I'd advise you to get rid of both of 'em; and meanwhile -lock up your valuables. We can take our meals out for a while, if worse -comes to worst." - -"I hate to think it's Jane," sighed Mrs. Belknap; "she seems such a nice -girl. But appearances are so often deceptive; I really ought to have -_insisted_ upon references." - -"From the lady smuggler?" Mr. Belknap wanted to know. - -His wife dissolved in helpless laughter. "I never believed that story -for a minute," she said, "nor the Jane Evelyn Aubrey-Blythe part, -either. She simply wanted me to think that she wasn't an ordinary -servant, poor thing. It would be dreadful to go drifting around the -world, drudging first in one house and then in another; wouldn't it, -Jimmy? I am sure I can't think what sort of a maid I should have been." - -Mr. Belknap surveyed his wife smilingly. "You'd have got _me_ all right, -whatever you were doing," he assured her. - -"Not _really_?" - -"Sure! I never could have resisted those eyes, dear, nor that -mouth--never in the world!" And Mr. Belknap illustrated his present -susceptibility to the compelling charms of the features in question in a -way which caused his pretty wife to laugh and blush, and assure him -(fondly) that he was a foolish boy. - -"Then you really think I would better give both the girls warning?" Mrs. -Belknap asked rather faintly, visions of the empty kitchen with its -manifold tasks rising fearfully in her mind. - -"That's what I do when there's a bad snarl in the office," Mr. Belknap -told her seriously. "A good clean breeze of discipline that sweeps -everything before it is a mighty good thing at times. Let 'em go. We got -along all right before we ever saw Mary MacGrotty or Jane -hyphen-what-you-may-call-her, either; and we shall live all the -peacefuller after they're gone." - -"But the missing articles--don't you think I ought to make her give them -back? Isn't it a bad thing for a young girl like Jane to think she -can--be so wicked with impunity?" - -"It isn't 'impunity,' as you call it, if she loses her place." - -"Yes, Jimmy, it is. She could get a dozen other places to-morrow. People -are so nearly frantic for help that they'll take anybody. Why, Mrs. De -Puyster Jones actually told me that she _expected_ to lose a certain -amount every year. She says that it used to worry her terribly when she -first began housekeeping; but now she just mentally adds it to the -wages, and says nothing about it, if it isn't _too_ outrageous." - -Mr. Belknap laughed dubiously. "Why, I say, Margaret, that's what they -call compounding felony, or mighty near it," he said slowly. "I don't -believe I could stand for that sort of thing." - -"Mrs. De Puyster Jones says that, of course, she hasn't a particle of -self-respect left when it comes to servants," continued Mrs. Belknap -feelingly. "But she's too delicate to do her own work, and Mr. Jones -won't board; so what _can_ she do? What can _I_ do?" - -Mr. Belknap softly whistled a popular coon song as he walked about the -room. Then of a sudden and with entire irrelevance he broke into loud -and cheerful singing: - - - "Oh, I may be cra-a-zy! - But I ain't no--fool!" - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - - -John Everett sat before the fire in his sister's cheerful little parlor -for a full half hour without uttering a word. He was thinking -particularly and persistently of Jane, of her proud, sensitive little -face beneath its cloud of curling dark hair, of her shy, haughty eyes -which refused to meet his own, of her curving mouth which so often -quivered like a child's on the brink of heart-breaking sobs. He wished -that he knew more of the girl's history. - -"Strange that Margaret takes so little interest in her," this altruistic -young person said to himself impatiently, as he glanced across at his -sister, who sat cuddling her sleepy baby in her lap in the warm glow of -the fireside. Mrs. Belknap was talking and laughing gayly with her -husband, who stretched his slippered feet to the cheerful blaze with an -air of huge content. - -This charming picture of domesticity, which he had so frequently -admired and even envied in a vague, impersonal fashion, suddenly -impressed Jack Everett as being little else than an exhibition of -monstrous selfishness. What right had Margaret to sit there so radiantly -happy and unconcerned while another woman, as fair and lovable as -herself, shed lonely tears in her kitchen. It wasn't right, by Jove, it -was not, he told himself hotly. - -Just what provision did Margaret make for the amusement and recreation -of her maids he wondered. His praiseworthy curiosity on this point -presently got the better of his prudence. He arose deliberately and -walked out into the kitchen. - -Jane stood at the window gazing drearily into the darkness. She glanced -about at the sound of his step, and he saw that her face was pale and -that her eyes were brimming with large tears. - -John Everett laid two magazines on the table. "I have brought you -something to read, Jane," he said kindly. "This kitchen is a dull place -of an evening; isn't it?" - -Jane's homesick eyes wandered hopelessly about the clean, bare little -place, with its straight-backed wooden chairs set primly against the -painted wall, its polished range and well-scoured table, still damp and -odorous with soap and water. A flamboyant advertisement of laundry soap -and the loud-voiced nickel clock were the sole ornaments of the scene, -which was illumined faintly by a small kerosene lamp. - -"Thank you, sir," she said coldly; "but I have no time to read." - -Her manner was inexorable, but John Everett saw that her little fingers -were trembling. "Jane," he said softly, "I asked you once if I might be -your friend. You did not answer me at that time. Have you thought about -it since?" - -"I did not need to think about it, sir. It is impossible." - -"But why, Jane? Do you hate me?" - -John Everett was doubtless quite unaware of the fervor and earnestness -which he infused into these two short questions. There was much of the -chevalier _sans peur et sans reproche_ about this particular young -American, and all the knightly enthusiasm and tender indignation of a -singularly pure and impulsive nature had been deeply stirred at sight of -the lonely and friendless English girl. He was, in short, compounded -from the identical stuff out of which the Geraints and Sir Galahads and -King Cophetuas of past ages were made, and so, quite naturally, he -couldn't help saying and looking a great deal more than a modern young -man ought to say and look under like circumstances. - -Jane stared at him in resentful silence for a moment before she replied. -"I know nothing of American ways," she said--which was not entirely -true, by the way, since for years she had devoured everything she could -lay her hands on concerning America--"but in England no gentleman would -speak to a servant as you have spoken to me, unless----" - -"Unless--what, Jane?" he urged. - -"Unless he meant to--insult her," she said haughtily. - -John Everett's handsome face flushed scarlet. - -"Jane," he said sternly. "Look at me." - -She raised her eyes to his reluctantly. - -"Did you really think I was trying to insult you?" - -"N--o," she faltered. "But----" - -"In America," he went on eagerly, "there is nothing to prevent our being -friends. Everyone works for a living here. There is no high and no low. -In America a man who would wantonly insult a woman who works is not -called a gentleman. He is called a scoundrel! And, Jane, whatever else I -may be I am not a scoundrel." - -A shadowy smile glimmered for an instant in Jane's clear eyes, and -dimpled the corners of her serious mouth. Then she pierced his pretty -sophistry with a question. "Does Mrs. Belknap know that you brought -these magazines to me, and that you--wish to be my friend?" - -"I shall tell her," he said firmly. "She will understand." - -The girl shook her head. "Mrs. Belknap would be very much displeased," -she said. "She would not like it if she knew I was talking to you now. -She would think me very bold and unmannerly, I am sure. Indeed, as far -as I can find out, being a servant in America is very like being a -servant in England." - -"Jane," he entreated, "tell me: were you ever a servant in England?" - -She looked at him thoughtfully, as if half minded to take him into her -confidence; then her eyes danced. "I was a nursery governess in my last -place in England," she said. "And I left without a reference. Good -night, sir, and thank you kindly for the books, but I don't care about -reading them." - -She dropped him an old-fashioned courtesy, with indescribable grace and -spirit, and before he could gather his wits for another word had -vanished up the dark stairway. He stood listening blankly to her little -feet on the stair, and so Mrs. Belknap found him. - -"Why, Jack!" she exclaimed; "what in the world are you doing in the -kitchen? I heard voices and I thought perhaps Jane had a beau." Her eyes -fell upon the gay-colored magazines which lay upon the table. "How did -these come here?" she asked, a note of displeasure in her pleasant -voice. - -"I brought them to Jane," he said bluntly. - -"To _Jane_? Why, Jack Everett! What did you do that for?" - -"Why shouldn't I do it? The poor girl has nothing to amuse her in this -beastly little kitchen. And I am sure she is quite as capable of -enjoying good reading as anyone in the house." - -"I gave the girls several of the old magazines only last week," Mrs. -Belknap said with an offended lifting of her eyebrows, "and the very -next morning I found Mary kindling the fire with them. I never knew a -servant to appreciate really good reading. And _these_--well, all I have -to say is that I hope you'll consult _me_ the next time you wish to -make a present to either of the maids. I fancy an occasional dollar -would be in rather better taste, and quite in a line with what they -would expect from you." - -"Great heavens, Margaret! do you suppose I would offer money to _Jane_?" - -"It certainly isn't necessary, Jack, for you to offer her anything; I -pay her good wages," retorted Mrs. Belknap crisply. "I merely said that -if you felt it your _duty_ to give either of them anything, a -dollar----" - -Mr. Everett turned on his heel, very pointedly terminating the -interview, and Mrs. Belknap went back to her fireside with a slightly -worried expression clouding her pretty face. - -"I wish Jack wouldn't be so perfectly absurd about poor people," she -said discontentedly, as she curled up in a deep chair at her husband's -side. "I don't mind his hobnobbing with the butcher and discussing -socialism with the plumber, but when it comes to acting as purveyor of -good literature for the kitchen, why it strikes me as being a little -tiresome." - -"What has our philanthropic young friend been doing now?" Mr. Belknap -wanted to know. - -"Presenting an offering of magazines to Jane in the kitchen. I declare, -Jimmy, this is the last straw! I shall certainly dismiss the girl at the -end of her month. I shan't do it before, though, because I have some -shopping to do, and I must finish my sewing before I undertake the care -of Buster again. _He_ is devoted to Jane; poor little lamb!" - -"Buster is a young person of excellent taste," murmured Mr. Belknap. -"And so"--meditatively--"is Jack." - -"Jimmy Belknap, what _do_ you mean?" demanded his wife, with a nervous -little clutch at his sleeve. "You don't _suppose_----" - -Mr. Belknap chuckled. "Don't tempt a man so, Madge," he entreated; "it's -so delightfully easy to get a rise out of you that I really can't resist -it once in a while." - -"Then you don't _think_----" - -"My mind is an innocuous blank, dear," he assured her gravely. "I don't -'think,' 'mean' or 'suppose' anything which would give you a minute's -uneasiness. I'll tell you what, Margaret, suppose we cut out both the -girls, get our own breakfasts, take our dinners at Miss Pitman's, and -then we can afford one of those dinky little runabouts. How would that -strike you?" - -"We'll do it!" exclaimed Mrs. Belknap rapturously. - -Then these two happy people settled down to one of those periods of -castle building in the air which young married lovers delight in, and -upon whose airy foundations many a solid superstructure of after life is -reared. And, being thus pleasantly engaged, neither of them gave another -thought to the two young persons under their roof, both of whom, being -alone and lonely, were thinking of each other with varying emotional -intensity. - -"I must find out more about her," John Everett was resolving. "Margaret -appears incapable of appreciating her." - -"I must be careful and not allow him to talk to me any more," Jane was -deciding with equal firmness. "I can't help liking him a little, for he -is the only person who has been kind to me in years." Which statement -was, of course, eminently unfair to Mr. Robert Aubrey-Blythe, as well as -to his noble consort, Lady Agatha, both of whom had repeatedly assured -each other, within the past few weeks, that Jane had proved herself -_most ungrateful_ after all their kindness to her. - -It is a singular fact that ingratitude thus persistently dwelt upon -proves a most effectual palliative to one's natural anxieties concerning -another. Lady Agatha, in particular, had found the practice of the -greatest use of late. She had been able by means of it to dismiss all -unpleasant reflections regarding her husband's niece, which might -otherwise have arisen to disquiet her. - -As for Jane, she seldom thought bitterly of Lady Agatha in the far -country into which her rash pride and folly had brought her. Each day of -her hated servitude brought the time of her deliverance and her return -to England so much the nearer. Just what she meant to do when she got -there she did not for the present choose to consider. From the little -window of her attic chamber she could catch wide glimpses of the sea, -which stretched vast and lonely between this strange new country and the -land of her birth, for which she longed with the passionate regret of a -homesick child. The shore itself was not far distant, and one of Jane's -most agreeable duties thus far had been to convoy Master Belknap to the -beach, where he delighted to dig in the warm sand. - -The very next day after Jane's prudent rejection of John Everett's -proffered friendship her mistress announced her intention of spending -the day in town. "In the afternoon, Jane, you may take Buster to the -beach," said Mrs. Belknap. "It will do the darling good. Be careful to -watch him every minute, Jane, and do not allow him to play with other -children," had been her parting injunction. - -There were few persons to be seen when Jane and her little charge -alighted from the trolley car. The yellow sand lay warm and glistening -under the direct rays of the sun, and along the blue horizon drifted -myriads of white sails and the vanishing smoke of steamers coming and -going in this busiest of all waterways. Jane sat down in the sand with a -sigh of happy relief, while Master Belknap fell industriously to work -with a diminutive shovel. - -"Jane!" he said earnestly, "Jane!" - -"Yes, dear," said Jane absent-mindedly. - -"I yuve 'oo, Jane! 'n'--'n' I'm doin' to dig a dreat big hole, an' -'nen--an' 'nen I'm doin' to build a dreat big house for 'oo, Jane!" - -"Yes, dear," repeated Jane sweetly. The wind sweeping in across leagues -of softly rolling waves brought a lovely color to the girl's face. She -threw aside her hat and let the wild air blow the little curls about her -forehead. It pleased her to imagine that the fresh, salty savor carried -with it a hint of blossoming hedgerows and the faint bitter fragrance of -primroses abloom in distant English woods. - -The little boy trotted away with his tiny red pail in quest of clam -shells; Jane followed him lazily, with her dreaming eyes. Then she -sprang to her feet, the color deepening in her cheeks at sight of the -tall, broad-shouldered figure which was approaching them at a leisurely -pace. Master Belknap had dropped his shovel and pail, and was running -across the sand as fast as his short legs could carry him. - -"Uncle Jack! Uncle Jack!" he shouted gleefully. "Here we are, Uncle -Jack! I digged a--dreat--big hole, an'--an', Uncle Jack, I'm doin' to -build a dreat big house--all for my Jane!" - - - - -CHAPTER XV - - -John Everett answered the carping question in Jane's eyes with gay -composure. "I promised Buster yesterday that I would come home early and -join him at the beach," he said coolly. "I want to have a hand in -digging that hole, myself," he added, rescuing the abandoned shovel from -a sandy entombment. - -Jane surveyed him gravely. "If you are going to be here all the -afternoon," she said, "perhaps you will not mind if I go home. There are -windows to clean, and I am sure Mrs. Belknap would not mind my leaving -Master Buster in your care, sir." - -His crestfallen face afforded the girl a transient amusement as she -walked across the sand in quest of her hat. But Fate, in the small -person of the infant, happily intervened as she was firmly inserting her -hat pins and otherwise preening herself for hasty flight. - -"Where 'oo doin', Jane?" he demanded imperiously. - -"I am going home," replied Jane, with a conciliatory smile. "Mr. Everett -will stay with you, dear." - -"No!" murmured the sagacious infant, laying hold of the girl's gown with -a determined hand. "N-o-o!" The last word ended in a loud wail of -protest. - -Jane flushed uncomfortably under John Everett's observant eyes, as she -stooped to gently disengage herself. "I must go, dear," she repeated. "I -have some work to do at home." - -The child responded by throwing both chubby arms about her neck and -wailing discordantly in her ear. - -"Come, come, Buster!" exclaimed his uncle wrathfully; "you can stop that -howling. Jane won't leave you. I'll take myself off instead, as I see I -am decidedly out of it." - -The small boy instantly relaxed his hold upon the girl and flew to his -uncle. "No-o!" he shouted. "I want my Jane, an'--an' I want 'oo, Uncle -Jack!" He clambered up his accommodating relative's trouser leg, and was -assisted to a triumphant perch upon that young gentleman's broad -shoulder, where he beamed upon Jane with innocent delight. "I yuve my -Uncle Jack," he announced conclusively, "and I yuve my Jane!" - -"That's all right, young fellow, and a proper sentiment too," murmured -John Everett. Then he cast a pleading look at Jane. "Why persist in -spoiling a good time?" he asked. "I'll play in the sand like a good boy, -and I promise you I won't teach Buster any bad words, nor throw wet sand -on his clean frock." - -Jane's pretty face was a study. "Very well, sir," she said coldly. "It -is not for me to say, I suppose." Then she sat down at a safe distance -from the hole in the sand--in which the small diplomat, satisfied with -the result of his _coup_, immediately resumed operations--and fixed her -eyes on the sail-haunted horizon. All the sense of happy freedom which -the wind had brought her from across the sea had suddenly vanished. She -was gallingly conscious of the bonds of her servitude and of the -occasional friendly glances which the big, pleasant-faced young fellow -on the sand bestowed upon her. - -"I hate him!" she told herself passionately. "If he knew who I was he -would not dare call me 'Jane,' and smile at me in that insufferably -familiar way. It is only because I am a _servant_. Oh, I _hate_ him!" -Her little hands clenched themselves till the nails almost pierced the -tender palms, whereon divers hardened spots told of unaccustomed toil. - -It was not an auspicious moment for John Everett to approach and utter a -commonplace remark about a passing steamer. Nevertheless he did it, -being anxious in his blundering masculine way to cheer this forlorn -little exile, who he felt sure was in dire need of human sympathy. - -Jane made no sort of reply, and after a doubtful pause he ventured to -seat himself at her side. "That white tower on the farther side of the -bay is one of the features of 'Dreamland,'" he observed. "At night one -can see it for a long distance sparkling with electric lights." - -Still no answer. He studied the girl's delicate profile in silence for a -minute. "Wouldn't you like to see it sometime, Jane?" he asked. - -She turned upon him suddenly. "How--how _dare_ you--call me 'Jane,' -and--and-- Oh, I _hate_ you!" Her kindling eyes scorched him for an -instant, then before he could collect his scattered senses she burst -into wild sobbing. "You wouldn't dare treat me so if I was at--at home," -she went on between her sobs; "but you think because I am all alone here -and--and working for wages that you--can amuse yourself with me. Oh, I -wish you would go away and never speak to me again!" - -His face had paled slowly. "I don't even know your name," he said -quietly. "But I assure you, Miss--Jane, it has been very far from my -mind to annoy you, or to----" - -He stopped short and looked at her fixedly. "I must put myself right -with you, Jane," he said at last. "You must listen to me." - -Her low weeping suddenly ceased, and she lifted her proud little face -all wet with angry tears to his. "I will listen," she said haughtily. - -"I am afraid I don't altogether understand what you mean to accuse me -of," he said, choosing his words carefully; "but I will tell you just -why I have tried to make friends with you. I will admit that men in my -station do not as a rule make friends with servant maids." He said this -firmly and watched her wince under the words. "But, Jane, you are not at -all like an ordinary servant. I saw that the first time I met you. I -fancied that you had, somehow, stumbled out of your right place in the -world, and I thought--very foolishly, no doubt--that I might help you to -get back to it." - -Jane's eyes kindled. "I can help myself to get back to it," she -murmured, "and I will!" - -"That is why I wished to help you," he went on, without paying heed to -her interruption, "and I will confess to you that I came down here this -afternoon on purpose to have a talk with you. I meant--" he paused to -search her face gravely. "I meant to ask you to allow me to send you -home to England." - -"Oh, no--_no_!" she protested. - -"Do you mean to remain in America, then?" he asked. "Are you satisfied -with being a domestic servant?" - -"No," she said doggedly. "I am going back when--when I have earned the -money for my passage. I ought never to have come," she added bitterly. -"I ought to have endured the ills I knew." - -"Will you tell me what ills you were enduring in England?" he asked. - -"I--I was living with relatives," she faltered, "and----" - -"Were they unkind to you?" - -"They didn't mean to be," acknowledged Jane. "I can see that now. But I -fancied--I thought I should be happier if I were independent. So I----" - -"You fell into trouble as soon as you stepped out of the safe shelter of -your home," he finished for her. "You are right in thinking that you -should never have come, and yet-- Now won't you allow me to--advance the -money for your passage? I assure you I shall be very businesslike about -it. I shall expect you to return every penny of it. For I"--he paused to -smile half humorously to himself--"I am a poor young man, Jane, and I -have to work for my living." - -She looked up into the strong, kind face he bent toward her. "I--thank -you," she said slowly, "and I beg your pardon, too. I see now that you -are--that you meant to be my friend." - -"And you will accept my friendship?" he asked eagerly. "You will allow -me to help you to return to England?" - -She shook her head. "I could have borrowed the money from Bertha Forbes, -if I had chosen to do it," she said. "She wanted to send me back at -once. But"--with an obstinate tightening of her pretty lips--"I thought -since I had gotten myself into this absurd plight by my own foolishness -I ought to get myself out of it. And that is why I am working for wages -in your sister's house. I shall soon have earned money enough to go home -by second cabin; but I don't mind how I go, if only I go!" - -Her eyes wandered away to the dim blue horizon which lay beyond "The -Hook," and he saw her sensitive mouth quiver. - -"Do you know you're showing a whole lot of splendid grit," he murmured -appreciatively. "I know just how you feel." - -"Now that I have told you all this," she went on hurriedly, her eyes -returning from their wistful excursion seaward, "you will understand why -I do not--why I cannot--" she blushed and faltered into silence. - -"You really haven't told me very much after all," he said gravely. -"Don't you think between friends, now, that----" - -"But we are not friends," she interrupted him hastily. "That is just -what I wished to say. I have explained to you that I have friends in -England, and I have Miss Forbes besides. So there is no reason at all -why you should give me or my affairs another thought, and I -beg"--haughtily--"that you will not." - -"O Jane! why?" he urged anxiously. - -She cast an impatient glance at him. "You are so--stupid," she murmured -resentfully. "But then you are an American, and I suppose you cannot -help it." - -He grimaced ruefully at this British taunt. "I fear I shall have to -allow the damaging fact of my nationality," he said; "but I fail to -understand how it is going to stand in the way of my thinking of you at -intervals. If you knew more about Americans, Jane, you would see that it -is mainly on that account I am bound to do it." - -"You'll be obliged to keep your thoughts to yourself then," she told -him, "for as long as I am in Mrs. Belknap's employ I am, undeniably, her -servant and, hence, nothing to you. Do you understand? Because if you do -not, I shall be obliged to find another situation at once." - -"Oh, no; don't do that!" he protested. "Look here, Jane, I'm not quite -such a duffer as you seem to think. I see your point, and I'll agree not -to bother you after this. But I won't promise never to think of you -again. On the contrary, I mean to think of you a great deal; may I, -Jane?" - -Jane arose. "It is quite time to be going home," she said coldly. "I -must ask you not to speak to me again, Mr. Everett, and please come home -on another car." - -"But sometime, Jane, after this farce is played to its finis, don't you -think----" - -She turned her back upon him deliberately and walked away toward the -trolley station, leading Master Belknap by the hand, meek and -unresisting. During all this time the little boy had been contentedly -laboring in the removal of sand from a hole of wide dimensions; his eyes -were heavy with fatigue when the girl set him gently in his place on the -homeward bound car. "I yuve 'oo, Jane," he murmured sweetly, laying his -curly head in her lap. "I'm doin' to build 'oo a--dreat, big house!" - -Five minutes later he was soundly asleep, and Jane, who had tried in -vain to awaken him, was forced to lift his limp weight in her slender -arms when the car finally stopped at her destination. - -"Give the boy to me, Jane," said an authoritative voice at her side. - -She looked up in real vexation. "I thought," she said reproachfully, -"that you promised----" - -"I promised not to bother you, Jane; but I didn't say I would never -offer to help you again. Did you suppose for an instant that I would -allow you to carry that boy up this hill?" - -Jane crossed the street without a word, and speeding across lots, by way -of a daisied meadow, reached the house first. - -She was met at the door by her mistress. "Why, Jane, where is Buster?" -inquired Mrs. Belknap anxiously. - -"Master Buster went to sleep on the way home, ma'am," explained Jane, -blushing guiltily, "and Mr. Everett, who chanced to be on the same car, -kindly offered to bring him up the hill." - -"Oh!" said Mr. Everett's sister, rather blankly. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - - -Opportunity has been depicted as a sturdy youth, girded for swift -flight, tapping lightly at one's door at uncertain intervals; then, when -one opens as quickly as may be, more often than not showing but a pair -of mischievous heels retreating into the mists of yesterdays--"Gone," we -are told solemnly, "never to return!" A truer philosophy recognizes -opportunity as the child of desire, and wholly dependent for continued -existence upon its parent. So when opportunity comes a-knocking (as -happens every day and wellnigh every hour of the day) let desire make -haste to run and open to its child, knowing well that opportunity is but -a weakling, and must be sheltered and nourished lest it perish with cold -and hunger on the very threshold that gave it birth. - -A lover, whether or no he be an acknowledged lover in his own eyes and -in the eyes of his world, needs no teaching as to the relationship his -eager desires bear to his fleeting opportunities. In his case, at least, -opportunity obeys desire, as a child should ever obey its parent; and -this, if the mad world would only pause to examine, is the chief reason -why lovers are of all men happy. - -All of which is submitted as a simple preamble to a simpler statement; -_videlicet_: because John Everett wished to see and converse with the -unconfessed object of his affections, he found ample opportunity to do -so, and this despite the fact that Jane Blythe herself did not wish it. -And here it should be observed that there is a wide disparity in the -quality and character of desire. John Everett's desire to know Jane was -natural, strong, vigorous, true. Jane's desire to keep the young man at -a distance was--to put it in the form of a vulgar -colloquialism--something of a fake. Therefore being a mere creature of -straw it stood no sort of a chance against the bold, aggressive, -opportunity-seeking wishes of John--as, indeed, it did not deserve. -Fraud, even though it be a nice, modest, girlish, innocent little fraud -like the one Jane was cherishing in her heart of hearts, should never be -tolerated. - -And so, although Jane frowned upon John on every suitable occasion, John -the more determinedly smiled upon Jane, and she, being young and lovely -and, after all, a mere woman, grew (quite stealthily) prettier and -sweeter and more worthy to be smiled upon with every passing hour. And -this despite the vinegar and gall which she was forced to mingle with -her daily food partaken of in the Belknap kitchen under the glowering -eyes of Mary MacGrotty. - -But opportunity when worthily fathered and properly nourished, as has -been noted, frequently grows into surprising stature and, moreover, -develops aspects which astonish even its fondest well-wisher. It is at -this point that Providence, luck, fate--what you will--is apt to take a -hand, and then--things happen. - -The thirtieth day of May dawned clear and beautiful after a week of rain -and cloudy weather, and Mrs. Belknap looking anxiously from her window -in the early morning gave a girlish shout of joy. "What a glorious day -for our ride with the Sloans in their new motor car!" she cried. "You -haven't seen it, Jimmy; but it is the darlingest thing, all shiny and -cushiony, with big lunch baskets on the side and a lovely, deep, horn -arrangement that trails out behind on the breeze like an organ chord." - -"The lunch baskets appeal to my most esthetic sensibilities," observed -Jimmy blandly. "I suppose the organ chord arrangement is designed to -distract the mind of the stationary public from the beastly smell of the -thing. Did you say the kid was asked too?" - -"Certainly Buster is going," said his wife. "Do you think for a moment -I'd go off pleasuring and leave that blessed lamb at home all day? -But"--lowering her voice--"Mrs. Sloan didn't invite Jack, and I'm -_awfully worried_!" - -"About what, dear? Jack won't mind; he can put in the day in any one of -a dozen ways." - -"Of course he _can_; but there's one way I don't want him to put it in." - -"What do you mean, dear girl? Don't look so doleful! One would suppose -you'd planned to spend the day in the cemetery." - -"That's really the way one ought to spend it, I suppose," said Mrs. -Belknap patriotically. She was still drawing her pretty brows together -in a worried little frown; then she turned suddenly upon her husband. -"You know what I said to you about Jack? I've been watching him, and I'm -awfully afraid----" - -Mr. Belknap was shaving, and at this unlucky instant he cut himself -slightly. "Nonsense, Margaret!" he exclaimed in an appropriate tone of -voice, "Jack doesn't need watching any more than I do; and if he did, it -isn't your place to do it." - -"Why, Jimmy Belknap, how can you say such an unkind thing! Am I not -Jack's only sister? Of course I ought to care whether he is happy or -not, and I----" - -"He seems to be happy enough lately," hazarded Mr. Belknap, pausing to -strop his razor with a slight access of irritation. - -"That's exactly what I mean," put in his wife triumphantly; "don't you -see, dear? Jack _does_ seem happy, and that is why I am so uneasy." - -"Do I understand you to say that as his only sister you wish to file a -demurrer in the case? If so, I'll----" - -"_Jimmy!_" - -Mr. Belknap leaned forward and eyed his lathered countenance intently as -he applied the glittering edge of his blade to his outstretched throat. - -"It always makes me shiver to see you do that," breathed Mrs. Belknap; -"if that horrid thing should slip! But as I was saying, Jimmy, I can't -think how to manage about the girls to-day. It seems a pity to ask them -to stay at home; though, of course, we shall be awfully hungry for -dinner when we get home, and if Mary goes out, more than likely she'll -not be back in time to get dinner at all. And as for Jane----" - -"By all means let them both go out for the day, my dear; you've really -no right to keep them in on a legal holiday. But I confess I don't -follow your 'as I was saying'; you weren't saying a word about the -servants. You were talking about Jack, and about Jack's being happy." - -Mrs. Belknap looked justly offended. "If you would pay a little more -attention to what I say to you, Jimmy, you wouldn't appear so stupid on -occasions. No; I'll not explain further; you'd merely make it an excuse -to tease, and very likely you'd report the whole conversation to Tom -Sloan as a huge joke, and the two of you would roar over it; then I -should be obliged to explain to Mrs. Sloan, and she's a perfect sieve. -The whole affair would be all over town in no time, and that I simply -could not endure." - -"I'm safe this time, Margaret," he assured her solemnly; "for, honest -Injin, I haven't a ghost of an idea as to what you're trying to get at!" - -"I know what I'll do," cogitated his wife, waving him aside. "I'll -manage it so that the girls shall leave the house a full hour before we -do; they'll go to the city, of course. And I'll keep Jack here till -we're off; by that time Jane will be well out of the way, and----" - -"O _Jane_!" - -"I see you are beginning to understand _now_!" said Mrs. Belknap; then -she added plaintively, "I _wish_ I'd _never_ hired that girl, Jimmy!" - -"I suppose there's very little use in asking why you persist in hanging -on to her?" said Mr. Belknap. - -"Don't you _see_, dear, it wouldn't do a bit of good to send her away -now; indeed, I feel as if it were almost my _duty_ to keep her." Mrs. -Belknap said this with the resigned air of a martyr; and Mr. Belknap -wisely forebore to make any comment upon the surprising statement. - - * * * * * * - -It was delightfully fresh and breezy on the trolley car; and Jane on the -front seat keenly enjoyed the noisy rush through the green, daisied -fields and woods cool with shade and fragrant with wild flowers and -young ferns. In the streets of the villages through which the car passed -on its way to the ferry there was a brilliant flutter of flags, the -unfamiliar stars and stripes looking strange and foreign in Jane's -English eyes. Everywhere there were holiday crowds, little girls in -white frocks and shoes, bearing wreaths and bunches of flowers; little -boys in their best clothes with tiny flags in their buttonholes; women -carrying babies, and men carrying lunch baskets, and other and bigger -babies; showily dressed young girls with their beaux; besides a -multitude of the unattached eagerly going somewhere. Jane felt herself -to be very small and lonely and far from home in the midst of it all. - -She had planned to spend her unexpected holiday with Bertha Forbes, and -when at the end of her journey she was informed by Miss Forbes's -landlady that Miss Forbes had departed to New Jersey for the day, she -turned away with a feeling of disappointment which almost amounted to -physical pain. What should she do? Where should she go, alone in the -great unfamiliar city of New York? - -There were numberless excursions by boat and train and flag-decked -barges, and the throng of sightseers of every nationality jostled one -another good-humoredly, as they surged to and fro under the hot sun in -the narrow space at the terminals of the elevated and subway roads. -Jane's sad, bewildered little face under the brim of her unfashionable -hat attracted the attention of more than one passer-by, as she slowly -made her way to the ferry ticket office. She was going directly back to -Staten Island, with no better prospect in view then to pass the day -alone on the back porch of Mrs. Belknap's house, when the -might-have-been-expected unexpected happened; she came face to face with -John Everett, cool and handsome in his light summer suit and Panama hat. -The young man had evidently just landed from a Staten Island boat, and -his grim face brightened as his eyes lit upon Jane, hastily attempting -to conceal her small person behind a burly German woman bearing a -bundle, a basket, and a brace of babies in her capacious arms. - -"_Jane!_" exclaimed Mr. Everett; "how glad I am to have met you. Where -were you going?" - -"I am going back to Staten Island directly, sir." - -"To do what?" - -His eyes demanded nothing less than facts, and Jane, being -characteristically unable to frame a successful fib on the spur of the -moment, told the pitiful little truth. - -"And so you were going back to stay all day on the outside of a locked -house--eh? A cheerful holiday you'd put in!" - -"I meant to take a long, pleasant walk, of course," amended Jane, -"and----" - -"Won't you take pity on me?" he pleaded. "I hadn't an idea how to spend -the day, so I'd started with an aimless notion of fetching up at the -country club and playing golf or tennis. But I don't care a nickel for -either. You've never seen New York, Jane, and now's your chance. You'll -be going back to England soon without ever having had a glimpse of this -town, and that would be really foolish, since you're here; don't you see -it would?" - -Jane shook her head. "I--I couldn't," she hesitated; but her youthful -eyes shone wistfully bright, as all unknown to herself she turned to -cast a fleeting glance at the laughing holiday crowds pouring up to the -elevated and down to the subway stations. - -"Why, of course you can!" he said positively; and before she knew what -had really happened she found herself, her weak objections overborne, -seated in a flying train which looked down upon the gay panorama of New -York's flag-decked streets. - -"Where are--we going?" she asked him, and the little catch in her soft -voice raised John Everett to a seventh heaven of unreasoning happiness. - -"How would you like," he asked, "to let this train carry us the entire -length of Manhattan Island--which is really the live heart of New York, -you know--and bring up at Bronx Park? I was there once with Buster, and -there are all sorts of queer birds and reptiles and animals to be seen, -and a pretty winding river--we'll go up it in a rowboat, if you like the -water; and we'll have our lunch in a little restaurant by the rocking -stone, and then----" - -"But--I'm obliged to be at home by five o'clock," she told him with a -transient clouding of her bright eyes, "and--and I am afraid that Mrs. -Belknap----" - -"Jane," he began, in a low, persuasive voice, "just listen to me for a -minute. You must have a reasonably independent character or you wouldn't -be here in America. You remember what you told me the other day of how -you came to leave your home in England; now that being the case, suppose -you make up your mind to forget all about my excellent sister and her -claims on you for just this one day and be yourself. Will you, Jane? It -will be a lot more fun for both of us, and it won't hurt anybody in the -world." - -Jane drew a quick breath. "I'd like to," she said honestly. - -At that very moment Mrs. Belknap, becomingly veiled and gowned and -leaning back complacently against the luxurious cushions of Mrs. Sloan's -new automobile, was saying to her hostess: "Oh, thank you so much for -thinking to inquire after my brother! Yes, John is spending the day at -the country club; he used to be a champion golf player--did you know it? -and he enjoys a day on the links beyond anything." Then this sapient -young matron permitted the carking cares of everyday life to trail away -into the dust-laden distance with the mellow honking of the great -horn--an experiment which Jane and John Everett were also trying to -their mutual satisfaction on the sun-lit reaches of the Bronx River. - -The boat which they hired at a rickety little landing stage was an -unwieldy flat-iron shaped scow, designed with an eye to the safety of -the inexperienced public as well as the profit of the owner; but Jane, -bright-eyed and pink cheeked, seated in the big square stern, was not -too far away from John on the rower's seat, and the unwieldy craft -presently carried the two of them around a wooded bend, out of sight of -a group of roystering picnickers on the bank, into a quiet nook where -the tall trees looked down at their reflection in the lazily flowing -water. - -"It reminds me," said Jane with a sigh, "of England; there is a river -like this near Uncle Robert's place in Kent, only it isn't muddy like -this." - -"One has to be far from home to really appreciate its strong points," he -observed meditatively; "I never shall forget how I felt after nearly a -year abroad when I came suddenly upon the American flag waving over a -consulate building somewhere in Italy. I hadn't an idea up to that -moment that I was particularly patriotic, and I'd been enjoying my trip -immensely, but I could have fallen on the neck of the wizened little -chap inside just because he was born in Schenectady, New York. But as a -matter of fact, Jane, our rivers are not all muddy; you ought to travel -about and see more of America before you allow yourself to form -cast-iron opinions about it. You've seen nothing but our seamy side yet, -and quite naturally you can't help setting America down as a very -disagreeable place, and bunching all Americans as cads." - -Jane's brilliant little face dimpled mischievously. "Oh, no, I don't," -she said sweetly; "I have the highest possible esteem for Bertha Forbes. -She is an American and a very superior person, I am sure." - -"You mean by that, I suppose, that you think her fair-minded and -kind-hearted; don't you?" - -"I suppose I do," admitted Jane. "Bertha is clever, too, and -amusing--sometimes." - -"Nearly all Americans are clever and amusing, in spots," he said -confidently, "and numbers of us can fill the rest of the bill clear down -to the ground; you'll see, Jane, when you come to know us better." - -She shook her head. "I am going back to England in June," she said, "and -I never expect to come back." - -"Do you mean that you never want to come back?" - -Jane shrugged her shoulders slightly. "I might possibly return to travel -about sometime," she admitted, her mind reverting to Mr. Towles's -parting words. "I am very fond of travel." - -"So am I," he said somewhat ruefully, "but I fear I'll not do much of it -for some years to come." - -Jane's eyes remained pensively fixed upon the opposite shore. She was -apparently quite indifferent to Mr. Everett's future prospects, and -after a short pause, which he devoted to a careful study of the girl's -clear profile, he observed tentatively: "I hope you'll not lay it up -against Margaret--the way she treats you and all, I mean. She's really -an uncommonly good sort, when one comes to know her; but, of course, she -can't--I mean she doesn't understand----" - -"I thought we were to forget Mrs. Belknap for this one day?" murmured -Jane, with a little curl of her pretty lips. - -He flushed uncomfortably. "What I meant to say was this: it occurred to -me that it might be advisable for you to make a clean breast of the -whole thing; to--to tell Margaret all about yourself and how you came to -leave England, and so put yourself right. I--I wish you would, Jane." - -She fixed her clear eyes upon him thoughtfully. "It has occurred to me, -too," she said; "but--there is really no need to say anything to Mrs. -Belknap. I shall try to do my work as well as I can while I am in her -house; after that,"--she paused, then went on deliberately--"I shall go -away, and that will be the end of it." - -He dipped his oars strongly. "It shall not be the end of it," he told -himself determinedly. Aloud he said, with a fine show of indifference: -"You will, of course, do as you like; but I am sure Margaret would be -glad if you would take her into your confidence." - -Jane smiled with a fine feminine understanding which was lost on the -man. "It will be much better not, I am sure," she said sweetly. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - - -As John Everett and Jane Blythe walked slowly along the shaded winding -path from the rustic bridge where they landed from the flat-iron shaped -scow, the girl was thoughtfully silent, and the man glancing at her -averted face felt vaguely uncomfortable. But he could hardly have been -expected to know that Jane's thoughts were perversely busying themselves -with the Hon. Wipplinger Towle. She was wondering uneasily as to what -that eminently correct Englishman would think at sight of her walking, -quite alone and unchaperoned, with a man, as appeared to be the strange -American custom. Then for perhaps the fiftieth time she speculated upon -the singular abruptness with which Mr. Towle had abandoned his wooing -after her final dismissal of him on Mrs. Belknap's back stoop. - -"He might at least have sent me word that he was going back to -England," she told herself with some indignation, "if he really cared -for me as much as he says." - -The thought of that dear, distant island of her birth colored her answer -to John Everett's cursory remark concerning the buffaloes, which lolled -in all their huge unwieldy bulk inside a trampled enclosure. "Awkward -chaps; aren't they?" he observed; "but the Government is doing its best -to preserve them at this late day. They used to be slaughtered by tens -of thousands on the plains, you know, until they bade fair to become -extinct." - -Jane shrugged her slender shoulders indifferently. "They are like -everything else I have seen in America," she said, "much too big and -ugly to be interesting." - -The tall American cast a laughing glance at the little figure at his -side. "We've more room to grow big in than you have in your 'right -little, tight little isle,'" he said pleasantly. "Now if you're half as -hungry as I am, you're ready to become a generous patron of natural -history to the extent of eating some lunch at this restaurant. The net -proceeds of all these places of entertainment are said to be turned in -to purchase more beasts, birds, and reptiles for the public -delectation." - -Jane blushed resentfully as they seated themselves at a small table in -the restaurant which was little more than an exaggerated veranda, open -on all sides to the fresh breeze, the sight of the neat waitresses, in -their caps and aprons, reminding her poignantly of her own anomalous -position. She glanced fearfully about, half expecting to meet the -scornful eyes of some one of Mrs. Belknap's acquaintances to whom she -had opened the door, and whose cards she had conveyed to her mistress -upon the diminutive tray which Mrs. Belknap had lately purchased for -that express purpose. There were other young women at other round -tables, wearing astonishing gowns and preposterous picture hats, and -attended by dapper young men in smart ready-made suits and brilliant -neckties. Amid the pervasive hum of toneless American voices, pieced by -occasional high-pitched giggles, Jane became painfully conscious that -her own gown was old-fashioned and shabby to a degree, and in marked -contrast to the trim elegance of her companion's garb. - -His eyes, released from a study of the bill of fare, followed hers with -a half humorous and wholly masculine misapprehension. "These are New -York's working girls out for a holiday," he said, "and they've certainly -got Solomon cinched, as the boys say, on attire; haven't they?" - -"If they are working girls, they are very unsuitably dressed," Jane said -primly. Then she glanced down at her own frock made over from one of -Gwendolen's cast-offs by her own unskilled fingers, and sighed deeply. - -"I like a--a plain gown best; one made of blue stuff, say, and not -too--too much frilled and furbelowed," he observed, with a fatuous -desire to ingratiate himself, which met with instant and well-deserved -retribution. - -"It isn't kind nor--nor even civil of you to say that," murmured Jane, -in a low indignant voice; "I'm only a working girl myself; and as for my -frock, I know it's old-fashioned and--and ugly. I made it myself out of -an old one; but you needn't have looked at it in that--particular way, -and----" - -"Jane!" he protested, startled at the fire in her eyes and the -passionate tremor in her voice, "I beg your pardon for speaking as I -did; it wasn't good manners, and I deserve to be squelched for doing it. -I don't know any more about gowns than most men, and yours may be -old-fashioned, but it is certainly the most becoming one I have seen -to-day!" - -Jane gazed at him searchingly. Then her mouth relaxed in a shadowy smile -of forgiveness. - -"Ah, here's the luncheon at last," he cried, with an air of huge relief, -"and I hope you're as well prepared to overlook probable deficiencies as -I am." - -There is something primal and indubitable in the mere act of partaking -of food at the same table which has always served to break down -intangible barriers of reserve. By the time Jane Blythe had eaten of the -broiled mackerel and fried potatoes--the latter vegetables being of the -color and texture of untanned leather--she felt better acquainted with -the man who shared these delectable viands with her than she could have -believed possible. And when the two of them had finally arrived at the -point of attacking twin mounds of pink and white ice cream, vouched for -by the smiling young person who waited on them as "fresh strawb'r'y an' -vaniller," she was ready to laugh with him at the truly national ease -and dispatch with which the loud-voiced, showily-dressed damsels in -their immediate neighborhood were disposing of similar pink and white -mounds. - -And when after luncheon they followed the crowd to the lion house, -Jane's brown eyes grew delightfully big at sight of the great beasts -ramping up and down in their cages and roaring for their prey, which a -blue-frocked man shoved in to them in the convenient shape of huge -chunks of butcher's beef. From the spectacle of the great cats at food, -the current of sightseers swept them along to the abode of the simians, -where they found monkeys of all sizes, colors, and shapes, gathered from -every tropical forest in the world, and bound always to arouse strange -questionings in the minds of their nobler captors. Jane lingered before -the tiny white-faced apes with the bright, plaintive eyes and withered -skins of old, old women. "They seem so anxious," she said, "and so -worried over their bits of food, which is sure to be given them by a -power which they do not understand." - -John Everett looked down at her with quick understanding of her unspoken -thought. "They might better be jolly, and--so might we," he murmured. "I -suppose, in a way, we're in a cage--being looked after." - -"And yet we seem to be having our own way," Jane said. - -After that she was ready to enjoy the ourangs, dressed in pinafores, and -sitting up at a table devouring buns and milk with an astonishing -display of simian good manners under the watchful eye and ready switch -of their trainer. When one of these sad-eyed apes suddenly hurled the -contents of his mug at his companion's head, then disappeared under the -table, she laughed aloud, an irrepressible, rolicking, girlish peal. - -"They make me think of Percy and Cecil at tea in the nursery at home," -she explained; "they were always trying experiments with their bread and -milk, and when they were particularly bad Aunt Agatha was sure to find -it out, and scold me because I allowed it." - -"I can't imagine you a very severe disciplinarian," he said, "though you -do manage Buster with wonderful success." - -He regretted the stupid allusion at sight of her quick blush, and made -haste to draw her attention to the Canadian lynxes snarling and showing -their tasseled ears amid the fastnesses of their rocky den. - -Neither paid any heed to the shrill exclamation of surprise to which a -stout person in a plaided costume surmounted by a lofty plumed hat gave -vent as she recognized the slight figure in the blue serge gown. The -stout lady was industriously engaged in consuming sweets out of a brown -paper bag; but she suspended the half of a magenta-tinted confection in -midair while she called her companion's attention to her discovery. - -"I'll cross the two feet av me this minute if it ain't _hur_!" she -cried. - -Her escort, who was distinguished by a mottled complexion, a soiled -white waistcoat, and a billy-cock hat tipped knowingly over one red eye, -helped himself to a block of dubious taffy, as he inquired with -trenchant brevity: "Who's hur?" - -"An' bad 'cess to hur English imperance, if she ain't wid _him_!" went -on the lady excitedly; "sure an' it's Mary MacGrotty as'll tell the -missus what I seen wid me own two eyes come to-morry mornin'. An' whin -I'm t'rough wid hur ye'll not be able to find the lavin's an' lashin's -av _hur_ on Staten Island! Aw, the young divil!" - -Happily, the unconscious object of these ambiguous remarks moved on -without turning her head, and was presently lost to view amid the -shifting crowd. - -There was much to be seen at every turn of the winding paths, and Jane's -girlish laugh rang out more than once at the solemn antics of the brown -bears, obviously greedy and expectant despite the official warnings -against feeding the animals, which were posted everywhere; at the -bellowings and contortions of the mild-eyed seals, as they dashed from -side to side of their tank, or "galumphed" about on the rocks. It was -Jane who supplied the missing word out of "Alice in Wonderland," and -John declared that it was the only word to describe the actions of a -seal on dry ground, and hence deserved an honorable place in the -dictionary. - -Neither of them noticed the lengthening shadows, nor the gradually -thinning crowd, till Jane observed a pair of huge eagles settling -themselves deliberately upon a branch in their cage. "They look," she -said innocently, "as if they were going to roost." - -Not till then did the infatuated John Everett bethink himself to glance -at his watch. - -"They _are_ going to roost, Jane," he said soberly, "and we've a long -trip before us." - -Jane could never afterwards recall the memory of that homeward journey -without a poignant throb of the dismay which overwhelmed her when she -spied Mary MacGrotty's leering face in the crowd that waited in the -ferryhouse. Miss MacGrotty's countenance was suggestively empurpled, and -her gait was swaying and uncertain as she approached Jane. - -"I seen yez wid _him_ to th' Paark," she whispered, "ye desaitful young -baggage!" Then she stepped back into the crowd and disappeared before -the girl could collect her wits to reply. - -Jane's pretty color had faded quite away, and her eyes looked big and -frightened when John Everett joined her with the tickets. "Oh, if you -please!" she whispered, "won't you let me go alone from here. I--I -mustn't be seen--with you, sir." - -The last piteous little word almost shook him from his self-control. -"You have a perfect right to be seen with me, Jane," he said firmly; -"and I will not leave you alone in this rough crowd; but if it will make -you any more comfortable I will sit a little distance away--but where I -can watch you, mind--once we are aboard." - -Mrs. Belknap had reached home before them, and Master Buster, cross and -tired, was handed over to Jane immediately upon her arrival. "I am very -sorry to be so late," the girl said, with a shamed drooping of her head. - -And Mrs. Belknap replied kindly: "You've not had many holidays since -you've been with me, Jane; I hope you enjoyed this one." - -"I--I did indeed," choked Jane; "but I ought--I must explain----" - -"Not to-night, please; it really makes no difference for this once!" her -mistress said crisply. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - - -Mrs. Belknap was brought up face to face with the inevitable by Mary -MacGrotty, who presented herself the next morning in the door of her -mistress's room. Miss MacGrotty's countenance was stern and gloomy. Her -words were few and to the point. - -"I ain't goin' to stay wid yez no longer," she said. - -"Why, what can have happened, Mary?" Mrs. Belknap asked, with -hypocritical solicitude. - -Miss MacGrotty eyed her young mistress haughtily. "Sure, mum, an' you -know well enough widout askin' me," she said. "There ain't no room in -wan house for hur an' me." - -"Do you mean Jane?" - -"I do, mum; I mean Jane, wid her purty face an' her big eyes an' her -foine goin's-on behind the back o' yez. It ain't fer me to worrit the -life out o' yez wid tellin' you all 'at I know. But I'm sorry fer yez; -that's all." - -The inexperienced Mrs. Belknap fell into the artful trap with ease. -"What do you mean, Mary?" she demanded anxiously. - -Miss MacGrotty shrugged her shoulders. "I'll trouble yez for me money, -mum," she said loftily. "I'll not make no trouble in the house." - -Mrs. Belknap happily remembered her husband's counsel at this crucial -moment. "Very well, Mary," she said coolly, "I will look over my account -book and have the money ready for you when you have packed and put your -room in order." - -Miss MacGrotty threw back her head with a defiant toss. "Sure, an' I'll -not be lavin' the house till I've had me rights! There's things been -missed, an' I'll not have it said that Mary MacGrotty wud touch the lave -of a pin!" Then of a sudden she melted into copious tears. "I've be'n -that happy an' continted sinse I come to live wid you, Mis' Belknap; -sure, I can't bear the thoughts of lavin' you an' Master Buster, wid -the shwate little face on him. If it wasn't fer _hur_ I'd never be -thinkin' of goin'; but my feelin's has be'n hur-r-t an' trampled on till -I can't bear it no more. Tell me _wan thing_, Mis' Belknap, wasn't we -all goin' on peaceful an' happy loike before _she_ come, wid Mis' -Whittaker to wash an' sweep, an' me in the kitchen?" - -Mrs. Belknap temporized weakly. "Do you mean to tell me that if I will -discharge Jane, you will stay?" she said at last. - -"I do, mum; an' may I cross my feet this day if I stay in the same house -wid hur another week. She ain't my sort, mum!" - -Still Mrs. Belknap hesitated. Jane was proving herself a most -intelligent caretaker for the idolized Buster. Indeed his mother was -forced to acknowledge that that young person's conduct showed a not -inconspicuous improvement since he had been under the firm but gentle -rule of English Jane. On the other hand, Mary's bread and rolls were -faultless, her pastry and salads beyond criticism, and her laundry work -exhibited a snowy whiteness and smoothness most gratifying to the eye -and touch of a dainty woman like Mrs. Belknap; singularly enough, not a -single MacGrotty relative had sickened or died since the advent of Jane. - -This last reflection colored her next remark. "You have been much more -reliable lately, Mary," she observed thoughtfully, "and we all like your -cooking." - -"_Reliable!_" echoed Miss MacGrotty warmly, "reliable? Ain't I always -reliable? Why, mum, in the last place where I wuz workin' four years to -the day, an' where I'd be yet on'y the leddy died--a shwate, purty leddy -she wuz, too. Often's the toime I've said to meself, 'Mis' Belknap's the -livin' image of hur,' I says, an' that's why I can't bear to be leavin' -yez, mum. But, as I wuz sayin', Mis' Peterson she wud be sayin': 'Oh, -Mary MacGrotty!' she says, 'I don't know what I'd be doin' widout -_you_,' she says. 'You're _that reliable_,' she says. Of course, I've -had turrible luck wid me family bein' tuk bad since I lived wid you. -But, the saints be praised! they're all well an' hearty now, exceptin' -me brother's youngest gurl that's bad wid her fut from bein' run over -by a milk wagon. Yis, mum, a turrible accident, it wuz, mum. _Hev ye -looked in hur things?_" - -"Have _I what_?" faltered Mrs. Belknap. - -"Looked in that gurl's trunk, mum," repeated Miss MacGrotty in a ghostly -whisper. "If you ain't, you'd better; that's all." - -"Oh, I shouldn't like to do that. Dear, _dear_! what ought I to do, -anyway?" - -"A workin' gurl what brags of havin' a goold watch wid a dimon' in the -back, an' a locket wid pearls an' two goold rings, wan of 'em wid a -foine blue stone in it, ain't honest, I sh'd say." - -"Did Jane----?" - -"I seen 'em wid me own eyes," affirmed Miss MacGrotty dramatically. -"'Where did you git the loikes o' thim?' I says to 'er. 'They wuz giv to -me,' she says, 'in me last place,' she says." - -"Dear, dear!" repeated Mrs. Belknap. Then she straightened her trim -figure. "You may go now, Mary; I shall be obliged to talk with Jane, -and with Mr. Belknap, too. I don't wish to be unjust." - -"You'd better talk to Mr. Everett, mum, whilst you're talkin'!" said -Mary, with artful emphasis. "Sure, an' he's too foine a gintleman -entirely to----" - -"You may go to your work at once, Mary," repeated Mrs. Belknap sternly. -"I will tell you to-morrow what I have decided to do." Nevertheless the -last barbed arrow had found its mark in Mrs. Belknap's agitated bosom. -"I wonder if Jack--could--" she murmured, her mind running rapidly back -over the past weeks. He had taken the girl's part masterfully in the few -half-laughing discussions which had taken place concerning the romantic -fortunes of Jane. "She is a lady, sis," he had declared stoutly, "and -you ought to treat her like one." - -"Impossible!" she thought. Of course there couldn't be such a thing in -America as the rigid class distinctions of England; still, an _Everett_ -could hardly be seriously attracted by a _servant_. It was, she decided, -merely another case of dear old Jack's overflowing goodness and -kindness of heart--a heart which seemed big enough to harbor and warm -the whole world of forlorn humanity. It was, in short, "the Everett -way." Margaret Belknap recalled her father's beautiful courtesy which -had exhibited itself alike to the washerwoman and the wife of the -millionaire. All women were sacred in the eyes of the Everett men. And a -poor, sick, helpless or downtrodden woman was the object of their -keenest solicitude. - -Why, Jack, she remembered, had on one occasion carried Mrs. Whittaker's -little girl through the mud and rain for a full block, with that -melancholy personage following close at his heels, delivering fulsome -panegyrics on his goodness. "And there wasn't a bit of use of it, -either; the child could have walked perfectly well," Mrs. Belknap -reminded herself. Jack was the dearest boy in the world--except Jimmy; -but, of course, he was _absurd_--sometimes. All men were. It was her -manifest duty to see to it that no appealingly helpless female -succeeded in attaching him to her perpetual and sworn service. It was -her duty; and she would do it. - -This praiseworthy resolution shone keenly in her blue eyes when Jane -encountered them next. Behind the resolution lurked a question. Jane -answered it by asking another. "I fear you are not satisfied with my -work, Mrs. Belknap," she said meekly. Somehow or other, without exactly -knowing why, she had become increasingly solicitous about pleasing this -pretty, clear-eyed young matron, who, it might have seemed, was not so -difficult to please. - -"Why, yes, Jane," Mrs. Belknap answered hesitatingly, "I _am_ pleased -with your work. You are really very neat about your sweeping and -dusting, now that I have taught you how"--this with a complacent tilt of -her brown head--"and you really manage surprisingly well with Buster. I -think he positively likes you--_the darling_! But----" - -Jane waited the outcome of that "but" with a sinking heart. - -Mrs. Belknap was gazing at her hand-maiden's downcast, faintly blushing -face with searching eyes. "Jane," she said at last, "Mary has given me -warning." - -"Do you mean that Mary is going to leave you, ma'am?" - -Mrs. Belknap sighed involuntarily. "Yes; that is what I mean. I was so -sorry, Jane, to hear from Mary that you two cannot live peaceably in the -same house. And then----" - -"What else did Mary say about me, Mrs. Belknap?" demanded Jane with -kindling eyes. - -"She said---. O Jane, how can I tell you? You _seem_ such a nice girl!" - -"I _seem_--yes, madam; but you think I am not what I seem. Well, I am -not. I ought not to be doing the work of a servant in this house. I -ought never to have come here." Jane threw back her pretty head and -stared at Mrs. Belknap from under level lids. - -Mrs. Belknap returned the look with one of startled interest. She had -recalled the smuggling episode. "What--do you mean, Jane?" she asked. -"You are not----" - -"I am a lady," said English Jane haughtily; "and so I do not belong in -anyone's servant's hall. That is what I mean." - -"Oh!--_a lady_!" repeated Mrs. Belknap, and she smiled. "Everyone who -works out in America is 'a lady.' We who employ servants are simply -women. But perhaps you did not know that, Jane." She remembered her -brother's emphatic assertions, and added kindly: "I have noticed Jane, -that you appear somewhat above your station. But you should remember -that honest work never hurts anyone's real character. Character is -marred by--by something quite different. When one allows oneself to be -tempted to--to take what belongs to another, for instance." - -"Do you mean, Mrs. Belknap, that you think _I_ stole the things you have -missed?" demanded Jane, her hazel eyes darting fire. "Did that wicked -Mary say _that_ to you? Yes; I see that she did. And you"--with bitter -anger and scorn quite impossible to convey--"believed it!" - -Mrs. Belknap appeared to grow small in her chair under the direct light -of the girl's indignant eyes. "I--I do not _accuse_ you of anything," -she faltered. "I wish above all things to be just to everybody -concerned." - -Jane was silent. She was thinking confusedly of _noblesse oblige_. "You -told me you were not easily deceived," she said, after a long pause; -"but you are. If you were not blind you would _know_ that I am incapable -of anything of the sort. But if you prefer to believe Mary because she -cooks your food as you like it, I shall not complain. I cannot cook." - -This random shaft hit so squarely in the bull's eye of Mrs. Belknap's -wavering thought that for the moment that worthy young matron was quite -overcome with confusion. Then she rallied her forces. - -"Now that we have entered upon this very disagreeable conversation, -Jane, we may as well come to a full understanding--if such a thing is -possible," she said decidedly. "I dislike more than I can tell you -mentioning the matter, because it would seem to be none of my affairs; -but Mary told me that you had shown her several articles of jewelry -which struck me as being--well, to say the least, as unsuited to a young -girl situated as you seem to be in the world, and----" - -"I never showed Mary anything that belonged to me, nor talked to her -about myself," said Jane stonily. "But I will show the contents of my -box to you, madam--if you have not already seen it," she added keenly. - -"No--no, Jane, indeed, I have not!" denied her mistress. "I have never -made a practice of looking into a servant's possessions without her -knowledge, as so many housekeepers do." Mrs. Belknap was feeling -thoroughly uncomfortable; quite, as she afterwards expressed it, as -though she were the culprit brought to the verge of a damaging -confession. - -"Very well, madam, if you will come upstairs to my room with me I will -show you my watch and my locket, and whatever else I have which you -think may interest you." - -The faint irony in Jane's well-modulated tones brought the color to -Mrs. Belknap's forehead; but she arose determinedly. "Thank you, Jane," -she said, "it will be best, I think." - -Jane threw open the door of the metamorphosed trunkroom with the air of -an empress. "Please sit down, Mrs. Belknap," she said politely. Then she -opened the lid of her trunk. "This is my watch, of which Mary spoke to -you. It belonged to my mother; it has her monogram on the back, you see; -and inside is her name, Jane Evelyn Winston." - -Mrs. Belknap's eyelids flickered inquiringly. - -"Winston was my mother's name before she was married," Jane explained, -with a scornful curl of her pretty lip. "This locket has my father's -picture in it, as you see. Mother used to wear it on her neck. I can -just remember it." - -"It is a very handsome locket," murmured Mrs. Belknap. - -"And these are mother's wedding and betrothal rings. This sapphire is -very old; it belonged to my great-great-grandmother Aubrey-Blythe. -There are some other jewels which belonged to mother, but Uncle Robert -has them put away for me. I suppose I shall never see them again." - -Jane choked a little over her last words, and two or three big, homesick -tears dropped on the two rings. - -"_Jane!_" exclaimed Mrs. Belknap, with sudden sharpness, "what--what is -_that_?" She was pointing to a corner of the trunk, her eyes round with -horrified surprise. - -Jane's tear-blurred gaze followed the direction of her mistress's -accusing finger. - -"Will you take everything out of the trunk, please, and place the -articles on this chair, one by one," commanded Mrs. Belknap. - -The girl obeyed in stupefied silence. - -"Do these articles--this fraternity badge, these hat pins, and this -handkerchief belong to you, Jane?" - -"No!--oh, my God, _no_!" cried Jane, staring with a suddenly blanching -face at the little group of articles which Mrs. Belknap had singled out -from among the things on the chair. - -There was a tense silence in the room for the space of a minute; then -Master Belknap's little feet were heard laboriously climbing the stair. -"Muzzer!" he shouted, "I want 'oo, muzzer! I tan't find my Jane!" - -Jane sobbed aloud. - -"Oh, Jane, I _am_ so _sorry_!" sighed Mrs. Belknap faintly. "Of course, -you will have to go. But I shall not--" She hesitated over the harsh -word, and finally substituted another. "I shall not tell anyone of this; -except," she added firmly, "Mr. Belknap and Mr. Everett. I _must_ tell -them, of course. They will be sorry, too." - -Jane stared at her mistress through a blur of anguished tears. - -"Do you think--oh, you _can't_ believe I did it?" - -"What else _can_ I believe?" Mrs. Belknap said sorrowfully. Then she -arose with decision. "If you will come to me when you have packed, Jane, -I will pay you your wages. And I do hope, my poor girl, that this will -be a lesson to you. _Nothing_ is so well worth while as truthfulness and -honesty. _Try_ to remember it, Jane, after this; will you?" - -Jane's face hardened. "I didn't do it," she said doggedly. "That wicked -Mary has been in my room. She said she had. She must have put these -things in my trunk. I never saw them before." - -"_Jane!_" exclaimed Mrs. Belknap; there was stern reproof, righteous -anger, and a rapidly growing disgust in her voice. Then she swept out, -pausing merely to say: "You may pack your things _at once_!" - - -John Everett came home early from the city that night. He had arrived at -an important decision--namely, to make a confidante of his sister with -regard to his unmistakable feelings for Jane. "Margaret is a brick!" he -told himself hopefully. "She will understand; I know she will, and do -the square thing by us both. It isn't as though Jane was a common, -uneducated person; she is a lady to the tips of her little -fingers--bless her!" - -Mr. Everett's ideas had undergone a rapid and wonderful change within -the few weeks of his meager acquaintance with Jane. He no longer -appeared to himself to be breasting an unfriendly current of life with -the mere vision of a distant, sunny shore to cheer his untiring efforts. -He seemed suddenly to have attained a larger and completer knowledge of -himself and of his powers. He knew himself to be abundantly able to make -a home for the dearest, sweetest little girl in the world, and he was -ready to ride rough shod and triumphant over difficulties of every -conceivable sort. Since he had arrived at this by no means tardy -conclusion of the matter, his love for Jane had over-leapt its barriers, -and was ready to sweep all before it, including the girl's own -delightful shyness and maiden coldness. - -Mr. Everett found his sister Margaret at her little desk, a -leather-covered account book open before her, a pile of bills and silver -pushed to one side. He stooped to pinch her pink ear, following the -pinch with a hearty brotherly kiss. Then he perceived that something was -seriously amiss with the little lady. There were tears in her eyes and a -piteous quaver in her voice as she looked up to greet him. - -"What's the matter, little woman?" he asked gayly. "Won't the accounts -balance?" - -He bent nearer and read: "Jane Evelyn Aubrey-Blythe. Began work April -26th; wages $14.00." - -"Is _that_ her name?" he almost shouted. "Why didn't you tell me -before?" - -"I don't know what you mean, Jack," Mrs. Belknap replied petulantly. -Then she burst into nervous tears as she faltered: "Jane's--_gone_! And, -oh, Jack, she _wouldn't_ take her wages!" - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - - -"Gone!" echoed John Everett blankly. "Are you telling me that Jane has -_gone_?" Then he stooped over his sister with something almost -threatening in his face and attitude. "Margaret," he said quietly, "you -must tell me at once what has happened to Jane!" - -Mrs. Belknap glanced up at him fearfully. "O Jack!" she cried, "surely -you do not--you cannot----" - -"How long has she been gone?" demanded her brother, still in that -ominously quiet tone. "Tell me quick!" - -"Not ten minutes," replied his sister. "But, Jack, _dear_ Jack, listen -to me! She--she--wasn't honest; I found----" - -A smothered exclamation of wrath and grief, a loud slam of the front -door, and the sound of his hurrying feet without reduced Mrs. Belknap to -despairing tears. - -"Oh! what shall I do?" she asked herself miserably. "I _tried_ to be -fair to Jane; I did indeed! I should never have accused her. But what -_could_ I think? And if Jack--oh! that would be worst of all! But -perhaps he is just sorry for her; he is always being sorry for people. I -wish she had taken the money; the sight of it makes me feel like a -thief! And I wish--oh, I _wish_ Jimmy would come!" - -The little pile of bills and silver, representing the month's wages -which she had urged upon poor Jane, seemed to accuse her solemnly. She -put it hastily out of sight, glad of her child's insistent demands for -attention. - -The boy climbed upon her knee and pillowed his head comfortably upon her -breast. "Jane cwied, muzzer," he remarked presently. - -"Yes, dear," said Mrs. Belknap nervously. "Would you like mother to tell -you about the three little pigs?" - -"Uh-huh; tell me 'bout 'e' free 'ittle pigs. Jane cwied, muzzer!" - -"Yes, dear. Now listen: Once upon a time there was a nice, kind pig -mamma, and she had three dear, little----" - -"Muzzer, if I--if I div Jane my fwannel el'phunt, would she--would she -'top cwi'in? I like my Jane, muzzer!" - -"Poor little sweetheart!" exclaimed Mrs. Belknap, with a gratifying -sense of indignation against Jane welling up warm within her. "Never -mind about Jane, darling; listen to mother while she tells you about the -three dear little pigs. One was a little white pig, with pink eyes and a -pink nose and the cunningest little curly tail." - -"Was his 'ittle curly tail _pink_, muzzer?" - -"Yes, dear; it was all _pink_, and----" - -"_No!_" objected her son strongly; "his 'ittle curly tail was--it was-- -_Tell_ me, muzzer!" - -"It was--pinky white, a delicate, peach blossom sort of color," hazarded -Mrs. Belknap. "Now be quiet, dear, and listen. The second little pig was -spotted, white and----" - -"If I div Jane my _wed bwocks_, would she 'top cwi'in, muzzer?" - -"White and brown," went on his mother desperately. "Now you _must_ -listen, Buster, or mother cannot tell you the story. The third little -pig was black--_all pure black_." - -"Was his 'ittle curly tail all bwack, muzzer?" - -"Yes; his little curly tail and all--_pure black_. He was the smallest -pig of all; but his mother loved him dearly." - -"Did he cwi, muzzer?" - -"No; never; none of them ever cried. They were----" - -"Jane cwied, muzzer." - -"They were very good, obedient little pigs. They never interrupted their -dear mother when she told them stories. They were----" - -"I like my Jane," murmured the infant, applying his fists to his eyes, -"an'--an' I like my supper. Tell Jane to div me my supper, muzzer!" - -"Why, you poor little darling! Of course you must be hungry! Mother will -give you your supper right away. Come, dear!" - -Mrs. Belknap arose with a sigh of relief, and made her way to the -kitchen. "Mary," she began, "I will give Buster his supper now; you -may--" She stopped short in horrified dismay. Miss MacGrotty was lolling -against the table, a saucepan grasped negligently in one hand, while its -contents drizzled slowly down the broad expanse of her aproned front -into a puddle on the floor. - -"Why, _Mary_!" cried her mistress, "you are spilling that gravy all over -yourself; do be careful!" - -"_Careful_--is ut? _Careful!_ I'm that--hic careful, mum! You'll not -find me equal--on Shtaten Island, mum. I'm--jist a-ristin' mesilf a bit. -I'm that wore out wid--hic--shlavin' fer the loikes av yez. An' I'll do -ut no longer!" - -Miss MacGrotty here relinquished her lax hold upon the saucepan which -glissaded briskly to the floor, scattering blobs of brown sauce in every -direction. - -"_Mary!_" repeated Mrs. Belknap, "you must be ill!" - -"Git out av me kitchen!" advised Miss MacGrotty trenchantly. "I'll not -have the loikes av yez a-bossin' _me_! I'm a perfec' leddy, I am, -an'--hic--I'll not put up wid yer lip no more, ner I won't put up wid -hers neither--a-tellin' me I ain't honest, an' me on'y takin' me -perquisites now an' thin in tay an' sugar an' the loike!" - -"I do believe you've been drinking!" exclaimed Mrs. Belknap, a great -light breaking in upon her mind. "Tell me, was it you who put those -things in poor Jane's trunk?" - -"Indade, an' I'll not tak' a worrd av yer imperance!" retorted Miss -MacGrotty, with drunken dignity. "I says to mesilf, 'I'll tak' down her -high looks,' I says. An' I done ut!" - -Mrs. Belknap turned and fled--straight into the arms of her husband, who -had just entered the house. In that safe refuge the little woman burst -into tormented tears, while the infant clinging to her skirts lifted up -his voice in sympathetic concert. - -"What in the world?" began the distracted husband and father. "Hold -hard here! I've got oranges, Buster! and violets, Madge! Come, dear, -brace up and tell a fellow what's up! Anybody sick or dead? Or what has -happened?" - -Thus entreated Mrs. Belknap sobbed out an incoherent account of the -untoward happenings of the day. - -Mr. Belknap whistled, after a safe masculine habit. "Well, you have had -a day of it!" he exclaimed. "Jane convicted and evicted; Jack eloped -(presumably) and Mary intoxicated! By Jove! I believe she's preparing to -invade the front of the house. Here, dear, you take the boy and go in -the other room, and I'll manage the hilarious lady." - -The rumble of a deep Irish voice and the slamming of furniture in the -dining room presaged the dramatic advent of Miss MacGrotty, armed with a -poker and a toasting fork. "I'll tak' down the high looks av her afore -I'm done wid her!" she was declaiming. - -"Hello, Mary! What's the matter with you?" demanded Mr. Belknap in a -loud and cheerful voice. - -At sight of her master, tall, broad and authoritative, Miss MacGrotty -sank into a chair and began to weep hysterically. "Aw, sur!" she -faltered, "may the saints in hiven bless your kind hearrt fur askin'! -I've be'n that--hic--put upon this day, an' me a perfec' leddy, but that -delicut an' ailin' I'm 'bliged to tak' a wee drap occasional to kape up -me spirits loike! 'You've be'n drinkin'' she says. The imperance av -her!" - -Mr. Belknap had grasped the lady firmly by the arm. "You need a little -rest, Mary," he said sympathetically. "You must have been working too -steadily. My wife's a hard mistress." - -"That she is, sur, bliss yer kind hearrt! If you'd lave me be, sur, -I'd--hic--tak' down the high looks av her, an' that hussy, Jane, too. -But I got good an' even wid _hur_!" - -"What did you do to Jane?" inquired her captor, who was gently shoving -his prize up the stairs. - -"Don't you know, sur? an' you that shmart in your business? _She's_ -'asy fooled! Sure, an' I changed things about a bit in the house; that's -all I done." - -"Ah-ha! Very clever of you, Mary. You put the missis's things in Jane's -room--eh? Good joke that!" - -Miss MacGrotty laughed hysterically. "She ain't found 'em all yit," she -whispered. "Tell her to look between the mattresses av the bed." - -"Thanks for the information, old girl!" observed Mr. Belknap genially. -And having arrived at his destination, namely, the apartment occupied by -Miss MacGrotty, he gently deposited his charge within; then shut and -locked the door upon her. - -"She'll sleep it off before morning," he told his wife reassuringly; -"then I'll see that she leaves the house peaceably. I told you she was a -fraud, dear. But never mind, better luck next time. As for Jack, I do -hope he'll find that poor girl for the sake of the family peace of -mind." - -"I--I hope so too, Jimmy; only----" - -"Don't worry about Jack," advised her husband. "He's too level-headed -to rush into matrimony merely because he's sorry to see a girl treated -unjustly." - -"But, Jimmy dear," protested his wife, "I don't see what I could have -done. There were the things--in her trunk." - -Mr. Belknap shook his head. "It's pretty hard on a little woman when -she's suddenly called upon to act as prosecuting lawyer, judge, jury and -all," he said sympathetically. "But I think you were a bit hasty, dear. -You might have suspended judgment, as they say, considering the -defendant's general character." - -"Yes, I really ought to have known better, I suppose," agreed Mrs. -Belknap meekly. "But I can't help being afraid that Jack is more than -sorry for Jane. And, Jimmy, she's _only a servant_--even if she is -honest, and yes--I will acknowledge it--pretty." - -"Talk about our glorious American democracy!" groaned her husband in -mock dismay. - -"Well, I'll put it straight to you, Jimmy Belknap; would _you_ like -Jane Evelyn Aubrey-Blythe for a sister-in-law?" - -"Hum! That depends," said Jimmy Belknap, with a conservative grin. "But -I say, Margaret, let's see what we can do about that dinner I seem to -smell burning on the range." - -While these important events were transpiring in the Belknap household, -Mr. John Everett was having divers and sundry experiences of his own. As -he plunged down the street in the fast-gathering darkness of the spring -night he was conscious of but one desire, and that was to find Jane. -Having found her, he knew definitely that he meant never to lose sight -of her again. This much was certain, and the fine, drizzling rain which -presently began to fall did not serve to dampen his resolution. - -There was no car in sight when he reached the corner--no car and no -waiting figure. One nearly always waited to the worn limits of one's -patience on this particular corner, as Mr. Everett already knew from -frequent experience. Traffic was light in this modest, detached suburb, -and the traveling public correspondingly meek and long-suffering. But -occasionally one did "catch" a car, despite the infrequency of the -phenomenon. If Jane had gone--actually gone away into the great, wide, -cruel world, how could he ever find her? And not to find Jane meant an -aching desolation of spirit which already gripped him by the throat and -forced the salt drops to his eyes. - -"I _will_ find her!" said John Everett to himself; and then, all at -once, he found her. - -She was standing under the sparse shelter of a newly leaved tree, her -eyes shining big and tearless in the cold, white light of the shuddering -arc-light. - -"Jane!" cried John Everett. "Thank God I have found you, Jane!" - -The girl looked up at him quietly. She did not reply; but the sight of -his agitated face seemed to stir some frozen current of life within her. -She sighed; then colored painfully over all her fair face. "She has told -you," she said, "and you----" - -"I love you, Jane," he said impetuously. "I want you to be my wife. O -Jane dear, dear girl, don't turn away from me!" - -"The car is coming," she said faintly. "You must not--oh, good-by, -good-by!" - -The brightly lighted car groaned and squeaked painfully to a standstill, -and he helped her to mount the high step. - -"Good-by," she murmured again; but when she looked up he was still at -her side, feeling mechanically in his pocket for fares. "You must not go -with me," she said firmly. "People will see you, and--and--I should -prefer to be alone." - -John Everett set his square American jaw. "I am sorry," he said briefly, -"but I am going to see you to a place of safety somewhere. And -to-morrow----" - -"I do not need you," she said pointedly. "I am going to my friend, Miss -Forbes, in New York." - -"Very well," he agreed, "I will see you to your friend's house." - -She did not once look at him till they had found places in a secluded -corner on the ferryboat deck. Then she spoke again. - -"I wish," she said gently, "that you would leave me." - -John Everett looked down at her. "Jane," he said abruptly, "are you -already married?" - -"Why--why, no," she stammered. "Of course not!" - -"Do you love another man?" - -"No. But"--haughtily--"you have no right to ask me." - -"I beg your pardon, Jane, but I have. Remember that I have asked you to -be my wife." - -"I am," said Jane, coldly and incisively, "a perfect stranger to you. At -present I am a disgraced servant, leaving my place because I am accused -of being--_a thief_." - -"Jane, look at me!" - -She obeyed him proudly. - -"You are the woman I love, dear. I have loved you ever since I saw you -that first day. I shall never love anyone else in the whole world. Oh, -my poor darling, _don't_ turn away from me; _try_ to love me a little!" - -In point of fact, Jane did not offer to turn away from him. Her bruised -and lonely heart was filled with sweetest joy and light. And the proud -little face uplifted to his was transfigured with the light that never -shone on sea or land. - -"Won't you try, dear?" he repeated, bending toward her. - -"I can never forget," she said slowly, "that you loved me--when--" her -tender voice broke piteously--"when all the world despised me." - - - - -CHAPTER XX - - -John Everett may, or may not, have been excusable for neglecting to -inform Jane Blythe of a matter which nearly concerned her, and which had -occupied his own attention for an hour or more that very day. The firm -of lawyers with whom he was associated--Messrs. Longstreet and Biddle, -to be exact--had received by the morning's post a letter from certain -London solicitors instructing them to advertise for, and otherwise -endeavor to locate the whereabouts of one Jane Evelyn Aubrey-Blythe, who -was known to have left England for America on or about April 6th of the -current year. Information regarding this person, who was otherwise -described as being young and of pleasing appearance and address, would -be thankfully received by Messrs. Thorn, Nagle & Noyes, attorneys and -counselors-at-law. - -In pursuance of this desired end, John Everett had been deputed to -frame a suitable inquiry to be inserted in the public prints, and the -leading New York, Brooklyn, and Jersey City papers were presumably at -that moment setting the type for said notices. Just why Mrs. Belknap had -neglected to inform her brother of what she had been pleased to term -Jane's romantic but imaginary appellation, she could not afterwards -recall. - -It was Bertha Forbes who finally brought John Everett's soaring thoughts -to earth again, when he presented himself at her lodgings as the escort -of Jane on that memorable rainy evening in May. Miss Forbes was -officially crisp and cogent in her manner at first; but thawed -perceptibly when the two took her wholly into their confidence. - -Jane had appeared quite unmoved by the news of the legal inquiry which -concerned itself so particularly with her person. - -"It will be Uncle Robert," she said calmly. "I suppose he has been -frightfully annoyed at my disappearance--and Aunt Agatha, too. But," -she added, with a fleeting glance at her lover, "I'm glad I ran away." - -"So am I!" echoed John Everett fervently. - -Bertha Forbes caught herself smiling. "Such foolish escapades frequently -turn out quite otherwise," she said severely. "The question--now that -this young person has been 'found,' so to speak--is what do Messrs. -Thorn, Nagle & Noyes want with her?" - -"They wish me to return to England--to Aunt Agatha," Jane was positive. - -"You'll not go, Jane," whispered John Everett. - -Bertha Forbes caught the whisper. "She may be obliged to go," she said -curtly. "You must leave her for the present, young man, in my care. -Communicate with your London lawyers and find out the particulars. Your -plans for Jane's future are so extremely recent that they will bear -deferring a bit, I fancy." - -When John Everett went away at last, after bidding his sweetheart good -night under the coldly impersonal eyes of Miss Forbes, he walked on -air. And for exactly six days thereafter he was the happiest man on -earth. On the seventh day arrived a cablegram from Messrs. Thorn, Nagle -& Noyes, which read as follows: "Return Aubrey-Blythe next steamer. Sole -heir to uncle's estate." - -Jane shook her head when she heard this. - -"Impossible," she said at first. "I have no uncle except Uncle Robert." -Later she recalled the dim memory of a younger brother, one Foxhall -Aubrey-Blythe, a wild scapegrace of a fellow, who had been bred to the -army, sent to South Africa in the Zulu wars, and lost sight of by his -family. "It was thought," she said soberly, "that he was killed, though -his death was never reported in the despatches. He was officially -starred and labeled 'missing'." - -"He has evidently turned up again," said John Everett gloomily. "That is -to say, he has been heard of again as rich and dead; and you are his -heiress." - -"It may not be much," said Jane Blythe thoughtfully. "I suppose," she -added, "that I must go back to England. But I shall not stay there." - -Then she looked at John Everett. He was staring sternly at the toe of -his boot, a most unhappy expression clouding his handsome face. -"You--don't like it--John?" she faltered, with an adorable little quaver -in her clear voice. - -He avoided her eyes. "I--ought not to have spoken to you as I did that -night," he said at last. "Jane, I don't know what you will think of me. -I--knew that the inquiry had been set on foot when I rushed out after -you. I meant to have told you--_that_. But when I saw you--" He paused -to groan aloud, then went on hurriedly: "I forgot all about that -confounded letter from Thorn, Nagle & Noyes; I forgot everything except -that I had found you. I was so sorry for you, dear, and so angry with my -sister, and--well, I've come to the conclusion that I made a confounded -fool of myself, Jane. Can you--can you forgive me?" - -Jane's happy face had paled during this halting monologue. "I'm afraid -I don't--understand," she said in a low voice. "Do you--mean that you -are sorry you--told me----" - -"I ought to have waited," he said doggedly. - -"And if you had--waited?" she asked breathlessly. - -He raised his unhappy eyes to hers. "If you had gone back to England -free and rich you would have been glad to forget America and all your -unhappy experiences here; wouldn't you, Jane? Why, when I think that I -have actually sat still and allowed you to hand me my coffee of a -morning I--I hate myself!" - -"I hope," said English Jane tranquilly, "that I shall be allowed to hand -you your coffee a great many mornings. Every morning, in fact, after -we--." A great wave of lovely color rolled gloriously over her fair -face. "O John!" she whispered, "didn't you mean it when you told me that -you loved me?" - -"Didn't I _mean_ it?" he echoed. "Well, I should say I did!" And he -looked it, to her complete satisfaction. "But----" - -"You loved me when all the world despised me," murmured Jane. "I shall -never forget that. Besides," she added shyly, "I--love you, and it would -break my heart to----" - -"Darling!" exclaimed John Everett. "Then we'll be married to-morrow. For -to tell you the truth, Jane, I'm downright afraid to let you go back to -England alone." - -Of course this ridiculously hasty decision of John Everett's had to be -severely modified and reconstructed by the various ladies nearly -concerned in the case. Bertha Forbes, for one, immediately took a hand -in the affair and pooh-poohed the notion of such unseemly haste. - -"What do you know about this young man, anyhow, that you should be -willing to marry him out of hand in this mad fashion?" she demanded with -decided acrimony. - -"I love him," Jane replied, with stubborn tranquillity. "I shall never -love anyone else," she added confidently. - -"What about Mr. Towle?" inquired Bertha coolly. - -"Mr. Towle!" echoed Jane, with an air of extreme surprise. "What, pray, -has Mr. Towle to do with it?" - -"Isn't he a lover of yours?" - -"I'm sure I can't help _that_," pouted Jane, with a shrug of her slim -shoulders. "He is ages older than I am, and besides----" - -"Well," grunted Miss Forbes, "go on; what other crimes has he -committed?" - -"Of course he can't help being bald, poor man. But, Bertha, he came to -see me one day at Mrs. Belknap's; I can never forgive him for that. -Fancy his waiting in the kitchen, and being sent away--like a--like a -butcher's boy! But that wasn't enough, even; he came back and persisted -in talking to me on the kitchen porch. Do you know if it hadn't been for -Buster interrupting, just as he did, I actually believe I should -have--that is, I _might_ have--and only think, Bertha, how _horrible_ -that would have been! No; he shouldn't have come. I shall always think -so." - -Miss Forbes stared meditatively at the girl for a long minute; then she -burst into what Jane was disposed to regard as unreasoning laughter of -the variety which was once sapiently characterized as "the crackling of -thorns under a pot." - -"I can't see," observed Jane, very grave and dignified, "why you should -laugh. There was nothing to laugh about in what I said." - -Miss Forbes instantly grew sober. "Heaven forfend that you should ever -see, my dear child," she observed in a grandmotherly tone, "and far be -it from me to attempt an explanation! Suppose we talk about clothes, -instead. And--how will you ever go to work to metamorphose that late -imperious mistress of yours into a fond sister-in-law?" - -But Mrs. Belknap came to the front full of tears and handsome apologies -and congratulations, all mixed up with embarrassed blushes and smiles, -and wouldn't dear Jane forgive her, and in token thereof be married from -her house? - -Jane was inclined to be a trifle stiff with her prospective -sister-in-law at first. Recent memories were far too poignant to admit -of the new relationship with real cordiality. But she relented -perceptibly when Master Belknap flung himself upon her with glad cries -of joy. - -"I yuve my Jane!" he cooed confidentially. "I'm doin' to div' oo my -fwannel el'phunt an'--an' my wed bwocks, if 'oo won't cwi any more, -Jane." - -"You must call her Aunt Jane now, Buster," observed his uncle, who was -watching the scene with an air of proud proprietorship. - -"I yuve my Aunt Jane," amended the infant docilely. Then, eyeing his -male relative with a searching gaze, "Have you dot any choc'late dwops, -Uncle Jack?" - -Jane laughed outright at this. - -"You'll come; won't you, dear Jane?" pleaded Mrs. Belknap, seizing the -auspicious moment. - -"I'm afraid Mary MacGrotty would----" - -"She's gone, thank Heaven!" exclaimed Mrs. Belknap with a shudder. "I -haven't a soul in the house." - -"And I can't cook, you know," murmured Jane teasingly, as she hid her -blushing face on the infant's small shoulders. - -"Don't rub it in, Jane," advised Mr. Belknap urgently. "We'll have a -caterer and everything shipshape. Later, though, when you're back from -England you'll do well to let Madge here give you some cooking lessons. -Buster and I would have starved to death long ago if we hadn't been able -to keep our cook; wouldn't we, old fellow?" And he tossed his son and -heir high above his head amid a burst of infant exuberance. - -And so it was finally settled. The excellent Bertha Forbes handed over -her official duties to an underling for a whole week, while she shopped -and sewed and fetched and carried for Jane with an untiring devotion, -which earned that small person's lasting gratitude and friendship. On -the day of the simple home wedding Miss Forbes stood up, tall and -grenadier-like, bearing the bride's bouquet, with so uncompromising an -air and manner that Master Belknap actually desisted from three several -pieces of mischief while he gazed solemnly at her with large, round -eyes. - -When the last flutter of pearl-gray veil and white handkerchief had -faded from view on the deck of the retreating steamer, Miss Forbes wiped -her eyes openly. "I'm glad she's gone," she said sternly. "She ought -never to have come." - -"If Miss Jane Aubrey-Blythe had not entered this port with five thousand -dollars of lace upon her person, she would not now be leaving it under -such happy auspices," observed Mr. Belknap mildly. "And that, Miss -Forbes, would be on the whole, a regrettable circumstance; don't you -agree with me?" - -"Hum!" said Bertha Forbes, rather shamefacedly, "I bought in some of -that very lace at a customhouse sale. It was that which trimmed her -wedding dress. I thought"--firmly--"that it was no more than right." - -Mr. Belknap cast an admiring glance at the lady. "Miss Forbes," he said -feelingly, "your sense of poetic justice does you credit; it does -indeed. I hope we shall see a lot of you in the future. Our house on -Staten Island is always open to you." - -"Thanks," said Bertha Forbes gruffly. But she shook hands with right -manly heartiness when she took leave of the little party on the dock, -and she actually kissed the infant, while depositing an unwholesomely -large box of confectionery in the pocket of his coat. "It is a shame to -call this child _Buster_," said Miss Forbes. "I detest the name myself; -think it exerts a positively demoralizing influence on the character. -_I_ shall call him Everett in future." - -And she did so on the numerous pleasant occasions when she visited the -Belknap family. - -As for Master Everett, thus happily restored to his rightful -appellation, he actually came to adore Miss Forbes, and called her his -"dear old Berfa," to her immense delight and satisfaction. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - - -One morning two weeks later as Lady Agatha Aubrey-Blythe, her daughter -Gwendolen, and her two sons Percy and Cecil were gathered rather -aimlessly in Lady Agatha's private morning-room, "a lady" was announced, -as desirous of speaking with Lady Agatha. - -"Who is it, Susan?" asked Lady Agatha of the maid, who appeared all of a -tremble with some carefully suppressed excitement. - -"Oh, my lady, it's Miss Jane Evelyn as ever was!" declared Susan, -beaming with doubtful delight. - -"_It's Jane!_" exclaimed the group in concert. - -"Show her up at once, Susan," said Lady Agatha, with a graciousness -which allayed poor Susan's fears. "Children," she added, turning to her -attentive offspring, "you must remember that our dear Jane is quite an -heiress now." - -Gwendolen put up a haughty lip. "I don't want her here, even if she -is," she said disagreeably. - -"Of course you don't!" crowed Percy. "Jane's a beauty and you aren't!" - -"Percy--_my son_!" exclaimed Lady Agatha warningly, and swept forward to -greet the small, slight, bright-eyed person who entered the room -escorted by the broadly smiling Susan. - -"My _dear_ Jane!" murmured Lady Agatha, enfolding the little figure in -her voluminous embrace. "How we _have_ suffered since your cruel -desertion of us!" - -"I suppose it must have annoyed you, Aunt Agatha," said Jane sweetly. -"But it couldn't be helped, you see." - -Then she turned to the two boys, who had greeted her vociferously, and -to Gwendolen, who sulkily offered a cheek to be kissed. - -The girl's bright eyes were misty and she trembled a little as she -looked from one to the other. English sights and sounds and faces had -never seemed so delightful, yet she was no less determined upon leaving -them all for the land of her adoption. - -"How much money did Uncle Foxhall leave me?" she asked, after the buzz -of greetings and questions had somewhat subsided. - -"Why, don't you know, my dear?" Lady Agatha exclaimed. "I thought the -solicitors would have told you before this. It is not a large sum; but -it will serve to alter your future materially. It is a trifle short of -twelve thousand pounds, I believe; but with _that_ at your back I shall -be able to arrange a very suitable marriage for you, I am sure. In fact, -I have already mentioned quite an eligible _parti_ to your uncle, a Mr. -Gildersleeve. He is a widower of excellent family, my dear Jane, and -_quite_ suitable in every respect." - -"He's an old frump," put in Gwendolen, with a hateful little laugh, "but -I dare say he'll do for _Jane_." - -"My _dear_ Gwendolen!" protested Lady Agatha. "Of course, now that you -can afford to dress in a manner becoming to your station, Jane, I shall -not mind taking you out with Gwendolen--at least, _occasionally_. By the -way, that is a very pretty frock you are wearing. Where did you get it, -my dear?" - -"This is an American gown," said Jane, drawing up her little figure with -a proud smile, "and this," she added tremulously, "is an -American--ring." - -"_What!--a wedding ring!_ You are not _married already_?" - -"Yes," said Jane, with a blush that made her look handsomer than ever. -"My husband is waiting for me downstairs. I should like you to meet him, -Aunt Agatha, and you"--including the others with her smiling glance. "He -is an American," she finished, with a touch of hauteur which was not -lost on Lady Agatha, "and we sail for--home a week from to-day." - -Being doubly assured of this desirable _dénouement_, Lady Agatha -actually went to the length of giving a family dinner party in honor of -her niece by marriage, and to this dubious merry-making the Hon. -Wippingler Towle was bidden by the express commands of the master of -the house. - -"You've clean thrown away a good lump of money, Towle," grumbled Mr. -Aubrey-Blythe; "but perhaps it will afford you some satisfaction to look -at the hole." - -"I shall certainly be glad of the opportunity to meet--er--Mrs. Everett -once more," Mr. Towle said politely. "But I--er--don't quite follow you -in your remark about the money." His stern eyes actually threatened his -friend. "I am told that your niece has lately inherited a small legacy -by the bequest of--er--a deceased relative, which will, I trust, make -her quite comfortable and happy in her new home." - -"Damn it, Towle!" blustered Mr. Robert Aubrey-Blythe, in the language of -the hunting field; "I can't follow your lead, sir; I'd come a damned -cropper, if I tried." - -"Don't try, then," advised Mr. Towle curtly. - -Being duly presented to the bride and to the groom, who comported -himself on the happy occasion with an ease and composure which Lady -Agatha Aubrey-Blythe later characterized as "brazen American boldness," -Mr. Towle shook hands with both, with such a singular and unpleasant -mist clouding his glass that he was immediately thereafter obliged to -resort to a vigorous and prolonged use of his large, scented cambric -handkerchief. And this circumstance spared him the knowledge of Jane's -smiling coldness of manner. - -Later in the evening Mr. Towle found himself unable to resist the -opportunity of a _tête-à-tête_ which Gwendolen's half sneering, half -curious appropriation of the young American made possible. Jane was -seated upon a sofa engaged in a wholly hollow and perfunctory -conversation with Lady Agatha, when Mr. Towle tentatively approached. -Lady Agatha instantly made room for him with an air of undisguised -relief which brought a faint smile to Jane's lips. - -When she looked up to greet her late elderly suitor she was still -smiling, and the circumstance gave him courage to say, rather stiffly: -"I have not as yet--er--spoken with you upon the subject of your -marriage, Mrs.--ah--Everett; I trust you will permit me to wish you all -happiness, and--er----" - -"Thank you, Mr. Towle," said Jane sweetly. - -She had already acquired, he reflected, the self-possessed air of the -young matron, and her clear eyes were gazing at him with a shade of -retrospection in their depths. She was thinking--and the man was -unhappily aware of the fact--"what if I had married you!" - -She sighed gently and stole a glance at her young husband, who was -smiling with open amusement at Gwendolen's clumsy attempts to make game -of him. "I fear," she said kindly, "that I was very rude to you the last -time I saw you. But I----" - -He waited for her to go on. - -"I was really very unhappy, and when one is unhappy----" - -Again she paused to glance at the young American whose handsome, -vigorous head stood out in bold relief against the crimson cushions of -his chair. "When one is unhappy it is difficult to--to be just to -others. I have talked it all over with my--with Mr. Everett since our -marriage, and he says you were a brick--_a brick_; yes, I am quite sure -that is what he called you; but it really means something very nice -and--square. You see words in America frequently mean something far -different from what one has always supposed; and I am learning as fast -as I can. But my husband says that I did not appreciate how awfully kind -it was of you to come to America just to look for me. You did come for -that; didn't you?" - -"I had," said Mr. Towle gravely, "no other motive in going to America." - -"Well, that being the case," Jane went on rapidly, "it wasn't a bit nice -of _me_ to send you away without a word of explanation; now was it? But -this is the real, true reason; I don't mind telling it now." She paused -to smile happily to herself--"I caught a glimpse of Mr. Everett coming -up the street, and--and I thought it would be very awkward for you--for -him--to meet just then. I hope you are not too horribly vexed with me?" -She smiled brilliantly upon him, with an obvious desire to be at peace -with all her little world. - -"Hum--ah," began Mr. Towle, eyeing the wistful little face which was -inclined toward his with a sternness born of his determination not to -make a fool of himself. "I--I beg to assure you, Mrs. Everett, that -I--er--quite understand, and I am not disposed to----" - -Jane's eyes drooped; so did the corners of her mouth. "I never seem able -to say the right thing at the right time," she said mournfully. "I see -that I have offended you again, and I only meant to tell you--to -apologize for----" - -"Jane," said Mr. Towle, in the deep, caressing tone which Jane had heard -only twice before from his lips, "I forgive you for--everything, and I -hope you will believe me when I tell you that I hope for nothing better -in life than to hear that all is going well with you, and that you -are--happy." - -"Thank you," said Jane softly. Her eyes beamed kindly upon him. "You are -very good," she said; "I think I shall be even happier because you have -said this." - -And the Hon. Wipplinger Towle in his own peculiarly patient, middle-aged -fashion blessed her in his heart of hearts for that little word "even." -It was, in a way, one of those crumbs which sometimes fall from a rich -man's table, and as such he thankfully appropriated it as his own meager -share of the loaf which an unfriendly Fate had denied him. - - -THE END - - - - -THE LEADING NOVEL OF TODAY. - - -The Fighting Chance. - -By ROBERT W. CHAMBERS. Illustrated by A. B. Wenzell. 12mo. Ornamental -Cloth, $1.50. - -In "The Fighting Chance" Mr. Chambers has taken for his hero, a young -fellow who has inherited with his wealth a craving for liquor. The -heroine has inherited a certain rebelliousness and dangerous caprice. -The two, meeting on the brink of ruin, fight out their battles, two -weaknesses joined with love to make a strength. It is refreshing to find -a story about the rich in which all the women are not sawdust at heart, -nor all the men satyrs. The rich have their longings, their ideals, -their regrets, as well as the poor; they have their struggles and -inherited evils to combat. It is a big subject, painted with a big brush -and a big heart. - - - "After 'The House of Mirth' a New York society novel has to be very - good not to suffer fearfully by comparison. 'The Fighting Chance' - is very good and it does not suffer."--_Cleveland Plain Dealer._ - - "There is no more adorable person in recent fiction than Sylvia - Landis."--_New York Evening Sun._ - - "Drawn with a master hand."--_Toledo Blade._ - - "An absorbing tale which claims the reader's interest to the - end."--_Detroit Free Press._ - - "Mr. Chambers has written many brilliant stories, but this is his - masterpiece."--_Pittsburg Chronicle Telegraph._ - - -D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. - - - - -A MASTERPIECE OF FICTION. - - -The Guarded Flame. - -By W. B. MAXWELL, Author of "Vivien." Cloth, $1.50. - - - "'The Guarded Flame,' by W. B. Maxwell, is a book to challenge the - attention of the reading public as a remarkable study of moral law - and its infraction. Mr. Maxwell is the son of Miss M. E. Braddon - (Mrs. John Maxwell), whose novels were famous a generation ago, and - his first book 'Vivien' made the English critics herald him as a new - force in the world of letters. 'The Guarded Flame' is an even more - astonishing production, a big book that takes rank with the most - important fiction of the year. It is not a book for those who read - to be amused or to be entertained. It touches the deepest issues of - life and death."--_Albany Argus._ - - "The most powerfully written book of the year."--_The Independent._ - - "'The Guarded Flame' is receiving high praise from the critics - everywhere."--_Chicago Record-Herald._ - - "This is a book which cannot fail to make its mark."--_Detroit - News._ - - "Great novels are few and the appearance of one at any period must - give the early reviewer a thrill of discovery. Such a one has come - unheralded; but from a source whence it might have been confidently - expected. The author is W. B. Maxwell, son of the voluminous - novelist known to the world as Miss Braddon. His novel is entitled - 'The Guarded Flame.'"--_Philadelphia Press._ - - "The books of W. B. Maxwell are essentially for thinkers."--_St. - Louis Post-Dispatch._ - - -D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Truthful Jane, by Florance Morse Kingsley - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRUTHFUL JANE *** - -***** This file should be named 52447-8.txt or 52447-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/4/4/52447/ - -Produced by David Edwards, Martin Pettit and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Truthful Jane - -Author: Florance Morse Kingsley - -Release Date: June 30, 2016 [EBook #52447] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRUTHFUL JANE *** - - - - -Produced by David Edwards, Martin Pettit and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="mynote"><p class="center">Transcriber's Note:<br /><br /> -A Table of Contents has been added.<br /></p></div> - -<hr /> - -<div class="center"><a name="cover.jpg" id="cover.jpg"></a><img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="cover" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<p class="bold2"><i>Truthful Jane</i></p> - -<hr /> - -<h1><i>Truthful Jane</i></h1> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p class="bold space-above"><i>By</i></p> - -<p class="bold">FLORENCE MORSE KINGSLEY</p> - -<p class="bold">AUTHOR OF<br /> -"THE SINGULAR MISS SMITH," "THE<br /> -TRANSFIGURATION OF MISS<br /> -PHILURA," ETC.</p> - -<div class="center space-above"><img src="images/logo.jpg" alt="logo" /></div> - -<hr class="smler space-above" /> - -<p class="bold">D. APPLETON AND COMPANY<br />NEW YORK<br />1907</p> - -<hr /> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1906, by</span><br /> -FLORENCE MORSE KINGSLEY</p> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1906, by</span><br /> -D. APPLETON AND COMPANY</p> - -<p class="center space-above"><i>Published February, 1907</i></p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><span>CONTENTS</span></h2> - -<table summary="CONTENTS"> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td><span class="smaller">PAGE</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER I</td> - <td><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER II</td> - <td><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER III</td> - <td><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER IV</td> - <td><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER V</td> - <td><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER VI</td> - <td><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER VII</td> - <td><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER VIII</td> - <td><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER IX</td> - <td><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER X</td> - <td><a href="#Page_159">159</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER XI</td> - <td><a href="#Page_176">176</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER XII</td> - <td><a href="#Page_192">192</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER XIII</td> - <td><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER XIV</td> - <td><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER XV</td> - <td><a href="#Page_231">231</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER XVI</td> - <td><a href="#Page_244">244</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER XVII</td> - <td><a href="#Page_262">262</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER XVIII</td> - <td><a href="#Page_274">274</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER XIX</td> - <td><a href="#Page_292">292</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER XX</td> - <td><a href="#Page_307">307</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER XXI</td> - <td><a href="#Page_320">320</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">TRUTHFUL JANE</p> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> - -<p>Miss Jane Evelyn Aubrey-Blythe stared steadily at the toes of her damp, -shabby little boots which peeped out from beneath the hem of an equally -damp and shabby gown, her youthful brows puckered thoughtfully over a -pair of extraordinarily bright, long-lashed hazel eyes. Miss Blythe, was -for the moment, feeling very much out of it, and consequently very -unhappy.</p> - -<p>The room in which she was sitting, drying her damp boots and petticoats -by a smoldering fire of logs, was a sufficiently cheerful one, its two -large windows commanding a wide view of red-tiled London roofs and -glazed chimney-pots, all of which glistened wetly in the dull light of -the late afternoon. For the rest, the red Turkey carpet was badly worn -in spots; the chairs presented the appearance of veterans staunchly -<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>surviving a long and stormy career; while the two small desks piled -with dog-eared school-books exhibited tokens of strenuous usage in the -shape of ineradicable ink-stains, which served to diversify the cuttings -and carvings of inexpert jackknives, stealthily applied.</p> - -<p>At opposite sides of a table in the center of the room two small boys in -knickerbockers were actively engaged in a competition in which large -china mugs of milk and water, and thick slices of bread and butter and -jam figured conspicuously.</p> - -<p>"You'd better come to your tea, Jane, before we eat all the bread and -butter," advised one of the boys thickly.</p> - -<p>"I don't want any tea, Cecil; and you shouldn't talk with your mouth -full; it's very rude," replied the girl tartly.</p> - -<p>"You'll get no dinner, you know, because there's company," observed the -other boy, slamming his mug on the table. "Old Gwendolen won't have you -down because you're so much handsomer than she is."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p><p>Jane turned a distractingly pretty profile toward the speaker, a slight -smile dimpling the corners of her mouth. "You oughtn't to say such -things, Percy," murmured the girl "—though I dare say it's true -enough," she added plaintively.</p> - -<p>The two boys, having variously disposed of the thick slices of bread and -butter, were now causing startling explosions to issue from the depths -of their mugs.</p> - -<p>"Put down your mugs this instant!" ordered Miss Blythe sternly. "Haven't -I forbidden you to make those disgusting noises in your milk?"</p> - -<p>"You have—yes," admitted Cecil coolly, as he sent his empty mug -spinning across the table; "but who cares for you, anyway! You're only a -poor relation!"</p> - -<p>With a smothered howl of rage the smaller Percy arose from his place and -fell upon his brother, who received the attack with practiced courage, -while Miss Blythe resumed her moody contemplation of her steaming boots.</p> - -<p>"You're a cad!"</p> - -<p>"You lie!"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p><p>"You're another!"</p> - -<p>"Ouch!"</p> - -<p>"Leggo!—Leggo, I say!"</p> - -<p>The tugging and panting of the small combatants, and the scuffling of -their stout little shoes on the threadbare carpet, quite drowned the -slight sound of the opening door.</p> - -<p>"Cecil—Percy—<i>my sons</i>!" exclaimed a voice.</p> - -<p>Jane Blythe shrugged her slim shoulders wearily in anticipation of what -was to follow.</p> - -<p>"I am surprised and displeased, Jane, that you should permit such a -disgraceful scene to take place in the school-room without even -attempting to quell it," went on the lady, advancing majestically into -the center of the floor. "What do I see?—bread and butter on the -<i>floor</i>, on the <i>sofa</i>, on the—yes, actually, <i>on the mantle!</i> and -<i>milk</i>— Really, Jane, I fear you sadly forget your duties at times."</p> - -<p>Miss Blythe had risen, apparently that she might bring her bright hazel -eyes more nearly on a level with the frozen blue ones behind the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> double -glasses which pinched the lady's aquiline nose.</p> - -<p>"I don't forget my duties, Aunt Agatha," she said distinctly; "but I -think you have forgotten to pay me for them."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean, ungrateful girl?"</p> - -<p>"I mean that if I am to perform the duties of a nursery governess in -your house I should be paid regular wages the same as the rest of the -servants. My shoes are worn through the soles, and I need—everything. -Even Parks dresses better than I do. She can afford to."</p> - -<p>A dead silence followed this clear statement of fact. The two small boys -were sulkily regarding their mother from beneath their light lashes, -who, in her turn, attempted to quell the militant light in the eyes of -the girl.</p> - -<p>"How—<i>dare</i> you say such a thing to me!" cried the lady at length. "And -before the children, too! You may come to me in the library to-morrow -morning, Jane, when I am examining the accounts. I will talk with you -then. In the meantime"—Lady Agatha <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>Aubrey-Blythe paused to draw her -rustling gown more closely about her tall figure—"I would advise you to -reflect on the fact that when you were entirely alone in the world, -<i>helpless</i> and <i>penniless</i>, I took you into my house and cared for you -like—like——"</p> - -<p>Jane Blythe laughed aloud. It was a dreary little sound; somehow it -caused Percy to clench his small fist and draw a little nearer to his -cousin.</p> - -<p>But it appeared to enrage the lady. Her patrician countenance assumed a -peculiar, sickly, mottled pink colour. "To-morrow, at ten, in the -library," she said coldly. "And, Jane, as Parks will be occupied with my -toilet, I should like you to assist Gwendolen. You may go down now. -Susan will put this disgracefully untidy room to rights. Cecil and -Percy, you will go to bed at once—<i>at once!</i> do you hear?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, mother," piped the two small scions of the house of Aubrey-Blythe -in a respectfully subdued chorus. After which they proceeded to thrust -their agile tongues into their red cheeks<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> and bulge out their round, -blue eyes behind their maternal relative's august back as she turned to -leave the room.</p> - -<p>"You'll catch it to-morrow, Miss Jane—at ten—in the library!" opined -Master Cecil sagely. "I'll bet she'll smack you with the ruler."</p> - -<p>"Hold your tongue, Cecil, and come on to bed!" bawled Percy, "or you'll -be the one to get smacked with the ruler."</p> - -<p>Miss Blythe had walked over to the window and was looking out with -unseeing eyes into the gathering dusk.</p> - -<p>"It is true," she told herself forlornly. "I am poorer than any of the -maids in the house. I hate it! Oh, how I <i>hate it all</i>!" She wiped away -two or three rebellious tears on a grimy little pocket-handkerchief.</p> - -<p>A servant had entered and was somewhat noisily gathering the empty -dishes onto a tray. "I see you've 'ad no tea, miss," she observed -kindly. "Shan't I toast you a bit o' bread at the fire an' fetch some -more jam?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p><p>"No, Susan, thank you; I must go down now. But you're very kind to have -thought of it."</p> - -<p>Jane's smile was beautiful, and the warm-hearted Susan, for one, -appreciated it. "They'd orto to be 'shamed o' theirsel's," she observed -vaguely to the tea things, as the girl closed the door softly behind -her. "An' she's pretty's a pink, an' that sweet-mannered! She'd orto -marry a r'yal dook, that she 'ad; an' dress in di'mon's an' satings!"</p> - -<p>Susan was in the habit of solacing herself with yellow-covered romances -in the scant leisure stolen from her duties as housemaid, and of late -Miss Jane Evelyn had figured as the heroine of everyone of these tales -in the honest damsel's rather crude imaginings.</p> - -<p>As Miss Blythe passed down the dimly lighted staircase on her way to her -cousin's room, she was startled to the point of uttering a slight scream -by a dark figure which darted out upon her from behind a tall suit of -armor stationed on the landing.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p><p>"O Reginald!" she exclaimed, "why will you play such baby tricks, now -that you are nearly grown?"</p> - -<p>"'Nearly grown,' indeed!" echoed the tall youth in a displeased voice. -"I am grown. Look at me—away over your head, Miss Jane! I say, give us -a kiss, will you?"</p> - -<p>"No, indeed, I'll not! Get out of my way directly. I'm in a hurry!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, no, you've lots of time to talk to me," chuckled Reginald, planting -his ungainly figure directly across the stair. "And you'll not go a step -farther till you've paid toll. Do you know, Jane, you're growing -deucedly pretty—upon my word!"</p> - -<p>"Impudence!" cried Jane sharply. "If you don't let me go this instant -I'll call your mother."</p> - -<p>"If you do that," drawled the boy, wagging his head threateningly, "I'll -tell the mater you were trying to kiss me. Then you'd catch it; she'd -believe me every trip."</p> - -<p>By way of reply to this taunt Miss Blythe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> reached up and dealt the tall -youth a stinging slap on his beardless cheek.</p> - -<p>"Tell her that a girl cuffed you, too, baby!" she retorted, and slipped -past him like a shadow.</p> - -<p>"I'll pay you out for that, miss! See if I don't!" threatened Reginald. -But Jane was safely out of sight and hearing, too.</p> - -<p>The tall girl seated before a dressing table, carefully inspecting a -rather rough and muddy complexion by the light of two wax candles, -turned frowning eyes upon Jane as she entered the room.</p> - -<p>"Where have you been keeping yourself, slow-poke?" she inquired crossly. -"Don't you know I'll be late if I don't make haste?"</p> - -<p>"You'd better make haste then," advised Jane coolly, advancing with her -hands behind her back. Her usually pale cheeks were flushed to a lovely -pink by her triumphant escape from Reginald; her brown hair, ruffled -into crisp waves, fell about her brilliant eyes. "What do you want me to -do,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> Gwen—hook up your frock?" she added carelessly.</p> - -<p>"I want you to dress my feet first, and be quick about it, too," replied -Miss Gwendolen haughtily. "No; not those pink stockings!— I've decided -to wear all white this evening. The open-work silk ones, stupid! What is -the matter with you, anyway, Jane? You're as red as a lobster."</p> - -<p>Jane's little hands trembled as she pulled the designated hose from a -pile of party-colored ones in the tumbled drawer. "Here are your -stockings," she said briefly. "Which shoes do you want?"</p> - -<p>"The white suede with straps; they're the freshest—and do make haste!" -replied Gwendolen impatiently.</p> - -<p>Jane set the large, white, high-heeled shoes down on the floor beside -her cousin's chair with a loud thump.</p> - -<p>"Well, aren't you ever going to put them on?" demanded Miss Gwendolen, -kicking her satin bedroom slippers half across the room.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p><p>"No; I'm not. You can put them on yourself," said Jane deliberately. -"Why should I put on your shoes and stockings for you, Gwendolen? You -never put on mine for me—do you?"</p> - -<p>Gwendolen stared at Jane's rebellious face in silence. She was a dull -girl, and it took her some time to understand what Jane had really said -to her.</p> - -<p>"Why, why—" she stammered, "you have always done as you were told -before, and—I'll tell mother," she added, an ugly frown distorting her -face. "She'll not allow you to be impertinent to me, you know."</p> - -<p>"It is quite impossible for me to be impertinent to you, Gwendolen," -said Jane, drawing up her little figure superbly. "One cannot be -impertinent to one's equals. I'll hook up your frock for you, if you -like, because you are my cousin, and I ought on that account to be -willing to be civil to you. But I won't put on your stockings and shoes -for you, so you may as well begin."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p><p>Gwendolen stooped and drew on her stockings in sullen silence; then she -put on her shoes. "I'll tell mother," she repeated stupidly.</p> - -<p>"You may tell her if you like," said Jane airily. "And you may tell Lady -Maybury that you haven't sense enough to pull on your stockings -straight, if you like. I don't care."</p> - -<p>Gwendolen looked actually frightened; she peered into her cousin's face -with her ugly, shortsighted eyes. "What <i>has</i> come over you, Jane?" she -asked anxiously. "Oh, I do believe you've got a fever and are out of -your head! Get away from me—do! Suppose it should be smallpox, and I -should catch it—oh! Go away—quick! Ring the bell for Susan as you go -out. She can hook my frock, and——"</p> - -<p>Jane pirouetted out of the door like a sprite. "Thank you, Gwen!" she -cried mockingly. "Yes, I fancy I have a fever. But you'll not catch it, -you poor, dear, stupid thing, you!"</p> - -<p>Then she darted up two flights of stairs to her own cold little room -under the roof, where she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> flung herself face downward across the narrow -bed and wept tempestuously.</p> - -<p>"O God, <i>please</i> let me go away from this house!" she prayed between her -sobs. "I've been good and patient just as long as I possibly can. Things -will <i>have</i> to change!"</p> - -<p>The girl was truthful—even with herself—even with her Creator.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> - -<p>Jane Aubrey-Blythe was not in the habit of weakly shedding tears; -nevertheless on this occasion she wept herself into a state of -somnolence like a whipped child, when she lay quite still, her -handkerchief rolled into a tight, damp ball, her limp figure shaken with -an occasional recurrent sob.</p> - -<p>"They are all too hateful," she murmured brokenly. "I wish something -would happen—anything; I don't care what."</p> - -<p>As a matter of fact, something did happen almost immediately. As Jane -was sleepily pulling the blankets about her chilly shoulders, Susan's -honest face, shining like a hard red apple in the light of the candle -she carried, was thrust inside the door.</p> - -<p>"O Miss Jane Evelyn," she whispered, "are you 'ere?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p><p>"What is it, Susan?" demanded Jane, sitting up and winking drowsily at -the candle flame.</p> - -<p>"W'y, you've 'ad no dinner, miss, an' so I've brought you a bite of -chicken and a mouthful of salad," said Susan briskly. "Just you lie back -comfortable-like on these 'ere pillows, miss, an' I'll bring it in -directly."</p> - -<p>"But I'm not ill, Susan, and I'm not hungry," protested Jane. "I—I'm -just tired."</p> - -<p>"You'll be ill directly if you don't pick a bit o' somethink," Susan -declared oracularly, "an' you that slender an' delicate, Miss Jane -Evelyn." She was arranging the contents of a neat tray before Jane as -she spoke. "Now you jus' try a mossel o' that bird, an' you'll find it -tastes moreish, or I'm mistook i' the looks o' it. Miss Gwendolen, now, -is that thick i' the waist she might go wi'out her dinner for a -fortnight, that she might, miss. It was all I could do a-'ookin' up 'er -frock this very evenin'. 'You're such a stoopid, Susan,' she says, 'your -fingers is all thumbs.' Then she turns an' twists afore 'er<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> glass as -proud as proud, though the Lord knows she's nothink to be proud of, wi' -that rough, muddy skin o' hers, alongside of yours, Miss Jane Evelyn."</p> - -<p>"You are very impertinent, Susan," said Jane reprovingly. "Gwen can't -help her complexion, nor her thick figure, though of course they must -get on her nerves, poor thing." And Jane dimpled demurely, as she tasted -her salad with appetite. "I was hungry, after all," she acknowledged.</p> - -<p>Susan gazed at the young lady with admiring eyes. "Of course you were, -Miss Jane Evelyn," she exulted, "an' I knowed it. As I says to cook, -'Miss Jane Evelyn's 'ad nary bite o' supper,' I says; an' cook says to -me, 'Susan,' she says, 'you'll find a tray i' th' buttry, once I'm -through wi' dishin' up.'"</p> - -<p>Jane's eyes filled with fresh tears; and she choked a little over her -tea. "You're too good, Susan," she murmured, "and so is cook, to think -of me at all."</p> - -<p>"All I hasks in return, miss, is that you'll take<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> me on as lidy's maid -once you're married an' settled in a 'ome o' your own."</p> - -<p>Jane fixed wistful eyes upon Susan's broad, kindly face. "O Susan," she -said, "do you suppose I'll ever have a home of my own?"</p> - -<p>"Do I suppose you'll ever— W'y, land o' love, Miss Jane Evelyn, in -course you will! Mussy me, don't I <i>know</i>? Ain't I seen young ladies in -my time? There was Miss Constance and Mary Selwyn, both of 'em thought -to be beauties, an' me scullery maid an' seein' 'em constant goin' in -an' out of their kerridge through the area windy, where I was put to -clean vegetables; an' they wasn't a patch on you, miss, fer figure, nor -yet fer complexion, nor yet fer eyes, nor yet——"</p> - -<p>"O Susan!" exclaimed Jane soulfully, "you oughtn't to talk that way. I'm -not at all pretty."</p> - -<p>"You're jus' beautiful, Miss Jane Evelyn," said Susan firmly, "beautiful -enough fer a dook or a prince, if it's only me as says it; an' you'll -see what you'll see some o' these days, that you will. W'y, only last -night I was tellin' your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> fortin' wi' cards, miss, an' the dark man wi' -a crown was fightin' a dool wi' the light man, an' all for the love of -you, miss; an' if that ain't a sign o' somethin' serious then I don't -know cards nor fortins neither."</p> - -<p>"That will do, Susan," said Jane, very dignified indeed. "Thank you so -much for bringing me something to eat, and will you thank cook for me, -too. I think I will go to bed now, Susan, and you may take the tray -away."</p> - -<p>"I'll take the tray down directly, Miss Jane Evelyn," said honest Susan, -quite unabashed, "but go to bed you'll not, miss, because the master -wishes to see you quite pertic'lar in the library when 'e's through 'is -dinner."</p> - -<p>"What! Uncle Robert?" exclaimed Jane, flying out of bed, and beginning -to pull the pins out of her tumbled hair. "I wonder what he can possibly -want with me." Her little hands trembled. "Oh, I'm afraid Aunt -Agatha——!"</p> - -<p>"No; it ain't, miss," beamed Susan encouragingly. "I'll bet it's -somethink himportant,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> that I do. I was jus' a-comin' downstairs after -Miss Gwendolen's flowers, an' the master was standin' in the 'all. -'Where's Jane?' he says to my Lidy. 'She should be down by this.' An' my -Lidy she says, 'aughty an' cold-like, 'Jane 'ad her supper in the -school-room with the children, as usual, to-night,' she says. 'She -didn't care to come down.' 'Why, dang it,' 'e says, or some such word, -'Jane ought to be down to-night of all nights; 'aven't you told her, -madam?' 'No,' says my Lidy, 'I 'aven't. I left that to you. Then 'e -turns to me, an' horders me to tell you to be in the library at ten -o'clock, an' to say that you was to wait for 'im there till 'e come. It -ain't much after nine, miss, so you've time a-plenty, an' I'll 'elp you -to dress."</p> - -<p>Jane's eyes were shining like frightened stars. "Oh!" she murmured -brokenly, "I wonder what it can be!"</p> - -<p>"Now, don't you be scared ner yet worrited, Miss Jane Evelyn," exhorted -Susan, her head in Jane's little wardrobe. "You just put on this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> 'ere -white frock an' I'll 'ook it up fer you. But first I'll do your 'air, if -you'll let me."</p> - -<p>Jane resigned herself with a sigh to Susan's deft hands. "You do brush -my hair so nicely, Susan," she murmured, after a long silence filled -with the steady stroking of the brush through her long brown tresses.</p> - -<p>"It's the Lord's own mussy you'll let me do it, miss," cried Susan -fervently, "else a 'ouse-maid I'd live an' die, an' me wantin' to be a -lidy's maid sence I was knee high to a grass-'opper. I says to Miss -Gwendolen on'y yesterday, 'Mayn't I brush your 'air, miss,' I says, -'Parks bein' busy, I think I can do it satisfactory.' 'Go 'way, Susan!' -she snaps out, 'do you s'pose I'd 'ave your great, rough, clumsy 'ands -about my 'ead?' she says."</p> - -<p>"Your hands are not rough, nor clumsy, either," said Jane, understanding -the pause, and filling it exactly as Susan wished; "and if I ever do -have a lady's maid it shall be you, Susan."</p> - -<p>"Thank you kindly, Miss Jane Evelyn," beamed Susan. "Now ain't that a -lovely coffer?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> I'll bet Parks couldn't do no better nor that in a -hundred years! But it 'ud be a simple idgit what couldn't do your 'air, -miss; it's that soft an' shinin' an' curls itself better nor -curlin'-tongs could do it."</p> - -<p>All of which was strictly true, as Jane's brown eyes told her. Then the -white frock was carefully put on, and Susan next produced from somewhere -three great creamy buds, one of which she fastened behind Miss Blythe's -pretty pink ear; the other two she pinned to the modest little bodice, -standing off to survey her handiwork with an air of honest pride.</p> - -<p>"I 'ooked them three roses from Miss Gwendolen's bouquet," she announced -unblushingly, "an' a mighty good job it were."</p> - -<p>"Then I'll not wear them," said Jane decidedly. "You may take them away, -Susan. I may be forced to wear Gwen's cast-off frocks; but I'll <i>not</i> -wear her flowers!"</p> - -<p>An ethical differentiation which it would have puzzled Miss Blythe to -explain, and which left poor Susan in open-mouthed dismay.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p><p>"She's a reg'lar lidy, is Miss Jane Evelyn, as ever was," cogitated -that worthy hand-maiden, as Jane's light step passed down the corridor, -"'igh an' 'aughty as the 'aughtiest, yet that sweet an' lovely in her -w'ys I can't 'elp a-worshipin' the ground she walks on. It's a dook or a -lord as ought to marry Miss Jane Evelyn, an' it's me as 'll be her -lidy's maid." And she proceeded to put the poor little room with its -shabby appointments into truly exquisite order with all the zeal born of -her anticipations.</p> - -<p>There was no one in the library when Jane entered it, so she sat down in -one of the great carved chairs by the fire, feeling very small and young -and lonely. The gentle hum of conversation and the subdued tinkle of -glass and silver reached her where she sat, and between curtained -doorways she could catch glimpses of the softly lighted drawing-room -beyond, gay with masses of azaleas and ferns.</p> - -<p>After a little Jane found herself busy with dim memories of her past. -She had been a child of three when her father and mother died, within<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> a -month of each other, she had been told; the broken-hearted young wife -apparently not caring enough for her one child to face her bleak future.</p> - -<p>"Oliver Aubrey-Blythe's wife was an exceedingly weak woman," Lady Agatha -had once told Jane cruelly; "and I feel that it is my duty to train -<i>you</i> into something far different, if such a thing is at all possible."</p> - -<p>Jane's little hands grew quite cold, as she strove vainly to fix the -illusive memory of the two faces which had bent over her on the day she -had fallen into the fountain at Blythe Court. She remembered the -fountain distinctly, with its darting goldfish and the stout cherub in -the middle staggering under the weight of an impossible dolphin from -whose open mouth gushed a dazzling jet of water.</p> - -<p>There were blue flowers growing about the edge of the marble basin, and -she had recklessly trampled them under foot in her baby efforts to grasp -a particularly beautiful goldfish. The rest was a blur, wherein dazzling -blue sky seen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> through green waving treetops an immense distance away -made a background for the two shadowy figures which stood out from the -others. It was pleasant at the bottom of the fountain, Jane remembered, -where one could look up through the clear water and see the far blue sky -and the waving trees. For an instant she paused to wonder what would -have happened had the shadowy figures of her parents been farther away -when she shrieked and fell—quite at the other side of the garden, say. -Would the blue sky and the waving trees have faded quite away into -nothingness after a little? And was somethingness so much better than -nothingness, after all?</p> - -<p>But all this ghostly cogitation being quite at variance with Miss -Blythe's usual optimistic and cheerfully human way of looking at things, -she presently abandoned it altogether to speculate on the nature of the -interview with her uncle, an event which certainly concerned her -immediate fortunes much more intimately. Mr. Robert Aubrey-Blythe was an -exalted personage with whom Jane felt herself to be very slightly -<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>acquainted. He was kind; yes, certainly. Jane could not recall a single -occasion upon which he had spoken to her in a manner even remotely -approaching unkindness. Indeed, he very rarely spoke to her at all -beyond a curt 'Good evening, Jane' when she slipped into her place at -the family dinner table. Twice before this she had been summoned to the -library; each time to receive a perfunctory rebuke for some childish -piece of mischief, reported presumably by Lady Agatha; whereat she had -gone away shaking in her small shoes to lead a blameless existence for -many days thereafter.</p> - -<p>"Aunt Agatha has told Uncle Robert what I said to her about being paid -for teaching Percy and Cecil," the girl decided. "Well, I hope she has. -I don't mind being a nursery governess, not in the least; but I -hate—hate—<i>hate</i> the way I am living now. Even the servants pity me!"</p> - -<p>She stood up and drew her slight figure to its full height as she heard -the swish and rustle of silken skirts in the corridor; the women were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> -coming away from table. It was a small party, after all. Jane watched -the vanishing trains of the five dinner-gowns with a speculative smile. -How would it seem, she wondered, to be beautifully dressed every night -and dine with guests who were not forever carping at one, but whose -chief business in life it was to be agreeable. Then she faced about at -sound of her cousin Gwendolen's voice.</p> - -<p>"What are you doing in here, Jane?" demanded that young lady snappishly, -as she advanced to the fire.</p> - -<p>"Waiting for Uncle Robert," Jane told her briefly.</p> - -<p>Gwendolen frowned and twisted her rings so as to make them sparkle in -the firelight. "How <i>very</i> coy and unconscious we are!" she said -sneeringly. Then suddenly she burst into a disagreeable laugh.</p> - -<p>"What are you laughing at, Gwen?" asked Jane, with real curiosity.</p> - -<p>"At you, goose," replied Miss Aubrey-Blythe crossly. She turned and -moved toward the door.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> "Don't you know what papa wants with you?" she -paused to demand.</p> - -<p>"No, I don't," said Jane steadily. "Do you?"</p> - -<p>But Miss Gwendolen merely shrugged her ugly shoulders as she dropped the -heavy curtains into place behind her.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> - -<p>When Mr. Robert Aubrey-Blythe finally entered the library, it was with -the pleasant glow of a good dinner, good wine, and good company -enveloping his portly form like a visible halo. He actually bowed before -Jane, as though she were a great lady of his acquaintance, instead of -his niece, left on his hands to bring up with scarce a penny to her -name.</p> - -<p>"Ah, Jane," he began, swelling out the shining expanse of his shirt -front like a pouter pigeon, "I see—er—that you are here, as I bade -you."</p> - -<p>"Yes, Uncle Robert," murmured Jane, with a beating heart; "you wished to -speak with me, sir?"</p> - -<p>"I did, Jane; I did indeed. Ah—er—you may be seated, if you please, -Jane."</p> - -<p>Jane obeyed.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p><p>"Why—er—did you not come down to dinner to-night, Jane?" Mr. -Aubrey-Blythe wanted to know next, his remark being prefaced by a long -and speculative stare at Jane's small person. He appeared indeed to be -looking at his niece for the first time.</p> - -<p>"Because I wasn't asked, sir."</p> - -<p>"Hum—ah; it was an oversight, Jane. You should have dined with us -to-night."</p> - -<p>Jane was puzzled. She stole a glance at her uncle's eminently -respectable British visage, with just a fleeting wonder as to the amount -of wine he had drunk at dinner. But no; he was undeniably sober, not to -say serious; his eyes were still fixed upon herself with that singularly -speculative gaze.</p> - -<p>"You have—er—made your home with us for many years—that is to say, -since your infancy, Jane, and I—er—trust that these have been not -unhappy years—eh, Jane?"</p> - -<p>Jane folded one cold little hand over the other; it was as she thought, -she told herself angrily, Aunt Agatha had blabbed. "Since you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> have -asked me, Uncle Robert," she said distinctly, "I will tell you that they -have been very unhappy years. I simply hate my life in this house." She -leaned back in her chair and fixed her clear eyes upon her uncle. -Manifestly he was astounded by her reply.</p> - -<p>"Why, why, why—upon my word!" he stammered at length. "I -am—er—shocked to hear you speak in that manner. What—er—what, in -short, do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"I should rather go away and earn my living," said Jane desperately. "I -suppose Aunt Agatha has told you what I said to her in the schoolroom -to-night; but I meant it; I shouldn't mind being a nursery governess in -the least, and"—forlornly—"it is all I am good for."</p> - -<p>"Tut, tut!" remonstrated Mr. Aubrey-Blythe with some sternness. "You -quite misunderstand me, I see. Now, I beg that you will have the -goodness to attend me while I explain more fully why I have sent for -you."</p> - -<p>But he made no haste to enter upon the promised explanation, again -fixing his eyes upon his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> niece in a long, contemplative gaze. What he -saw must have clarified his ideas somewhat, for he presently went on -more briskly.</p> - -<p>"Whether you have been happy or not during your years of residence under -my roof matters little with regard to—er—what I am about to say, Jane. -I have, in short, a proposal for your hand."</p> - -<p>"A what?" gasped Jane.</p> - -<p>"A proposal of marriage was what I said," repeated Mr. Aubrey-Blythe -rebukingly. "A most honorable and—er—highly flattering proposal, in -short. I own that I was surprised, and so—er—was my wife, Lady -Agatha."</p> - -<p>Jane's own emotions were clearly depicted upon her young face. She was -leaning forward in her chair, her large eyes fixed upon her uncle.</p> - -<p>"Who—" she began; then stopped short.</p> - -<p>"You have, of course, met the gentleman who has paid you this great -compliment—the highest compliment—er—that man can pay to woman," -proceeded Mr. Aubrey-Blythe grandly. "The proposal reached me by letter -last week, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> author of that letter was"—he paused -dramatically—"the Hon. Wipplinger Towle."</p> - -<p>The girl burst into a hysterical laugh.</p> - -<p>"Jane, I beg— Will you not control yourself, madam? Ah—er—I see I -shall be forced to call Lady Agatha."</p> - -<p>Jane instantly became calm. "Don't—please don't call Aunt Agatha," she -begged. "It was only—I couldn't help thinking——"</p> - -<p>"I trust you will reflect carefully as to what this proposal means for -you, Jane. I confess that I should have been—er—not displeased had the -proposal embraced a different—that is to say—er—had the recipient of -it been my own daughter, I should have been disposed to consider it not -unfavorably. Lady Agatha was at first convinced that the gentleman had, -in short, committed a most egregious blunder; but I am assured by word -of mouth that this is not the case. It is you, Jane, he wishes to make -his wife; you and no other. And I congratulate you sincerely upon the -auspicious event. I will not deny that your future has been an -occasional source of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> keen anxiety to me, and also, I believe, to my -wife, Lady Agatha; portionless brides are not commonly sought by -men—er—whose position in life is that of the Hon. Wipplinger Towle."</p> - -<p>"But—Uncle Robert; you can't mean that I— You know I—couldn't <i>marry</i> -that man, Uncle Robert."</p> - -<p>"You could not marry the Hon. Wipplinger Towle? Surely, I do not -understand you correctly, Jane. I perceive that you have been greatly -surprised by the nature of my disclosure, totally unprepared for it as -you were. And this much I regret, my dear child. You should have been -apprised of the facts, you should indeed."</p> - -<p>Jane's heart was touched by the faint cadence of affection in the man's -voice. "O Uncle Robert!" she cried, "do you look at all like my father? -Do tell me that you do; I should so love to think so!"</p> - -<p>Mr. Aubrey-Blythe shook his head. "I do not resemble my deceased brother -Oliver in the smallest particular," he said dryly. "And I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> have never -felt that this was a cause of regret. Oliver was a most injudicious and -hasty tempered person; his early death and many misfortunes were -undoubtedly brought about by his own deplorable imprudence. I have often -thought"—deliberately—"that you resemble him, Jane."</p> - -<p>"I'm glad I do!" retorted Jane. "And I may as well say once for all, -Uncle Robert, that I will <i>not</i> marry the Hon. Wipplinger Towle. You may -tell him so."</p> - -<p>Mr. Robert Aubrey-Blythe regarded his niece with a portentous gathering -of his bushy eyebrows. "I beg, Jane," he said, "that you will not decide -this matter hastily. There are, in short, many reasons why you should -marry, and I will not deny that I regard the present proposal as most -opportune. I have, in short, given the Hon. Wipplinger Towle my full -permission to pay his addresses to you. He dined with us this evening, -and—er—expects, I believe, the opportunity of pleading his own cause."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p><p>"Do you want me to go away, Uncle Robert?" faltered Jane, quite -overcome. "Do you hate me, too?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly not—decidedly not, Jane. You—er—put the matter in most -unwarranted terms. But I believe that you would be far happier in an -establishment of your own. In fact, you have already intimated something -of the sort in the course of our conversation. Am I not right?"</p> - -<p>"I said I should rather be a nursery governess," said Jane doggedly. "I -can do that; I have taught Percy and Cecil ever since Miss Craddock went -away, and——"</p> - -<p>Mr. Robert Aubrey-Blythe rose abruptly. "No, Jane—I beg— Keep your -seat, if you please. I will send Mr. Towle to you at once. You are, of -course, at liberty to do as you wish in the matter. But as your eldest -surviving male relative I most strongly advise that you listen to his -suit patiently and give him the answer that he wishes and—er—expects."</p> - -<p>Jane stretched out her hands imploringly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> "Dear Uncle Robert," she -whispered; "please, Uncle Robert—just a minute!"</p> - -<p>But he was gone, and Jane sank back in her chair with a sob. "Oh, if he -would only love me a little!" she thought. Then she sat up very straight -and calm; somebody was approaching.</p> - -<p>The Hon. Wipplinger Towle was a tall man, even taller than Mr. Robert -Aubrey-Blythe. He was also exceedingly lean, and bald—quite bald. Jane -mechanically noted the dull pale glisten of his scalp as he crossed the -wide expanse of Turkey carpet which intervened between herself and the -curtained doorway.</p> - -<p>"Good evening, Mr. Towle," she said calmly, offering the tips of her -chilly little fingers with extreme nonchalance.</p> - -<p>The Honorable Wipplinger was evidently somewhat agitated in a -perfunctory, elderly way. That he was likewise perfectly confident as to -the outcome of the interview Jane thought she perceived, with an -involuntary deepening of the dimple at the corner of her mouth.</p> - -<p>"Hum—ah," he began, fixing his glass firmly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> in place. "You were not -dining at home this evening, Miss Blythe? I was—er—frightfully -disappointed, upon my word; I had been—ah—led to expect—ah—that is, -I hoped that I should see you earlier in the evening."</p> - -<p>"I never come down when Aunt Agatha has guests," said Jane, putting her -pretty head on one side and gazing at her elderly suitor -contemplatively. He was quite as old as Uncle Robert, she decided, and -sufficiently ugly to look at, with his bald head and his tall, -square-shouldered figure. For the rest, the Hon. Wipplinger Towle was -possessed of a stubborn-looking chin, deep-set gray eyes, and a well-cut -mouth, amply furnished with strong white teeth.</p> - -<p>Jane gently shrugged her shoulders as she dropped her bright eyes to her -lap. "I fancy I should have starved if it hadn't been for Susan," she -finished.</p> - -<p>Mr. Towle glanced at her quickly. "Hum—ah, Susan?" he hesitated; "and -who, if I may ask, is Susan?"</p> - -<p>"Susan is the under housemaid," replied<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> Jane sweetly. "She brought me -up some supper on a tray. Wasn't it nice of her?"</p> - -<p>Mr. Towle made several small uncertain sounds in his throat, which -resembled—Jane reflected—the noises made by an ancient clock on the -point of striking. Then he stared hard at Jane, again adjusting his -monocle. "Hum—ah, Miss Blythe," he began, "I—er—in point of fact, I -have the very great honor to be permitted to pay you my addresses, and -so——"</p> - -<p>Jane turned pale. "Please don't mention it," she interrupted.</p> - -<p>"I beg your pardon," observed Mr. Towle interrogatively, "you were -saying——"</p> - -<p>"I said, please don't talk about it. I—I couldn't, you know; though I'm -sure it's very kind—at least, Uncle Robert said it was— A compliment, -I believe he called it."</p> - -<p>"One I am—er—delighted to pay to so lovely a creature as yourself," -murmured Mr. Towle laboriously.</p> - -<p>"How <i>dare</i> you say such a silly thing to me!" snapped Jane, her hazel -eyes blazing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> "I'm not a lovely creature, and I won't be called so."</p> - -<p>"Why—er—I beg your pardon, I'm sure," stuttered the abashed suitor. -"But I have the full permission of Lady Agatha and Mr. Aubrey-Blythe, -and I thought— But surely you cannot have understood that I"—welling -visibly with a sense of his own importance, Jane was resentfully -sure—"desire to make you my wife. I wish you, in short, to make me the -happiest man in London by—er—becoming Mrs. Towle. And may I, my dear -Miss Aubrey-Blythe, beg you to name an early day—a very early day for -the celebration of our nuptials. The matter of settlements and all that -can be quickly arranged; and I beg to assure you that they shall be -satisfactory—quite satisfactory, as I have already taken the pains to -assure your uncle, Mr. Aubrey-Blythe. I can, in short, afford to be -generous, and—er—I desire to be so."</p> - -<p>Mr. Towle paused in his halting discourse to draw a small box from his -waistcoat pocket. Jane watched him in fascinated silence as he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> opened -it and drew from its satin nest a hoop of diamonds.</p> - -<p>"I hope you will allow me," murmured the Honorable Wipplinger, bending -forward.</p> - -<p>"No!" cried Jane. "I say <i>no</i>!" She stood up, very pale and -unapproachable. "I ought not to have allowed you to say all this to me," -she said. "I do thank you for wanting me to marry you; but, of course, -it is impossible."</p> - -<p>"Why do you say 'of course'?" asked Mr. Towle, in a surprisingly human -voice. "Do you enjoy your life here so much?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Jane, "I do not; but I'll not marry to escape from it."</p> - -<p>The Honorable Wipplinger deliberately returned the hoop of diamonds to -its nest, snapped the lid of the box shut, and slipped it back into his -waistcoat pocket. "I didn't go at it right," he observed meditatively. -"Robert should have warned me." He turned to Jane once more. "Do -you—er—mind telling me just why you have turned me down so squarely?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p><p>"I'd much rather not," said Jane, blushing. "You wouldn't like it."</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes, I should. For one thing, you think I'm horribly old; don't -you?"</p> - -<p>"Well, you are; aren't you?"</p> - -<p>"Not so very. I lost my hair in a beastly fever I had in India ten years -ago, and it would never grow on top after that. As a matter of fact I'm -only forty."</p> - -<p>"Forty!" repeated Jane, in an indescribable voice. "Why that—" She -stopped short. "I'd much better say good night at once," she said -contritely, "and—and truly I do thank you. I didn't suppose anyone in -the world would ever care about me. And you——"</p> - -<p>"I certainly do," said Mr. Towle resignedly. "But I went about saying it -like a jackass. To tell you the honest truth I was in a regular blue -funk. I never proposed marriage to a woman before, and I never shall -again. Of course, you don't know me very well, Miss Blythe; but I'm a -whole lot nicer than I look. If you only could——"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p><p>Jane shook her head decidedly. "I'd like you awfully well for—for an -uncle," she said regretfully, "or a—grandfather— There! I oughtn't to -have said that. You're really not old enough for a grandfather. But mine -are both dead, and I've always thought it would be lovely to have one."</p> - -<p>Mr. Towle swallowed hard. "Go on," he said encouragingly, "you'd like me -well enough for a—a grandfather, but not for a husband. Is that what -you meant to say?"</p> - -<p>"It wasn't a bit nice of me to say it; but then I'm always saying -dreadful things. That is why"—dejectedly—"nobody likes me."</p> - -<p>The Hon. Wipplinger Towle gazed down at the little figure with a very -kind look indeed in his deep-set gray eyes. "Oh, well," he said, "I -might have known better. I did know better, in fact. But from something -Lady Agatha said to me I fancied that perhaps I—that perhaps you——"</p> - -<p>Jane held out her hand. "Good night," she said.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p><p>Mr. Towle took the offered hand in his very gently. It was cold, and -the small fingers trembled a little in his own big, warm palm. "Good -night," he said; "I can't—by force of cruel circumstances—be -your—er—grandfather; but I'd like to be your friend, Jane; may I?"</p> - -<p>"Why, yes," said Jane, smiling up into the keen gray eyes, "you may. -And—and I thank you a whole lot for being so—game."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> - -<p>Lady Agatha Aubrey-Blythe looked up from the housekeeper's book which -she was inspecting with displeased interest, and turned her light blue -eyes upon her husband's niece, as she stood a forlorn yet rigidly -defiant little figure, her back against the closed door. "You may come -in, Jane, and sit down," said Lady Agatha, in precisely the same tone -she would have used to a delinquent housemaid.</p> - -<p>Jane advanced and sat down, every line of her face and figure expressing -an exasperating indifference to the stately hauteur of the lady, who on -her part proceeded to concentrate her entire attention upon a bundle of -tradesmen's accounts, which she compared one by one with the entries in -the housekeeper's book.</p> - -<p>This went on for some twenty minutes, during which period Jane stared -unremittingly out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> of the window against which a cold rain was beating.</p> - -<p>Then Lady Agatha spoke: "I have purposely detained you in complete -silence, Jane, that you might reflect quietly upon your present position -in life. I trust you have made good use of the opportunity."</p> - -<p>Jane made no reply; but she withdrew her eyes from the dripping window -pane and fixed them upon her aunt. In return, Lady Agatha focused her -frozen stare upon the girl. "Is it <i>possible</i> that you had the -<i>presumption</i> to refuse Mr. Towle's offer of marriage last night?" she -asked with an indescribable mixture of unwilling respect and cold -dislike in her voice.</p> - -<p>"Yes, Aunt Agatha, I did," said Jane, a faint expression of regret -passing over her face.</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"Because I—couldn't—love him."</p> - -<p>Lady Agatha scowled. "I <i>cannot</i> understand what attracted the man to -you in the first place," she said disdainfully. "I believe he only saw -you twice."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p><p>"Three times," Jane corrected her.</p> - -<p>"You are not," said Lady Agatha, pausing to contemplate the girl's face -and figure with the air of one examining a slightly damaged article of -merchandise, "at all attractive. You have neither beauty nor style, and -you are not in the least clever."</p> - -<p>Jane appeared to grow smaller in her chair. She sighed deeply.</p> - -<p>"Besides all this," went on Lady Agatha mercilessly, "you are -practically penniless. I cannot understand how such a man as Mr. Towle, -exceptionally well connected and very wealthy, <i>ever</i> came to think of -such a thing as marrying <i>you</i>! But"—spitefully—"I dare say <i>you</i> know -well enough how it came about."</p> - -<p>"I don't know what you mean, Aunt Agatha," stammered poor Jane.</p> - -<p>"Have you never met Mr. Towle, quite by accident, we will say, on the -street, or——"</p> - -<p>"How can you say such a thing to me, Aunt Agatha!" cried Jane, "as if I -were a—servant, or a—a quite common person. I never saw Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> Towle -except in this house, and I never spoke three words to him before last -night. And—and I do like him, because he—likes me. But I cannot marry -him on that account."</p> - -<p>Lady Agatha shrugged her shoulders with a hateful smile. "Oh, I dare say -Mr. Towle will be very glad of the outcome later on," she said -carelessly. "It is not easy to account for the vagaries of elderly men. -But it was not to speak of this absurd <i>contretemps</i> that I sent for you -this morning, Jane; Gwendolen reported to me what took place in her room -last night, and at first I contemplated referring the whole matter to -your uncle; but——"</p> - -<p>Lady Agatha paused to note the gleam of hope which lighted up the girl's -expressive features, only to fade as she went on in her peculiarly -frigid, precise way:</p> - -<p>"I finally thought best to settle the question with you. Your proposal -that I should pay you the wages of a servant shocked and grieved -me—<i>inexpressibly</i>. Your position in this household is that—er—of—a -relative—an <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>unfortunate relative, it is true; but still a relative. -You bear our name, and as an Aubrey-Blythe you ought to consider what is -due your—er—position. You ought, in short, to fill your humble niche -in the family life cheerfully and uncomplainingly. Do you follow me?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, Aunt Agatha," said Jane stonily.</p> - -<p>"It is little indeed that you can do for us in return for all the -benefits which are continually heaped upon you," went on Lady Agatha, -with an air of Christian forbearance. "It ought not to be necessary for -me to remind you of this, Jane. I regret that it is so. But I cannot -permit a discordant element to disturb the peace of my home. You are -aware that Percy and Cecil should be required to conduct themselves like -gentlemen. You will see to it that the disgraceful scene of last night -is not repeated. As for Gwendolen, any little service that you are -requested to do for her ought to be gladly performed. Do you know, the -poor, dear child was quite overcome by your rudeness; she thought you -must be ill."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p><p>"I shall never put on Gwendolen's stockings and shoes for her again," -remarked Jane, with disconcerting finality.</p> - -<p>"Jane, you forget yourself!"</p> - -<p>"No, aunt; you are mistaken. I am not forgetting myself; I am -remembering that I am an Aubrey-Blythe."</p> - -<p>Lady Agatha stared blankly at the girl for a full minute. Then she -recovered herself. "You are an ungrateful, impertinent girl!" she said -slowly. "If you were younger I should feel it my duty to ferule you -severely. There is one other thing I wish to speak to you about; then -you may go. I have observed that you are far too familiar and presuming -in your manner toward your cousin Reginald. His future position in the -world as my oldest son and his father's heir does not warrant any such -attitude on your part."</p> - -<p>"Did Reginald tell you that he tried to kiss me on the stairs last -night, and that I slapped him for it?" inquired Jane, in a businesslike -tone. "It was 'familiar' of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> me, I admit; but Reginald is such a cub, -you know."</p> - -<p>Lady Agatha rose to her full height. "You may go to your room, Jane, and -stay there for the remainder of the day," she said in an awful voice. "I -see that my Christian charity is entirely misplaced in your case. I -shall, after all, be obliged to consult your uncle with regard to some -other disposal of your person. I cannot bear you about me longer. Your -influence on my dear children is <i>most unfortunate</i>!"</p> - -<p>Jane turned sharply—she already had her hand upon the door. "I hope -uncle will send me away!" she exclaimed passionately. "I hate this house -and everyone in it—except Percy and Susan!"</p> - -<p>Lady Agatha, shaken out of her usual icy self-control, darted forward. -She was a tall, big woman and she swept the girl before her in a blast -of cold fury up the stairs—two flights of them—to the little attic -room; there she thrust the slight figure within, and locked the door -upon it.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p><p>Jane stood in the middle of the floor and listened to the ugly click of -the key and the sound of Lady Agatha's retreating boot heels on the -uncarpeted corridor.</p> - -<p>"Well," said Jane ruefully. "I <i>have</i> made a mess of it!" She had -completely forgotten her prayer of the night before.</p> - -<p>Somebody had laid a fire in her rusty little grate. It was Susan, of -course, who was continually going out of her way to be kind to the girl -to whom everyone else was so persistently and pointedly unkind. Jane's -sore heart warmed toward honest Susan, as she hunted for a match in the -ugly little safe on the mantel. "I've a day off, anyway," she told -herself, "and I'll cobble up that old gown of Gwen's so that I can wear -it."</p> - -<p>Miss Blythe was well used to cobbling up old gowns and clever at it, -too. She waxed increasingly cheerful as she spread the faded breadths -across her knee and discovered that the wrong side of the fabric was -fresh and bright. Later she congratulated herself upon a stray sheet of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> -<i>The Times</i>, left behind by Susan after laying the fire; it would do -admirably for pattern material. As she spread its crumpled folds upon -her counterpane, preparatory to evolving a wonderful yoke design, her -eye fell upon a line in the column of "Female Help Wanted." It read as -follows:</p> - -<blockquote><p>"A lady about to travel in America wishes to engage intelligent -young female as companion. Good wages. Duties nominal. Apply -mornings to Mrs. Augustus Markle, 10 Belgravia Crescent."</p></blockquote> - -<p>"Oh!" murmured Jane Blythe. She sank down on the edge of her hard little -bed and read the fateful lines again. "A lady about to travel in -America—an intelligent young female as traveling companion. Why, <i>I</i> am -an intelligent young female!" exclaimed Jane, with the air of a -discoverer; "I wonder if I look the part?"</p> - -<p>She stared at her young reflection in the dim mirror over her little -dressing table. "I believe I look sufficiently 'intelligent' to perform -'nominal duties' as a companion," she told herself candidly. Then she -hunted for the date of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> the paper, and was ready to shed tears of -disappointment when she discovered that it was that of the previous day.</p> - -<p>"There are so many intelligent young females, and I suppose everyone of -them would like to travel in America," said Jane, still eying the -brown-eyed young person in the glass. "Besides, I'm locked in."</p> - -<p>The brown eyes twinkled as they turned toward the one window of the -attic room. More than once, when she was a small girl, Jane had escaped -from durance vile by way of the projecting gutter just outside her -window. It was a perilous feat; but Jane was muscular and agile as a -boy, and of a certain defiant courage withal, born perhaps of her -unhappy lot in life.</p> - -<p>"It would vex Aunt Agatha frightfully if I should fall and get killed on -the conservatory roof," murmured Jane, as she pinned up her long skirts -securely, "and it would cost Uncle Robert a whole lot in broken glass -and potted plants and things; but I don't care!"</p> - -<p>In another minute she had crawled out of her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> little window and -commenced her dangerous journey to a neighboring window, which, luckily -for the bold adventuress, stood wide open. Twice the girl's cautious -feet slipped unsteadily on a bit of ice, and once the gutter itself -cracked ominously under her weight; but at last she gained the window, -climbed in, and sank white and shaken to the floor.</p> - -<p>"Jane Blythe, you must be losing your nerve," she told herself sternly, -when she had gathered sufficient strength to stumble dizzily to her -feet; "the last time you tried that you didn't turn a hair!"</p> - -<p>The rest was easy, and in less than an hour's time Miss Blythe found -herself ringing the bell at 10 Belgravia Crescent. The slatternly maid, -distinguished by the traditional smudge over one eye, informed her that -Mrs. Markle was within, and in the same breath that she was "clean wore -out with interviewin' young females."</p> - -<p>Jane's heart sank; nevertheless she bestowed a sixpence upon the dingy -maid with an air of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> regal unconcern, and was straightway ushered into -the presence of Mrs. Augustus Markle, with a flourish of the dingy one's -plaided pinafore and the brief announcement: "'Ere's another of 'em, -ma'am!"</p> - -<p>The stout lady, solidly enthroned upon a sofa before the dispirited -fire, did not turn her elaborately coiffured head.</p> - -<p>"Ze young woman may come in," intoned a full, rich, foreign-sounding -voice which somewhat prepared Jane for the large, dark, highly colored -visage, flanked with dubious diamond eardrops, which Mrs. Markle turned -upon her visitor.</p> - -<p>"You wis' to inquire about ze situation—eh?" pursued this individual, -without any token of impatience. "I haf already seen feefty of ze London -demoiselles <i>ce matin</i>."</p> - -<p>"Oh, if you have already engaged some one, I will not trouble you!" -stammered Jane, edging toward the door.</p> - -<p>"Not so fast—not so fast, madmoiselle; it iss true I haf already -engage; but— Ah, zis iss<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> bettaire! More <i>chic—oui</i>. Your name, <i>s'il -vous plait</i>?"</p> - -<p>"Jane Evelyn Aubrey-Blythe," murmured the girl.</p> - -<p>"An' you wis' to go to ze ozzer side—to America—<i>oui</i>?"</p> - -<p>"I wish to leave London; yes."</p> - -<p>"To-morrow evenin', zen, I go by ze train. Zen I sail on ze so gra-a-nd -ship. You go wiz me—eh?"</p> - -<p>Jane stared at the woman with some astonishment. "What would be my—my -duties?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"Your duties? Why, to go wiz me—my <i>compagnon de voyage</i>—<i>comprenez</i>? -Nossing else, I assure you; I wait on myself. But I am—what you call -it—lone-some—see? An' I require a nize, young lady to go wiz me."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Markle smiled affably, revealing a double row of glistening white -teeth. She looked very kind and good-natured, and Jane drew a quick -breath.</p> - -<p>"I will go," she said decidedly.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p><p>The final arrangements were quickly concluded, and Jane presently found -herself walking down the street, her cheeks flushed, her brown eyes -blazing with excitement.</p> - -<p>"I am going to America to-morrow—to-morrow!" she told herself. "I shall -travel! I shall see the world! I shall never—never come back!"</p> - -<p>The girl was so absorbed in her thoughts, which had for the moment flown -quite across seas to the America of her imaginings, that she failed to -see the tall, square-shouldered person who had turned the corner and was -approaching her at a leisurely pace. She became aware of his presence -when he spoke, and flushed an indignant scarlet as Lady Agatha's -insinuating words recurred to her mind. "Yes," she returned vague answer -to his greetings, "it is very pleasant to-day."</p> - -<p>"But you," said Mr. Towle, smiling down at the little figure, "seem to -be in great haste about something. You are quite out of breath. Suppose -we go into this little park and sit down<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> quietly and rest a bit. Your -face is uncomfortably flushed."</p> - -<p>"I can't help my color," murmured Jane confusedly; "it isn't because I -was walking fast, but only——"</p> - -<p>"Is it because you are vexed at seeing me?" Mr. Towle wanted to know. -"We agreed to be friends last night, remember."</p> - -<p>"I know it," said Jane, glancing up at him quickly. He looked much -younger in his hat, she reflected, and he really had very nice eyes. -"But I am going out of town directly," she made haste to add, "so we -shall not see each other again—at least not for a long time."</p> - -<p>"You are going away?" said Mr. Towle blankly. "Where—if I may ask -without seeming impertinent?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know exactly," replied Jane, with a provoking smile. "I am -going to travel." Then she bit her tongue till it hurt. "Really, now you -will see why I must hurry home at once. And—and, please don't mention -what I have said to—to Aunt Agatha or Uncle Robert."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p><p>Mr. Towle regarded her in puzzled silence. "I beg your pardon," he said -stiffly. "You were referring to what passed between us last night? I -have already told your—ah—guardians the result of my proposals, and -they——"</p> - -<p>"Oh, I didn't mean that!" cried Jane. "How could you think so? I meant— -Oh, <i>won't</i> you go away and not talk to me any more about it! You -oughtn't to have liked me anyway. Aunt Agatha said so. She told me this -morning that I was not at all attractive, and I am poor, too—perhaps -you didn't know that—and—and—I am not at all clever; you can't help -seeing that for yourself. I hope you will forget that you ever saw me -those three times at Uncle Robert's."</p> - -<p>"One time would have been enough for me," said Mr. Towle earnestly; "but -as a matter of fact I have seen you more than three times. I never -counted the occasions, but I saw you as often as possible, as for -example when you went out with the two little boys in the governess -cart, and when you walked with them in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> Park, and twice in the -Museum. Do you remember the day you showed them the mummies? You were -telling them a long story about a little Egyptian princess; then you -showed them the toys found in her tomb, and the mummy itself wrapped in -browned linen, a withered lotus flower stuck in the bandages."</p> - -<p>Jane stared at him meditatively. "I didn't see you anywhere about," she -said.</p> - -<p>"No; I took good care that you should not," Mr. Towle observed. "Now I -am sorry for it."</p> - -<p>"Why?" asked Jane; then bit her tongue again in her confusion. "I—I -mean it would have been very—nice. I should have said I——"</p> - -<p>"I was a bally idiot," pursued Mr. Towle steadily, "not to have taken -the pains to become acquainted with you in any way, however -unconventional. If I had, perhaps you would not have disliked me so."</p> - -<p>"Oh, but I do not dislike you in the least!" protested Jane.</p> - -<p>"If you could like me a very little," he said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> eagerly, "perhaps in time -you could—Jane, if you are fond of travel I would take you all over the -world. You should see everything. I thought I was done with happiness -till I saw you. I had nothing to look forward to. I had seen everything, -tested everything, and found everything empty and hateful, but with -<i>you</i> at my side— Won't you try to like me, Jane?"</p> - -<p>What Jane would have replied, had she not glanced up on the instant, she -never afterwards felt entirely sure. But glance up she did to meet -Gwendolen's scornful eyes fixed full upon her as she whirled past them -in the Aubrey-Blythe victoria, with a great show of Aubrey-Blythe -liveries on the box.</p> - -<p>Instantly the forlorn little shoot of gratitude which was trying its -feeble best to masquerade as sentiment in Jane's lonely heart withered -and died under the icy blast of impotent anger and fear which passed -over her. "She will tell Aunt Agatha," thought poor Jane, "and Aunt -Agatha will think I have lied to her about seeing Mr. Towle on the -street."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p><p>By some untoward psychological process, quite unperceived by herself, -the full torrent of Miss Blythe's wrath was instantly turned upon the -man at her side.</p> - -<p>"I think I must say good morning, Mr. Towle," she said coldly. "I am -really very much occupied to-day. I am sure I thank you for thinking of -me so kindly—" She stopped determinedly and held out her hand.</p> - -<p>And the Hon. Wipplinger Towle, feeling himself to be dismissed in all -the harrowing length and breadth of the word, took his leave of her -instantly, with a courteous lifting of his hat which afforded Jane a -parting glimpse of his prematurely bald head.</p> - -<p>"It must be dreadful to be bald," reflected Jane, with vague contrition, -as she walked away; "but I can't help it." The correlation of these two -ideas being more intimate and profound than appears in a cursory reading -of them.</p> - -<p>The door of Lady Agatha's morning room stood open as Jane attempted to -slip past it like a guilty shadow. Gwendolen, still attired in her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> hat -and jacket, evidently saw her and apprised her mother of the fact, for -Lady Agatha's pursuing voice arrested the girl in full flight toward her -own room.</p> - -<p>"You will, perhaps, be good enough to inform me, Jane, how you came to -be on the street after I had locked you into your own room for the day," -intoned Lady Agatha, in a terrible voice. "<i>Deceitful, ungrateful, -vulgar</i> girl, that you are!"</p> - -<p>"I saw you, sly-boots; so you needn't deny it," put in Gwendolen, with a -spiteful laugh. "It was passing strange how our demure Jane chanced to -have a proposal, was it not? Do you know, mamma, Ethel Brantwood told me -this morning that <i>that man</i> had been seen tagging Jane all over London. -It is quite the common talk."</p> - -<p>"Oh!" cried Jane, wringing her hands. "What <i>shall</i> I do?"</p> - -<p>"Do not attempt to hoodwink me longer, unhappy girl," pursued Lady -Agatha. "Your deceit, ingratitude, and <i>vulgar intrigues</i> are all laid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> -bare. I have not decided what I shall do with you. It -appears"—dramatically—"that locks and bars are no barriers to <i>you</i>. -My commands you defy, my counsels you ignore, my affections you trample -under foot!"</p> - -<p>"Stop, Aunt Agatha!" cried Jane. "I did climb out of the window after -you had locked me in—I wish now that I had fallen on the conservatory -roof and killed myself; you wouldn't have minded anything but the broken -glass—but you <i>must</i> believe that I never saw Mr. Towle on the street -before. He <i>has</i> followed me about; he told me so this morning. But he -never spoke to me once, and I did not know it. I never have thought of -seeing him."</p> - -<p>"How extremely ingenuous and naive!" put in Gwendolen, with an ugly -titter; "quite after the pattern of a cheap variety actress, indeed! I -wonder, mamma, that Mr. Towle took the pains to propose marriage to Jane -in the dull, old-fashioned way. He might as well have eloped without -ceremony."</p> - -<p>Jane stared at her cousin, her face slowly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> whitening. "Do you realize -what you have said to me, Gwendolen?" she asked in a stifled voice. -"Yes. I see that you do. If you were a man I should—<i>kill</i> you. But you -are only <i>you</i>, so I shall content myself by never speaking to you -again."</p> - -<p>"Gwendolen, my <i>love</i>, will you kindly leave us for a few minutes," said -Lady Agatha, very calm and stately. "I cannot permit your young ears to -be sullied by this mad talk. Really, I fear that the unfortunate girl's -reason has been—" She paused significantly and touched her forehead. "I -am told there has always been a marked weakness in her mother's family. -Go, my love, go!"</p> - -<p>"I shall go, too," said Jane bitterly. "I have nothing more to say to -you, Aunt Agatha. I have told you the exact truth, and you may believe -it or not as you like." She turned and followed Gwendolen out of the -room.</p> - -<p>That young lady, hearing the step behind her, fled with a hysterical -shriek to the shelter of her mother's room. "What do you think, mamma,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> -the creature was actually pursuing me!" Jane heard her say.</p> - -<p>Then Jane went slowly up the stairs to her own room, where she remained -quite alone and undisturbed for the remainder of the day. At intervals, -during the course of the dreary afternoon, she could hear faint sounds -of opening and shutting doors below stairs. Once Percy's loud voice and -the clatter of his stout little shoes appeared to be approaching her -room; then some one called him in a subdued voice; there was a short -altercation carried on at a gradually increasing distance; then silence -again.</p> - -<p>A horrible sense of disgrace and isolation gradually descended upon the -girl. She sobbed wildly as she looked over her few cherished possessions -preparatory to packing them in the box she dragged in from the attic; -her mother's watch, a locket containing her father's picture, a ring or -two, her shabby little gowns and meager toilet things. By the time she -had locked and strapped the box with shaking fingers she was shivering -with cold and faint with hunger.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p><p>The latter primal urge finally drove her forth and down the rear -stairways to the kitchen, where she found the servants in full tide of -preparation for dinner.</p> - -<p>"Lud ha' mussy, Miss Jane Evelyn!" cried Susan. "Where 'ave you be'n to -look that white an' done hup?"</p> - -<p>"In my room," said Jane shortly. "Will you give me some tea and bread, -Susan? I'll take it up myself. No; please don't follow me. I wish to be -alone."</p> - -<p>"Somethink's hup wi' 'er," observed cook sagaciously, as Jane -disappeared with a brace of thick sandwiches cut by the zealous Susan.</p> - -<p>"They'd orto be 'shamed o' theirsels; that they 'ad, a-puttin' upon a -sweet young lady like Miss Jane Evelyn," opined Susan. "I'd like to give -'em all a piece o' my mind; it 'ud do me good. It would so!"</p> - -<p>"You're a goose, Susan," laughed cook. "An' so is she, if all I 'ear is -c'rrect. Tummas says as 'ow that military-appearin' gent wot<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> comes 'ere -is crazy to marry 'er. An 'e's rich's cream!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, lud!" sniffed Susan, her nose in the air, "'e may be rich, but 'e's -bald as a happle! She'd never 'ave 'im; I'll bet me hown 'air an' me -combin's to boot."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> - -<p>When Jane awoke the next morning she stared for a moment at the brownish -spot in the ceiling just over her bed, as she had done every morning -during a series of London seasons. It was a sprawling indefinite stain, -caused no doubt by some leak long since stopped in the roof overhead, -but it possessed in Jane's eyes the weird peculiarity of assuming -various pictorial shapes which matched the girl's own passing -experiences. Once she remembered seeing in it a train of gypsy wagons, -with a peculiarly alluring and picturesque gypsy plodding on -before—this in the days when she longed to run away, yet did not quite -dare for fear of being caught and brought back ignominiously to taste -the sharp sting of the ferrule, which lay darkly in wait for evil doers -in the upper left-hand drawer of Lady Agatha's private desk.</p> - -<p>Of late years the stain had assumed the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>appearance of a mountain -valley, with a lofty castle perched high amid inaccessible cliffs. There -was a long series of romances connected with this imaginary abode, in -every one of which Jane herself, in a robe of white samite, bound about -the waist with a girdle of red gold, figured as heroine. Sometimes a -hostile army, their spears and pennants showing dimly through the trees, -would defile stealthily through the dark passes, to intrench themselves -before the castle moat, where Jane would parley with them, intrepid and -unblenching in a glistening coat of chain armor fitting her lithe figure -like a serpent's skin. Again, a solitary knight with closed visor -overshadowed by ebon plumes could be seen pulling in his foaming charger -below the embattled terraces awaiting a glimpse of the white figure -above.</p> - -<p>On this particular morning beetling cliffs, castle and all had vanished -and Jane, rubbing the dreams from her eyes, beheld a wide expanse of -tumbling ocean, with a sky piled high with flying clouds, and in the -foreground, ploughing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> its way through the foam, a stately ship. Jane -stared unwinkingly at the vision for a long minute, then her eyes -descended in startled haste to the floor, where rested the locked and -strapped box, with O. A. B. in white letters on its end. Jane sat up in -the bed with a queer choking in her slender throat. If Oliver -Aubrey-Blythe were alive, his one daughter would not be driven forth -friendless into the wide world to make her difficult way.</p> - -<p>Twenty minutes later, refreshed by her bath and dressed in the gown she -had chosen for her travels, Jane was quite her cheerful self again. She -was also unromantically hungry, and after a brief period of indecision -descended boldly to the breakfast room, where she was tolerably certain -of finding none of the female members of the household.</p> - -<p>Mr. Robert Aubrey-Blythe was apparently just about finishing his repast -and his newspaper. He looked up as his niece entered the room. "Good -morning, Jane," he said fussily. "You are late."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p><p>"Yes, Uncle Robert," very meekly, "I overslept this morning."</p> - -<p>"I—er—in short, Jane, I saw Towle again yesterday, at the Club," -pursued Mr. Aubrey-Blythe, thoughtfully gazing at the girl through his -double eyeglasses. "The man is—er—quite daft about you, Jane. I own I -was astonished. Ha-ha! very amusing, I'm sure."</p> - -<p>"I'll never speak to Mr. Towle again—<i>never</i>!" cried Jane, her cheeks -flaming. "The idea of his daring——"</p> - -<p>"Tut-tut, girl; don't be a fool!" advised Mr. Aubrey-Blythe testily. -"What Towle said was—er—quite correct, quite as it should be, in -case—you—er—. By the by, Jane, why can't you hit it off better with -Lady Agatha and Gwendolyn? I'm infernally bored with having to hear -about your interminable squabbles; I am, indeed. And it's beastly bad -taste in you, Jane, to be always getting up scenes. You ought to know -that."</p> - -<p>"There'll be no further scenes between Gwendolen and myself," said Jane, -very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> calm and dignified. "I can promise you that, sir."</p> - -<p>"Well now, upon my word, that sounds something like," said Mr. -Aubrey-Blythe, pushing back his chair. "I trust you'll keep that in mind -hereafter. We—er—shall endeavor to do our duty by you, Jane; and you, -on your part——"</p> - -<p>The girl's sudden and unexpected response to this well-meant attempt at -reconciliation shocked and astonished her worthy relative beyond -measure. She arose from her chair and put her two young arms about his -neck with something very like a sob. "I do thank you, Uncle Robert, for -all you've done for me," she said. "I've not meant to be disagreeable or -ungrateful since I've lived in your house; indeed I've not. But -I—couldn't help it, and I'm sorry for—everything!"</p> - -<p>"Come—come—er—I say!" spluttered Mr. Aubrey-Blythe. "You mustn't, you -know, or I shall have to call Lady Agatha. I dare say you'll go on quite -as you should after this."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p><p>"Good-by, uncle," said Jane, smiling and winking fast to keep the tears -from falling off her thick lashes. "I'm glad I said it. You'll not -forget."</p> - -<p>Then she sat down with a very good appetite to the fresh coffee and eggs -and bacon which were set before her. One must eat to live, however young -and beautiful one may be, and whatever the base and undeserved cruelty -of one's relations. She had not finished when Percy and Cecil clattered -into the breakfast room, with every evidence of having carried on a -spirited skirmish on the way downstairs.</p> - -<p>"Hello, Jane, you here?" growled Cecil, drawing a long face. "We're to -have no lessons to-day, mind!"</p> - -<p>"Who said so?" inquired Miss Blythe tranquilly.</p> - -<p>"Mamma said so. She said you were going to be sent away directly, and -we're to go away to school. Hooray!"</p> - -<p>"I don't want to go to school," whined Percy dismally. "I want Jane."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p><p>"Shut up, baby; you don't know what you're talkin' about. I don't want -Jane, an' I'm glad the mater's goin' to ship her; so there! Here, you, -Calkins, fetch us some hot muffins; these ain't fit to eat. And, I say, -hustle some marmalade while you're about it!"</p> - -<p>Miss Blythe arose from her place. "If you can't ask civilly for your -food, Cecil, you don't deserve to have anything fetched," she said -rebukingly.</p> - -<p>"Cecil's a cad, anyhow," muttered Percy, staring truculently at his -brother from under his light lashes.</p> - -<p>"Aw! an' you're a bally baby!" retorted Master Cecil, stuffing half a -muffin into his cheek. "My, won't you catch it in school, though!"</p> - -<p>"See here, boys," said Jane seriously, "very likely I'll not see you -again, for I am going away——"</p> - -<p>"You're to be <i>sent</i>, you mean," interrupted Cecil impudently.</p> - -<p>"Be quiet, sir, and pay attention to what I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> have to say; it's the last -time I shall take the trouble. You, Percy, have the instincts of a -gentleman. If you'll go on telling the truth every trip, no matter what -bully threatens you, and if you'll stand for what's decent and right -you'll have nothing to fear, in school or anywhere else. As for you, -Cecil, you've a lot to learn, and I heartily hope the big boys will -thrash your meanness and cowardliness out of you before you're entirely -spoiled, and I dare say they will. Good-by."</p> - -<p>She stooped to kiss Percy warmly, and that small boy blubbered outright -as he rubbed his smeary little face against the girl's smooth cheek. To -Cecil she offered her hand, but withdrew it with a smile, as the -grateful recipient of her counsels thrust his tongue into his cheek with -a frightful grimace. "Good-by, boys," she repeated. "You'll find what -I've told you is true before you've done."</p> - -<p>It was a long, lonely day, passed in a dreary attempt to hasten the -lagging hours with one of Susan's "shilling shockers," which that -worthy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> damsel had pressed upon her adored young lady's attention as -being "perfec'ly el'gant an' that thrillin' it ud raise yer 'air to read -it." Jane found "The Duke's Revenge, or the Secret of the Hidden -Staircase" insufficient to keep her wandering attention from the water -stain on the ceiling, which by this time had assumed the appearance of a -coach and pair careering at full gallop on the verge of a precipice. She -passed the morning in momently dreading a summons from Lady Agatha, but -none came, and after luncheon (which Jane decided to omit) peeping from -her lofty window she caught a glimpse of that stately matron and her -daughter magnificently attired sailing forth to their carriage. Later in -the day she beheld the Hon. Wipplinger Towle, immaculately groomed and -wearing a gardenia in his buttonhole, advancing up the street.</p> - -<p>Ten minutes later Susan tapped at the door, the proud bearer of a slim -white card on a diminutive salver. "I told Jeems as 'ow I thought I'd -find you 'ere, miss," she said.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p><p>"You may say that I'm not at home, if you please, Susan," said Jane.</p> - -<p>But Susan stood still in her tracks. "'Is 'air ain't much to brag of, I -know, miss," she ventured at length; "an' 'e can't be called 'an'some in -other pertic'lers, but I ain't sure as I wouldn't tak' up wi' 'im, -seein' there ain't no lord nor dook 'andy. 'E's a gent'man, that 'e is; -'an you'd be a-ridin' in a kerridge o' yer own wi' nobody to worrit you, -an' <i>me</i> lidy's maid a-waitin' on you constant, instead of occasional -like, as I'm forced now along wi' my reg'lar dooties."</p> - -<p>Jane laughed outright. "You're a good soul, Susan," she said; "but your -advice isn't exactly to my taste. Go down at once and do as I've told -you. Later I've something to say to you; and I shall want your help, -too."</p> - -<p>By this Susan's eyes had lighted upon Jane's modest box, which stood -locked and strapped for its long journey at the foot of Jane's little -bed. "Oh, Miss Jane Evelyn," she blubbered, "you ain't a-goin' away!"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p><p>"I must," said Jane. "I can't stay here any longer. I'll tell you about -it when you come up again. You must go down directly now and tell James -to excuse me to Mr. Towle."</p> - -<p>But James was engaged in parleying with another visitor when Susan -arrived at the level of the reception room, and after an instant's -reflection she smoothed down her immaculate apron, touched up the frills -of her cap, and boldly presented herself before the Hon. Wipplinger -Towle, who was waiting with his wonted middle-aged patience.</p> - -<p>"Miss Jane Evelyn's be'n took bad wi' a wi'lent 'eadache, sir, an' will -you kindly excuse 'er, sir." And Susan bobbed her very best courtesy.</p> - -<p>Mr. Towle stood up and fixed his glass in his eye. "Hum—ah! I am very -sorry to hear it. You will—er—tell Miss Aubrey-Blythe so, with my -compliments, my good girl."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir; I will, sir; an' thank you kindly, sir," said Susan, slipping -something into her apron pocket, with a broad grin.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p><p>Mr. Towle appeared to be gazing rebukingly at the frills on Susan's -cap; but that astute damsel knew better than to withdraw too hastily. -Presently he spoke again. "You are—ah—Susan; are you not?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir; thank you, sir. I ain't nobody else but Susan, sir," beamed -the girl encouragingly. "An' I'm that fond of Miss Jane Evelyn, if -you'll believe it, sir, 'as I'd lay down willin' i' the mud an' let her -walk over me, that I would, sir!"</p> - -<p>"Hum—ah!" murmured the Hon. Mr. Towle, "that is very good of you, I'm -sure, Susan; most praiseworthy, in short. Do you—er—attend Miss Blythe -when she—er—travels? She is going out of town, I believe."</p> - -<p>"I don't know no mor'n nothink what Miss Jane Evelyn's a-goin' to do, -sir. I'd give me heyes to go wi' 'er; that I would; but I'll not be let, -sir."</p> - -<p>"Then you don't know where she is going?"</p> - -<p>"No, sir; not yet, sir; but she'll tell me, sure, afore ever she goes. I -'ate to say it as I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> shouldn't, but Miss Jane Evelyn 'arsn't many -friends in this 'ere 'ouse but me an' cook an' may'ap Master Percy, 'im -bein' the youngest of hall. I 'ear below stairs as 'ow she's to be sent -off somewheres directly, sir, an' the young lads'll go to school hafter -she's gone wot teached 'em faithful since the las' gov'ness went away."</p> - -<p>"Hum—ah," mused Mr. Towle, scowling fiercely. "I say," he added -abruptly, "this doesn't seem a very civil thing for me to do; but it's -important I should know where Miss—er—your young mistress goes. I -might be able to be of service to her, you know."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir; I gets your meanin' quite, sir," pursued the ecstatic Susan, -feeling herself to be nothing less than confidential lady in a real, -live novel of absorbing interest. "I'll let you know, sir, as soon as -ever I finds out, an' find out I will, sir; you may depend upon it, -sir."</p> - -<p>"Thank you, Susan, my good girl; do so by all means," said Mr. Towle; -then a second something clinked against the first in an adjacent apron -pocket.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p><p>After which Susan sped up the stairs as fast as her feet could carry -her, to find Miss Jane Evelyn calmly putting on her hat and veil before -her little mirror.</p> - -<p>"I wish you would call a cab for me, directly, Susan," said the young -lady; "and could you help me carry this box down to the area door, do -you think?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, Miss Jane Evelyn, where <i>are</i> you goin'?" implored Susan, wild-eyed -with haste and sudden alarm. "Don't do nothink rash, I himplore you, -miss!"</p> - -<p>"Don't be a goose, Susan; but do as you're bid. I have arranged to -travel in America with a—lady. And you must help me get away out of the -house without a scene; there's a good girl."</p> - -<p>Susan sighed deeply. She was as wax in Miss Jane Evelyn's hands, and she -knew it. "Does the missus know where you're a-goin', miss?" she ventured -to inquire.</p> - -<p>"No, Susan," Jane told her firmly. "I have decided to look out for -myself from now on; I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> am plenty old enough." Miss Blythe looked very -tall and dignified as she said this, and Susan went meekly away to call -the cab, fingering Mr. Towle's money as she did so with an air of guilty -reserve.</p> - -<p>It was quite dusk when Jane's modest luggage was finally strapped atop -the cab, and Jane herself was seated within. Poor Susan stood blubbering -at the curb. "I wisht to 'eavin's you'd think better of it, Miss Jane -Evelyn," she whimpered. "I 'ate to see you a-goin' hoff like this wi' -nobody to say good-by but me, an' a nice gent'man likely a-breakin' 'is -'eart to bits when 'e finds you're gone."</p> - -<p>"Pooh!" said Jane, rather faintly; "he'll not care. Nobody will care but -you, my good Susan. Good-by, <i>dear, dear</i> Susan! And thank you again for -everything you've always been doing for me!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, Miss Jane Evelyn, if you do be set on going'—as I see you be, I -'ope as 'ow you'll 'ave a most 'eavinly time, an' come back merried to a -rich gent'man—for they do say as 'ow all the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> gents in Hamerica is -a-rollin' in gold an' di'mon's; an' 'eavin knows you deserve the best of -heverythink, Miss Jane Evelyn; that you do! God bless you, miss, an' -thank you kindly! Good-by!"</p> - -<p>Then the cabby slammed the door and Jane found herself rolling away to -Belgravia Crescent, where Mrs. Markle, clad in a voluminous traveling -cloak and heavily veiled, was waiting to join her. Mrs. Markle pressed -the girl's hand in her fat, moist palm. "I was beginning to fear you -would not, after all, come wiz me, dear child," she said sweetly. "I -should have wept wiz ze disappointment."</p> - -<p>Once on board ship Mrs. Markle's manner changed perceptibly. "You will -not bozzer me while at sea," she said to Jane, rather sharply, -"<i>not—at—all</i>—you comprend? I am seeck—ah! I suffer wiz ze <i>mal de -mer</i>, an' I not talk—nevaire. You sleep in anozzer cabin—ze stewardess -she will show you. But stay, your jacket iss too—what you call it—too -theen—not war-rm for the sea. It iss so cold—ugh! see!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> I make you -warm wiz zis." And Mrs. Markle drew from her steamer trunk a luxurious -fur-lined cloak which she threw upon Jane's slender shoulders.</p> - -<p>"Do you mean that you want me to wear this cloak?" asked Jane, -astonished beyond measure. "Oh, thank you! You are very kind; but I -think my own jacket will be quite comfortable. I could not wear a -borrowed garment."</p> - -<p>The woman was smiling broadly, but the smile slowly faded as she stared -at Jane's flushed face.</p> - -<p>"Eh—but w'y not?" she demanded. "You evaire cross ze ocean before zis?"</p> - -<p>"No," confessed Jane; "but——"</p> - -<p>"Zen you do as I say. You would fr-r-eeze in zis sing," and she fingered -Jane's modest wrap contemptuously. "Come," she murmured persuasively; -"you will please me—yes? I ha-a-te to have anyone wiz me feel ze -discomfort. Ah, now, see!"</p> - -<p>Jane blushed resentfully, then sighed, as the luxurious folds fell about -her little figure.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p><p>"Why, it just fits me!" she exclaimed in an astonished voice.</p> - -<p>"<i>Certainment!</i>" smiled the woman, passing her fat, jeweled fingers -complacently over the girl's shoulders. "I am very good judge of ze -figure. I was sure it would fit."</p> - -<p>"What, did you buy it for me?" cried Jane, quite overcome by such -kindness.</p> - -<p>"Why sure I did!" purred the woman. "An' ze leetle cap, too—see?" And -she settled a coquetish yachting cap into place on Jane's head. "Ze hats -wiz fezzers, zey blow into bits an' fly away at sea. You leave zis -leetle coat an' hat wiz me till we come in port, zen I gif zem to you -alright. But mind, you mus' not spik to anybody on ze -ship—<i>not—one—word—of—me</i>! You un'erstan'—eh?"</p> - -<p>Jane stared at the woman's scowling face with something like fear. But -as she looked the frown on Mrs. Markle's large face melted into quick -laughter. "You're alright—alright, a real nize young lady," she -murmured, "you will not spik to men or to any womans—no, nevaire. Go<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> -now, an' make ze voyage. I see you once every day after ze <i>dejeuner</i>."</p> - -<p>Jane stepped out rather uncertainly into the brilliantly lighted -corridor beyond the stateroom door, then paused with a startled face. -Something strange and powerful had begun to throb in the unknown depths -beneath her feet, slowly at first, then steadying to a monotonous -beat—beat. The screw of the great ship, which was to bear her to new -and strange experiences beyond the sea, was in motion.</p> - -<p>Several hours later Lady Agatha returning from a dinner party, very much -out of temper because her hostess had stupidly given the rich American -wife of an up-country baronet precedence over her, found a note skewered -to her cushion with a big black-headed hat pin (Susan's device, borrowed -from a shilling shocker).</p> - -<blockquote><p>"Aunt Agatha:" (she read) "I am going to America, and as I do not -intend to return, you will have no further reason to regret my -'unfortunate influence' over your children.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p><p>"Please say good-by to Percy for me. He is a <i>real Aubrey-Blythe</i>, -and I am sorry that I shall never see him again. But I shall not -pretend that I am sorry to be leaving your house. You will be glad -to be rid of me, I know; and I am equally glad of this opportunity -of going away. So we are quits.</p> - -<p>"You seemed to feel that I do not appreciate what you have done for -me in the past. I think I have and do appreciate <i>everything</i>; I -have thought of little else of late. And this has led quite -directly to my present determination. Good-by, good-by!</p> - -<p class="right">"<span class="smcap">Jane Evelyn Aubrey-Blythe.</span>"</p></blockquote> - -<p>On the day following, the Hon. Wipplinger Towle was likewise the -recipient of a communication, the contents of which he finally -deciphered with difficulty. It was written on pink paper, strongly -scented with cheap perfumery, and was fetched to his lodgings, so his -man informed him, "by a very respectable appearin' pusson in blue an' -scarlet livery."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p><p>"i sed as ow i wud leve yu no, sir, wen mis Jane Evelyn went away,"—he -read—"shes gon to America, that is awl i no, sir, she went suddint, or -i wud ave towld yu. if i ad munny i wud follo. if the shu fitz, put it -awn. Susan Haythorne."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> - -<p>The six days of the voyage passed uneventfully enough. Jane Blythe, -obeying Mrs. Markle's instructions, spoke to no one, and although one or -two women, muffled to their eyes in wraps, stared at her in sleepy -curiosity from their steamer chairs, and an elderly man restored her -head covering, which on one occasion escaped its moorings and blew -across the deck, no one attempted to enter into conversation with her. -Jane accepted this circumstance as she accepted everything else in her -new and strange surroundings. She ate regularly, which could be said of -very few of the other passengers, and slept soundly at night after long, -delightful days spent on deck in the keen mid-ocean air, and with it all -her thin face rounded into a lovely radiance of girlish bloom, which -caused the retiring Mrs. Markle to exclaim in fretful amazement.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p><p>That lady's large, flaccid countenance had assumed a peculiar, -olive-green tint which the glaring electric lights in her cabin -accentuated to an unpleasant ghastliness. She was very short in her -communications with Jane in the brief interviews which took place each -day after luncheon.</p> - -<p>"You spik to anyone since I see you—<i>n'est-ce-pas</i>?" she would demand, -staring eagerly at Jane from the midst of her pillows. "<i>Non? Tres -bien!</i> say nossing to womans asking questions; to mens, nossing. I -ha-a-te zem all."</p> - -<p>"But no one has spoken to me, except to say 'good morning' at the -table," Jane made haste to assure her.</p> - -<p>"Alright—<i>tres bien</i>," muttered Mrs. Markle. "Go now—<i>vite</i>! and -to-morrow—no, next day, we come in port. Zen I tell you one leetle sing -you do for me."</p> - -<p>"I have done nothing for you yet," replied Jane, in genuine distress. -"Would you not like me to read aloud to you for a while, or bathe your -head with cologne? I should be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> so glad to do something to make you -comfortable."</p> - -<p>But Mrs. Markle waved her aside with a fretful motion of her dingy, -jeweled hands. "Go; make ze voyage as you like. I want nossing—nossing -till we come in port. Zen I say what you mus' do. A mos' leetle sing, I -tell you."</p> - -<p>On the last day when the women passengers were beginning to look less -like rows of Egyptian mummies put out for an airing, and a buzz of -cheerful conversation pervaded the decks and cabins, Jane was astonished -to find Mrs. Markle sitting in her stateroom, fully dressed and -elaborately frizzled and coiffured, as on the day she had first seen -her.</p> - -<p>"Oh, are you better? I am so glad!" exclaimed Jane. "Won't you come up -on deck for a while, and see all the people?"</p> - -<p>"<i>Non!</i>" snorted Mrs. Markle. "I will not. I am not able to walk yet. I -am—what you call it—we-e-k from ze illness. Now leesten to <i>moi</i>, I -gif you your hat an' coat. Put zem on, an' leave ze fur wiz me. Zen stay -in cabin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> till ze customs officer comes aboard. You have no articles -dutiable—<i>non</i>?"</p> - -<p>Jane stared at her in mute amazement. "I don't—know," she stammered.</p> - -<p>"Have you di'mon's, watches, fezzers—laces—eh?" sneered Mrs. Markle, -"kid gloves, silks, bronzes—in your so leetle box?—<i>non</i>? Say so, zen; -when zey ask you. Zes so gra-a-nd United Sta-a-tes mek you -pay—<i>comprenez</i>?—for all such sings. An' see, before we land at ze -dock, you come back to me here. I s'all ask you to help wiz ze luggage."</p> - -<p>But Jane was not asked to carry anything, when at last, the big ship -securely fast at her dock, the two prepared to go ashore.</p> - -<p>"See, now, Jane," said Mrs. Markle, "zere is one leetle sing I wis' not -to lose—a so small package. Do you mek it safe inside your jacket, so -it be not lost for me. I haf no place to keep it. Do not take it out. -Say nossing to nobody. I gif you money ven you gif it safe to <i>moi</i>. Zen -in ze customs, you will go by your box in ze place marked 'B'; I mus' -stay in 'M.' After all is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> passed we go on. You haf nossing dutiable— I -haf nossing; we are quick through. Zen we go to see ze so gr-r-and -sights in America—<i>oui</i>!"</p> - -<p>Jane permitted the woman to fasten a flat package, securely wrapped in -soft paper, in the loose folds of her blouse. Then the two made their -way to the deck, and from thence across the gang plank into the great, -noisy place, where the luggage of the passengers was being rapidly -sorted into vast piles.</p> - -<p>As Mrs. Markle had predicted, they seemed likely to be quickly passed -through the customhouse. Jane's modest luggage was thrown down almost at -her feet, and, following Mrs. Markle's careful directions, she at once -drew the attention of a waiting official to it.</p> - -<p>The man gruffly demanded her keys; unlocked the trunk; rumpled its scant -contents with a perfunctory hand; replaced it; scribbled a cabalistic -design upon its lid with a piece of chalk. Then, as if moved by an after -thought, he turned to the girl who stood looking on.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p><p>"Have you anything dutiable about your person?" he asked sharply; "any -jewelry—laces—or such like?"</p> - -<p>"I have my locket with my father's picture," confessed Jane, trembling, -"and mother's wedding ring; oh, sir, please don't take them away from -me. They'd be no good to anyone but me."</p> - -<p>The man was gazing at her keenly. Something in his stern eyes reminded -Jane of the mysterious flat package Mrs. Markle had given into her -charge.</p> - -<p>"And I have a—a small parcel, too," she faltered; "I don't know what is -in it."</p> - -<p>"Give it to me; I'll soon tell you," said the man grimly.</p> - -<p>"It doesn't belong to me, sir," added Jane, trembling still more as the -inspector's practiced fingers quickly undid the wrappings.</p> - -<p>Then she stared in astonishment as the man shook out yards and yards of -costly, filmy lace.</p> - -<p>"You didn't know what was in it—eh?"</p> - -<p>"No, sir," said Jane.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p><p>"Where did you get it, miss?"</p> - -<p>"The lady I am traveling with asked me to carry it for her," faltered -Jane. "Oh, but I mustn't lose it. You must give it to me directly. I am -sure it looks very valuable."</p> - -<p>"You're right it does," said the man grimly. "I guess you'll have to -come with me, young woman, and we'll see what else you're carrying for -the lady."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I've nothing else!" protested Jane, "and Mrs. Markle is waiting for -me; I see her now."</p> - -<p>"Where?" demanded the official, keenly alert. "Point her out to me!"</p> - -<p>"The large lady yonder with the long cloak—. Oh, she is looking at me -now! I am afraid she will be displeased about the lace. But of course, I -had to tell you when you asked me."</p> - -<p>"Of course!" echoed the man, with a sneer, "the ladies are always -careful to tell me everything of the sort. Now, you'll go with this -woman; she'll look into your case. And I'll just step across and speak -to Mrs. Markle."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p><p>The next hour in Jane Blythe's history is best passed over in pitying -silence. At the end of it a pallid, tremulous girl was confronting a -stern-faced official to whom she related in detail the circumstances of -her short acquaintance with Mrs. Markle.</p> - -<p>"She asked you to leave your hat and jacket in her cabin, did she?" he -interrupted sharply, at one point in the narrative.</p> - -<p>"She said it was too thin for the sea," Jane told him. "She was very -kind and loaned me a warm cloak lined with fur."</p> - -<p>"Did you notice anything peculiar about your own jacket when you put it -on to leave the ship?"</p> - -<p>"No, sir," said Jane; "I was too much taken up with having reached -America to notice that it was thicker and lumpy in spots."</p> - -<p>"It was very neatly done," put in the female inspector, whose name was -Forbes. "The woman had ample time during the voyage to quilt thousands -of dollars' worth of laces between the lining and the outside. It is -<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>evidently an old game successfully played before this."</p> - -<p>Then she stepped to one side to make room for a second inspector who -entered from the rear accompanied by Mrs. Markle herself, unbending and -majestic.</p> - -<p>"I s'all complain of zis outra—a—ge! You s'all be arrest, <i>bêtes</i>, -animals—all!" announced Mrs. Markle in a shrill, high-pitched voice. -"Zere was nossing dutiable in my luggage—I was alright -<i>aussi</i>—<i>n'est-ce pas?</i>"</p> - -<p>The woman inspector shrugged her shoulders. "I found nothing," she -agreed. "But—" She glanced expressively at Jane who had fixed her clear -hazel eyes reproachfully upon Mrs. Markle.</p> - -<p>"Is this the person in whose employ you crossed from England?" demanded -the presiding official of Jane.</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir, this is Mrs. Markle," replied Jane politely.</p> - -<p>"<i>Lies!—all lies!</i>" snapped the stout woman. "Nevaire before have I -seen zis young woman.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> My name is Madame Melbrun. I dema-a-nd my release -<i>immediatement</i>. Zis adventuress is a stra-a-nger to <i>moi</i>; I have -nossing to do wiz her."</p> - -<p>Jane's eyes opened wide with shocked surprise. "Oh!" she cried. "How can -you say that?"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Markle had folded her fat hands across her capacious form with an -air of haughty innocence. She did not once look at Jane. "I have no -articles dutiable," she repeated. "I am first-class passenger—name -Madame Melbrun—you find it so on ze passenger list. I dem-a-and my -r-r-rights!"</p> - -<p>"Let her go," ordered the presiding official, shrugging his shoulders, -"she's got us; but then we've got her, too."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Markle swept out without so much as a glance in Jane's direction; -nevertheless that young person shivered a little as if conscious of the -woman's murderous thoughts.</p> - -<p>The inspector was writing something in a ledger with a pen which -scratched sharply. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> raised his eyes as the pen ceased its mordant -protest. "You may go," he said to Jane.</p> - -<p>"Where may I go?" asked the girl piteously.</p> - -<p>"Anywhere you like," returned the inspector briskly. "You are free. -Better keep out of Madame Melbrun's way, though. You owe her something -like five thousand dollars, and she'd like to collect. Better be more -careful in your choice of mistresses next time you hire out, young -woman."</p> - -<p>The woman inspector looked pityingly at Jane. "You come with me," she -said. "I'll help you put your jacket together again."</p> - -<p>Bertha Forbes was as good as her word, and better. When she found Jane -had no friends in America and little money, she took her to her own -boarding house in a narrow, dirty street near the North River pier, and -later introduced her to a reliable employment agency.</p> - -<p>Jane was far too young and inexperienced in the ways of the great and -wicked city of New York to be suitably grateful for these kind offices; -but she thanked Miss Forbes warmly,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> even while she declined to follow -her later counsels.</p> - -<p>"You'd better go back to your aunt," Miss Forbes had said grimly. "It -isn't pleasant to be snubbed by rich relatives, I'll admit, but it's far -better than—some other things I could tell you of; and I'll see to the -transportation."</p> - -<p>Jane set her small white teeth. "I'll not go back to Aunt Agatha," she -murmured passionately. "I am strong—far stronger than I look. I can -work."</p> - -<p>"Very good," said Bertha Forbes, who was merely a lonely, good-hearted -woman, when she was off duty. "I'll help you get a place."</p> - -<p>But the stars in their courses seemed to fight against Jane. There were -numbers of persons indeed who were looking for a "refined young woman, -English preferred," to act as nursery governess; but, unluckily, the -refined and undeniably attractive Miss Blythe had no references beyond a -manly-looking scrawl of Bertha Forbes's composition, in which Jane was -described as being a young English woman known<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> to the writer as a -well-educated person of good, moral character.</p> - -<p>"I am afraid," said Jane, with an ingenuous blush, "that it hurts your -conscience to say all that about me, considering the circumstances of -our first acquaintance."</p> - -<p>"No," said Miss Forbes, "my conscience is not of the abnormally -sensitive variety, in the first place; in the second, I am morally -certain that you are exactly what you say you are. But the truth is, my -good girl, that my convictions, while entirely satisfactory to myself, -will not hold water if it comes to investigating them, and the people -who are willing to pay well for having their children kept out of their -way are quite apt to investigate. It gives them an easy conscience, you -see."</p> - -<p>Added to this unconvincing dimness of her immediate background was -Jane's ingrained habit of telling the truth upon occasions when an -elusive reticence would have been far more prudent.</p> - -<p>One impulsive lady, it is true, was about to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> engage Jane out of hand, -being irresistibly attracted by her smile and manner. But before -concluding the matter she chanced to ask Miss Blythe why she had come to -America.</p> - -<p>"I came to America," said Jane, endeavoring to be discreet "because I -was—very unhappy in England."</p> - -<p>"Indeed!" exclaimed Mrs. Newport, scenting a mystery, "and why were you -unhappy in England?"</p> - -<p>Jane was silent for a space. "I don't see why I should tell you," she -said at last, with a proud lifting of her little head; "my troubles -concerned no one but myself."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Newport raised her eyebrows. "I must <i>insist</i> upon knowing -everything about your past," she said conclusively, "else I cannot -engage you."</p> - -<p>Jane arose with the air of a duchess in disguise. "Good morning, Mrs. -Newport," she said.</p> - -<p>Bertha Forbes shook her head when she heard of this circumstance. "I'm -sorry you didn't see<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> fit to tell the woman something about yourself," -she said. "There is really nothing to be ashamed of in your story, -except the smuggling part—that I'd advise you to keep to yourself."</p> - -<p>"No," said Jane stonily. "I have nothing to be ashamed of; but the fact -that I wish to work for my living does not give that woman, or any -other, the right to ask impertinent questions about my private affairs."</p> - -<p>"Why, yes," disagreed Miss Forbes dryly; "it does. Mrs. Newport was -about to engage you to play the young mother to her three darlings, -while she golfed and motored and otherwise disported her fashionable -self; the very least she could do was to assure herself of your fitness -for the position. And this involved a knowledge of your Alpha as well as -your Omega; you see that; don't you?"</p> - -<p>Being very far from stupid, Jane saw, and when, on the following day, -Mrs. Narragansett's housekeeper interviewed Miss Blythe, that young -person was prepared to be frank and open to the point of telling all her -pitiful little story.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p><p>"My name," she began, in response to Mrs. Pott's initial question, "is -Jane Evelyn Aubrey-Blythe."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Potts bestowed a supercilious glance upon the young person. "And -what was your last position as nursery governess?" she further demanded.</p> - -<p>"I taught my cousins, Percy and Cecil Aubrey-Blythe, in London and at -Blythe Court."</p> - -<p>"Indeed! And why did you leave that situation, <i>if</i> you please?"</p> - -<p>Jane drew a quick breath. "Must I answer that question?" she entreated, -blushing hotly, a circumstance which the experienced Mrs. Potts noted -with growing disfavor.</p> - -<p>"You certainly must," that lady assured her with business-like coldness.</p> - -<p>"I—I thought my aunt was unkind to me," faltered Jane, with every -appearance of guilt. "I was very much vexed with her and—and with my -Cousin Gwendolen, and so——"</p> - -<p>"Your aunt's name, if you please? And you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> may also state the occasion -of her being unkind to you."</p> - -<p>"My aunt's name is Lady Agatha Aubrey-Blythe," said Jane, endeavoring to -pull herself together with very little success. "She was unkind to me -because—because— She accused me of— No; I—I cannot tell you."</p> - -<p>"It is quite unnecessary, Miss—Aubrey-Blythe," Mrs. Potts assured her, -with an unpleasant smile. "You are not, I am sure, a suitable person for -the situation. Good morning."</p> - -<p>Jane wept a little when she confided this last failure to Bertha -Forbes's sympathizing ear. "I couldn't tell that woman what Aunt Agatha -said to me about Mr. Towle; now, could I?"</p> - -<p>"She wouldn't have believed it, if you had," said Miss Forbes gruffly. -"Better try another tack," she added, still more gruffly. "Better yet, -go back to your uncle. He can't be a bad sort, from what you tell me."</p> - -<p>"Uncle Robert? Oh, no! he is—he has never been unkind to me. I—I quite -love Uncle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> Robert; that is to say, I should love to love him, if he -would let me."</p> - -<p>"Then you'll go back to England like a sensible girl; tell your uncle -you've made a fool of yourself, but you'll try not to do it again. Think -it over till to-morrow morning, and remember I'll take care of the -transportation."</p> - -<p>Jane reflected upon this eminently sane proposition over night; then she -faced her new-found friend and advisor with a pale but determined face. -"Thank you for offering to pay my passage back to England," she said, -"but I really can't accept it. I couldn't face Aunt Agatha and Gwendolen -and—and the others. I'd rather scrub floors than to do that! Perhaps -I'll have to scrub in the end, for my money is almost gone."</p> - -<p>Bertha Forbes stared at the girl speculatively. "If you will tell them -at the employment agency that you're willing to do house work, you'll -soon find a place," she said; "there are plenty of people who will hire -you to work in their houses, and ask few questions about your past.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> But -it's no fun to scrub floors, my young friend, unless the floors happen -to be your own. I never tried <i>that</i> myself; but I've seen deluded young -women who seemed to think it a vastly agreeable pastime, if there was -only a young man in the case."</p> - -<p>And this is how it came about that Miss Jane Evelyn Aubrey-Blythe—just -two weeks from the time she informed the invisible forces of the -universe that things would have to change—found herself humbly seeking -entrance at the side door of a modest, detached villa, situated in a -modest, detached suburb of New York. "Things" had changed, indeed!</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> - -<p>There was, apparently, no one at home in the modest detached villa; for, -although Jane could hear the trill of the electric bell within, the door -remained fast shut. After a discreet interval she ventured to sit down -for a minute's rest on a little green bench set beneath the budding -vines. Then she drew a deep breath. It was very quiet, and the air -blowing over wide expanses of vacant lots was sweet and warm. Dandelions -were in bloom amid the green April grass, and an American robin sang -loudly in a tall elm near the front gate. Jane looked about her with a -homesick flutter of her sore heart. The raw suburb, with its muddy road, -its hastily constructed sidewalks, its ornate houses with their -protruding balconies, bay-windows and hideous roof lines, broken by -extraneous ornamental railings and dormer windows of no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> known style of -architecture, offended eyes accustomed to the garden trimness and -ordered beauty of England.</p> - -<p>Bertha Forbes's parting advice recurred to her mind with an added touch -of poignancy: "It may not be pleasant to be snubbed by one's rich -relations; but it's better than some other things I know of."</p> - -<p>Jane wondered—for a fleeting minute—if she had made a fool of herself. -If, after all, she would not better have endured accustomed woes than to -fly to ills she knew not of.</p> - -<p>But such tardy reflections were speedily ended by the sound of voices -and footsteps from the rear. Jane rose hastily to her feet just in time -to behold a tall, broad-shouldered young man appear around the corner of -the veranda at an ambling trot, while a small boy of two or three plied -a switch about his heels and jerked the scarlet lines attached to his -person.</p> - -<p>"Det-tup!" shouted the boy vociferously. "Det-tup, I say!"</p> - -<p>But the young man had already caught sight<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> of Jane. "Hold on, Buster," -he said, turning to the child, "till I speak to the lady. Did you ring?" -he added, addressing Jane, with a polite bow.</p> - -<p>"Yes," she told him; "but no one answered. I wish to see Mrs. -Belknap—on business," she added hastily.</p> - -<p>"Ah, yes," he returned, apparently absorbed in his contemplation of -Jane's undeniable beauty. "Mrs. Belknap is not at home; but—oh, don't -go—er—she'll be at home soon. In fact, she told me she was expecting -some one, and asked me to——"</p> - -<p>"I think she expected me," said Jane coldly. "I am the new maid—that -is, if I suit."</p> - -<p>The young man stared incredulously. "I—I beg your pardon," he -stammered, a wave of color passing over his boyish face. "I don't know -what you'll think of me; but I—er—fancied you were a friend of Mrs. -Belknap's. She was expected this afternoon, and I——"</p> - -<p>"No; I am the maid," said Jane haughtily.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> "If Mrs. Belknap is coming -home directly, I will wait here till she comes."</p> - -<p>She sat down again on the green bench and fixed her hazel eyes on the -remote distance.</p> - -<p>The small boy threw down his whip and climbed up the steps. "I want a -piece of bwead an' butter," he said confidentially, "an' I want a dwink -of water, an' I want——"</p> - -<p>"Buster!" called the young man warningly. "Come here!"</p> - -<p>But the infant paid no heed. "I want a piece of bwead an' butter," he -repeated in a louder voice, "an' I want a dwink of water, an' I -want——"</p> - -<p>"Were you speaking to me?" inquired Jane, withdrawing her eyes from the -safe horizon and looking down at the child.</p> - -<p>"Yeth," he assented, "I want a piece of bwead an' butter, an' I want a -dwink of water, an' I——"</p> - -<p>"Come with me, Buster! I'll get them for you," volunteered the young -man. He was deliberately divesting himself of the scarlet harness.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> -"Won't you come in?" he went on, turning to Jane. "I see it's beginning -to rain."</p> - -<p>Reluctantly she passed in at the door he held wide for her. "Please sit -down," he urged. "I'm sure Mrs. Belknap will be at home very soon. She's -only gone out for an hour or so."</p> - -<p>"I want a d-w-i-nk!" vociferated the small boy.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I gathered as much from your remarks; come on, old fellow."</p> - -<p>Jane sat down, and the young man and the child disappeared into the -unknown regions beyond. Jane could hear the boy's shrill voice, and the -deeper replies of the man. Her cheeks were very red, and she sat stiffly -erect. She felt unreasonably vexed with herself, with the child, but -most of all with the young man. He was unlike any masculine person of -her acquaintance, she reflected; still he had spoken to her very -civilly, though not in the tone a gentleman should use to an inferior. -But was he, after all, a gentleman? These class distinctions were said -to be very puzzling in America, Jane remembered.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> She resolved not to -speak to this particular young American again. It would not, she -concluded sagely, be the correct thing to do.</p> - -<p>A distant crash of breaking crockery, an infantile shriek, an -exclamation of deep dismay preceded a hasty opening of the closed door. -The ingenuous countenance of the man was thrust hastily within. "Oh, I -beg your pardon! but could you come out and—er—help me a minute? -Buster has tipped the milk all over himself, and I—oh, please -do—that's a good girl—. I don't know what in thunder—. Hold hard, old -fellow, I'm coming!"</p> - -<p>The last by way of reply to the frenzied shrieks of rage and despair -which issued from the rear.</p> - -<p>Jane's austere expression relaxed perceptibly as she surveyed the -agitated and imploring countenance of the young American.</p> - -<p>"Oh, thanks; you're awfully good!" he was saying, as Jane arose, -preparatory to accompanying him to the scene of the disaster. "I just -set the bowl of milk on the table, you know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>—he wanted milk by the time -we had reached the commissariat—and while I was hustling for the bread, -he reached up to investigate and—you see what followed."</p> - -<p>The infant was seated in a pool of milk on the floor; milk dripped -slowly from his flaxen curls, the tip of his chubby nose, and his pink -cheeks. His round fists were applied to his milky eyes, while his rosy -mouth emitted scream after scream of anguish.</p> - -<p>"Is he hurt?" inquired Jane, in a business-like tone.</p> - -<p>"He must have caught a whack of the bowl as it fell, I suppose," -admitted the man. "What shall we do?"</p> - -<p>Jane had already helped herself to an apron which hung conveniently -near; she turned up her cuffs. "A towel and a basin, please," she -suggested. Then she stooped over the howling infant and lifted him -gently to his feet.</p> - -<p>"Do 'way!" he shrieked, thrashing out vigorously with fists and feet; "I -want my muzzer!"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p><p>Jane skillfully evaded the attacks, while she plied the towel with a -calm mastery of the situation, which roused the wonder and warm -admiration of the man.</p> - -<p>"Just quit that kicking, won't you, Buster?" he suggested, in a -conciliatory tone. "I declare, I believe I've found a—stick of -candy—no—but it's a nickel to buy one with."</p> - -<p>The magic word so mendaciously inserted acted with its accustomed power. -Jane, busy with her beneficent offices in which the towel and basin -played a conspicuous part, scarcely noticed the fact that the young -American, whom she had so recently decided to ignore, was kneeling close -at her side apparently intent upon a well-meant attempt at assistance.</p> - -<p>"Why, Jack Everett—what in the world!" exclaimed an unfamiliar voice -from the doorway.</p> - -<p>All three participants in the late tragedy raised their eyes to the -pretty and—to Jane's notion—somewhat too smartly dressed young woman, -who was surveying the scene in an attitude of extreme surprise.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p><p>The man rose rather shamefacedly to his feet; the small boy, breaking -away from Jane, dashed forward with a loud, ecstatic whoop to -precipitate himself and his milky pinafore upon the lady; while Jane -hastily turned down her cuffs, a deep flush of vexation mounting to her -forehead.</p> - -<p>"I 'pilled all 'e milk, muzzer!" shouted the infant. "Zen I bumped my -head, an' I <i>cwied</i> an' I <i>cwied</i>!"</p> - -<p>"Where is Mary?" demanded the newcomer.</p> - -<p>"Mary has just 'shtipped out for a minut'," explained the young man -mildly. "She announced her intention of doing so shortly after you left -the house. Buster and I have been keeping house as well as we knew how; -and then—this—er—young lady——"</p> - -<p>"I am the maid from the Streeter agency," said Jane distinctly. She felt -sure now that the man was not a gentleman; she also decided that she -disliked him exceedingly.</p> - -<p>"Oh!" murmured the lady, turning a keenly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> penetrating and speculative -gaze upon Jane. "Well, I am glad you've come. What is your name?"</p> - -<p>"My name is—Jane," replied that individual, drawing a deep breath. The -"Aubrey-Blythe" refused to be uttered.</p> - -<p>"And I am Mrs. Belknap," graciously returned the young woman, apparently -paying no heed to the omission. "I do hope," she added plaintively, -"that Mary's sister hasn't been taken suddenly ill again. Mary has so -many relatives, and they are nearly always ill—or dead."</p> - -<p>Jane looked her astonishment.</p> - -<p>"Mary is perfectly devoted to her family," Mrs. Belknap went on, "and -that is really why I am hiring another girl. Mr. Belknap says I <i>must</i> -have somebody to fall back upon when Mary is away. Can you cook?"</p> - -<p>"Why, no, madam," said Jane stiffly. "I understood that I was to be a -nursery governess, or parlor maid. Mrs. Streeter didn't seem to -understand exactly."</p> - -<p>"Why, of course, I shall want you to help<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> me look after Buster," chimed -in Mrs. Belknap, with a somewhat offended air, "and wait at table, and -answer the bell, and do the sweeping and dusting, and the cooking and -dish washing on Mondays and Tuesdays—regular second work, you know. -Mary is really an excellent servant—when she's here. But now that she's -out she may not come back for three or four days. If it wasn't so nearly -impossible to get a good cook out here I should have changed long ago. -But we're so near New York. I dare say, though, I shall get along very -well now that I've got you."</p> - -<p>The young man had turned his broad back on the two, and now strolled out -of the kitchen with an air of extreme unconcern which ruffled Jane's -temper afresh.</p> - -<p>Her new mistress had disburdened herself of several parcels. "If you'll -bring these upstairs for me," she said pleasantly, "I'll show you how to -dress Buster—this the <i>third</i> time to-day—then I'll help you with the -dinner. Of course, Mary may come back. But I'm afraid not. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> hasn't -been out for nearly a week, and I suppose she took advantage of my being -in town."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap sighed profoundly, and Jane gathered up the parcels with a -hesitating air. Unknown ills loomed very large at the present moment.</p> - -<p>"Oh, by the way, did you bring your working clothes?" Mrs. Belknap -wanted to know. She paused, with one foot on the stairs, for Jane's -answer.</p> - -<p>"Yes, madam; that is, I brought a black frock and some white aprons."</p> - -<p>Jane's proud little head was flung back haughtily.</p> - -<p>"And caps? You've no objections to a cap, I hope, because I shall -require you to wear one. I bought some sweet little frilled ones to-day. -I want you to put one right on. There's one thing more, I'm sorry I -haven't two rooms for servants; but this house is so small, you see it's -impossible. You won't mind rooming with Mary; she's very -good-natured—as a rule. If you'll just come upstairs to the attic -floor, I'll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> show you the way. Mary isn't so very neat about her room, -though she's a splendid cook and laundress, and <i>so willing</i>—when she's -here. Oh, dear! this is worse than I thought. Mary is so careless about -opening her windows!"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap tip-toed daintily across the floor and flung the two -windows wide. Then she turned a dismayed face upon Jane. "Mary isn't so -very orderly," she repeated, rather vaguely. "But"—briskly—"now that -you're here I do hope you'll try and keep this room in better order. -That's always a second girl's work."</p> - -<p>"What is a 'second girl,' if you please?" asked Jane. "I'm afraid I -couldn't——"</p> - -<p>"Oh, <i>don't</i> say that!" implored Mrs. Belknap hastily. "I'll explain -about the work later. You won't find it hard. We're a small family, only -myself and husband, and little boy—<i>only one child</i>—and my brother, -Mr. Everett, is staying with us for a while."</p> - -<p>"I couldn't sleep in this room, Mrs. Belknap," said Jane, in a low -voice. Her eyes said plainly "I will not."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p><p>Mrs. Belknap fetched a deep, dispirited sigh. "I could put a cot in the -trunkroom, I suppose," she said. "But, just for the present, won't you -change your dress and— Oh, yes, we haven't spoken of wages or days out; -have we? I was so upset to find Mary gone and Buster in such a mess. -I'll tell you all about that later. I'll make everything satisfactory. -But you see, I must hurry and get dinner started. I'm afraid the range -fire is out, and Mr. Belknap will be at home at six. Please come down as -soon as you can."</p> - -<p>Jane relented a little at the tone of entreaty in the young woman's -voice. "She's very young to be keeping house," she told herself wisely, -as she invested her trim little figure in the black housemaid's gown -with white cuffs and collar, which she had purchased at Mrs. Streeter's -suggestion. "And she's certainly very odd in her manners toward a -servant. But then, she's an American."</p> - -<p>When at last she made her way to the kitchen Jane found her young -mistress in a neat shirt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> waist and short skirt actively engaged in -preparing a meal. Mrs. Belknap appeared to know exactly what to do, and -in a miraculously short time had vegetables cooking, a salad in course -of preparation, and a steak neatly trimmed and ready for broiling.</p> - -<p>"Won't you set the table, Jane? You'll find the linen in the sideboard -and the silver, too. Then put the plates to warm and a medium-sized -platter and two vegetable dishes. I see Mary had the decency to leave a -custard ready, and there's plenty of fruit."</p> - -<p>As Jane awkwardly spread the cloth, and rummaged in the drawers for the -required silver, she heard Mrs. Belknap's distinct American voice in the -kitchen: "—not a bit of good, I'm <i>awfully</i> afraid, Jack,—afraid of -doing anything, I could see that at a glance—Yes, one of those -'high-class servants.' <i>Pretty?</i> No, I don't think so—not at all. I'm -surprised at you, Jack! I fear she's only one more in the long list of -failures. Oh, <i>dear</i>, I'd give anything for a real <i>good</i> girl! It does -seem——"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p><p>Jane guiltily opened the door. "Did you say I should lay the table for -four, ma'am?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"No, indeed; Buster will eat first, and he's almost starved, too, poor -little darling! Yes, sweetheart, mother's hurrying. Jane, won't you take -his bread and milk and this soft egg, and feed him at that little side -table in the dining room? Or, no—" as the youngster vociferated his -displeasure at this arrangement. "Do you want mother to feed you, -darling? Carry him in the other room, please, Jack, and I'll come and -feed him. Do you think you can broil this steak, Jane, and mash the -potatoes?"</p> - -<p>"I'll try, ma'am," said Jane coldly; "but I don't know anything at all -about cooking."</p> - -<p>"You don't? Why, how extraordinary!" exclaimed Mrs. Belknap -suspiciously. "I should think you would know enough to broil a steak and -mash potatoes, even if you have always been a parlor maid or a nursery -governess. Do you think you can coax Buster to eat his supper?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p><p>"I'll try, ma'am," repeated Jane; "but of course I'm a stranger -to—Master Buster."</p> - -<p>"Well, I think if you will try to look pleasant, and if you'll not be -quite so <i>wooden</i> in your manner that he'll not dislike you. He likes -almost everybody. If Buster doesn't like you, you will be of very little -use to <i>me</i>."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap spoke in a tone of crisp decision which betrayed her -rapidly growing conviction that Jane would not "do."</p> - -<p>Jane divined this, and it piqued her pride, already sorely wounded. She -walked into the dining room, with her pretty head held very high indeed, -to encounter Mr. John Everett's blue eyes fixed upon her with an -expression of respectful sympathy. He had thoughtfully installed his -small nephew in a tall highchair, and was awkwardly tying a bib about -his neck.</p> - -<p>"I'm to feed Master Buster, if you please, sir," said Jane, with a -severe tightening of her pretty lips.</p> - -<p>"All right," agreed Mr. Everett cheerfully. "Now Buster, if you'll be a -good boy and eat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> your supper without howling for your mother, I'll go -down to the grocery store and buy you some candy. Do you hear, young -man?"</p> - -<p>"Yeth," assented the infant, fixing solemn, expectant eyes upon Jane. -"Will you bwing her some, too?"</p> - -<p>Apparently Mr. Everett did not hear this question. "Now, mind, Buster," -he said seriously, "no kicking, no howling for mother. Sit up; be a man, -and eat this supper like a Trojan. I'll be back before you're through, -with at least four chocolate drops."</p> - -<p>Jane sternly suppressed the feeling of gratitude, which threatened to -well up in her homesick heart, with an exuberance entirely -disproportionate to the occasion. But John Everett had already caught -the upward flicker of the girl's long lashes, and the shadow of a smile -which hovered about her mouth. This particular young American was -thinking of many things as he strode briskly toward the grocery; but -chiefly of the arena presented by his sister's small kitchen, and of the -varied actors therein.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p><p>"Man's inhumanity to man may be a live topic," reflected Mr. Everett -sagely, "but what about woman's inhumanity to woman? And yet sis doesn't -mean to be unkind."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> - -<p>The growing conviction of her own folly haunted Jane even in her belated -dreams, in which she found herself once more in the pleasant English -schoolroom superintending her two small cousins in their youthful -efforts to comprehend the fundamental principles of good conduct. "You -should always be considerate to those beneath you, Percy," she seemed to -be saying, "and help them whenever you can." Then she had quoted the -grand old motto of the French aristocracy, "<i>noblesse oblige</i>," -explaining how one's superiority in any particular only added to one's -obligation to those less fortunate.</p> - -<p>It was hard to awaken from this dream to find the rain beating heavily -upon the roof of Mrs. Belknap's trunkroom, and to realize, from an -inspection of the loud-voiced nickel clock<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> which she had been told to -take upstairs, that she was very late indeed.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap was engaged in preparing breakfast as expeditiously as was -possible with her child hanging about her skirts and clamoring for his -food. She bestowed an impatient glance upon Jane as she entered the -kitchen, which had the effect of dispelling that young person's -contrition as effectually as one of Lady Agatha's ill-timed reproaches.</p> - -<p>"I am sorry to be late," said Jane stiffly.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap did not reply. At the moment she was adding boiling water -to the coffee pot, and stirring its contents with a long-handled spoon.</p> - -<p>Jane shrugged her shoulders. "She's an ill-bred person," she told -herself resentfully. "Shall I lay the table, madam?" she ventured, after -an uncomfortable silence, during which she watched her young mistress's -deft motions with dismayed interest.</p> - -<p>"That is already done," replied Mrs. Belknap, turning her pretty, -flushed face upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> Jane. "I believe I told you last night that Mr. -Belknap and Mr. Everett were obliged to leave for the city on the -half-past seven car. You should have been down an hour ago. I never call -a servant," she added severely.</p> - -<p>Jane swallowed hard. Then <i>noblesse oblige</i> recurred to her mind. "You -did tell me," she said, very gently, "and I am sorry I overslept. I will -try not to do that again. Shall I give Master Buster his breakfast, -ma'am?"</p> - -<p>A variety of expressions passed in rapid succession over Mrs. Belknap's -mobile face, astonishment, pleasure, and a subdued twinkle of fun shone -in her eyes as she again turned to Jane. "Why, yes; you may—if he will -go with you."</p> - -<p>A fleeting sense of wonder at this unchanging attitude of subserviency -toward the infant pervaded Jane's English mind. Then she stooped toward -the child. "If you will come with me, Master Buster, I will give you -your breakfast."</p> - -<p>The child stared at her thoughtfully; then to his mother's manifest -astonishment he accepted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> the invitation. "I will do wiv oo," he said, -with immense condescension.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap heaved a thankful sigh. "How <i>sweet</i> of the darling!" she -murmured. "Here is his breakfast food, Jane. He likes it with cream and -sugar. You may give him the juice of half an orange and two slices of -this whole wheat bread toasted, with butter. He will breakfast with us -this morning."</p> - -<p>As Jane, in her frilled cap and white apron, bearing a tray, entered the -dining room she encountered Mr. John Everett. He looked at her -inquiringly. "Good morning," he said cheerfully.</p> - -<p>"Good morning, sir," replied Jane unsmilingly, then blushed angrily to -find herself blushing. "He is very rude to notice a servant so -particularly," she told herself. Then her curiosity got the better of -her, and she stole a second glance at him. Mr. Everett was apparently -quite absorbed in his paper at the moment, and Jane had ample -opportunity to observe the fine, strong lines of his clean-shaven face. -He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> was undeniably handsome, Jane was forced to admit, and he looked -kind and sensible.</p> - -<p>The small boy known as Buster now appeared, borne high aloft in his tall -father's arms, and presently the entire family was seated at the table.</p> - -<p>Jane hated herself anew as she waited by her mistress's chair to pass -the cups of coffee on her little tray. Try as she would she could not -rid herself of the vision of Lady Agatha's scornful eyes, while Reginald -and Gwendolen seemed quietly to mock her from across the sea. In an -interval of absence from the dining room, in quest of fresh toast, she -caught a trill of low laughter; then Mrs. Belknap's carrying -voice—"Really quite impressive, isn't she? But I fear she's bound to be -more ornamental than useful."</p> - -<p>Jane's indignant blushes betrayed her to at least one pair of eyes when -she reëntered the dining room, and Mr. John Everett plainly looked his -displeasure at his pretty sister, who was still exchanging smiles with -her husband.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p><p>"How would <i>you</i> like it, sis?" Jane heard him ask pointedly, as the -two men were putting on their coats in the front hall.</p> - -<p>"How <i>do</i> I like it, you mean, Jack. Well, I only hope you'll find me -alive to-night," Mrs. Belknap had replied. Then she came out airily to -the kitchen, where Jane was awkwardly gathering the breakfast things -preparatory to washing them.</p> - -<p>"Now, Jane," said Mrs. Belknap, producing a leather-covered account -book, with a pretty air of importance, "I must have a little talk with -you. What is your full name, please?"</p> - -<p>"Jane Evelyn Aubrey-Blythe," replied Jane distinctly. "My nobleness -obliges me to be truthful and polite," she thought.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap was surveying her with an incredulous smile. "Not -<i>really</i>?" she said. "You found that name in a novel, didn't you?"</p> - -<p>"No, madam," said Jane coldly, "that is my full name."</p> - -<p>"Where did you work before you came to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> me?" went on Mrs. Belknap, with -a pause of her busy pencil.</p> - -<p>Jane hesitated.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap's clear eyes demanded instant answer, somewhat after the -manner of a magistrate conducting a legal examination. Master Belknap, -who was leaning upon his mother's knee in a complacently postprandial -state, also centered his direct gaze upon the girl's face.</p> - -<p>"I—worked, that is, I was last employed by a—Mrs. Markle or—Madam -Melbrun," faltered Jane, loudly clashing the cups in her confusion.</p> - -<p>"Be careful not to break the china, Jane," advised Mrs. Belknap, with -housewifely care. "In what capacity were you employed by this Mrs. or -Madam—what was the name?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know," confessed Jane, with desperate frankness. "She told me -her name was Markle; afterwards she said it was Melbrun."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap shook her head, as she again glanced seriously at the name -with which she had just headed the clear, new page in her book<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> of -accounts. "I cannot understand," she said strongly, "why people should -lie about their names, or, indeed, about anything. It is so much more -<i>sensible</i> to tell the truth. That is what I often tell Mary: '<i>Do</i> tell -me the truth, Mary,' I say to her. But I fear she never does."</p> - -<p>"What, never?" exclaimed Jane, unconsciously plagiarizing from a comic -opera.</p> - -<p>"It is a habit, I fear," said Mrs. Belknap in a depressed tone, "telling -falsehoods, I mean; some persons tell them when they might just as well -tell the truth, even from their own standpoint. Of course," she added -hastily, "it is always <i>right</i> and <i>best</i> to tell the exact truth. I -hope, Jane, that <i>you</i> are a <i>truthful</i> girl. You will get on much -better with <i>me</i> if you are. Now what did you do for this person for -whom you last worked?"</p> - -<p>"I smuggled," said Jane shortly.</p> - -<p>"You—<i>what</i>?"</p> - -<p>"Smuggled," repeated Jane; "I smuggled lace—five thousand dollars -worth, the man said. Mrs. Markle sewed it in my jacket between the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> -lining and the outside. But they found it and took it away."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap looked actually frightened for a minute. "I—I don't -believe it," she murmured weakly.</p> - -<p>"I didn't know Mrs. Markle put the lace there," Jane went on firmly. -"She gave me a beautiful fur coat to wear on the ship, and asked me to -leave my jacket in her stateroom. She sewed the lace in the jacket -during the voyage."</p> - -<p>"You <i>look</i> like a truthful girl," mused Mrs. Belknap. "But— Then you -have just come to America," she added shrewdly, "and you have no -references, of course?"</p> - -<p>"No, Mrs. Belknap; I have not," replied Jane, expecting no less than an -instant dismissal after this damaging statement.</p> - -<p>To her great surprise the lady closed her book with a slight shrug of -her shapely shoulders. "The matter of wages we discussed last night," -she said tentatively. "Now I am expecting Mrs. Whittaker to wash this -morning; you will put the kitchen to rights as quickly as you can. And<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> -remember, Jane, that although you have no references I shall soon be -able to find out just what sort of a girl you are. I am not easily -deceived."</p> - -<p>This improving conversation was interrupted by the arrival at the back -door of a tall, thin, dyspeptic-looking person attired in a rusty black -gown and a dispirited hat, both of which articles of attire had -obviously seen better days.</p> - -<p>"Good mornin', Mis' Belknap," began this individual, with a trenchant -sniff, as she divested herself of her draggled black skirt, which was -thus revealed as a sort of drop curtain concealing a scant gingham -wrapper beneath, girt about the waist with a decent checkered apron.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap displayed her white teeth in a winning smile as she -replied. "And this is my new maid, Jane Blythe," she added, indicating -that young person with an affable gesture.</p> - -<p>"My! you ain't tellin' me that Mary MacGrotty's left you?" exclaimed -Mrs. Whittaker in a sympathizing tone; "as good an' kind as you've be'n -to her! I sh'd think she'd be 'shamed to treat you so mean. As I says to -m'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> 'usband this mornin', 'Mary MacGrotty,' I says, 'don't know when -she's well off, a-livin' with that sweet young lady.'"</p> - -<p>"I expect Mary back within a few days," Mrs. Belknap said guardedly. -"She's away just now."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Whittaker bent over the tubs with a deep, discouraged sigh. "M' -back's mos' broke this mornin'," she observed, flapping a wet sheet on -the board and lathering it freely with soap; "but what with five -childern to work fer, an' m' 'usband out o' work since Christmas, it -comes pretty hard on a body. Was you expectin' to stay right along?"</p> - -<p>"Were you speaking to me?" asked Jane coldly.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Whittaker cast a guarded glance about the kitchen. "She's gone; -ain't she? She ain't plannin' to keep <i>two</i>, is she?"</p> - -<p>Jane made no reply. Mrs. Whittaker gazed at her for a moment with her -soapy arms akimbo. "You won't like it here," she said at last. "I c'n -see that without ha'f lookin'.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> <i>She's turrible to work fur.</i> <i>I</i> -couldn't stan' her—more'n fur a day now an' then. As I tell m' 'usband, -I wasn't made to be bossed by nobody. I'm awful proud an' independent, -an' <i>she</i> thinks she's the hull thing. I guess if she knew all 'at I -know 'bout the goin's on in this 'ere kitchen she wouldn't be quite so -uppity."</p> - -<p>A light step at the door announced the hasty return of Mrs. Belknap; -Mrs. Whittaker was discovered diligently rubbing, with a sad, but -resigned, expression of countenance.</p> - -<p>"I brought down this embroidered shirt-waist for you to wash, Mrs. -Whittaker, and will you please be careful not to rub the embroidery on -the board; it isn't much soiled, you see; a little of this white soap -will be best for the flannels and for all these fine white things. By -the way, you haven't put any of that washing powder into the water, have -you? I buy that for the floors and tables; Mary thinks she can't get -along without it. But it is very bad for the clothes."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Whittaker received the garment in question with an air of lofty -unconcern. "I wuz<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> never known to put that nasty yellow stuff in m' -clo'es," she said haughtily. "I sh'd think you'd know me well 'nough by -this time to be sure o' that, Mis' Belknap. You don't need to worry -about nothin' when <i>I'm</i> in the kitchen."</p> - -<p>"I know you're very careful, Mrs. Whittaker," the young mistress of the -house made haste to assure her.</p> - -<p>"I 'ope she'll keep out the kitchen the rest of the day," Mrs. Whittaker -observed acridly, as the door closed on Mrs. Belknap's retreating -figure. "The simple idee of <i>her</i> teaching <i>me</i> how to wash! No washin' -powder, indeed! Well, I guess I ain't a-goin' to rub m' fingers to the -bone fur her! That there white soap ain't worth shucks. But I'll take it -'ome with me; it'll do to wash the childern with."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Whittaker sighed deeply as she crossed the floor with the cake of -white soap. "I'll just leave it in m' pocket," she said. "Is there a -drop of tea in that pot? No? Well, I'll make me a cup, I guess. My! I -feel s' kind o' weak an' gone at the pit o' my stomick this mornin',<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> as -I wuz tellin' m' 'usband: 'I guess I'll have to take it 's easy 's I can -to-day,' I says. An' 'e says, 'Do,' 'e says, 'an' come home 's early 's -you can, Maria.' No; you won't be in this place long. You won't like it. -Me an' Mary gits along pretty fair; but she won't stan' another girl -around. Many's the time she's said so to me, right in this kitchen."</p> - -<p>Jane hastily hung up the tea towels; her ears were burning under the -loose waves of her hair.</p> - -<p>"I'll help m'self to what I want to eat," Mrs. Whittaker was saying -amiably; "I know where everythin' is, an' you don't need to stay 'round -here on my account. If you was wantin' to change yer place when your -week's out I know a real nice woman down the street 'at ain't got a -girl. I promised her yeste'd'y 'at I'd inquire 'round. I'd like to -'commodate <i>her</i>; her youngest girl's clo'es just fits my Edie May. -She's a nice woman to work for, too; she ain't always a-snoopin' 'round -like some other folks I know of."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Whittaker paused to empty a liberal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> shower of the tabooed washing -compound into the boiler which was beginning to steam upon the range; -then she rummaged in the pocket of her gown with an abstracted air. -"Gracious! I 'ope I didn't leave that washin' soda to home. No; 'ere it -is."</p> - -<p>Jane observed Mrs. Whittaker's movements with astonished interest as she -proceeded to cast certain large fragments of a whitish substance after -the washing powder. "Washin' soda's m' best friend, as I tell my 'usband -frequent. I most always carry some with me. Most the women I work for -can't abide it; but it takes the dirt out, an' it saves m' back. I don't -ask 'em to buy it, an' 's long 's I furnish it m'self I say it's none o' -their business. Mind, you don't say nothin' to <i>her</i> 'bout my puttin' -washin' soda in the boiler! But I guess you ain't that kind nohow, as I -was sayin'——"</p> - -<p>Jane hurriedly fled, the woman's whining voice sounding in her ears.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> - -<p>"Now, Jane," Mrs. Belknap observed pleasantly, "you may put the chambers -and bathroom in nice order; and then you may sweep the stairs, the hall, -and the front piazza. As a rule I should like to have all that attended -to before breakfast. When Mary returns I will prepare a schedule of your -work carefully arranged for the different days, so that there can be no -possible misunderstanding with regard to it. Aren't you feeling well?" -she added, with severe kindness, as she eyed Jane's proud little face -which too plainly betrayed the wakeful hours of the previous night and -the heavy, unrefreshing slumber of the early morning. "I hope you are -not delicate."</p> - -<p>Jane straightened her slim figure. "Thank you, Mrs. Belknap, I am -feeling quite well," she replied coldly.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p><p>"Very well, then; you will find the brushes and dusters in this closet, -and I should like you to be careful to keep them in their place.—Dear -me! I wonder what that child can be doing?"</p> - -<p>The sound of running water and the tinkle of broken glass reached their -ears from an adjoining room. "Oh, you <i>naughty</i> boy! What <i>will</i> mother -do with you!"</p> - -<p>"I was dest cweanin' my teef, muzzer, an' I dwopped 'e' gwass, an' it -<i>b-w-owke</i>!" explained the small boy earnestly. "An' all 'e' toof-powder -'pilled on 'e' floor! It's nice an' <i>s-w-e-et</i>, muzzer! I like -toof-powder."</p> - -<p>"Oh, Buster Belknap, you haven't been <i>eating</i> tooth-powder?"</p> - -<p>"I cweaned my teef, an I dwopped 'e' gwass, an' I——"</p> - -<p>Further explanations were rendered impossible by Mrs. Belknap's prompt -and heroic measures. The naughty pink mouth was forced open and rapidly -explored by maternal eyes and fingers, while Jane was required to fetch -in rapid <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>succession a glass of water, a clean towel, and a fresh -pinafore.</p> - -<p>During the process the small boy screamed and struggled manfully if -ineffectually; but once washed, dried, and freshly arrayed he pranced -gayly away, his countenance composed and cheerful.</p> - -<p>Jane was by this time busily engaged in sweeping the front stairs, while -she wondered miserably if any girl in the whole world could be so -unhappy and friendless as herself. She wished gloomily that she had not -run away from Portland Square. She condemned herself bitterly for the -pride and vainglory of her hasty actions, and with it all wave after -wave of desperate homesickness surged over her young soul. It was -scarcely to be wondered at that dust accumulated in dark nooks and -corners should escape the notice of the tear-blurred hazel eyes, nor -that the unswept rugs should be thoughtlessly pushed to one side.</p> - -<p>She was suddenly recalled to a sense of these shortcomings by Mrs. -Belknap's crisp, American<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> voice. "Why, <i>Jane</i>! You are not doing this -work at all properly. One would think it was your first experience in -sweeping!"</p> - -<p>"It is, ma'am," said Jane hopelessly.</p> - -<p>"Dear me! I'm afraid this will never do," went on Mrs. Belknap, with a -discouraged sigh. "Can't you <i>see</i> the dirt? Here, let me show you!"</p> - -<p>Jane stared at the faultless demonstration of housewifely skill with -sullen resentment. In her own eyes she seemed to have sunken to a plane -infinitely beneath that occupied by Susan, the housemaid in the Portland -Square mansion. Susan, at least, knew how to do her work thoroughly and -well.</p> - -<p>"Now, Jane, will you try again?" asked Mrs. Belknap, pleasantly -conscious of a most praiseworthy patience and self-control. "I am sure -you can sweep down these stairs properly, <i>if you try</i>, and if you will -put your mind upon what you are doing. Then these rugs—I <i>think</i> I told -you to take them out of doors to brush. They are quite filled with dust -and germs, I dare say."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p><p>Mrs. Belknap appeared to expect some sort of reply to this serious -arraignment, for she eyed Jane searchingly.</p> - -<p>"You didn't mention the rugs, ma'am," said poor Jane, with an -uncontrollable quiver of her mutinous mouth; "but I will take them out, -if you would like me to."</p> - -<p>As she bore her burden through the kitchen Mrs. Whittaker suspended her -monotonous labors to remark: "My! <i>I</i> wouldn't stir a foot to clean them -rugs, if I was you. That's man's work. Mis' Radford—her 'at I was -tellin' you wanted a girl—hires a man to clean the rugs every Thursday. -'Tain't no more'n right, neither!"</p> - -<p>The sun was shining cheerfully out of doors, and a brisk wind was -hurrying the big, white clouds across the April sky. In spite of herself -the clean, wholesome air and active exercise restored Jane's spirits. -"I'll soon earn enough money to pay my passage back to England," she -told herself, "and then—I can easily get a place as governess -somewhere."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p><p>The capricious breeze whipped her brown hair in clouds across her eyes, -quite blinding her to the approach of the stout, rubicund, showily -dressed person who paused to stare curiously at Jane before entering the -kitchen door.</p> - -<p>This individual was discovered in close consultation with Mrs. Whittaker -as Jane passed through the kitchen.</p> - -<p>"That's what I tol' 'er," the laundress was remarking plaintively, as -she passed a succession of dripping articles through the wringer, "Mary -won't never stan' another girl in 'er kitchen, I says, an' it'll likely -lose me a day a week besides. It ain't right to take the bread out o' my -pore childern's mouths to put into hern; that it ain't!"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap was investing her child in coat and cap, with a somewhat -worried expression on her pretty face, as Jane reëntered the hall. -"Please don't talk to Mrs. Whittaker any more than you can help, Jane," -she said seriously. "I think it hinders her in her work."</p> - -<p>"I haven't spoken to the woman, ma'am," <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>replied Jane, justly indignant. -"I can't help it if she talks to me; but I'm sure I'm not interested in -what she says."</p> - -<p>"You shouldn't answer me in that tone, Jane," advised Mrs. Belknap -warmly. "Oh, I do believe Mary has come back!"</p> - -<p>"Yis, mum; I've come back; but I ain't sure as I'll stay," announced a -rich Irish voice from the door.</p> - -<p>"O <i>Mary</i>! where have you been? I didn't know what to think when I found -you were gone again."</p> - -<p>"Well, mum, you hadn't no more'n turned the corner before the telephone -bell rang. It was me cousin in Tompkinsville. 'O Mary MacGrotty,' she -says, whin she heard my voice, 'Aunt Bridget's tuk awful bad,' she says; -'you must come to wanst!' 'I'll come,' I says, 'an' stay wid yez just -<i>wan hour</i>! I've me dinner to get,' I says, 'an' me leddy's out.' But -whin I got to me cousin's house I found me aunt in strong convulsions. -'Sure, an' you won't have the heart to lave 'er like this,' they all -says to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> me; an' so I stayed the night. She's some better this mornin', -the saints be praised; but I guess I'll be goin' back, as I see you've -help a-plinty."</p> - -<p>"O Mary!" Mrs. Belknap said earnestly, "I <i>want</i> you to <i>stay</i>. I've -hired Jane to help me with Buster, and she'll wait at table besides and -do the upstairs sweeping. You'll find it <i>much</i> easier."</p> - -<p>Miss MacGrotty folded her fat arms and surveyed Jane with coldly -critical eyes. "If I'd a known you was wantin' a sicond gurl, I cud 'a' -got you my niece—me brother's youngest daughter, Annie. She's a -<i>lovely</i> worker an' used to childern. Where did you git the loikes o' -<i>her</i>," she added, with a scornful toss of her plumed head.</p> - -<p>"From an agency in New York," replied Mrs. Belknap, with a conciliatory -mildness of demeanor which astonished Jane. "I think you'll find Jane a -pleasant help and companion, and Jane, I hope you'll get along nicely -with Mary. And now that you've finished laying down the rugs, Jane, -won't you put on your hat and go<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> out with Buster. He's in the side -yard; but I fear he'll run away if he's left to himself too long."</p> - -<p>When Jane came down from her attic room attired for the street Mrs. -Belknap stopped her to say pointedly: "You've forgotten your apron, -Jane; you'll find a clean one in the top drawer of the dining-room -closet."</p> - -<p>Poor Jane was quite unaware of the subtle psychological processes which -contributed to her feeling of loathing for that innocent and spotless -article of attire. But the apron appeared to be the last straw added to -the already intolerable burden of her acute discomfort. Her pretty face -was clouded and gloomy as she walked slowly across the muddy road in -pursuit of the brilliant red tam perched on Master Belknap's curly head.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap, watching from an upper window, frowned and shrugged her -shoulders. "I don't know whether it will pay to bother with that girl," -she murmured. "I'm sure I haven't experienced a peaceful moment since -she came,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> so far; but perhaps I can train her if I am patient."</p> - -<p>The training process presently called for a fresh rebuke, with copious -explanatory notes and commentaries, when Jane returned to the house half -an hour later bearing Master Belknap, who was screaming and kicking with -all the pent-up energy of a young cyclone.</p> - -<p>"What <i>is</i> the matter with Buster, Jane?" demanded his mother excitedly, -as she ran hastily down the front stairs to receive the two.</p> - -<p>"He wanted to play in the muddy water with another little boy named -Buster Bliss," replied Jane, quite breathless with her exertions; "and -when I asked him not to get wet, he threw mud at me and at the other -child; then I thought best to bring him home."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I don't like him to play with that Bliss child at all; he's a very -rude boy!" exclaimed Mrs. Belknap. "I meant to have told you about that, -Jane. Stop crying, darling, and let mother wipe your tears—poor little -sweetheart; his hands are as cold as ice, and—why, Jane, his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> sleeves -are wringing wet, and covered with mud; and his feet, too! dear, -<i>dear</i>!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, ma'am," said Jane, "he <i>would</i> play in the water; that is why I -carried him home. He sat right down in the mud, ma'am."</p> - -<p>"But why did you <i>allow</i> it? Really, Jane, I can see that you are not at -all used to children. Have you ever had the care of one before? One has -to <i>manage</i>, you know."</p> - -<p>Jane made no reply. And Mrs. Belknap did not seem to notice the omission -in the strenuous process of rehabilitation which immediately ensued.</p> - -<p>Jane stood meekly by, supplying the needful articles one by one. When -all was over and the child released from his mother's fond arms, with a -rapturous kiss, she ventured upon a single question.</p> - -<p>"When Master Buster says he 'won't' what am I to do, ma'am?"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap leaned back in her chair with a far-away look in her bright -eyes. Finally she replied: "You must <i>contrive</i> not to have him say<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> -'won't' to you, Jane. It requires infinite tact and patience to care for -a high-spirited child like Buster. Of course, I could not allow you to -<i>punish</i> him in any way. I do not believe in corporal punishment; and -even if I approved of it, I should never relegate it to other hands."</p> - -<p>"And about the other children, ma'am; I noticed several in the -neighborhood while I was out. There was another very rude child named -Buster Yates—at least the little girl who was with him said so—I -couldn't help wondering——"</p> - -<p>"About what, Jane?" asked Mrs. Belknap indulgently. "I suppose -everything in America is quite new and strange to you," she added rather -proudly; "I shall always be glad to explain what you do not understand."</p> - -<p>"Would you mind telling me why so many little boys in America are -called—<i>Buster</i>? It's a very curious name. I never heard it in -England."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap laughed heartily. "That's very easily explained," she said. -"It is really a nickname taken from a series of humorous <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>pictures in -one of the newspapers. Quite possibly people are overdoing it," she -added meditatively.</p> - -<p>Jane looked mystified.</p> - -<p>"Our Buster's name is really Everett Livingstone, and the Bliss child is -Ralph, I believe; and Mrs. Yates's little boy is named Frederick. The -Caldwells call their Arthur 'Buster,' and in town the Elwells and the -Farleys and—yes, ever so many others have 'Busters.' It must have -struck you as being very singular."</p> - -<p>"Yes, Mrs. Belknap," said Jane pointedly. "It did."</p> - -<p>As John Everett was returning from the city that night, and many nights -thereafter, he found himself dwelling with singular intentness on the -piquant face of his sister's English maid; it seemed to look out at him -wistfully from the damp folds of his evening paper, and to haunt the -twilight seclusion of the ferryboat deck upon which he was accustomed to -tramp many a breezy mile in his daily trips across New York's spacious -harbor.</p> - -<p>John Everett was a graduate of Yale and a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> budding lawyer, employed in a -down-town law office. He had unhesitatingly expended every cent of a -slender patrimony in obtaining his education, and at present was in the -hopeful position of a strong swimmer striking out unhampered for a -distant shore. He fully expected to reach that shore—some time; but a -man swimming for his life in the deep and perilous current of an untried -profession has no business to dwell upon the alluring vision of any -woman's face. That the woman of his shy boyhood dreams was waiting for -him on that far-off shore, he felt reasonably sure; but even this -conviction could not prevent him from feeling sorry for Jane. She was -struggling in deep water, too, and would she—could she reach the shore -in safety, unless some one——</p> - -<p>"I am a fool!" John Everett told himself vigorously, and squared his -broad shoulders to the bracing ocean wind, which blew damp and salt from -the vasty deeps outside the Hook.</p> - -<p>Half an hour later he came upon Jane at the corner, whither she had been -sent to post a letter.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> There were half-dried tears sparkling upon her -long lashes, and her mouth drooped pathetically at the corners.</p> - -<p>"What is the trouble, Jane?" he couldn't help asking; his blue eyes said -more.</p> - -<p>Jane ignored both. "There is nothing the matter, sir," she said icily, -and drew back to let him pass.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> - -<p>More than a fortnight had passed and Jane was still engaged in "doing -second work" in the modest detached villa, otherwise known as the -residence of Mr. and Mrs. James Livingstone Belknap. Toward the end of -her first week of service she had received a letter from her good -friend, Bertha Forbes, urging her to return to England at once in the -company of an acquaintance who was to be sent across on customhouse -business. "I will arrange for the transportation," added Miss Forbes -generously; "I want to feel that you are safe at home with your family -once more."</p> - -<p>Jane read this letter at the close of a peculiarly trying day, in which -she had encountered divers rapids and cross currents in both kitchen and -parlor. Mary MacGrotty was downright cross, Master Belknap peculiarly -and aggravatingly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> mischievous, and Mrs. Belknap, grievously -disappointed in her enlarged <i>ménage</i>, inclined to concentrate her -irritation upon Jane's defenseless head.</p> - -<p>"Sure, an' that gurl's more trouble than she's worth to ye," Mary -MacGrotty had declared; "an' I towld yez when I come as how I c'u'dn't -stan' fer no second gurl under me feet."</p> - -<p>"If you weren't away so often, Mary," began Mrs. Belknap weakly, "I -should——"</p> - -<p>"Sure, an' I can't help <i>that</i>," interjected Miss MacGrotty strongly. -"Blood is thicker 'an water, I'm thinkin', an' me fambly is that delicut -an' ailin'. Me cousin's wife's mother was tuk bad of a Sunday," she -added darkly. "I'm expectin' to hear of her death most any minute, an' -the fun'ral 'll be to Brooklyn."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap sighed apprehensively. "By the way, Mary," she observed in -a carefully modulated voice, which asked for information only, "have you -chanced to see my carved shell comb anywhere about the house? I must -have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> dropped it from my hair, I think, and I haven't been able to find -it."</p> - -<p>Mary MacGrotty faced about. "I have <i>not</i>!" she said emphatically. Then -she pursed up her lips. "Hev you asked <i>her</i>, mum?" she demanded in a -sepulchral whisper.</p> - -<p>"You mean Jane? Oh, yes, I told her of my loss yesterday. Never mind; I -dare say I shall find it soon. I hope so, anyway. It was rather a -valuable comb, given me by Mr. Belknap soon after we were married, so I -think a good deal of it."</p> - -<p>Miss MacGrotty's red elbows vibrated slightly as her mistress left the -kitchen; and Jane, who entered a moment later in quest of a glass of -water for her young charge, found her smiling evilly into the depths of -an iron pot.</p> - -<p>"If you've got her comb hid away anywheres," muttered Mary, "you'd -better watch out; she's onto yez!"</p> - -<p>"But I haven't hidden her comb," retorted Jane, shaken out of her usual -attitude of calm disdain toward the presiding genius of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> kitchen. -"You know I wouldn't do such a thing."</p> - -<p>"Aw; do I, thin'!" jeered Miss MacGrotty. "Well, you moind what I say; -that's all! <i>I</i> ain't a-goin' to be blamed fer your doin's, miss."</p> - -<p>"I shall have to go back to England," Jane told herself, as she left the -kitchen hot with rage and shame.</p> - -<p>Master Belknap was for the moment playing peacefully in his sand pile, -and Jane, who had been bidden to keep close watch upon his movements, -stood looking down at him, winking fast to keep the angry tears from -clouding her eyes. One, two, three great sparkling drops got the better -of her and fell flashing into the sand; then Jane glanced up to find -John Everett looking at her with an expression of poignant anxiety on -his honest face.</p> - -<p>"You are crying," he said in a low voice. "Why? Doesn't my sister——"</p> - -<p>"Oh, it is nothing! I——" To her immense dismay Jane choked over an -unmistakable sob<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> which wrenched her slender throat. "I wish you -would—not——"</p> - -<p>"But I can't help it, when I see you so unhappy. Haven't you any friends -in America?"</p> - -<p>"No-o—that is—I have one," said Jane, remembering Bertha Forbes's -unanswered letter.</p> - -<p>"A man?" he asked, with sudden sharp anxiety.</p> - -<p>Jane looked at him indignantly. "I don't know any man," she said.</p> - -<p>"You know me," he murmured. "I should like to be your friend, Jane; may -I?"</p> - -<p>The girl made no reply. Instead she turned and walked steadily toward -the house. "I will go back to England," she assured herself a second -time. But when at last she had leisure to answer Miss Forbes's letter -she found herself refusing her kind offer point blank. "I could not put -myself under so great an obligation to you," she wrote. "Besides, I am -quite safe and not too unhappy here; and I shall soon have earned the -money for my passage."</p> - -<p>Miss Forbes read this ingenuous epistle with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> a suspicious lifting of -her sagacious brows. "I think I'll try and run over to Staten Island and -see what sort of a place she's in," she said aloud.</p> - -<p>But she forgot this friendly resolution in the rush of the next day's -business, and was only recalled to the memory of it by an interview with -one of the passengers on the incoming liner. The interview was not of an -official nature, and its finish found Miss Forbes nervously chewing her -pencil in a state of singular agitation.</p> - -<p>To search for a person who has ostensibly started upon an indefinite -tour of the United States is not unlike the traditional hunt for a -needle in a haymow; nevertheless the Hon. Wipplinger Towle had gallantly -embarked upon the quest, panoplied with infinite leisure, unlimited -money, and the well-disciplined patience of middle age.</p> - -<p>He had not seen fit to acquaint the house of Aubrey-Blythe with his -intentions; being disposed, quite irrationally, to lay the fact of -Jane's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> flight at its door. Mr. Towle was an exceedingly calm not to say -mild-tempered man, a fact which very few persons intimidated by his -stern eyes and boldly modeled chin ever found out; but upon occasions he -could be severely implacable in his slowly acquired opinions. With a -sagacity more than masculine he suspected that the failure of his -matrimonial plans and the subsequent disappearance of Jane might be -traced to Lady Agatha Aubrey-Blythe, and he actually had the temerity to -tax that noble lady with both in her own drawing-room.</p> - -<p>Lady Agatha's righteous indignation was kept in leash for some moments -by her knowledge of Mr. Towle's wealth and the hope that his elderly -fancy on matrimony bent might yet be guided toward the unattractive -Gwendolen; but it burst its bonds when the full import of his deliberate -utterances finally penetrated her intrenched understanding. She turned -white with fury as she focused her light-blue stare upon the audacious -Mr. Towle.</p> - -<p>"Do you mean to <i>intimate</i> that you think it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> <i>my</i> fault that my -husband's niece has <i>disgraced</i> herself and the family by running away -like a governess in a cheap romance?" she demanded, in unequivocal -English.</p> - -<p>"Hum—ah," said Mr. Towle, quite unabashed. "I—er—beg your pardon, -Lady Agatha, if I appear rude, but did you not say some rather nasty -things to Jane the day before she left? I—er—fancy, don't you know, -that it might make me run away to be told that I was absolutely -unattractive, not at all clever, and—ah—dependent upon others for the -bread that I ate."</p> - -<p>"Did the shameless girl tell you that?" cried Lady Agatha, more enraged -by the Honorable Wipplinger's uncompromising manner than by his words. -"And after <i>all</i> that we have done for her, too!"</p> - -<p>"Just—er—<i>what</i> have you done for her, if I may inquire?"</p> - -<p>"What have we done for Jane Blythe? How can you ask such a question! The -girl was left on our hands with scarcely a penny to her name<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> when she -was a mere infant. We have done everything—<i>everything</i>, and this is -the way she rewards our kindness—our Christian charity! I trust I may -never see the ungrateful creature again."</p> - -<p>"If there is anything," said the Hon. Wipplinger Towle, with exceeding -deliberation, "which I despise on earth, it is the—er—damnable -sentiment miscalled Christian charity. It has ruined more persons than -gin, in my humble opinion."</p> - -<p>After which he took his leave with scant ceremony, Lady Agatha remaining -stock still in her chair in a state of semipetrifaction.</p> - -<p>An hour later, having recovered the power of speech, she requested her -husband to formally forbid Mr. Towle the house; which Mr. Robert -Aubrey-Blythe, on his part, flatly refused to do. Whereupon ensued one -of an inconsiderable number of battles between the pair, during the -course of which Lady Agatha, having taunted her husband with his -inferior lineage, was reduced to tears by being reminded of her own -dowerless<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> condition when she condescended from her high estate to wed -the rich commoner.</p> - -<p>Perceiving his decisive victory, Mr. Robert Aubrey-Blythe waxed -magnanimous to the point of begging the lady's pardon. "It's deucedly -bad form to quarrel, Agatha; and what's more it's ruinous to the nerves -and digestion," he had concluded sagely. "You've gone off ten years at -least in your looks, my dear, from falling into such a rage over nothing -at all."</p> - -<p>"Nothing at all!" echoed Lady Agatha. "Why, Robert, the man used the -most <i>frightful</i> language in my presence. Fancy being told that -Christian charity has ruined more persons than gin! And as for the -profane adjective he used in connection with that speech, I refuse to -soil my tongue with it!"</p> - -<p>Mr. Aubrey-Blythe cleared his throat with some violence. "Oh—er—as to -that, I've always said that Towle was a clever fellow—a deucedly clever -fellow," he observed meditatively. "He's nobody's fool, is Towle; and -mind you forget all about this the next time I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> ask him to dine; for ask -him I shall, Lady Agatha, whenever I please; and you'll be careful to be -civil to him, madam."</p> - -<p>But the Hon. Wipplinger Towle was not available as a dinner guest for -several weeks thereafter; the fact being that having duly reflected upon -the information conveyed to him by the grateful Susan, he had found that -the shoe fitted, had instantly put it on, and had started for America on -the trail of Jane.</p> - -<p>Fate, as is her occasional custom, was scornfully kind to this elderly -Sir Galahad, and he struck a warm scent before ever he had landed from -the steamer in the shape of a romantic newspaper story in which figured -an elderly French female smuggler, said to be an old hand at the game, -and a beautiful and innocent young English girl (name not given). -Scornful Fate glued the Honorable Wipplinger's eyes to this spirited -account penned by an enthusiastic young reporter, who chanced to be -nosing about the customhouse after material, and Mr. Towle, although as -devoid of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>imagination as the average male Briton usually is, -nevertheless pictured Jane as the unlucky heroine of the moving tale.</p> - -<p>The reporter's richly adjectived phrase—"The slender little maiden, -with her true English complexion of cream and roses, lit up by sparkling -hazel eyes"—appeared to fit Jane with disconcerting completeness.</p> - -<p>When he landed, immediately after perusing it, Mr. Towle took the pains -at once to look into the matter; and this explains the unofficial -interview before alluded to, in the course of which Miss Bertha Forbes -reduced the top of her lead pencil to a splintery pulp, more after the -fashion of an embarrassed schoolgirl than a stern-faced customs -official.</p> - -<p>"No, sir, we do not as a rule make it a practice to give out information -regarding what takes place in our department," Miss Forbes informed the -tall Englishman.</p> - -<p>"Hum—ah; can you inform me whether there is any truth in this account?" -Mr. Towle persisted. "The description of the—er<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>—smugglers tallies -with that of the two persons I am in search of."</p> - -<p>Miss Forbes cast her eyes coldly over the newspaper item. "There have -been several similar cases of late," she admitted. "But this states, you -notice, that both parties were immediately dismissed upon confiscation -of the goods. It is not a part of my work to keep track of detected -smugglers, and so of course——"</p> - -<p>"You—er—saw the young girl described in the story; did you not?"</p> - -<p>"I—I couldn't be sure of it," prevaricated Miss Forbes, actually -blushing.</p> - -<p>The Hon. Wipplinger Towle fixed his glass more firmly in his eye and -proceeded to stare the intrepid Bertha out of countenance "I beg your -pardon," he observed masterfully, "but I—er—fancy you're mistaken."</p> - -<p>"In what?" snapped the female inspector.</p> - -<p>"In saying you're not sure you saw Miss Blythe. You—er—recall the -whole incident perfectly, I am confident."</p> - -<p>"Of all the—impudence!" murmured Miss<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> Forbes, somewhat excitedly. -"Well, suppose I do; what then?"</p> - -<p>"If you know where she is, it will be greatly to her advantage if you -will tell me," said Mr. Towle mildly.</p> - -<p>"I don't know about that," mused Bertha Forbes. "Who, for example, are -you? You're not her uncle."</p> - -<p>"Thank you," said Mr. Towle astutely. "No; I am not a relative of Miss -Blythe's. I am—er—merely a friend. But I beg to assure you that I have -her best interests warmly at heart."</p> - -<p>"Humph!—Well, I guess you have," admitted Miss Forbes, after a -prolonged semi-official scrutiny of Mr. Towle's countenance, an ordeal -which that honorable gentleman bore with the calm of conscious -integrity. "But for all that I don't think I shall tell you where she -is."</p> - -<p>"Why not?" urged Mr. Towle, with an agitation which caused him to appear -almost youthful.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p><p>"Because I'm sure she wouldn't thank me for it," said Bertha Forbes -coolly. "Good day, sir."</p> - -<p>"By heavens, madam, I'll not be put off like this!" declared Mr. Towle, -very much in earnest. "I came to America on purpose to find her."</p> - -<p>"Find her then," advised Miss Forbes, with tantalizing brevity. "I can't -talk to you any longer to-day."</p> - -<p>"To-morrow then?" Mr. Towle caught eagerly at the straw of suggestion in -her last word.</p> - -<p>But Miss Forbes was denied to unofficial visitors on the following day, -and for three days thereafter, a period which Mr. Towle endured with -such resignation as he could muster.</p> - -<p>On the fourth day he intercepted that stony-hearted official on her way -home to her lodgings. "Look here, Miss Forbes," he said doggedly, "I -didn't offer you money the other day to tell me of Miss Blythe's -whereabouts. But——"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p><p>"Don't do it to-day either," snapped the lady, with an ominous flash of -her really fine eyes. "You're not in England, remember."</p> - -<p>"Yet I find the cabbies and hotel people more rapacious than in London," -Mr. Towle observed thoughtfully. "Nevertheless I beg your pardon, -Miss—er—Forbes, and I entreat you to tell me where Jane is. I—I -believe I shall be ill if I can't find her."</p> - -<p>"You <i>are</i> looking pretty well done up," acquiesced Miss Forbes; -"but,"—seriously,—"how am I to be sure you are not the last person on -earth she wants to see?"</p> - -<p>"I wish to heavens I could be sure I'm not!" exclaimed Mr. Towle -fervently. "But somebody ought to take her home."</p> - -<p>"Granted," agreed Miss Forbes. "I've offered to send her back to -England; but she won't go—for me. She might for you; but I doubt it."</p> - -<p>"I have at least earned the right to try," he said, with something so -convincing in his tone and manner that Bertha Forbes, who was at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> heart -neither more nor less than a woman, surrendered at discretion.</p> - -<p>"Very well; I'll give you her address, and you can go and see her, if -you like," she said gruffly. "But I warn you she's an obstinate young -person, quite bent upon having her own silly way."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> - -<p>All of the foregoing took place on the same day that Mrs. Belknap wanted -to know if Jane had seen her second-best gold hat pin. The day after -that, three fine embroidered handkerchiefs were said to be missing from -the little inlaid box on her bureau.</p> - -<p>Mary MacGrotty displayed her big teeth in a malevolent smile when Jane -rather fearfully mentioned this last circumstance in the kitchen. "You -don't suppose the wind could have blown them away last Monday, do you, -Mary? It was blowing hard, I remember," Jane said, nervously twisting -her apron strings.</p> - -<p>"It 'ud be a strong wind to lift 'em out the missus's box, I'm -thinkin'," said Miss MacGrotty dryly. "But they wuz lifted, all right; -an' no one knows ut better 'an you, Miss Innocence, wid yer purty face -an' yer big saucer eyes."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p><p>Jane stared at the grinning Irish face, her own paling. "You are a bad, -cruel woman!" she cried; "and you are not honest; I saw you take sugar -out of the jar, and tea out of the caddy!"</p> - -<p>Miss MacGrotty burst into a furious fit of coughing. "Aw, you impident -little spalpeen, you!" she hissed, her face purple with rage. "Git out -o' me kitchen this minute! We'll attind to your case prisintly. Yis, -indade; I'll not have my character blackened by a light-fingered gurl -from nobody knows where. Yis; you may stare, miss. You niver come honest -by the foine rings in yer box, I'm thinkin', an' the little goold watch -wid a di'mon' in the back, an' the locket wid pearls."</p> - -<p>"You have been in my room!—looking at my things!" gasped Jane. "How -dare you!"</p> - -<p>"Git out o' me kitchen, or I'll tak' the procker to yez!" shouted Mary. -"How dare I! Indade! Ye'll find it ain't best to gain the ill will o' -Mary MacGrotty afore you're t'rough."</p> - -<p>Jane went slowly up the stairs revolving many things in her mind. She -was even considering<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> the advisability of confiding her whole story to -Mrs. Belknap, when that young matron's cold, even tones fell upon her -ear.</p> - -<p>"I wish to speak with you, Jane, for a moment," she said, with an air of -severity, which stiffened Jane's pretty upper lip into haughty -indifference.</p> - -<p>"Yes, Mrs. Belknap," said the girl with a perfect propriety of manner, -which aroused a wholly irrelevant resentment in the breast of the other -woman.</p> - -<p>"I wish to tell you, Jane, that last evening after you had retired a -strange <i>man</i> came here—to the front door—inquiring for you. Mr. -Belknap, who answered the bell, referred the matter to me, and I told -him to say to the man that he could not see you."</p> - -<p>Jane stared at her mistress in silence, indignation tempered with a -certain speculative curiosity looking out of her bright eyes.</p> - -<p>"He appeared"—Mrs. Belknap went on, with rising irritation—"quite like -a gentleman. But <i>why</i> should a man—any man—come to my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> front door to -inquire for <i>you</i>? I am sorry, Jane, but this circumstance, in -connection with others, looks very suspicious to me. I do not <i>approve</i> -of a girl in your situation attracting the attention of a man—more -particularly of a man in a higher station of life. It is not at all -proper; you ought to know that."</p> - -<p>"Proper?" echoed Jane inquiringly.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps I should have said <i>suitable</i>," amended Mrs. Belknap. "But I -insist that you shall be quite truthful with me. Who was this man?"</p> - -<p>"I'm sure I don't know, Mrs. Belknap," said Jane. "I don't know any -men." Then she blushed guiltily.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap bristled with matronly dignity as she observed the girl's -conscious face. "You may go now, Jane," she said, with an air of stern -virtue. "But I wish to remind you once more that it is <i>always</i> best to -tell the truth no matter how unpleasant the consequences may appear to -you. If young girls in your situation in life could <i>only</i> learn that!"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p><p>Jane's eyes flickered and a shadowy dimple appeared at the corner of -her mouth. "Suppose one does tell the truth, ma'am, and it sounds so -queer that other people will not believe it?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"That," said Mrs. Belknap, magnificently, "is not apt to occur. A -sincere person can hardly be mistaken by another sincere person. And the -<i>truth</i>, Jane, <i>never</i> sounds <i>queer</i>!" Which aphorism may be accepted -for what it is worth.</p> - -<p>The Hon. Wipplinger Towle, for the time being, had taken up his abode -upon Staten Island, in a certain pretentious hotel which overlooks the -bay, and quite undaunted by his reception of the previous evening he -again presented himself at the street and number furnished him by Bertha -Forbes. On this occasion the door was opened by Jane herself in cap and -apron.</p> - -<p>The mutual start of amazement which followed shook both man and maid out -of the chill precincts of the conventionalities.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p><p>"My God—<i>Jane</i>!" exclaimed Mr. Towle. "What are you doing in this -house?"</p> - -<p>This pertinent inquiry brought Jane to herself with all the speed and -thoroughness of a dash of cold water. "I am working for my living," she -replied haughtily.</p> - -<p>Mr. Towle stared helplessly at the girl. "I have come," he said at last, -"to fetch you home."</p> - -<p>"If you wish to talk to me," said Jane defiantly, "you will be obliged -to come around to the back door. I will ask my mistress if I may speak -with you in the kitchen for a few minutes. But there isn't any use of -talking," she added. "I will not go home—at least not yet." Then she -shut the door in his face.</p> - -<p>Mr. Towle said something fierce under his breath; after which, without -any hesitation whatever, he looked about for the kitchen entrance. "I'll -talk with her," he said, "if I have to go to Hades to do it."</p> - -<p>In the meanwhile Jane was interviewing her mistress. "Mr. Towle has come -to see me, ma'am; may I speak with him in the kitchen for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> a few -minutes?" she asked with haughty subservience. "Mary is out; and Master -Belknap is playing in his sand pile."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap was in the act of putting the finishing touches to a dainty -costume. She stopped short and faced about. "<i>Who</i> is Mr. Towle?" she -demanded.</p> - -<p>"He is a friend of—of Uncle Robert's, from England," replied Jane, -rather sullenly to her mistress's thinking.</p> - -<p>"Dear, <i>dear</i>!" murmured Mrs. Belknap, eying her pleasing reflection in -the glass with a frown. "This is <i>too</i> much! And I was just on the point -of going out to a reception; now, of course, I shall be obliged to——"</p> - -<p>Jane looked up suddenly. "I don't wish to talk with him," she said.</p> - -<p>"Then why not send him away? Wait! I will go down myself and speak with -the man. I <i>hope</i> you haven't left him <i>alone</i> below stairs. There have -been so many burglaries lately. He is in the kitchen, I suppose."</p> - -<p>Jane smothered a hysterical laugh, as Mrs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> Belknap's rustling skirts -swept down the rear staircase. She heard her young mistress's distinct -American voice in a tone of displeased surprise. Then a door closed -sharply, and the girl heard a man's retreating steps passing beneath the -open window.</p> - -<p>"He must be horribly vexed," she murmured; "but I'll <i>not</i> go back to -England." She did not choose to question herself too sharply as to her -reasons for this dogged resolution. But she reflected that Mr. Towle -appeared much older since she had last seen him.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap called her presently from below stairs. "I am going now, -Jane; for I really must stop at Mrs. Brown's tea if only for a few -minutes. But I shall not be away long. Keep your eye on Buster <i>every -moment</i>; I am told there are gypsies about. And, Jane, if Mary isn't -back by five you must open the draughts of the range and prepare the -vegetables."</p> - -<p>Left alone with her small charge, Jane sat down on the little green -bench under the vines with a kitchen towel to hem. It was very quiet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> -and peaceful, and the occasional distant roar of a passing trolley and -the loud singing of a very fat red-breasted robin, which had its nest in -one of the maples which were planted at stated intervals along the -street, merely served to make the country stillness the more evident. -Master Belknap was pleasantly absorbed in his endeavors to construct a -two-foot mountain in the midst of the sand box, and apparently much -entertained by the ceaseless action of the law of gravitation evidenced -by the conduct of the unstable material at its apex. He did not look up -at sound of the hasty steps which approached the house; but Jane did. -Then she put down the brown towel with a displeased pucker of her white -forehead.</p> - -<p>"I thought that you had gone," she said coldly.</p> - -<p>"I beg your pardon, but I wish to speak with that—er—young woman who -dismissed me a half hour ago," said Mr. Towle, with exceeding politeness -of manner. "I must see her. I wish to—er—explain. She was," he added -thoughtfully, "an exceedingly rude person."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p><p>"If you are referring to Mrs. Belknap," Jane said, "I beg to inform you -that she is my mistress; she sent you away with as little ceremony as -possible for several reasons which it is not necessary for me to -explain."</p> - -<p>"Hum—ah!" murmured Mr. Towle. "Do you—er—mind telling me one of -them?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, if you insist!" said Jane, "I told Mrs. Belknap that I did not care -to talk with you, and since she very particularly wished me to be at -liberty to attend to my work, which is to look after her child, and -to——"</p> - -<p>Mr. Towle made a large gesture expressive of his extreme indifference to -Mrs. Belknap's child and also her brown towel. "I came from England to -find you, Jane," he said earnestly. "Why did you go away?"</p> - -<p>"Why shouldn't I go away—if I chose?" Jane wanted to know, with a -provoking drawl. She set two stitches in her brown towel with exceeding -care, then put her pretty head on one side to survey the effect.</p> - -<p>"There are at least two reasons why you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> should have stopped at home for -every one you can give for running away," he said deliberately.</p> - -<p>"But I didn't <i>run away</i>!" denied Jane crossly. "I—I just <i>went</i>. Aunt -Agatha meant to send me somewhere because she hates me, I verily -believe. I preferred to go."</p> - -<p>"Nevertheless you should have stayed," he said gently. "Your position in -life demanded patience and—er—pardon me—self-control. You exercised -neither, it seems, and now—" His expressive look pointed the moral.</p> - -<p>Jane winced under the prick of it. "How did you ever find me?" she -asked, after a long pause filled with industrious stitching on the brown -towel.</p> - -<p>"I saw an account of the smuggling episode in an American newspaper," he -said coolly. "Then, quite naturally, I looked up Miss Forbes at the -customs department, and she gave me your address. It was surprisingly -simple, you see, though it might easily have been far otherwise."</p> - -<p>Jane bent her crimson face over her work.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> Her needle snapped in her -trembling fingers. "I—I didn't know about that dreadful woman," she -said in a low, shamed voice. "I supposed she was going to travel in -America. How <i>could</i> I have known!"</p> - -<p>Mr. Towle bent forward, his melancholy gray eyes filled with the warm -light of pity and that deeper feeling to which it is said to be akin. -"Poor little girl," he said in a deep voice, which fell upon Jane's ears -like a caress. "You couldn't have known, of course. And I say it's all a -beastly shame—the way they have treated you and all. Won't you let me -take care of you after this, Jane? You shall never suffer so again."</p> - -<p>Jane tried to answer; but somehow the words refused to come.</p> - -<p>"Let me take you away from all this," he pleaded. "Won't you, dear?"</p> - -<p>At this moment Master Belknap slowly climbed up the steps. "My neck is -hot," he said seriously, "an' I want a dwink of water."</p> - -<p>Jane arose with a sigh of relief. "Yes, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>Buster," she said eagerly. -"I'll go and fetch it for you."</p> - -<p>The little boy turned his clear eyes upon the man and studied him in -silence for a minute. "Why did <i>you</i> come?" he said at length.</p> - -<p>Mr. Towle looked down at the child with resignation. "If I should ask -you the same question, my young man," he observed, "you wouldn't -understand, I suppose. As a matter of fact, if you had—er—stayed away -ten minutes longer, perhaps——"</p> - -<p>"My Uncle Jack has a knife named after him," proceeded the child -confidentially. "It is a Jack-knife. I yuve my Uncle Jack, an'—an' I -yuve my Jane."</p> - -<p>"Hum—ah," observed Mr. Towle. Then he removed his hat—for it was a -warm day—and passed his handkerchief thoughtfully over the top of his -bald head. Jane caught a fleeting glimpse of its dull, pale glisten as -she paused with her hand on the latch of the screen door.</p> - -<p>Her face, as she held the glass for the child to drink, was so severely -grave and sweet that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> the Honorable Wipplinger's heart gave a sudden -painful throb. "You haven't answered my question, Jane," he murmured, -bending toward her.</p> - -<p>She looked up at him with the merciless eyes of youth. "I really cannot -do as you wish, Mr. Towle," she said slowly. "And—I must ask you to go -away directly; I ought not to have talked with you here without Mrs. -Belknap's permission."</p> - -<p>"I can't leave you here in this false position," he said hoarsely. "For -God's sake, Jane, listen to me! If you'll not marry me, let me take you -home—back to England. This is no place for you."</p> - -<p>Jane's pretty lips set in stubborn lines. "I shall stop here," she said, -"until I have earned money enough to go back to England; then I shall -find a—a position—somewhere."</p> - -<p>She was leaning forward, her gaze riveted on the far end of the street. -"And—and please go at once," she added breathlessly. "You must indeed."</p> - -<p>The small boy had scampered across the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> weedy little lawn and climbed -upon the fence. Now he hastily scrambled down and swung open the gate. -"Uncle Jack!" he shouted; "I see my Uncle Jack. I'm doin' to meet my -Uncle Jack; may I, Jane?"</p> - -<p>Jane nodded.</p> - -<p>"You really want me to go and leave you here?" the man said heavily. "Is -it because——"</p> - -<p>"If you care for me at all," she answered cruelly, "you would not wish -to annoy me by stopping after I have asked you to go."</p> - -<p>Halfway down the street he encountered a tall, athletic young man -swinging easily along, the child perched upon his shoulder, his small -hands buried in the man's thick waving brown hair. "Det up, Uncle Jack," -shouted the boy gleefully, and drummed his small heels upon his bearer's -broad chest.</p> - -<p>Mr. Towle caught a fleeting glance of inquiry and half-humorous apology -from a pair of honest blue eyes as the two passed on the narrow wooden -sidewalk.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p><p>"You are a bally fool," groaned the Hon. Wipplinger Towle in his own -ear, "and a cad to boot." And having thus frankly labeled his -intentions, he deliberately turned to watch the tall young American, -with his insolently handsome head, as he passed up the street and in at -the gate of number 24 Vanderbilt Avenue.</p> - -<p>"She must have seen him," muttered Mr. Towle, "before the boy did." Then -he allowed the infrequent trolley car to slide past him into the -sparsely settled country, while he tramped, his hat pulled low over his -eyes, for many a dusty mile—how many he neither knew nor cared.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> - -<p>When the Hon. Wipplinger Towle beheld the inhospitable shores of Staten -Island fade into a dim haze of distance, which he accomplished from the -depths of a comfortable steamer chair, placed in just the proper -position on the deck of the newest Cunarder, it was without any rancor -of soul or bitterness of spirit. He loved Jane Blythe as much (or more) -than ever; but he was not disposed on that account to humiliate himself -to the point of seeking stolen interviews with the object of his -affection upon American back stoops. No; Jane must somehow be led to -return to her native land, and once more in her proper environment, Mr. -Towle could not find it in his heart to despair of finally winning her. -He was a man of wide and varied experience, and he was not unaware that -a period of discreet neglect upon his part might tend to enhance his -apparent value.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p><p>It should be explained that during the course of that long and dusty -tramp over the highways of Staten Island, whereon he had encountered -clouds of bloodthirsty mosquitoes, the evidence of whose fierce attacks -was even yet to be discerned upon his patrician countenance, the -sagacious Mr. Towle had laid out a course of action from which he had -not deviated an iota thus far, and in which his early return to England -figured as a necessary step. In brief, he had taken the pains to satisfy -himself that Jane Blythe's humiliating position was not in any sense an -unsafe one, and that her sojourn under the roof of Mr. and Mrs. James -Livingstone Belknap would result in little beyond what Mr. Towle was -philosophically inclined to look upon as a needful though unpleasant -experience. The only factor in the problem which really perplexed him -was the presence of Mr. John Everett in the home of Mrs. Belknap. That -arrogantly youthful figure suggested a possible painful finale to his -own hopes, which Mr. Towle nevertheless found himself able to -contemplate with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>resignation. He had arrived, in short, at that -enviable stage of his experience when he had ceased to avidly desire -what did not essentially belong to himself. "A man does not really want -that which is another's," he was accustomed to say to the few intimates -who were admitted to his confidence. "He only thinks or supposes that he -does. The possession of it would make him as wretched as did the fabled -black pudding which the unfortunate old woman acquired with the first of -her three elfin-bestowed wishes. Made irrevocably fast to the end of her -nose by her angry husband by means of the second wish, she was finally -forced to rid herself of it by the sacrifice of the last and final -wish."</p> - -<p>Not that Jane Blythe ever appeared to Mr. Towle in the guise of a -potential black pudding. He thought of her continually and sincerely as -altogether good, lovely, and desirable; but as quite possibly too good, -too lovely, and too desirable a possession for his lonely heart to -selfishly appropriate. Something of this really chivalrous and -exquisitely altruistic devotion was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> apparent even to the obtuse -perceptions of Mr. Robert Aubrey-Blythe, whom Mr. Towle sought out -immediately upon reaching London.</p> - -<p>"I have found her, Robert," began Mr. Towle, without preamble.</p> - -<p>"You have found——?"</p> - -<p>"Jane," said Mr. Towle. The honorable gentleman did not appear at all -excited, consequently Mr. Aubrey-Blythe, as in duty bound, sprang up -from his chair, where he had been absorbed in a matter antipodally -remote from the fortunes of his niece.</p> - -<p>"Well, well, well!" cried Mr. Aubrey-Blythe excitedly, and "Upon my -soul, Towle!" he said. "I <i>am</i> surprised!"</p> - -<p>He was quite sincere in this statement, for beyond a few perfunctory -efforts to trace the missing girl the Aubrey-Blythes had appeared -piously resigned to the decree of a discerning Providence which had seen -fit to remove so disturbing an element from their midst. Still it was -annoying, not to say intolerable, to have one's acquaintances at the -club and elsewhere preface<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> their ordinary remarks with the query "Found -your niece yet, Blythe?" or "Hear you've a deuced unhappy mystery to -unravel at your house," with an occasional dubious reference to the -morgue and the workhouse. So it was with genuine relief and pleasure -that Mr. Aubrey-Blythe learned of the speedy and successful <i>dénouement</i> -of Mr. Towle's foreign adventures.</p> - -<p>"I am shocked and—er—grieved at what you tell me of the girl's present -position," he added, with genuine mortification depicted upon his rotund -countenance. "An <i>Aubrey-Blythe</i> in a <i>kitchen</i>—actually <i>working</i> with -her <i>hands</i>! Preposterous, Towle, preposterous! I shall at once take -steps to remove her."</p> - -<p>"Hum—ah," murmured Mr. Towle; "better leave her where she is for a -while longer."</p> - -<p>"What is that you are saying?" inquired the other fussily. "No, no; that -would never do, Towle—never in the world! Bless my soul; what will my -wife, Lady Agatha Aubrey-Blythe, say to all this! Really, Towle, I -dislike to disturb her ladyship with the shocking intelligence."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p><p>"I beg that you will not inform her of it," Mr. Towle said, rather -sharply. "There is nothing to be gained by doing so, and much to be -lost."</p> - -<p>"The girl has never been a favorite with Lady Agatha," observed Mr. -Aubrey-Blythe. "They seem to be—er—totally uncongenial."</p> - -<p>"I can quite believe that," said the other dryly. He stared hard at his -friend in silence for some minutes before he spoke again. "I believe -you—er—informed me that your niece, Miss Jane Aubrey-Blythe, was— -That is to say, you gave me to understand that she was entirely without -fortune. Am I correct in this—er—particular?"</p> - -<p>"And I," burst out Mr. Aubrey-Blythe, "understood you to say that the -fact made no difference in your—ah— But, I beg your pardon, Towle; of -course this—er—unfortunate escapade of the girl's ends all that—of -course, of course! I shouldn't have spoken as I did."</p> - -<p>"You misunderstand me, Robert," said Mr. Towle patiently. "My sentiments -toward Miss<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> Blythe are entirely unchanged; quite so, in fact. What I -wished to say is this: I should like to settle some money on Miss -Blythe, and—er—I don't know how to go about it. You must advise me, -Robert."</p> - -<p>"You would like to settle some money! Yes, I see; but this is no time to -talk of marriage settlements, my dear fellow, with the girl in America, -and——"</p> - -<p>"I am not talking of marriage settlements," said Mr. Towle calmly. -"There may never be a marriage between us; in fact I have scarcely any -hope of it. I am too old, and"—with a slight bitterness of -manner—"unluckily I look even older than I am. No; what I want is to -give to Jane a comfortable sum of money outright, and leave her to be -happy in her own way. If I can win her later on, I mean to do it fairly -and squarely; but, as I have already said, I have very little hope of -it."</p> - -<p>"Gad, man! if you give the girl a fortune, she's bound to marry you; -common gratitude, common decency, would demand it."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p><p>"Exactly so," quoth Mr. Towle. "But I'll have no common gratitude and -common decency as you call it—and deuced common it is—mixing up in her -feelings for me. Neither do I want her driven into a marriage with me as -a <i>dernier ressort</i>. If she could—er—love me I— But never mind, -Robert. We'll cut this short, if you please. And I don't intend, mark -you, to give her a fortune; nothing that would attract a crowd of -worthless fellows, you understand, but enough so that she may feel free -and independent of—er—other people, including yourself, and be able to -buy her own frocks and the feathers and frills that women love; a matter -of ten or twelve thousand pounds, say."</p> - -<p>"Very handsome of you, Towle, to have thought of it, I'm sure; -uncommonly generous, by gad! but I doubt if it will be becoming in me to -allow it. I fear that Lady Agatha——"</p> - -<p>"You'll not tell her," interrupted Mr. Towle eagerly. Then he leaned -forward and rested his hand upon the other's broad knee. "I'm not one to -refer over often to the past, Robert, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> you know; but I believe you've -told me more than once that you—er—that I— No; I can't say it. It -sticks in my throat."</p> - -<p>"I know what you mean, Towle," growled Mr. Aubrey-Blythe. "There's no -need for you to remind me that I'm under a tremendous obligation to you. -But do you mean to tell me——"</p> - -<p>"I declare to you that if you will help me to do what I wish in this one -thing, I shall know the obligation to be on the other side. And, mind, -it is to be kept a secret between you and me—forever."</p> - -<p>Mr. Robert Aubrey-Blythe appeared plunged into profound meditation. At -last he raised his head. "She wouldn't touch a penny of it, if she -knew," he said at last. "Jane is deucedly independent and all that."</p> - -<p>"She'd be obliged to take it if it came from a relative," suggested Mr. -Towle; "couldn't you——"</p> - -<p>The other shook his head. "Bless my soul, Towle," he murmured, with -something very like a twinkle of humor in his eyes; "if I should<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> -attempt to settle a shilling piece on Jane there'd be the deuce and all -to pay. I should think you'd know better than to suggest it."</p> - -<p>"It's going to be done somehow, Robert," said Mr. Towle firmly, "if -I—er—have to hang myself to bring it about. She couldn't refuse a -legacy."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I say; that would never do, Towle! You mustn't think of such a -thing," protested Mr. Aubrey-Blythe, fidgeting in his chair. "But, -speaking of a legacy, I wonder, now——"</p> - -<p>He left his sentence suspended in midair, while he rummaged in his desk -for a paper. "Hum—yes, yes. Now, I wonder— I—er—had a brother once, -a younger brother, a sad rascal of a fellow, quite as improvident as -poor Oliver—Jane's father, you know—and dissolute to boot. We don't -often mention Foxhall Aubrey-Blythe, poor fellow; sad case, very. He's -dead, in short. Died in South Africa a couple of months ago, without a -sixpence to his name, as might have been expected. Now, I wonder— Of -course, it would be very irregular and all that; but I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> fancy it could -be arranged, with the help of a discreet attorney—eh? That is to say, -if you won't think better of it, Towle."</p> - -<p>"I should think it might be done," agreed the Hon. Wipplinger Towle -seriously. "There can be no possible harm in it, certainly, to the dead -man, or to anyone else. And it's got to be arranged, Robert. I'm quite -set upon it."</p> - -<p>After which the arch conspirators put their heads together over the -details of a plot which, for the present at least, does not vitally -concern the fortunes of Miss Jane Evelyn Aubrey-Blythe, who at that -moment was industriously engaged in brushing the rugs, which she had -carried out from Mrs. Belknap's little parlor to the untidy grass plot -bristling with spent dandelion stalks, situated at the rear of the -Belknap house.</p> - -<p>Mary MacGrotty was clattering about the range inside the small kitchen, -pausing to cast an occasional malevolent glance through the open window. -Master Belknap was engaged in calmly propelling his tricycle up and down -the sidewalk under the watchful eye of Mrs. Belknap, seated<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> on the -front porch with her sewing. It was an eminently peaceful domestic -scene, which gave no sign of the volcanic possibilities lurking -underneath the deceitful calm of its surface.</p> - -<p>The seventh individual who was in process of being inextricably bound in -the fast-spinning threads of a watchful Fate was Mr. John Everett, who -sat in a certain Broadway office, ostensibly occupied with a very dry -legal paper, whose intricacies he supposed himself to be diligently -mastering. In reality this young gentleman was uncounted leagues away -from the Broadway office, wandering in lands of faerie with Jane. Jane's -eyes were bright and Jane's lips were red and tempting; Jane's little -hands were clasped upon his arm as they two walked slowly (all in the -land of faerie) across a velvet lawn, wherein neither plantain nor -dandelion had ever encroached, toward a house—a little house, with -balconies, perhaps, and dormer windows, certainly—Jack Everett couldn't -be altogether sure of its outlines, since houses (in the land of faerie) -have a way of changing while one looks,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> like dissolving lantern views. -All of which was very much in the air and exceedingly foolish, as this -worthy young man told himself sternly, when he found, at the expiration -of half of a delightful hour, where he had really been spending his time.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> - -<p>Mr. Towle gave no sign of a continued interest in Jane's affairs; and -because he did not, that imprudent young person felt herself to be -lonely and neglected beyond her deserts. At night, in the stuffy -seclusion of the trunkroom, she wept large tears into her thin pillow, -and prayed with truly feminine inconsistency and fervor for numbers of -things which she as resolutely thrust aside by day.</p> - -<p>Twice she sought solace and advice from Bertha Forbes, and as often -spurned both, when both were urged upon her.</p> - -<p>"You remind me," said Miss Forbes at last, "of a horse we used to have -out in the country. My brothers were burning the stumps out of a -ten-acre wood lot one summer, and that animal <i>would</i> jump over the -fence and go and roll in the hot coals and ashes whenever he got a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> -chance till his hide was burned into holes. The creature must have -suffered frightfully, but he persisted in doing it just the same. We had -to tie him up after a bit."</p> - -<p>"Oh, thanks!" cried Jane angrily, "perhaps you think I need tying up."</p> - -<p>"I do, indeed," agreed Bertha Forbes cheerfully. She studied the pretty, -wilful face in silence for a few moments. "You are much too fond of -having your own way," she added sententiously, "and one's own way is so -seldom the path of pleasantness that the Bible tells about. I know, for -I've tried it."</p> - -<p>She swallowed hard once or twice, then she went on in her gruffest -voice. "Look here, Jane, I don't want to see you make the fool of -yourself that I did. I somehow got the notion that a woman was just as -able as a man to make her way in the world, and that I wasn't going to -depend upon 'petticoat push' for my living. I despised the idea of being -dependent upon anybody, and so I—I— Well, to cut a long story short, I -told the only man who ever cared<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> enough about me to want to take care -of me, that I could take care of myself. I told him so three times in -all, I remember. The third time he said, 'All right, Bertha; I reckon -you'll have to try.' A year later he married one of those soft -pink-and-white little things that I had always looked down upon as being -too insignificant to despise. Yesterday——"</p> - -<p>Bertha Forbes paused to gulp painfully once or twice. "Yesterday that -woman passed me in her carriage. There was a child on either side of -her, and she was dressed like a flower; which means, you know, a bit -more magnificently than Solomon in all his glory. She didn't know me, of -course. And I tramped on down to my office. You know what my work is, -Jane."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I know," and Jane blushed painfully. "I—I don't really like -taking care of myself," she murmured, after a little, "but I can't see -how I am going to help myself for a while. Anyway, you may be happier in -your horrid office than that woman in her carriage, unless she—loves -the man who gives it to her." The girl<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> finished with a soft, far-away -look in her brown eyes.</p> - -<p>"Right you are!" cried Bertha Forbes, bringing down her capable-looking -hand upon her knee with a businesslike whack. "I'm not envying the -woman; not I. Fancy me with a ridiculous feather bobbing over one eye, -and diamonds and folderols of all sorts disposed upon my person. -Wouldn't I be a holy show?"</p> - -<p>"You're really very good looking, when one looks at you carefully, -Bertha," said the girl seriously, "but you need handsome clothes to -bring out your good points."</p> - -<p>"Guess my points good or bad will have to remain in innocuous desuetude -then," Miss Forbes said gruffly. "'Nough said about B. F., my dear. And -if you're set on staying on in your servile position, and allowing that -absurdly pretentious little matron and her infant to walk all over you, -I've nothing to say, of course. Do the men treat you properly, child?"</p> - -<p>Jane stared at her friend resentfully. "I don't know what you mean," she -said. "Mrs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> Belknap's husband and brother are both gentlemen, and I—am -her servant."</p> - -<p>"That's all right, child; but mind you keep that good-looking -chap—what's his name? Oh, Everett—yes; mind you keep him at his -distance, whatever you do."</p> - -<p>"<i>Bertha!</i>" cried Jane.</p> - -<p>"You needn't 'Bertha' me," said Miss Forbes severely. "I'm an old maid -all right; but I know a thing or two if I am forty, and now that Mr. -Towle has gone back to England——"</p> - -<p>"Has he gone back?"</p> - -<p>"Well; why not? You didn't want him to stay on in America, did you?"</p> - -<p>"N-o," faltered Jane, "I-I'm glad he's gone." Nevertheless she felt a -more poignant throb of loneliness than usual as she stepped down from -the trolley car in the gathering twilight at the close of her "afternoon -out." Had it fallen to the lot of the Hon. Wipplinger Towle to present -himself at that moment Fortune might have been genuinely kind instead of -amusedly scornful in view of his aspirations.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p><p>That same evening Mrs. Belknap shut her chamber door safely after a -careful reconnaissance of the hall. "Jimmy, dear, I'm <i>almost</i> -distracted," she confided to her husband.</p> - -<p>"Why, what's the matter, dear girl?" he asked,"has Buster been up to his -tricks again? Or is Mary's cousin's wife's mother's brother 'tuk bad wid -cramps'?"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap heaved a deep sigh as she shook her head; her pretty white -forehead was puckered into unbecoming folds of deep anxiety. "<i>It's -Jane</i>," she said in a sepulchral whisper.</p> - -<p>"If you don't like the girl, get rid of her," advised Mr. Belknap -strongly. "I've thought all along this two-maid business is a mistake for -us. It's too—er—complicated, somehow."</p> - -<p>"Oh, Jimmy Belknap!" exclaimed his wife reproachfully; "it was you who -advised me to get another girl. You simply made me do it; you know you -did. Mary is away so often, and——"</p> - -<p>"Bounce Mary, too!" cried the perfidious Mr. Belknap cheerfully. "Let's -have a new<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> deal all the way 'round, Margaret. That Mary's a fraud, or -I'm a duffer."</p> - -<p>"Oh, but, Jimmy, she's such a good cook! And I'm sure I couldn't get -another like her. Why, poor Mrs. Bliss hasn't had a girl these last two -months, and she tells me she's tried <i>everywhere</i>! And the people across -the street are alone, too, and——"</p> - -<p>"<i>I</i> can cook," put in Mr. Belknap confidently. "You just let me get the -breakfast. When I put my mind to it there's nothing I can't do about a -house."</p> - -<p>"Oh, <i>you</i>!" scoffed his wife, reaching up to pull a lock of wavy hair -on Mr. Belknap's tall head. "After you've gotten breakfast, Jimmy, it -takes me all the morning to put the kitchen to rights again."</p> - -<p>"But my coffee is out of sight," pursued Mr. Belknap complacently, "and -my poached eggs can't be beat. I believe,"—boldly,—"I could make a -pie!"</p> - -<p>"Of course you could," agreed his wife ironically, "but I shouldn't want -to be obliged to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> eat it. But, seriously, Jimmy, I'm <i>losing</i> -things—almost every day some little thing. Do you suppose it's <i>Jane</i>?"</p> - -<p>Mr. Belknap looked grave. "It's more likely to be Mary," he said. -"Perhaps," he added hopefully, "it's Buster. He's a regular magpie. Do -you remember about my slippers?"</p> - -<p>Both parents paused to indulge in reminiscent laughter over the memory -of the missing slippers which had been found, after days of fruitless -searching, in the spare bedroom under the pillows.</p> - -<p>"He was helping me pick up—the blessed lamb!" said Mrs. Belknap fondly. -"But I'm sure he hasn't picked up my shell comb, two hat pins, half a -dozen handkerchiefs, my best white silk stockings, and your college -fraternity badge."</p> - -<p>Mr. Belknap whistled sharply. "What?" he exclaimed, "has my frat pin -disappeared? I say, Margaret, that looks serious!"</p> - -<p>"It was in my jewel box," went on Mrs. Belknap solemnly, "pinned -carefully onto the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>lining of the cover. You know I scarcely ever wear -it now; I'm saving it for Buster. But I happened to go to the box for -something else the other day; and, Jimmy, it's gone!"</p> - -<p>Mr. Belknap fidgeted uneasily in his chair. "Confound it!" he murmured. -"Well, Margaret, I'd advise you to get rid of both of 'em; and meanwhile -lock up your valuables. We can take our meals out for a while, if worse -comes to worst."</p> - -<p>"I hate to think it's Jane," sighed Mrs. Belknap; "she seems such a nice -girl. But appearances are so often deceptive; I really ought to have -<i>insisted</i> upon references."</p> - -<p>"From the lady smuggler?" Mr. Belknap wanted to know.</p> - -<p>His wife dissolved in helpless laughter. "I never believed that story -for a minute," she said, "nor the Jane Evelyn Aubrey-Blythe part, -either. She simply wanted me to think that she wasn't an ordinary -servant, poor thing. It would be dreadful to go drifting around the -world, drudging first in one house and then in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> another; wouldn't it, -Jimmy? I am sure I can't think what sort of a maid I should have been."</p> - -<p>Mr. Belknap surveyed his wife smilingly. "You'd have got <i>me</i> all right, -whatever you were doing," he assured her.</p> - -<p>"Not <i>really</i>?"</p> - -<p>"Sure! I never could have resisted those eyes, dear, nor that -mouth—never in the world!" And Mr. Belknap illustrated his present -susceptibility to the compelling charms of the features in question in a -way which caused his pretty wife to laugh and blush, and assure him -(fondly) that he was a foolish boy.</p> - -<p>"Then you really think I would better give both the girls warning?" Mrs. -Belknap asked rather faintly, visions of the empty kitchen with its -manifold tasks rising fearfully in her mind.</p> - -<p>"That's what I do when there's a bad snarl in the office," Mr. Belknap -told her seriously. "A good clean breeze of discipline that sweeps -everything before it is a mighty good thing at times. Let 'em go. We got -along all right before we ever saw Mary MacGrotty or Jane<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> -hyphen-what-you-may-call-her, either; and we shall live all the -peacefuller after they're gone."</p> - -<p>"But the missing articles—don't you think I ought to make her give them -back? Isn't it a bad thing for a young girl like Jane to think she -can—be so wicked with impunity?"</p> - -<p>"It isn't 'impunity,' as you call it, if she loses her place."</p> - -<p>"Yes, Jimmy, it is. She could get a dozen other places to-morrow. People -are so nearly frantic for help that they'll take anybody. Why, Mrs. De -Puyster Jones actually told me that she <i>expected</i> to lose a certain -amount every year. She says that it used to worry her terribly when she -first began housekeeping; but now she just mentally adds it to the -wages, and says nothing about it, if it isn't <i>too</i> outrageous."</p> - -<p>Mr. Belknap laughed dubiously. "Why, I say, Margaret, that's what they -call compounding felony, or mighty near it," he said slowly. "I don't -believe I could stand for that sort of thing."</p> - -<p>"Mrs. De Puyster Jones says that, of course,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> she hasn't a particle of -self-respect left when it comes to servants," continued Mrs. Belknap -feelingly. "But she's too delicate to do her own work, and Mr. Jones -won't board; so what <i>can</i> she do? What can <i>I</i> do?"</p> - -<p>Mr. Belknap softly whistled a popular coon song as he walked about the -room. Then of a sudden and with entire irrelevance he broke into loud -and cheerful singing:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Oh, I may be cra-a-zy!</div> -<div>But I ain't no—fool!"</div> -</div></div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> - -<p>John Everett sat before the fire in his sister's cheerful little parlor -for a full half hour without uttering a word. He was thinking -particularly and persistently of Jane, of her proud, sensitive little -face beneath its cloud of curling dark hair, of her shy, haughty eyes -which refused to meet his own, of her curving mouth which so often -quivered like a child's on the brink of heart-breaking sobs. He wished -that he knew more of the girl's history.</p> - -<p>"Strange that Margaret takes so little interest in her," this altruistic -young person said to himself impatiently, as he glanced across at his -sister, who sat cuddling her sleepy baby in her lap in the warm glow of -the fireside. Mrs. Belknap was talking and laughing gayly with her -husband, who stretched his slippered feet to the cheerful blaze with an -air of huge content.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p><p>This charming picture of domesticity, which he had so frequently -admired and even envied in a vague, impersonal fashion, suddenly -impressed Jack Everett as being little else than an exhibition of -monstrous selfishness. What right had Margaret to sit there so radiantly -happy and unconcerned while another woman, as fair and lovable as -herself, shed lonely tears in her kitchen. It wasn't right, by Jove, it -was not, he told himself hotly.</p> - -<p>Just what provision did Margaret make for the amusement and recreation -of her maids he wondered. His praiseworthy curiosity on this point -presently got the better of his prudence. He arose deliberately and -walked out into the kitchen.</p> - -<p>Jane stood at the window gazing drearily into the darkness. She glanced -about at the sound of his step, and he saw that her face was pale and -that her eyes were brimming with large tears.</p> - -<p>John Everett laid two magazines on the table. "I have brought you -something to read, Jane,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> he said kindly. "This kitchen is a dull place -of an evening; isn't it?"</p> - -<p>Jane's homesick eyes wandered hopelessly about the clean, bare little -place, with its straight-backed wooden chairs set primly against the -painted wall, its polished range and well-scoured table, still damp and -odorous with soap and water. A flamboyant advertisement of laundry soap -and the loud-voiced nickel clock were the sole ornaments of the scene, -which was illumined faintly by a small kerosene lamp.</p> - -<p>"Thank you, sir," she said coldly; "but I have no time to read."</p> - -<p>Her manner was inexorable, but John Everett saw that her little fingers -were trembling. "Jane," he said softly, "I asked you once if I might be -your friend. You did not answer me at that time. Have you thought about -it since?"</p> - -<p>"I did not need to think about it, sir. It is impossible."</p> - -<p>"But why, Jane? Do you hate me?"</p> - -<p>John Everett was doubtless quite unaware of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> the fervor and earnestness -which he infused into these two short questions. There was much of the -chevalier <i>sans peur et sans reproche</i> about this particular young -American, and all the knightly enthusiasm and tender indignation of a -singularly pure and impulsive nature had been deeply stirred at sight of -the lonely and friendless English girl. He was, in short, compounded -from the identical stuff out of which the Geraints and Sir Galahads and -King Cophetuas of past ages were made, and so, quite naturally, he -couldn't help saying and looking a great deal more than a modern young -man ought to say and look under like circumstances.</p> - -<p>Jane stared at him in resentful silence for a moment before she replied. -"I know nothing of American ways," she said—which was not entirely -true, by the way, since for years she had devoured everything she could -lay her hands on concerning America—"but in England no gentleman would -speak to a servant as you have spoken to me, unless——"</p> - -<p>"Unless—what, Jane?" he urged.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p><p>"Unless he meant to—insult her," she said haughtily.</p> - -<p>John Everett's handsome face flushed scarlet.</p> - -<p>"Jane," he said sternly. "Look at me."</p> - -<p>She raised her eyes to his reluctantly.</p> - -<p>"Did you really think I was trying to insult you?"</p> - -<p>"N—o," she faltered. "But——"</p> - -<p>"In America," he went on eagerly, "there is nothing to prevent our being -friends. Everyone works for a living here. There is no high and no low. -In America a man who would wantonly insult a woman who works is not -called a gentleman. He is called a scoundrel! And, Jane, whatever else I -may be I am not a scoundrel."</p> - -<p>A shadowy smile glimmered for an instant in Jane's clear eyes, and -dimpled the corners of her serious mouth. Then she pierced his pretty -sophistry with a question. "Does Mrs. Belknap know that you brought -these magazines to me, and that you—wish to be my friend?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p><p>"I shall tell her," he said firmly. "She will understand."</p> - -<p>The girl shook her head. "Mrs. Belknap would be very much displeased," -she said. "She would not like it if she knew I was talking to you now. -She would think me very bold and unmannerly, I am sure. Indeed, as far -as I can find out, being a servant in America is very like being a -servant in England."</p> - -<p>"Jane," he entreated, "tell me: were you ever a servant in England?"</p> - -<p>She looked at him thoughtfully, as if half minded to take him into her -confidence; then her eyes danced. "I was a nursery governess in my last -place in England," she said. "And I left without a reference. Good -night, sir, and thank you kindly for the books, but I don't care about -reading them."</p> - -<p>She dropped him an old-fashioned courtesy, with indescribable grace and -spirit, and before he could gather his wits for another word had -vanished up the dark stairway. He stood <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>listening blankly to her little -feet on the stair, and so Mrs. Belknap found him.</p> - -<p>"Why, Jack!" she exclaimed; "what in the world are you doing in the -kitchen? I heard voices and I thought perhaps Jane had a beau." Her eyes -fell upon the gay-colored magazines which lay upon the table. "How did -these come here?" she asked, a note of displeasure in her pleasant -voice.</p> - -<p>"I brought them to Jane," he said bluntly.</p> - -<p>"To <i>Jane</i>? Why, Jack Everett! What did you do that for?"</p> - -<p>"Why shouldn't I do it? The poor girl has nothing to amuse her in this -beastly little kitchen. And I am sure she is quite as capable of -enjoying good reading as anyone in the house."</p> - -<p>"I gave the girls several of the old magazines only last week," Mrs. -Belknap said with an offended lifting of her eyebrows, "and the very -next morning I found Mary kindling the fire with them. I never knew a -servant to appreciate really good reading. And <i>these</i>—well, all I have -to say is that I hope you'll consult <i>me</i> the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> next time you wish to -make a present to either of the maids. I fancy an occasional dollar -would be in rather better taste, and quite in a line with what they -would expect from you."</p> - -<p>"Great heavens, Margaret! do you suppose I would offer money to <i>Jane</i>?"</p> - -<p>"It certainly isn't necessary, Jack, for you to offer her anything; I -pay her good wages," retorted Mrs. Belknap crisply. "I merely said that -if you felt it your <i>duty</i> to give either of them anything, a -dollar——"</p> - -<p>Mr. Everett turned on his heel, very pointedly terminating the -interview, and Mrs. Belknap went back to her fireside with a slightly -worried expression clouding her pretty face.</p> - -<p>"I wish Jack wouldn't be so perfectly absurd about poor people," she -said discontentedly, as she curled up in a deep chair at her husband's -side. "I don't mind his hobnobbing with the butcher and discussing -socialism with the plumber, but when it comes to acting as purveyor of -good literature for the kitchen, why it strikes me as being a little -tiresome."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p><p>"What has our philanthropic young friend been doing now?" Mr. Belknap -wanted to know.</p> - -<p>"Presenting an offering of magazines to Jane in the kitchen. I declare, -Jimmy, this is the last straw! I shall certainly dismiss the girl at the -end of her month. I shan't do it before, though, because I have some -shopping to do, and I must finish my sewing before I undertake the care -of Buster again. <i>He</i> is devoted to Jane; poor little lamb!"</p> - -<p>"Buster is a young person of excellent taste," murmured Mr. Belknap. -"And so"—meditatively—"is Jack."</p> - -<p>"Jimmy Belknap, what <i>do</i> you mean?" demanded his wife, with a nervous -little clutch at his sleeve. "You don't <i>suppose</i>——"</p> - -<p>Mr. Belknap chuckled. "Don't tempt a man so, Madge," he entreated; "it's -so delightfully easy to get a rise out of you that I really can't resist -it once in a while."</p> - -<p>"Then you don't <i>think</i>——"</p> - -<p>"My mind is an innocuous blank, dear," he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> assured her gravely. "I don't -'think,' 'mean' or 'suppose' anything which would give you a minute's -uneasiness. I'll tell you what, Margaret, suppose we cut out both the -girls, get our own breakfasts, take our dinners at Miss Pitman's, and -then we can afford one of those dinky little runabouts. How would that -strike you?"</p> - -<p>"We'll do it!" exclaimed Mrs. Belknap rapturously.</p> - -<p>Then these two happy people settled down to one of those periods of -castle building in the air which young married lovers delight in, and -upon whose airy foundations many a solid superstructure of after life is -reared. And, being thus pleasantly engaged, neither of them gave another -thought to the two young persons under their roof, both of whom, being -alone and lonely, were thinking of each other with varying emotional -intensity.</p> - -<p>"I must find out more about her," John Everett was resolving. "Margaret -appears incapable of appreciating her."</p> - -<p>"I must be careful and not allow him to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> talk to me any more," Jane was -deciding with equal firmness. "I can't help liking him a little, for he -is the only person who has been kind to me in years." Which statement -was, of course, eminently unfair to Mr. Robert Aubrey-Blythe, as well as -to his noble consort, Lady Agatha, both of whom had repeatedly assured -each other, within the past few weeks, that Jane had proved herself -<i>most ungrateful</i> after all their kindness to her.</p> - -<p>It is a singular fact that ingratitude thus persistently dwelt upon -proves a most effectual palliative to one's natural anxieties concerning -another. Lady Agatha, in particular, had found the practice of the -greatest use of late. She had been able by means of it to dismiss all -unpleasant reflections regarding her husband's niece, which might -otherwise have arisen to disquiet her.</p> - -<p>As for Jane, she seldom thought bitterly of Lady Agatha in the far -country into which her rash pride and folly had brought her. Each day of -her hated servitude brought the time of her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> deliverance and her return -to England so much the nearer. Just what she meant to do when she got -there she did not for the present choose to consider. From the little -window of her attic chamber she could catch wide glimpses of the sea, -which stretched vast and lonely between this strange new country and the -land of her birth, for which she longed with the passionate regret of a -homesick child. The shore itself was not far distant, and one of Jane's -most agreeable duties thus far had been to convoy Master Belknap to the -beach, where he delighted to dig in the warm sand.</p> - -<p>The very next day after Jane's prudent rejection of John Everett's -proffered friendship her mistress announced her intention of spending -the day in town. "In the afternoon, Jane, you may take Buster to the -beach," said Mrs. Belknap. "It will do the darling good. Be careful to -watch him every minute, Jane, and do not allow him to play with other -children," had been her parting injunction.</p> - -<p>There were few persons to be seen when Jane<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> and her little charge -alighted from the trolley car. The yellow sand lay warm and glistening -under the direct rays of the sun, and along the blue horizon drifted -myriads of white sails and the vanishing smoke of steamers coming and -going in this busiest of all waterways. Jane sat down in the sand with a -sigh of happy relief, while Master Belknap fell industriously to work -with a diminutive shovel.</p> - -<p>"Jane!" he said earnestly, "Jane!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, dear," said Jane absent-mindedly.</p> - -<p>"I yuve 'oo, Jane! 'n'—'n' I'm doin' to dig a dreat big hole, an' -'nen—an' 'nen I'm doin' to build a dreat big house for 'oo, Jane!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, dear," repeated Jane sweetly. The wind sweeping in across leagues -of softly rolling waves brought a lovely color to the girl's face. She -threw aside her hat and let the wild air blow the little curls about her -forehead. It pleased her to imagine that the fresh, salty savor carried -with it a hint of blossoming hedgerows and the faint bitter fragrance of -primroses abloom in distant English woods.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p><p>The little boy trotted away with his tiny red pail in quest of clam -shells; Jane followed him lazily, with her dreaming eyes. Then she -sprang to her feet, the color deepening in her cheeks at sight of the -tall, broad-shouldered figure which was approaching them at a leisurely -pace. Master Belknap had dropped his shovel and pail, and was running -across the sand as fast as his short legs could carry him.</p> - -<p>"Uncle Jack! Uncle Jack!" he shouted gleefully. "Here we are, Uncle -Jack! I digged a—dreat—big hole, an'—an', Uncle Jack, I'm doin' to -build a dreat big house—all for my Jane!"</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> - -<p>John Everett answered the carping question in Jane's eyes with gay -composure. "I promised Buster yesterday that I would come home early and -join him at the beach," he said coolly. "I want to have a hand in -digging that hole, myself," he added, rescuing the abandoned shovel from -a sandy entombment.</p> - -<p>Jane surveyed him gravely. "If you are going to be here all the -afternoon," she said, "perhaps you will not mind if I go home. There are -windows to clean, and I am sure Mrs. Belknap would not mind my leaving -Master Buster in your care, sir."</p> - -<p>His crestfallen face afforded the girl a transient amusement as she -walked across the sand in quest of her hat. But Fate, in the small -person of the infant, happily intervened as she was firmly inserting her -hat pins and otherwise preening herself for hasty flight.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p><p>"Where 'oo doin', Jane?" he demanded imperiously.</p> - -<p>"I am going home," replied Jane, with a conciliatory smile. "Mr. Everett -will stay with you, dear."</p> - -<p>"No!" murmured the sagacious infant, laying hold of the girl's gown with -a determined hand. "N-o-o!" The last word ended in a loud wail of -protest.</p> - -<p>Jane flushed uncomfortably under John Everett's observant eyes, as she -stooped to gently disengage herself. "I must go, dear," she repeated. "I -have some work to do at home."</p> - -<p>The child responded by throwing both chubby arms about her neck and -wailing discordantly in her ear.</p> - -<p>"Come, come, Buster!" exclaimed his uncle wrathfully; "you can stop that -howling. Jane won't leave you. I'll take myself off instead, as I see I -am decidedly out of it."</p> - -<p>The small boy instantly relaxed his hold upon the girl and flew to his -uncle. "No-o!" he shouted. "I want my Jane, an'—an' I want 'oo,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> Uncle -Jack!" He clambered up his accommodating relative's trouser leg, and was -assisted to a triumphant perch upon that young gentleman's broad -shoulder, where he beamed upon Jane with innocent delight. "I yuve my -Uncle Jack," he announced conclusively, "and I yuve my Jane!"</p> - -<p>"That's all right, young fellow, and a proper sentiment too," murmured -John Everett. Then he cast a pleading look at Jane. "Why persist in -spoiling a good time?" he asked. "I'll play in the sand like a good boy, -and I promise you I won't teach Buster any bad words, nor throw wet sand -on his clean frock."</p> - -<p>Jane's pretty face was a study. "Very well, sir," she said coldly. "It -is not for me to say, I suppose." Then she sat down at a safe distance -from the hole in the sand—in which the small diplomat, satisfied with -the result of his <i>coup</i>, immediately resumed operations—and fixed her -eyes on the sail-haunted horizon. All the sense of happy freedom which -the wind had brought her from across the sea had suddenly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> vanished. She -was gallingly conscious of the bonds of her servitude and of the -occasional friendly glances which the big, pleasant-faced young fellow -on the sand bestowed upon her.</p> - -<p>"I hate him!" she told herself passionately. "If he knew who I was he -would not dare call me 'Jane,' and smile at me in that insufferably -familiar way. It is only because I am a <i>servant</i>. Oh, I <i>hate</i> him!" -Her little hands clenched themselves till the nails almost pierced the -tender palms, whereon divers hardened spots told of unaccustomed toil.</p> - -<p>It was not an auspicious moment for John Everett to approach and utter a -commonplace remark about a passing steamer. Nevertheless he did it, -being anxious in his blundering masculine way to cheer this forlorn -little exile, who he felt sure was in dire need of human sympathy.</p> - -<p>Jane made no sort of reply, and after a doubtful pause he ventured to -seat himself at her side. "That white tower on the farther side of the -bay is one of the features of 'Dreamland,'" he observed. "At night one -can see<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> it for a long distance sparkling with electric lights."</p> - -<p>Still no answer. He studied the girl's delicate profile in silence for a -minute. "Wouldn't you like to see it sometime, Jane?" he asked.</p> - -<p>She turned upon him suddenly. "How—how <i>dare</i> you—call me 'Jane,' -and—and— Oh, I <i>hate</i> you!" Her kindling eyes scorched him for an -instant, then before he could collect his scattered senses she burst -into wild sobbing. "You wouldn't dare treat me so if I was at—at home," -she went on between her sobs; "but you think because I am all alone here -and—and working for wages that you—can amuse yourself with me. Oh, I -wish you would go away and never speak to me again!"</p> - -<p>His face had paled slowly. "I don't even know your name," he said -quietly. "But I assure you, Miss—Jane, it has been very far from my -mind to annoy you, or to——"</p> - -<p>He stopped short and looked at her fixedly. "I must put myself right -with you, Jane," he said at last. "You must listen to me."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p><p>Her low weeping suddenly ceased, and she lifted her proud little face -all wet with angry tears to his. "I will listen," she said haughtily.</p> - -<p>"I am afraid I don't altogether understand what you mean to accuse me -of," he said, choosing his words carefully; "but I will tell you just -why I have tried to make friends with you. I will admit that men in my -station do not as a rule make friends with servant maids." He said this -firmly and watched her wince under the words. "But, Jane, you are not at -all like an ordinary servant. I saw that the first time I met you. I -fancied that you had, somehow, stumbled out of your right place in the -world, and I thought—very foolishly, no doubt—that I might help you to -get back to it."</p> - -<p>Jane's eyes kindled. "I can help myself to get back to it," she -murmured, "and I will!"</p> - -<p>"That is why I wished to help you," he went on, without paying heed to -her interruption, "and I will confess to you that I came down here this -afternoon on purpose to have a talk with you. I meant—" he paused to -search her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> face gravely. "I meant to ask you to allow me to send you -home to England."</p> - -<p>"Oh, no—<i>no</i>!" she protested.</p> - -<p>"Do you mean to remain in America, then?" he asked. "Are you satisfied -with being a domestic servant?"</p> - -<p>"No," she said doggedly. "I am going back when—when I have earned the -money for my passage. I ought never to have come," she added bitterly. -"I ought to have endured the ills I knew."</p> - -<p>"Will you tell me what ills you were enduring in England?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"I—I was living with relatives," she faltered, "and——"</p> - -<p>"Were they unkind to you?"</p> - -<p>"They didn't mean to be," acknowledged Jane. "I can see that now. But I -fancied—I thought I should be happier if I were independent. So I——"</p> - -<p>"You fell into trouble as soon as you stepped out of the safe shelter of -your home," he finished for her. "You are right in thinking that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> you -should never have come, and yet— Now won't you allow me to—advance the -money for your passage? I assure you I shall be very businesslike about -it. I shall expect you to return every penny of it. For I"—he paused to -smile half humorously to himself—"I am a poor young man, Jane, and I -have to work for my living."</p> - -<p>She looked up into the strong, kind face he bent toward her. "I—thank -you," she said slowly, "and I beg your pardon, too. I see now that you -are—that you meant to be my friend."</p> - -<p>"And you will accept my friendship?" he asked eagerly. "You will allow -me to help you to return to England?"</p> - -<p>She shook her head. "I could have borrowed the money from Bertha Forbes, -if I had chosen to do it," she said. "She wanted to send me back at -once. But"—with an obstinate tightening of her pretty lips—"I thought -since I had gotten myself into this absurd plight by my own foolishness -I ought to get myself out of it. And<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> that is why I am working for wages -in your sister's house. I shall soon have earned money enough to go home -by second cabin; but I don't mind how I go, if only I go!"</p> - -<p>Her eyes wandered away to the dim blue horizon which lay beyond "The -Hook," and he saw her sensitive mouth quiver.</p> - -<p>"Do you know you're showing a whole lot of splendid grit," he murmured -appreciatively. "I know just how you feel."</p> - -<p>"Now that I have told you all this," she went on hurriedly, her eyes -returning from their wistful excursion seaward, "you will understand why -I do not—why I cannot—" she blushed and faltered into silence.</p> - -<p>"You really haven't told me very much after all," he said gravely. -"Don't you think between friends, now, that——"</p> - -<p>"But we are not friends," she interrupted him hastily. "That is just -what I wished to say. I have explained to you that I have friends in -England, and I have Miss Forbes besides. So there is no reason at all -why you should give<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> me or my affairs another thought, and I -beg"—haughtily—"that you will not."</p> - -<p>"O Jane! why?" he urged anxiously.</p> - -<p>She cast an impatient glance at him. "You are so—stupid," she murmured -resentfully. "But then you are an American, and I suppose you cannot -help it."</p> - -<p>He grimaced ruefully at this British taunt. "I fear I shall have to -allow the damaging fact of my nationality," he said; "but I fail to -understand how it is going to stand in the way of my thinking of you at -intervals. If you knew more about Americans, Jane, you would see that it -is mainly on that account I am bound to do it."</p> - -<p>"You'll be obliged to keep your thoughts to yourself then," she told -him, "for as long as I am in Mrs. Belknap's employ I am, undeniably, her -servant and, hence, nothing to you. Do you understand? Because if you do -not, I shall be obliged to find another situation at once."</p> - -<p>"Oh, no; don't do that!" he protested.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> "Look here, Jane, I'm not quite -such a duffer as you seem to think. I see your point, and I'll agree not -to bother you after this. But I won't promise never to think of you -again. On the contrary, I mean to think of you a great deal; may I, -Jane?"</p> - -<p>Jane arose. "It is quite time to be going home," she said coldly. "I -must ask you not to speak to me again, Mr. Everett, and please come home -on another car."</p> - -<p>"But sometime, Jane, after this farce is played to its finis, don't you -think——"</p> - -<p>She turned her back upon him deliberately and walked away toward the -trolley station, leading Master Belknap by the hand, meek and -unresisting. During all this time the little boy had been contentedly -laboring in the removal of sand from a hole of wide dimensions; his eyes -were heavy with fatigue when the girl set him gently in his place on the -homeward bound car. "I yuve 'oo, Jane," he murmured sweetly, laying his -curly head in her lap. "I'm doin' to build 'oo a—dreat, big house!"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p><p>Five minutes later he was soundly asleep, and Jane, who had tried in -vain to awaken him, was forced to lift his limp weight in her slender -arms when the car finally stopped at her destination.</p> - -<p>"Give the boy to me, Jane," said an authoritative voice at her side.</p> - -<p>She looked up in real vexation. "I thought," she said reproachfully, -"that you promised——"</p> - -<p>"I promised not to bother you, Jane; but I didn't say I would never -offer to help you again. Did you suppose for an instant that I would -allow you to carry that boy up this hill?"</p> - -<p>Jane crossed the street without a word, and speeding across lots, by way -of a daisied meadow, reached the house first.</p> - -<p>She was met at the door by her mistress. "Why, Jane, where is Buster?" -inquired Mrs. Belknap anxiously.</p> - -<p>"Master Buster went to sleep on the way home, ma'am," explained Jane, -blushing guiltily,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> "and Mr. Everett, who chanced to be on the same car, -kindly offered to bring him up the hill."</p> - -<p>"Oh!" said Mr. Everett's sister, rather blankly.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> - -<p>Opportunity has been depicted as a sturdy youth, girded for swift -flight, tapping lightly at one's door at uncertain intervals; then, when -one opens as quickly as may be, more often than not showing but a pair -of mischievous heels retreating into the mists of yesterdays—"Gone," we -are told solemnly, "never to return!" A truer philosophy recognizes -opportunity as the child of desire, and wholly dependent for continued -existence upon its parent. So when opportunity comes a-knocking (as -happens every day and wellnigh every hour of the day) let desire make -haste to run and open to its child, knowing well that opportunity is but -a weakling, and must be sheltered and nourished lest it perish with cold -and hunger on the very threshold that gave it birth.</p> - -<p>A lover, whether or no he be an acknowledged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> lover in his own eyes and -in the eyes of his world, needs no teaching as to the relationship his -eager desires bear to his fleeting opportunities. In his case, at least, -opportunity obeys desire, as a child should ever obey its parent; and -this, if the mad world would only pause to examine, is the chief reason -why lovers are of all men happy.</p> - -<p>All of which is submitted as a simple preamble to a simpler statement; -<i>videlicet</i>: because John Everett wished to see and converse with the -unconfessed object of his affections, he found ample opportunity to do -so, and this despite the fact that Jane Blythe herself did not wish it. -And here it should be observed that there is a wide disparity in the -quality and character of desire. John Everett's desire to know Jane was -natural, strong, vigorous, true. Jane's desire to keep the young man at -a distance was—to put it in the form of a vulgar -colloquialism—something of a fake. Therefore being a mere creature of -straw it stood no sort of a chance against the bold, aggressive, -opportunity-seeking wishes of John—as, indeed, it did not deserve. -Fraud,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> even though it be a nice, modest, girlish, innocent little fraud -like the one Jane was cherishing in her heart of hearts, should never be -tolerated.</p> - -<p>And so, although Jane frowned upon John on every suitable occasion, John -the more determinedly smiled upon Jane, and she, being young and lovely -and, after all, a mere woman, grew (quite stealthily) prettier and -sweeter and more worthy to be smiled upon with every passing hour. And -this despite the vinegar and gall which she was forced to mingle with -her daily food partaken of in the Belknap kitchen under the glowering -eyes of Mary MacGrotty.</p> - -<p>But opportunity when worthily fathered and properly nourished, as has -been noted, frequently grows into surprising stature and, moreover, -develops aspects which astonish even its fondest well-wisher. It is at -this point that Providence, luck, fate—what you will—is apt to take a -hand, and then—things happen.</p> - -<p>The thirtieth day of May dawned clear and beautiful after a week of rain -and cloudy weather, and Mrs. Belknap looking anxiously<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> from her window -in the early morning gave a girlish shout of joy. "What a glorious day -for our ride with the Sloans in their new motor car!" she cried. "You -haven't seen it, Jimmy; but it is the darlingest thing, all shiny and -cushiony, with big lunch baskets on the side and a lovely, deep, horn -arrangement that trails out behind on the breeze like an organ chord."</p> - -<p>"The lunch baskets appeal to my most esthetic sensibilities," observed -Jimmy blandly. "I suppose the organ chord arrangement is designed to -distract the mind of the stationary public from the beastly smell of the -thing. Did you say the kid was asked too?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly Buster is going," said his wife. "Do you think for a moment -I'd go off pleasuring and leave that blessed lamb at home all day? -But"—lowering her voice—"Mrs. Sloan didn't invite Jack, and I'm -<i>awfully worried</i>!"</p> - -<p>"About what, dear? Jack won't mind; he can put in the day in any one of -a dozen ways."</p> - -<p>"Of course he <i>can</i>; but there's one way I don't want him to put it in."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p><p>"What do you mean, dear girl? Don't look so doleful! One would suppose -you'd planned to spend the day in the cemetery."</p> - -<p>"That's really the way one ought to spend it, I suppose," said Mrs. -Belknap patriotically. She was still drawing her pretty brows together -in a worried little frown; then she turned suddenly upon her husband. -"You know what I said to you about Jack? I've been watching him, and I'm -awfully afraid——"</p> - -<p>Mr. Belknap was shaving, and at this unlucky instant he cut himself -slightly. "Nonsense, Margaret!" he exclaimed in an appropriate tone of -voice, "Jack doesn't need watching any more than I do; and if he did, it -isn't your place to do it."</p> - -<p>"Why, Jimmy Belknap, how can you say such an unkind thing! Am I not -Jack's only sister? Of course I ought to care whether he is happy or -not, and I——"</p> - -<p>"He seems to be happy enough lately," hazarded Mr. Belknap, pausing to -strop his razor with a slight access of irritation.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p><p>"That's exactly what I mean," put in his wife triumphantly; "don't you -see, dear? Jack <i>does</i> seem happy, and that is why I am so uneasy."</p> - -<p>"Do I understand you to say that as his only sister you wish to file a -demurrer in the case? If so, I'll——"</p> - -<p>"<i>Jimmy!</i>"</p> - -<p>Mr. Belknap leaned forward and eyed his lathered countenance intently as -he applied the glittering edge of his blade to his outstretched throat.</p> - -<p>"It always makes me shiver to see you do that," breathed Mrs. Belknap; -"if that horrid thing should slip! But as I was saying, Jimmy, I can't -think how to manage about the girls to-day. It seems a pity to ask them -to stay at home; though, of course, we shall be awfully hungry for -dinner when we get home, and if Mary goes out, more than likely she'll -not be back in time to get dinner at all. And as for Jane——"</p> - -<p>"By all means let them both go out for the day, my dear; you've really -no right to keep<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> them in on a legal holiday. But I confess I don't -follow your 'as I was saying'; you weren't saying a word about the -servants. You were talking about Jack, and about Jack's being happy."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap looked justly offended. "If you would pay a little more -attention to what I say to you, Jimmy, you wouldn't appear so stupid on -occasions. No; I'll not explain further; you'd merely make it an excuse -to tease, and very likely you'd report the whole conversation to Tom -Sloan as a huge joke, and the two of you would roar over it; then I -should be obliged to explain to Mrs. Sloan, and she's a perfect sieve. -The whole affair would be all over town in no time, and that I simply -could not endure."</p> - -<p>"I'm safe this time, Margaret," he assured her solemnly; "for, honest -Injin, I haven't a ghost of an idea as to what you're trying to get at!"</p> - -<p>"I know what I'll do," cogitated his wife, waving him aside. "I'll -manage it so that the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> girls shall leave the house a full hour before we -do; they'll go to the city, of course. And I'll keep Jack here till -we're off; by that time Jane will be well out of the way, and——"</p> - -<p>"O <i>Jane</i>!"</p> - -<p>"I see you are beginning to understand <i>now</i>!" said Mrs. Belknap; then -she added plaintively, "I <i>wish</i> I'd <i>never</i> hired that girl, Jimmy!"</p> - -<p>"I suppose there's very little use in asking why you persist in hanging -on to her?" said Mr. Belknap.</p> - -<p>"Don't you <i>see</i>, dear, it wouldn't do a bit of good to send her away -now; indeed, I feel as if it were almost my <i>duty</i> to keep her." Mrs. -Belknap said this with the resigned air of a martyr; and Mr. Belknap -wisely forebore to make any comment upon the surprising statement.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * * *</p> - -<p>It was delightfully fresh and breezy on the trolley car; and Jane on the -front seat keenly enjoyed the noisy rush through the green, daisied<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> -fields and woods cool with shade and fragrant with wild flowers and -young ferns. In the streets of the villages through which the car passed -on its way to the ferry there was a brilliant flutter of flags, the -unfamiliar stars and stripes looking strange and foreign in Jane's -English eyes. Everywhere there were holiday crowds, little girls in -white frocks and shoes, bearing wreaths and bunches of flowers; little -boys in their best clothes with tiny flags in their buttonholes; women -carrying babies, and men carrying lunch baskets, and other and bigger -babies; showily dressed young girls with their beaux; besides a -multitude of the unattached eagerly going somewhere. Jane felt herself -to be very small and lonely and far from home in the midst of it all.</p> - -<p>She had planned to spend her unexpected holiday with Bertha Forbes, and -when at the end of her journey she was informed by Miss Forbes's -landlady that Miss Forbes had departed to New Jersey for the day, she -turned away with a feeling of disappointment which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> almost amounted to -physical pain. What should she do? Where should she go, alone in the -great unfamiliar city of New York?</p> - -<p>There were numberless excursions by boat and train and flag-decked -barges, and the throng of sightseers of every nationality jostled one -another good-humoredly, as they surged to and fro under the hot sun in -the narrow space at the terminals of the elevated and subway roads. -Jane's sad, bewildered little face under the brim of her unfashionable -hat attracted the attention of more than one passer-by, as she slowly -made her way to the ferry ticket office. She was going directly back to -Staten Island, with no better prospect in view then to pass the day -alone on the back porch of Mrs. Belknap's house, when the -might-have-been-expected unexpected happened; she came face to face with -John Everett, cool and handsome in his light summer suit and Panama hat. -The young man had evidently just landed from a Staten Island boat, and -his grim face brightened as his eyes lit upon Jane, hastily attempting -to conceal her small person behind a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> burly German woman bearing a -bundle, a basket, and a brace of babies in her capacious arms.</p> - -<p>"<i>Jane!</i>" exclaimed Mr. Everett; "how glad I am to have met you. Where -were you going?"</p> - -<p>"I am going back to Staten Island directly, sir."</p> - -<p>"To do what?"</p> - -<p>His eyes demanded nothing less than facts, and Jane, being -characteristically unable to frame a successful fib on the spur of the -moment, told the pitiful little truth.</p> - -<p>"And so you were going back to stay all day on the outside of a locked -house—eh? A cheerful holiday you'd put in!"</p> - -<p>"I meant to take a long, pleasant walk, of course," amended Jane, -"and——"</p> - -<p>"Won't you take pity on me?" he pleaded. "I hadn't an idea how to spend -the day, so I'd started with an aimless notion of fetching up at the -country club and playing golf or tennis. But I don't care a nickel for -either. You've never seen New York, Jane, and now's your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> chance. You'll -be going back to England soon without ever having had a glimpse of this -town, and that would be really foolish, since you're here; don't you see -it would?"</p> - -<p>Jane shook her head. "I—I couldn't," she hesitated; but her youthful -eyes shone wistfully bright, as all unknown to herself she turned to -cast a fleeting glance at the laughing holiday crowds pouring up to the -elevated and down to the subway stations.</p> - -<p>"Why, of course you can!" he said positively; and before she knew what -had really happened she found herself, her weak objections overborne, -seated in a flying train which looked down upon the gay panorama of New -York's flag-decked streets.</p> - -<p>"Where are—we going?" she asked him, and the little catch in her soft -voice raised John Everett to a seventh heaven of unreasoning happiness.</p> - -<p>"How would you like," he asked, "to let this train carry us the entire -length of Manhattan Island—which is really the live heart of New<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> York, -you know—and bring up at Bronx Park? I was there once with Buster, and -there are all sorts of queer birds and reptiles and animals to be seen, -and a pretty winding river—we'll go up it in a rowboat, if you like the -water; and we'll have our lunch in a little restaurant by the rocking -stone, and then——"</p> - -<p>"But—I'm obliged to be at home by five o'clock," she told him with a -transient clouding of her bright eyes, "and—and I am afraid that Mrs. -Belknap——"</p> - -<p>"Jane," he began, in a low, persuasive voice, "just listen to me for a -minute. You must have a reasonably independent character or you wouldn't -be here in America. You remember what you told me the other day of how -you came to leave your home in England; now that being the case, suppose -you make up your mind to forget all about my excellent sister and her -claims on you for just this one day and be yourself. Will you, Jane? It -will be a lot more fun for both of us, and it won't hurt anybody in the -world."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p><p>Jane drew a quick breath. "I'd like to," she said honestly.</p> - -<p>At that very moment Mrs. Belknap, becomingly veiled and gowned and -leaning back complacently against the luxurious cushions of Mrs. Sloan's -new automobile, was saying to her hostess: "Oh, thank you so much for -thinking to inquire after my brother! Yes, John is spending the day at -the country club; he used to be a champion golf player—did you know it? -and he enjoys a day on the links beyond anything." Then this sapient -young matron permitted the carking cares of everyday life to trail away -into the dust-laden distance with the mellow honking of the great -horn—an experiment which Jane and John Everett were also trying to -their mutual satisfaction on the sun-lit reaches of the Bronx River.</p> - -<p>The boat which they hired at a rickety little landing stage was an -unwieldy flat-iron shaped scow, designed with an eye to the safety of -the inexperienced public as well as the profit of the owner; but Jane, -bright-eyed and pink cheeked,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> seated in the big square stern, was not -too far away from John on the rower's seat, and the unwieldy craft -presently carried the two of them around a wooded bend, out of sight of -a group of roystering picnickers on the bank, into a quiet nook where -the tall trees looked down at their reflection in the lazily flowing -water.</p> - -<p>"It reminds me," said Jane with a sigh, "of England; there is a river -like this near Uncle Robert's place in Kent, only it isn't muddy like -this."</p> - -<p>"One has to be far from home to really appreciate its strong points," he -observed meditatively; "I never shall forget how I felt after nearly a -year abroad when I came suddenly upon the American flag waving over a -consulate building somewhere in Italy. I hadn't an idea up to that -moment that I was particularly patriotic, and I'd been enjoying my trip -immensely, but I could have fallen on the neck of the wizened little -chap inside just because he was born in Schenectady, New York. But as a -matter of fact, Jane, our rivers are not all muddy; you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> ought to travel -about and see more of America before you allow yourself to form -cast-iron opinions about it. You've seen nothing but our seamy side yet, -and quite naturally you can't help setting America down as a very -disagreeable place, and bunching all Americans as cads."</p> - -<p>Jane's brilliant little face dimpled mischievously. "Oh, no, I don't," -she said sweetly; "I have the highest possible esteem for Bertha Forbes. -She is an American and a very superior person, I am sure."</p> - -<p>"You mean by that, I suppose, that you think her fair-minded and -kind-hearted; don't you?"</p> - -<p>"I suppose I do," admitted Jane. "Bertha is clever, too, and -amusing—sometimes."</p> - -<p>"Nearly all Americans are clever and amusing, in spots," he said -confidently, "and numbers of us can fill the rest of the bill clear down -to the ground; you'll see, Jane, when you come to know us better."</p> - -<p>She shook her head. "I am going back to England in June," she said, "and -I never expect to come back."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p><p>"Do you mean that you never want to come back?"</p> - -<p>Jane shrugged her shoulders slightly. "I might possibly return to travel -about sometime," she admitted, her mind reverting to Mr. Towles's -parting words. "I am very fond of travel."</p> - -<p>"So am I," he said somewhat ruefully, "but I fear I'll not do much of it -for some years to come."</p> - -<p>Jane's eyes remained pensively fixed upon the opposite shore. She was -apparently quite indifferent to Mr. Everett's future prospects, and -after a short pause, which he devoted to a careful study of the girl's -clear profile, he observed tentatively: "I hope you'll not lay it up -against Margaret—the way she treats you and all, I mean. She's really -an uncommonly good sort, when one comes to know her; but, of course, she -can't—I mean she doesn't understand——"</p> - -<p>"I thought we were to forget Mrs. Belknap for this one day?" murmured -Jane, with a little curl of her pretty lips.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p><p>He flushed uncomfortably. "What I meant to say was this: it occurred to -me that it might be advisable for you to make a clean breast of the -whole thing; to—to tell Margaret all about yourself and how you came to -leave England, and so put yourself right. I—I wish you would, Jane."</p> - -<p>She fixed her clear eyes upon him thoughtfully. "It has occurred to me, -too," she said; "but—there is really no need to say anything to Mrs. -Belknap. I shall try to do my work as well as I can while I am in her -house; after that,"—she paused, then went on deliberately—"I shall go -away, and that will be the end of it."</p> - -<p>He dipped his oars strongly. "It shall not be the end of it," he told -himself determinedly. Aloud he said, with a fine show of indifference: -"You will, of course, do as you like; but I am sure Margaret would be -glad if you would take her into your confidence."</p> - -<p>Jane smiled with a fine feminine understanding which was lost on the -man. "It will be much better not, I am sure," she said sweetly.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> - -<p>As John Everett and Jane Blythe walked slowly along the shaded winding -path from the rustic bridge where they landed from the flat-iron shaped -scow, the girl was thoughtfully silent, and the man glancing at her -averted face felt vaguely uncomfortable. But he could hardly have been -expected to know that Jane's thoughts were perversely busying themselves -with the Hon. Wipplinger Towle. She was wondering uneasily as to what -that eminently correct Englishman would think at sight of her walking, -quite alone and unchaperoned, with a man, as appeared to be the strange -American custom. Then for perhaps the fiftieth time she speculated upon -the singular abruptness with which Mr. Towle had abandoned his wooing -after her final dismissal of him on Mrs. Belknap's back stoop.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p><p>"He might at least have sent me word that he was going back to -England," she told herself with some indignation, "if he really cared -for me as much as he says."</p> - -<p>The thought of that dear, distant island of her birth colored her answer -to John Everett's cursory remark concerning the buffaloes, which lolled -in all their huge unwieldy bulk inside a trampled enclosure. "Awkward -chaps; aren't they?" he observed; "but the Government is doing its best -to preserve them at this late day. They used to be slaughtered by tens -of thousands on the plains, you know, until they bade fair to become -extinct."</p> - -<p>Jane shrugged her slender shoulders indifferently. "They are like -everything else I have seen in America," she said, "much too big and -ugly to be interesting."</p> - -<p>The tall American cast a laughing glance at the little figure at his -side. "We've more room to grow big in than you have in your 'right -little, tight little isle,'" he said pleasantly. "Now if you're half as -hungry as I am, you're<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> ready to become a generous patron of natural -history to the extent of eating some lunch at this restaurant. The net -proceeds of all these places of entertainment are said to be turned in -to purchase more beasts, birds, and reptiles for the public -delectation."</p> - -<p>Jane blushed resentfully as they seated themselves at a small table in -the restaurant which was little more than an exaggerated veranda, open -on all sides to the fresh breeze, the sight of the neat waitresses, in -their caps and aprons, reminding her poignantly of her own anomalous -position. She glanced fearfully about, half expecting to meet the -scornful eyes of some one of Mrs. Belknap's acquaintances to whom she -had opened the door, and whose cards she had conveyed to her mistress -upon the diminutive tray which Mrs. Belknap had lately purchased for -that express purpose. There were other young women at other round -tables, wearing astonishing gowns and preposterous picture hats, and -attended by dapper young men in smart ready-made suits and brilliant -neckties. Amid the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>pervasive hum of toneless American voices, pieced by -occasional high-pitched giggles, Jane became painfully conscious that -her own gown was old-fashioned and shabby to a degree, and in marked -contrast to the trim elegance of her companion's garb.</p> - -<p>His eyes, released from a study of the bill of fare, followed hers with -a half humorous and wholly masculine misapprehension. "These are New -York's working girls out for a holiday," he said, "and they've certainly -got Solomon cinched, as the boys say, on attire; haven't they?"</p> - -<p>"If they are working girls, they are very unsuitably dressed," Jane said -primly. Then she glanced down at her own frock made over from one of -Gwendolen's cast-offs by her own unskilled fingers, and sighed deeply.</p> - -<p>"I like a—a plain gown best; one made of blue stuff, say, and not -too—too much frilled and furbelowed," he observed, with a fatuous -desire to ingratiate himself, which met with instant and well-deserved -retribution.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p><p>"It isn't kind nor—nor even civil of you to say that," murmured Jane, -in a low indignant voice; "I'm only a working girl myself; and as for my -frock, I know it's old-fashioned and—and ugly. I made it myself out of -an old one; but you needn't have looked at it in that—particular way, -and——"</p> - -<p>"Jane!" he protested, startled at the fire in her eyes and the -passionate tremor in her voice, "I beg your pardon for speaking as I -did; it wasn't good manners, and I deserve to be squelched for doing it. -I don't know any more about gowns than most men, and yours may be -old-fashioned, but it is certainly the most becoming one I have seen -to-day!"</p> - -<p>Jane gazed at him searchingly. Then her mouth relaxed in a shadowy smile -of forgiveness.</p> - -<p>"Ah, here's the luncheon at last," he cried, with an air of huge relief, -"and I hope you're as well prepared to overlook probable deficiencies as -I am."</p> - -<p>There is something primal and indubitable in the mere act of partaking -of food at the same<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> table which has always served to break down -intangible barriers of reserve. By the time Jane Blythe had eaten of the -broiled mackerel and fried potatoes—the latter vegetables being of the -color and texture of untanned leather—she felt better acquainted with -the man who shared these delectable viands with her than she could have -believed possible. And when the two of them had finally arrived at the -point of attacking twin mounds of pink and white ice cream, vouched for -by the smiling young person who waited on them as "fresh strawb'r'y an' -vaniller," she was ready to laugh with him at the truly national ease -and dispatch with which the loud-voiced, showily-dressed damsels in -their immediate neighborhood were disposing of similar pink and white -mounds.</p> - -<p>And when after luncheon they followed the crowd to the lion house, -Jane's brown eyes grew delightfully big at sight of the great beasts -ramping up and down in their cages and roaring for their prey, which a -blue-frocked man shoved in to them in the convenient shape of huge -chunks<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> of butcher's beef. From the spectacle of the great cats at food, -the current of sightseers swept them along to the abode of the simians, -where they found monkeys of all sizes, colors, and shapes, gathered from -every tropical forest in the world, and bound always to arouse strange -questionings in the minds of their nobler captors. Jane lingered before -the tiny white-faced apes with the bright, plaintive eyes and withered -skins of old, old women. "They seem so anxious," she said, "and so -worried over their bits of food, which is sure to be given them by a -power which they do not understand."</p> - -<p>John Everett looked down at her with quick understanding of her unspoken -thought. "They might better be jolly, and—so might we," he murmured. "I -suppose, in a way, we're in a cage—being looked after."</p> - -<p>"And yet we seem to be having our own way," Jane said.</p> - -<p>After that she was ready to enjoy the ourangs, dressed in pinafores, and -sitting up at a table devouring buns and milk with an astonishing -<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>display of simian good manners under the watchful eye and ready switch -of their trainer. When one of these sad-eyed apes suddenly hurled the -contents of his mug at his companion's head, then disappeared under the -table, she laughed aloud, an irrepressible, rolicking, girlish peal.</p> - -<p>"They make me think of Percy and Cecil at tea in the nursery at home," -she explained; "they were always trying experiments with their bread and -milk, and when they were particularly bad Aunt Agatha was sure to find -it out, and scold me because I allowed it."</p> - -<p>"I can't imagine you a very severe disciplinarian," he said, "though you -do manage Buster with wonderful success."</p> - -<p>He regretted the stupid allusion at sight of her quick blush, and made -haste to draw her attention to the Canadian lynxes snarling and showing -their tasseled ears amid the fastnesses of their rocky den.</p> - -<p>Neither paid any heed to the shrill exclamation of surprise to which a -stout person in a plaided costume surmounted by a lofty plumed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> hat gave -vent as she recognized the slight figure in the blue serge gown. The -stout lady was industriously engaged in consuming sweets out of a brown -paper bag; but she suspended the half of a magenta-tinted confection in -midair while she called her companion's attention to her discovery.</p> - -<p>"I'll cross the two feet av me this minute if it ain't <i>hur</i>!" she -cried.</p> - -<p>Her escort, who was distinguished by a mottled complexion, a soiled -white waistcoat, and a billy-cock hat tipped knowingly over one red eye, -helped himself to a block of dubious taffy, as he inquired with -trenchant brevity: "Who's hur?"</p> - -<p>"An' bad 'cess to hur English imperance, if she ain't wid <i>him</i>!" went -on the lady excitedly; "sure an' it's Mary MacGrotty as'll tell the -missus what I seen wid me own two eyes come to-morry mornin'. An' whin -I'm t'rough wid hur ye'll not be able to find the lavin's an' lashin's -av <i>hur</i> on Staten Island! Aw, the young divil!"</p> - -<p>Happily, the unconscious object of these <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>ambiguous remarks moved on -without turning her head, and was presently lost to view amid the -shifting crowd.</p> - -<p>There was much to be seen at every turn of the winding paths, and Jane's -girlish laugh rang out more than once at the solemn antics of the brown -bears, obviously greedy and expectant despite the official warnings -against feeding the animals, which were posted everywhere; at the -bellowings and contortions of the mild-eyed seals, as they dashed from -side to side of their tank, or "galumphed" about on the rocks. It was -Jane who supplied the missing word out of "Alice in Wonderland," and -John declared that it was the only word to describe the actions of a -seal on dry ground, and hence deserved an honorable place in the -dictionary.</p> - -<p>Neither of them noticed the lengthening shadows, nor the gradually -thinning crowd, till Jane observed a pair of huge eagles settling -themselves deliberately upon a branch in their cage. "They look," she -said innocently, "as if they were going to roost."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p><p>Not till then did the infatuated John Everett bethink himself to glance -at his watch.</p> - -<p>"They <i>are</i> going to roost, Jane," he said soberly, "and we've a long -trip before us."</p> - -<p>Jane could never afterwards recall the memory of that homeward journey -without a poignant throb of the dismay which overwhelmed her when she -spied Mary MacGrotty's leering face in the crowd that waited in the -ferryhouse. Miss MacGrotty's countenance was suggestively empurpled, and -her gait was swaying and uncertain as she approached Jane.</p> - -<p>"I seen yez wid <i>him</i> to th' Paark," she whispered, "ye desaitful young -baggage!" Then she stepped back into the crowd and disappeared before -the girl could collect her wits to reply.</p> - -<p>Jane's pretty color had faded quite away, and her eyes looked big and -frightened when John Everett joined her with the tickets. "Oh, if you -please!" she whispered, "won't you let me go alone from here. I—I -mustn't be seen—with you, sir."</p> - -<p>The last piteous little word almost shook him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> from his self-control. -"You have a perfect right to be seen with me, Jane," he said firmly; -"and I will not leave you alone in this rough crowd; but if it will make -you any more comfortable I will sit a little distance away—but where I -can watch you, mind—once we are aboard."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap had reached home before them, and Master Buster, cross and -tired, was handed over to Jane immediately upon her arrival. "I am very -sorry to be so late," the girl said, with a shamed drooping of her head.</p> - -<p>And Mrs. Belknap replied kindly: "You've not had many holidays since -you've been with me, Jane; I hope you enjoyed this one."</p> - -<p>"I—I did indeed," choked Jane; "but I ought—I must explain——"</p> - -<p>"Not to-night, please; it really makes no difference for this once!" her -mistress said crisply.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap was brought up face to face with the inevitable by Mary -MacGrotty, who presented herself the next morning in the door of her -mistress's room. Miss MacGrotty's countenance was stern and gloomy. Her -words were few and to the point.</p> - -<p>"I ain't goin' to stay wid yez no longer," she said.</p> - -<p>"Why, what can have happened, Mary?" Mrs. Belknap asked, with -hypocritical solicitude.</p> - -<p>Miss MacGrotty eyed her young mistress haughtily. "Sure, mum, an' you -know well enough widout askin' me," she said. "There ain't no room in -wan house for hur an' me."</p> - -<p>"Do you mean Jane?"</p> - -<p>"I do, mum; I mean Jane, wid her purty face an' her big eyes an' her -foine goin's-on behind the back o' yez. It ain't fer me to worrit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> the -life out o' yez wid tellin' you all 'at I know. But I'm sorry fer yez; -that's all."</p> - -<p>The inexperienced Mrs. Belknap fell into the artful trap with ease. -"What do you mean, Mary?" she demanded anxiously.</p> - -<p>Miss MacGrotty shrugged her shoulders. "I'll trouble yez for me money, -mum," she said loftily. "I'll not make no trouble in the house."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap happily remembered her husband's counsel at this crucial -moment. "Very well, Mary," she said coolly, "I will look over my account -book and have the money ready for you when you have packed and put your -room in order."</p> - -<p>Miss MacGrotty threw back her head with a defiant toss. "Sure, an' I'll -not be lavin' the house till I've had me rights! There's things been -missed, an' I'll not have it said that Mary MacGrotty wud touch the lave -of a pin!" Then of a sudden she melted into copious tears. "I've be'n -that happy an' continted sinse I come to live wid you, Mis' Belknap; -sure, I can't bear the thoughts of lavin' you an' Master Buster, wid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> -the shwate little face on him. If it wasn't fer <i>hur</i> I'd never be -thinkin' of goin'; but my feelin's has be'n hur-r-t an' trampled on till -I can't bear it no more. Tell me <i>wan thing</i>, Mis' Belknap, wasn't we -all goin' on peaceful an' happy loike before <i>she</i> come, wid Mis' -Whittaker to wash an' sweep, an' me in the kitchen?"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap temporized weakly. "Do you mean to tell me that if I will -discharge Jane, you will stay?" she said at last.</p> - -<p>"I do, mum; an' may I cross my feet this day if I stay in the same house -wid hur another week. She ain't my sort, mum!"</p> - -<p>Still Mrs. Belknap hesitated. Jane was proving herself a most -intelligent caretaker for the idolized Buster. Indeed his mother was -forced to acknowledge that that young person's conduct showed a not -inconspicuous improvement since he had been under the firm but gentle -rule of English Jane. On the other hand, Mary's bread and rolls were -faultless, her pastry and salads beyond criticism, and her laundry work -exhibited a snowy whiteness and smoothness most <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span>gratifying to the eye -and touch of a dainty woman like Mrs. Belknap; singularly enough, not a -single MacGrotty relative had sickened or died since the advent of Jane.</p> - -<p>This last reflection colored her next remark. "You have been much more -reliable lately, Mary," she observed thoughtfully, "and we all like your -cooking."</p> - -<p>"<i>Reliable!</i>" echoed Miss MacGrotty warmly, "reliable? Ain't I always -reliable? Why, mum, in the last place where I wuz workin' four years to -the day, an' where I'd be yet on'y the leddy died—a shwate, purty leddy -she wuz, too. Often's the toime I've said to meself, 'Mis' Belknap's the -livin' image of hur,' I says, an' that's why I can't bear to be leavin' -yez, mum. But, as I wuz sayin', Mis' Peterson she wud be sayin': 'Oh, -Mary MacGrotty!' she says, 'I don't know what I'd be doin' widout -<i>you</i>,' she says. 'You're <i>that reliable</i>,' she says. Of course, I've -had turrible luck wid me family bein' tuk bad since I lived wid you. -But, the saints be praised! they're all well an' hearty now, exceptin' -me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> brother's youngest gurl that's bad wid her fut from bein' run over -by a milk wagon. Yis, mum, a turrible accident, it wuz, mum. <i>Hev ye -looked in hur things?</i>"</p> - -<p>"Have <i>I what</i>?" faltered Mrs. Belknap.</p> - -<p>"Looked in that gurl's trunk, mum," repeated Miss MacGrotty in a ghostly -whisper. "If you ain't, you'd better; that's all."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I shouldn't like to do that. Dear, <i>dear</i>! what ought I to do, -anyway?"</p> - -<p>"A workin' gurl what brags of havin' a goold watch wid a dimon' in the -back, an' a locket wid pearls an' two goold rings, wan of 'em wid a -foine blue stone in it, ain't honest, I sh'd say."</p> - -<p>"Did Jane——?"</p> - -<p>"I seen 'em wid me own eyes," affirmed Miss MacGrotty dramatically. -"'Where did you git the loikes o' thim?' I says to 'er. 'They wuz giv to -me,' she says, 'in me last place,' she says."</p> - -<p>"Dear, dear!" repeated Mrs. Belknap. Then she straightened her trim -figure. "You may go now, Mary; I shall be obliged to talk<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> with Jane, -and with Mr. Belknap, too. I don't wish to be unjust."</p> - -<p>"You'd better talk to Mr. Everett, mum, whilst you're talkin'!" said -Mary, with artful emphasis. "Sure, an' he's too foine a gintleman -entirely to——"</p> - -<p>"You may go to your work at once, Mary," repeated Mrs. Belknap sternly. -"I will tell you to-morrow what I have decided to do." Nevertheless the -last barbed arrow had found its mark in Mrs. Belknap's agitated bosom. -"I wonder if Jack—could—" she murmured, her mind running rapidly back -over the past weeks. He had taken the girl's part masterfully in the few -half-laughing discussions which had taken place concerning the romantic -fortunes of Jane. "She is a lady, sis," he had declared stoutly, "and -you ought to treat her like one."</p> - -<p>"Impossible!" she thought. Of course there couldn't be such a thing in -America as the rigid class distinctions of England; still, an <i>Everett</i> -could hardly be seriously attracted by a <i>servant</i>. It was, she decided, -merely another case of dear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> old Jack's overflowing goodness and -kindness of heart—a heart which seemed big enough to harbor and warm -the whole world of forlorn humanity. It was, in short, "the Everett -way." Margaret Belknap recalled her father's beautiful courtesy which -had exhibited itself alike to the washerwoman and the wife of the -millionaire. All women were sacred in the eyes of the Everett men. And a -poor, sick, helpless or downtrodden woman was the object of their -keenest solicitude.</p> - -<p>Why, Jack, she remembered, had on one occasion carried Mrs. Whittaker's -little girl through the mud and rain for a full block, with that -melancholy personage following close at his heels, delivering fulsome -panegyrics on his goodness. "And there wasn't a bit of use of it, -either; the child could have walked perfectly well," Mrs. Belknap -reminded herself. Jack was the dearest boy in the world—except Jimmy; -but, of course, he was <i>absurd</i>—sometimes. All men were. It was her -manifest duty to see to it that no appealingly helpless female -succeeded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> in attaching him to her perpetual and sworn service. It was -her duty; and she would do it.</p> - -<p>This praiseworthy resolution shone keenly in her blue eyes when Jane -encountered them next. Behind the resolution lurked a question. Jane -answered it by asking another. "I fear you are not satisfied with my -work, Mrs. Belknap," she said meekly. Somehow or other, without exactly -knowing why, she had become increasingly solicitous about pleasing this -pretty, clear-eyed young matron, who, it might have seemed, was not so -difficult to please.</p> - -<p>"Why, yes, Jane," Mrs. Belknap answered hesitatingly, "I <i>am</i> pleased -with your work. You are really very neat about your sweeping and -dusting, now that I have taught you how"—this with a complacent tilt of -her brown head—"and you really manage surprisingly well with Buster. I -think he positively likes you—<i>the darling</i>! But——"</p> - -<p>Jane waited the outcome of that "but" with a sinking heart.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap was gazing at her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span>hand-maiden's downcast, faintly blushing -face with searching eyes. "Jane," she said at last, "Mary has given me -warning."</p> - -<p>"Do you mean that Mary is going to leave you, ma'am?"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap sighed involuntarily. "Yes; that is what I mean. I was so -sorry, Jane, to hear from Mary that you two cannot live peaceably in the -same house. And then——"</p> - -<p>"What else did Mary say about me, Mrs. Belknap?" demanded Jane with -kindling eyes.</p> - -<p>"She said—. O Jane, how can I tell you? You <i>seem</i> such a nice girl!"</p> - -<p>"I <i>seem</i>—yes, madam; but you think I am not what I seem. Well, I am -not. I ought not to be doing the work of a servant in this house. I -ought never to have come here." Jane threw back her pretty head and -stared at Mrs. Belknap from under level lids.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap returned the look with one of startled interest. She had -recalled the smuggling episode. "What—do you mean, Jane?" she asked. -"You are not——"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p><p>"I am a lady," said English Jane haughtily; "and so I do not belong in -anyone's servant's hall. That is what I mean."</p> - -<p>"Oh!—<i>a lady</i>!" repeated Mrs. Belknap, and she smiled. "Everyone who -works out in America is 'a lady.' We who employ servants are simply -women. But perhaps you did not know that, Jane." She remembered her -brother's emphatic assertions, and added kindly: "I have noticed Jane, -that you appear somewhat above your station. But you should remember -that honest work never hurts anyone's real character. Character is -marred by—by something quite different. When one allows oneself to be -tempted to—to take what belongs to another, for instance."</p> - -<p>"Do you mean, Mrs. Belknap, that you think <i>I</i> stole the things you have -missed?" demanded Jane, her hazel eyes darting fire. "Did that wicked -Mary say <i>that</i> to you? Yes; I see that she did. And you"—with bitter -anger and scorn quite impossible to convey—"believed it!"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p><p>Mrs. Belknap appeared to grow small in her chair under the direct light -of the girl's indignant eyes. "I—I do not <i>accuse</i> you of anything," -she faltered. "I wish above all things to be just to everybody -concerned."</p> - -<p>Jane was silent. She was thinking confusedly of <i>noblesse oblige</i>. "You -told me you were not easily deceived," she said, after a long pause; -"but you are. If you were not blind you would <i>know</i> that I am incapable -of anything of the sort. But if you prefer to believe Mary because she -cooks your food as you like it, I shall not complain. I cannot cook."</p> - -<p>This random shaft hit so squarely in the bull's eye of Mrs. Belknap's -wavering thought that for the moment that worthy young matron was quite -overcome with confusion. Then she rallied her forces.</p> - -<p>"Now that we have entered upon this very disagreeable conversation, -Jane, we may as well come to a full understanding—if such a thing is -possible," she said decidedly. "I dislike more than I can tell you -mentioning the matter, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span>because it would seem to be none of my affairs; -but Mary told me that you had shown her several articles of jewelry -which struck me as being—well, to say the least, as unsuited to a young -girl situated as you seem to be in the world, and——"</p> - -<p>"I never showed Mary anything that belonged to me, nor talked to her -about myself," said Jane stonily. "But I will show the contents of my -box to you, madam—if you have not already seen it," she added keenly.</p> - -<p>"No—no, Jane, indeed, I have not!" denied her mistress. "I have never -made a practice of looking into a servant's possessions without her -knowledge, as so many housekeepers do." Mrs. Belknap was feeling -thoroughly uncomfortable; quite, as she afterwards expressed it, as -though she were the culprit brought to the verge of a damaging -confession.</p> - -<p>"Very well, madam, if you will come upstairs to my room with me I will -show you my watch and my locket, and whatever else I have which you -think may interest you."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p><p>The faint irony in Jane's well-modulated tones brought the color to -Mrs. Belknap's forehead; but she arose determinedly. "Thank you, Jane," -she said, "it will be best, I think."</p> - -<p>Jane threw open the door of the metamorphosed trunkroom with the air of -an empress. "Please sit down, Mrs. Belknap," she said politely. Then she -opened the lid of her trunk. "This is my watch, of which Mary spoke to -you. It belonged to my mother; it has her monogram on the back, you see; -and inside is her name, Jane Evelyn Winston."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap's eyelids flickered inquiringly.</p> - -<p>"Winston was my mother's name before she was married," Jane explained, -with a scornful curl of her pretty lip. "This locket has my father's -picture in it, as you see. Mother used to wear it on her neck. I can -just remember it."</p> - -<p>"It is a very handsome locket," murmured Mrs. Belknap.</p> - -<p>"And these are mother's wedding and betrothal rings. This sapphire is -very old; it belonged to my great-great-grandmother <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span>Aubrey-Blythe. -There are some other jewels which belonged to mother, but Uncle Robert -has them put away for me. I suppose I shall never see them again."</p> - -<p>Jane choked a little over her last words, and two or three big, homesick -tears dropped on the two rings.</p> - -<p>"<i>Jane!</i>" exclaimed Mrs. Belknap, with sudden sharpness, "what—what is -<i>that</i>?" She was pointing to a corner of the trunk, her eyes round with -horrified surprise.</p> - -<p>Jane's tear-blurred gaze followed the direction of her mistress's -accusing finger.</p> - -<p>"Will you take everything out of the trunk, please, and place the -articles on this chair, one by one," commanded Mrs. Belknap.</p> - -<p>The girl obeyed in stupefied silence.</p> - -<p>"Do these articles—this fraternity badge, these hat pins, and this -handkerchief belong to you, Jane?"</p> - -<p>"No!—oh, my God, <i>no</i>!" cried Jane, staring with a suddenly blanching -face at the little group of articles which Mrs. Belknap had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> singled out -from among the things on the chair.</p> - -<p>There was a tense silence in the room for the space of a minute; then -Master Belknap's little feet were heard laboriously climbing the stair. -"Muzzer!" he shouted, "I want 'oo, muzzer! I tan't find my Jane!"</p> - -<p>Jane sobbed aloud.</p> - -<p>"Oh, Jane, I <i>am</i> so <i>sorry</i>!" sighed Mrs. Belknap faintly. "Of course, -you will have to go. But I shall not—" She hesitated over the harsh -word, and finally substituted another. "I shall not tell anyone of this; -except," she added firmly, "Mr. Belknap and Mr. Everett. I <i>must</i> tell -them, of course. They will be sorry, too."</p> - -<p>Jane stared at her mistress through a blur of anguished tears.</p> - -<p>"Do you think—oh, you <i>can't</i> believe I did it?"</p> - -<p>"What else <i>can</i> I believe?" Mrs. Belknap said sorrowfully. Then she -arose with decision. "If you will come to me when you have packed, Jane, -I will pay you your wages. And I do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> hope, my poor girl, that this will -be a lesson to you. <i>Nothing</i> is so well worth while as truthfulness and -honesty. <i>Try</i> to remember it, Jane, after this; will you?"</p> - -<p>Jane's face hardened. "I didn't do it," she said doggedly. "That wicked -Mary has been in my room. She said she had. She must have put these -things in my trunk. I never saw them before."</p> - -<p>"<i>Jane!</i>" exclaimed Mrs. Belknap; there was stern reproof, righteous -anger, and a rapidly growing disgust in her voice. Then she swept out, -pausing merely to say: "You may pack your things <i>at once</i>!"</p> - -<p class="space-above">John Everett came home early from the city that night. He had arrived at -an important decision—namely, to make a confidante of his sister with -regard to his unmistakable feelings for Jane. "Margaret is a brick!" he -told himself hopefully. "She will understand; I know she will, and do -the square thing by us both. It isn't as though Jane was a common, -uneducated<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> person; she is a lady to the tips of her little -fingers—bless her!"</p> - -<p>Mr. Everett's ideas had undergone a rapid and wonderful change within -the few weeks of his meager acquaintance with Jane. He no longer -appeared to himself to be breasting an unfriendly current of life with -the mere vision of a distant, sunny shore to cheer his untiring efforts. -He seemed suddenly to have attained a larger and completer knowledge of -himself and of his powers. He knew himself to be abundantly able to make -a home for the dearest, sweetest little girl in the world, and he was -ready to ride rough shod and triumphant over difficulties of every -conceivable sort. Since he had arrived at this by no means tardy -conclusion of the matter, his love for Jane had over-leapt its barriers, -and was ready to sweep all before it, including the girl's own -delightful shyness and maiden coldness.</p> - -<p>Mr. Everett found his sister Margaret at her little desk, a -leather-covered account book open before her, a pile of bills and silver -pushed to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> one side. He stooped to pinch her pink ear, following the -pinch with a hearty brotherly kiss. Then he perceived that something was -seriously amiss with the little lady. There were tears in her eyes and a -piteous quaver in her voice as she looked up to greet him.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter, little woman?" he asked gayly. "Won't the accounts -balance?"</p> - -<p>He bent nearer and read: "Jane Evelyn Aubrey-Blythe. Began work April -26th; wages $14.00."</p> - -<p>"Is <i>that</i> her name?" he almost shouted. "Why didn't you tell me -before?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know what you mean, Jack," Mrs. Belknap replied petulantly. -Then she burst into nervous tears as she faltered: "Jane's—<i>gone</i>! And, -oh, Jack, she <i>wouldn't</i> take her wages!"</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> - -<p>"Gone!" echoed John Everett blankly. "Are you telling me that Jane has -<i>gone</i>?" Then he stooped over his sister with something almost -threatening in his face and attitude. "Margaret," he said quietly, "you -must tell me at once what has happened to Jane!"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap glanced up at him fearfully. "O Jack!" she cried, "surely -you do not—you cannot——"</p> - -<p>"How long has she been gone?" demanded her brother, still in that -ominously quiet tone. "Tell me quick!"</p> - -<p>"Not ten minutes," replied his sister. "But, Jack, <i>dear</i> Jack, listen -to me! She—she—wasn't honest; I found——"</p> - -<p>A smothered exclamation of wrath and grief, a loud slam of the front -door, and the sound of his hurrying feet without reduced Mrs. Belknap to -despairing tears.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p><p>"Oh! what shall I do?" she asked herself miserably. "I <i>tried</i> to be -fair to Jane; I did indeed! I should never have accused her. But what -<i>could</i> I think? And if Jack—oh! that would be worst of all! But -perhaps he is just sorry for her; he is always being sorry for people. I -wish she had taken the money; the sight of it makes me feel like a -thief! And I wish—oh, I <i>wish</i> Jimmy would come!"</p> - -<p>The little pile of bills and silver, representing the month's wages -which she had urged upon poor Jane, seemed to accuse her solemnly. She -put it hastily out of sight, glad of her child's insistent demands for -attention.</p> - -<p>The boy climbed upon her knee and pillowed his head comfortably upon her -breast. "Jane cwied, muzzer," he remarked presently.</p> - -<p>"Yes, dear," said Mrs. Belknap nervously. "Would you like mother to tell -you about the three little pigs?"</p> - -<p>"Uh-huh; tell me 'bout 'e' free 'ittle pigs. Jane cwied, muzzer!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, dear. Now listen: Once upon a time<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> there was a nice, kind pig -mamma, and she had three dear, little——"</p> - -<p>"Muzzer, if I—if I div Jane my fwannel el'phunt, would she—would she -'top cwi'in? I like my Jane, muzzer!"</p> - -<p>"Poor little sweetheart!" exclaimed Mrs. Belknap, with a gratifying -sense of indignation against Jane welling up warm within her. "Never -mind about Jane, darling; listen to mother while she tells you about the -three dear little pigs. One was a little white pig, with pink eyes and a -pink nose and the cunningest little curly tail."</p> - -<p>"Was his 'ittle curly tail <i>pink</i>, muzzer?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, dear; it was all <i>pink</i>, and——"</p> - -<p>"<i>No!</i>" objected her son strongly; "his 'ittle curly tail was—it was— -<i>Tell</i> me, muzzer!"</p> - -<p>"It was—pinky white, a delicate, peach blossom sort of color," hazarded -Mrs. Belknap. "Now be quiet, dear, and listen. The second little pig was -spotted, white and——"</p> - -<p>"If I div Jane my <i>wed bwocks</i>, would she 'top cwi'in, muzzer?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span></p><p>"White and brown," went on his mother desperately. "Now you <i>must</i> -listen, Buster, or mother cannot tell you the story. The third little -pig was black—<i>all pure black</i>."</p> - -<p>"Was his 'ittle curly tail all bwack, muzzer?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; his little curly tail and all—<i>pure black</i>. He was the smallest -pig of all; but his mother loved him dearly."</p> - -<p>"Did he cwi, muzzer?"</p> - -<p>"No; never; none of them ever cried. They were——"</p> - -<p>"Jane cwied, muzzer."</p> - -<p>"They were very good, obedient little pigs. They never interrupted their -dear mother when she told them stories. They were——"</p> - -<p>"I like my Jane," murmured the infant, applying his fists to his eyes, -"an'—an' I like my supper. Tell Jane to div me my supper, muzzer!"</p> - -<p>"Why, you poor little darling! Of course you must be hungry! Mother will -give you your supper right away. Come, dear!"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap arose with a sigh of relief, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> made her way to the -kitchen. "Mary," she began, "I will give Buster his supper now; you -may—" She stopped short in horrified dismay. Miss MacGrotty was lolling -against the table, a saucepan grasped negligently in one hand, while its -contents drizzled slowly down the broad expanse of her aproned front -into a puddle on the floor.</p> - -<p>"Why, <i>Mary</i>!" cried her mistress, "you are spilling that gravy all over -yourself; do be careful!"</p> - -<p>"<i>Careful</i>—is ut? <i>Careful!</i> I'm that—hic careful, mum! You'll not -find me equal—on Shtaten Island, mum. I'm—jist a-ristin' mesilf a bit. -I'm that wore out wid—hic—shlavin' fer the loikes av yez. An' I'll do -ut no longer!"</p> - -<p>Miss MacGrotty here relinquished her lax hold upon the saucepan which -glissaded briskly to the floor, scattering blobs of brown sauce in every -direction.</p> - -<p>"<i>Mary!</i>" repeated Mrs. Belknap, "you must be ill!"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p><p>"Git out av me kitchen!" advised Miss MacGrotty trenchantly. "I'll not -have the loikes av yez a-bossin' <i>me</i>! I'm a perfec' leddy, I am, -an'—hic—I'll not put up wid yer lip no more, ner I won't put up wid -hers neither—a-tellin' me I ain't honest, an' me on'y takin' me -perquisites now an' thin in tay an' sugar an' the loike!"</p> - -<p>"I do believe you've been drinking!" exclaimed Mrs. Belknap, a great -light breaking in upon her mind. "Tell me, was it you who put those -things in poor Jane's trunk?"</p> - -<p>"Indade, an' I'll not tak' a worrd av yer imperance!" retorted Miss -MacGrotty, with drunken dignity. "I says to mesilf, 'I'll tak' down her -high looks,' I says. An' I done ut!"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Belknap turned and fled—straight into the arms of her husband, who -had just entered the house. In that safe refuge the little woman burst -into tormented tears, while the infant clinging to her skirts lifted up -his voice in sympathetic concert.</p> - -<p>"What in the world?" began the distracted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> husband and father. "Hold -hard here! I've got oranges, Buster! and violets, Madge! Come, dear, -brace up and tell a fellow what's up! Anybody sick or dead? Or what has -happened?"</p> - -<p>Thus entreated Mrs. Belknap sobbed out an incoherent account of the -untoward happenings of the day.</p> - -<p>Mr. Belknap whistled, after a safe masculine habit. "Well, you have had -a day of it!" he exclaimed. "Jane convicted and evicted; Jack eloped -(presumably) and Mary intoxicated! By Jove! I believe she's preparing to -invade the front of the house. Here, dear, you take the boy and go in -the other room, and I'll manage the hilarious lady."</p> - -<p>The rumble of a deep Irish voice and the slamming of furniture in the -dining room presaged the dramatic advent of Miss MacGrotty, armed with a -poker and a toasting fork. "I'll tak' down the high looks av her afore -I'm done wid her!" she was declaiming.</p> - -<p>"Hello, Mary! What's the matter with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> you?" demanded Mr. Belknap in a -loud and cheerful voice.</p> - -<p>At sight of her master, tall, broad and authoritative, Miss MacGrotty -sank into a chair and began to weep hysterically. "Aw, sur!" she -faltered, "may the saints in hiven bless your kind hearrt fur askin'! -I've be'n that—hic—put upon this day, an' me a perfec' leddy, but that -delicut an' ailin' I'm 'bliged to tak' a wee drap occasional to kape up -me spirits loike! 'You've be'n drinkin'' she says. The imperance av -her!"</p> - -<p>Mr. Belknap had grasped the lady firmly by the arm. "You need a little -rest, Mary," he said sympathetically. "You must have been working too -steadily. My wife's a hard mistress."</p> - -<p>"That she is, sur, bliss yer kind hearrt! If you'd lave me be, sur, -I'd—hic—tak' down the high looks av her, an' that hussy, Jane, too. -But I got good an' even wid <i>hur</i>!"</p> - -<p>"What did you do to Jane?" inquired her captor, who was gently shoving -his prize up the stairs.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p><p>"Don't you know, sur? an' you that shmart in your business? <i>She's</i> -'asy fooled! Sure, an' I changed things about a bit in the house; that's -all I done."</p> - -<p>"Ah-ha! Very clever of you, Mary. You put the missis's things in Jane's -room—eh? Good joke that!"</p> - -<p>Miss MacGrotty laughed hysterically. "She ain't found 'em all yit," she -whispered. "Tell her to look between the mattresses av the bed."</p> - -<p>"Thanks for the information, old girl!" observed Mr. Belknap genially. -And having arrived at his destination, namely, the apartment occupied by -Miss MacGrotty, he gently deposited his charge within; then shut and -locked the door upon her.</p> - -<p>"She'll sleep it off before morning," he told his wife reassuringly; -"then I'll see that she leaves the house peaceably. I told you she was a -fraud, dear. But never mind, better luck next time. As for Jack, I do -hope he'll find that poor girl for the sake of the family peace of -mind."</p> - -<p>"I—I hope so too, Jimmy; only——"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></p><p>"Don't worry about Jack," advised her husband. "He's too level-headed -to rush into matrimony merely because he's sorry to see a girl treated -unjustly."</p> - -<p>"But, Jimmy dear," protested his wife, "I don't see what I could have -done. There were the things—in her trunk."</p> - -<p>Mr. Belknap shook his head. "It's pretty hard on a little woman when -she's suddenly called upon to act as prosecuting lawyer, judge, jury and -all," he said sympathetically. "But I think you were a bit hasty, dear. -You might have suspended judgment, as they say, considering the -defendant's general character."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I really ought to have known better, I suppose," agreed Mrs. -Belknap meekly. "But I can't help being afraid that Jack is more than -sorry for Jane. And, Jimmy, she's <i>only a servant</i>—even if she is -honest, and yes—I will acknowledge it—pretty."</p> - -<p>"Talk about our glorious American democracy!" groaned her husband in -mock dismay.</p> - -<p>"Well, I'll put it straight to you, Jimmy <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span>Belknap; would <i>you</i> like -Jane Evelyn Aubrey-Blythe for a sister-in-law?"</p> - -<p>"Hum! That depends," said Jimmy Belknap, with a conservative grin. "But -I say, Margaret, let's see what we can do about that dinner I seem to -smell burning on the range."</p> - -<p>While these important events were transpiring in the Belknap household, -Mr. John Everett was having divers and sundry experiences of his own. As -he plunged down the street in the fast-gathering darkness of the spring -night he was conscious of but one desire, and that was to find Jane. -Having found her, he knew definitely that he meant never to lose sight -of her again. This much was certain, and the fine, drizzling rain which -presently began to fall did not serve to dampen his resolution.</p> - -<p>There was no car in sight when he reached the corner—no car and no -waiting figure. One nearly always waited to the worn limits of one's -patience on this particular corner, as Mr. Everett already knew from -frequent experience. Traffic was light in this modest, detached suburb,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> -and the traveling public correspondingly meek and long-suffering. But -occasionally one did "catch" a car, despite the infrequency of the -phenomenon. If Jane had gone—actually gone away into the great, wide, -cruel world, how could he ever find her? And not to find Jane meant an -aching desolation of spirit which already gripped him by the throat and -forced the salt drops to his eyes.</p> - -<p>"I <i>will</i> find her!" said John Everett to himself; and then, all at -once, he found her.</p> - -<p>She was standing under the sparse shelter of a newly leaved tree, her -eyes shining big and tearless in the cold, white light of the shuddering -arc-light.</p> - -<p>"Jane!" cried John Everett. "Thank God I have found you, Jane!"</p> - -<p>The girl looked up at him quietly. She did not reply; but the sight of -his agitated face seemed to stir some frozen current of life within her. -She sighed; then colored painfully over all her fair face. "She has told -you," she said, "and you——"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span></p><p>"I love you, Jane," he said impetuously. "I want you to be my wife. O -Jane dear, dear girl, don't turn away from me!"</p> - -<p>"The car is coming," she said faintly. "You must not—oh, good-by, -good-by!"</p> - -<p>The brightly lighted car groaned and squeaked painfully to a standstill, -and he helped her to mount the high step.</p> - -<p>"Good-by," she murmured again; but when she looked up he was still at -her side, feeling mechanically in his pocket for fares. "You must not go -with me," she said firmly. "People will see you, and—and—I should -prefer to be alone."</p> - -<p>John Everett set his square American jaw. "I am sorry," he said briefly, -"but I am going to see you to a place of safety somewhere. And -to-morrow——"</p> - -<p>"I do not need you," she said pointedly. "I am going to my friend, Miss -Forbes, in New York."</p> - -<p>"Very well," he agreed, "I will see you to your friend's house."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span></p><p>She did not once look at him till they had found places in a secluded -corner on the ferryboat deck. Then she spoke again.</p> - -<p>"I wish," she said gently, "that you would leave me."</p> - -<p>John Everett looked down at her. "Jane," he said abruptly, "are you -already married?"</p> - -<p>"Why—why, no," she stammered. "Of course not!"</p> - -<p>"Do you love another man?"</p> - -<p>"No. But"—haughtily—"you have no right to ask me."</p> - -<p>"I beg your pardon, Jane, but I have. Remember that I have asked you to -be my wife."</p> - -<p>"I am," said Jane, coldly and incisively, "a perfect stranger to you. At -present I am a disgraced servant, leaving my place because I am accused -of being—<i>a thief</i>."</p> - -<p>"Jane, look at me!"</p> - -<p>She obeyed him proudly.</p> - -<p>"You are the woman I love, dear. I have loved you ever since I saw you -that first day. I shall never love anyone else in the whole<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> world. Oh, -my poor darling, <i>don't</i> turn away from me; <i>try</i> to love me a little!"</p> - -<p>In point of fact, Jane did not offer to turn away from him. Her bruised -and lonely heart was filled with sweetest joy and light. And the proud -little face uplifted to his was transfigured with the light that never -shone on sea or land.</p> - -<p>"Won't you try, dear?" he repeated, bending toward her.</p> - -<p>"I can never forget," she said slowly, "that you loved me—when—" her -tender voice broke piteously—"when all the world despised me."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> - -<p>John Everett may, or may not, have been excusable for neglecting to -inform Jane Blythe of a matter which nearly concerned her, and which had -occupied his own attention for an hour or more that very day. The firm -of lawyers with whom he was associated—Messrs. Longstreet and Biddle, -to be exact—had received by the morning's post a letter from certain -London solicitors instructing them to advertise for, and otherwise -endeavor to locate the whereabouts of one Jane Evelyn Aubrey-Blythe, who -was known to have left England for America on or about April 6th of the -current year. Information regarding this person, who was otherwise -described as being young and of pleasing appearance and address, would -be thankfully received by Messrs. Thorn, Nagle & Noyes, attorneys and -counselors-at-law.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span></p><p>In pursuance of this desired end, John Everett had been deputed to -frame a suitable inquiry to be inserted in the public prints, and the -leading New York, Brooklyn, and Jersey City papers were presumably at -that moment setting the type for said notices. Just why Mrs. Belknap had -neglected to inform her brother of what she had been pleased to term -Jane's romantic but imaginary appellation, she could not afterwards -recall.</p> - -<p>It was Bertha Forbes who finally brought John Everett's soaring thoughts -to earth again, when he presented himself at her lodgings as the escort -of Jane on that memorable rainy evening in May. Miss Forbes was -officially crisp and cogent in her manner at first; but thawed -perceptibly when the two took her wholly into their confidence.</p> - -<p>Jane had appeared quite unmoved by the news of the legal inquiry which -concerned itself so particularly with her person.</p> - -<p>"It will be Uncle Robert," she said calmly. "I suppose he has been -frightfully annoyed at my disappearance—and Aunt Agatha, too.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> But," -she added, with a fleeting glance at her lover, "I'm glad I ran away."</p> - -<p>"So am I!" echoed John Everett fervently.</p> - -<p>Bertha Forbes caught herself smiling. "Such foolish escapades frequently -turn out quite otherwise," she said severely. "The question—now that -this young person has been 'found,' so to speak—is what do Messrs. -Thorn, Nagle & Noyes want with her?"</p> - -<p>"They wish me to return to England—to Aunt Agatha," Jane was positive.</p> - -<p>"You'll not go, Jane," whispered John Everett.</p> - -<p>Bertha Forbes caught the whisper. "She may be obliged to go," she said -curtly. "You must leave her for the present, young man, in my care. -Communicate with your London lawyers and find out the particulars. Your -plans for Jane's future are so extremely recent that they will bear -deferring a bit, I fancy."</p> - -<p>When John Everett went away at last, after bidding his sweetheart good -night under the coldly impersonal eyes of Miss Forbes, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> walked on -air. And for exactly six days thereafter he was the happiest man on -earth. On the seventh day arrived a cablegram from Messrs. Thorn, Nagle -& Noyes, which read as follows: "Return Aubrey-Blythe next steamer. Sole -heir to uncle's estate."</p> - -<p>Jane shook her head when she heard this.</p> - -<p>"Impossible," she said at first. "I have no uncle except Uncle Robert." -Later she recalled the dim memory of a younger brother, one Foxhall -Aubrey-Blythe, a wild scapegrace of a fellow, who had been bred to the -army, sent to South Africa in the Zulu wars, and lost sight of by his -family. "It was thought," she said soberly, "that he was killed, though -his death was never reported in the despatches. He was officially -starred and labeled 'missing'."</p> - -<p>"He has evidently turned up again," said John Everett gloomily. "That is -to say, he has been heard of again as rich and dead; and you are his -heiress."</p> - -<p>"It may not be much," said Jane Blythe thoughtfully. "I suppose," she -added, "that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> I must go back to England. But I shall not stay there."</p> - -<p>Then she looked at John Everett. He was staring sternly at the toe of -his boot, a most unhappy expression clouding his handsome face. -"You—don't like it—John?" she faltered, with an adorable little quaver -in her clear voice.</p> - -<p>He avoided her eyes. "I—ought not to have spoken to you as I did that -night," he said at last. "Jane, I don't know what you will think of me. -I—knew that the inquiry had been set on foot when I rushed out after -you. I meant to have told you—<i>that</i>. But when I saw you—" He paused -to groan aloud, then went on hurriedly: "I forgot all about that -confounded letter from Thorn, Nagle & Noyes; I forgot everything except -that I had found you. I was so sorry for you, dear, and so angry with my -sister, and—well, I've come to the conclusion that I made a confounded -fool of myself, Jane. Can you—can you forgive me?"</p> - -<p>Jane's happy face had paled during this <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span>halting monologue. "I'm afraid -I don't—understand," she said in a low voice. "Do you—mean that you -are sorry you—told me——"</p> - -<p>"I ought to have waited," he said doggedly.</p> - -<p>"And if you had—waited?" she asked breathlessly.</p> - -<p>He raised his unhappy eyes to hers. "If you had gone back to England -free and rich you would have been glad to forget America and all your -unhappy experiences here; wouldn't you, Jane? Why, when I think that I -have actually sat still and allowed you to hand me my coffee of a -morning I—I hate myself!"</p> - -<p>"I hope," said English Jane tranquilly, "that I shall be allowed to hand -you your coffee a great many mornings. Every morning, in fact, after -we—." A great wave of lovely color rolled gloriously over her fair -face. "O John!" she whispered, "didn't you mean it when you told me that -you loved me?"</p> - -<p>"Didn't I <i>mean</i> it?" he echoed. "Well, I should say I did!" And he -looked it, to her complete satisfaction. "But——"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span></p><p>"You loved me when all the world despised me," murmured Jane. "I shall -never forget that. Besides," she added shyly, "I—love you, and it would -break my heart to——"</p> - -<p>"Darling!" exclaimed John Everett. "Then we'll be married to-morrow. For -to tell you the truth, Jane, I'm downright afraid to let you go back to -England alone."</p> - -<p>Of course this ridiculously hasty decision of John Everett's had to be -severely modified and reconstructed by the various ladies nearly -concerned in the case. Bertha Forbes, for one, immediately took a hand -in the affair and pooh-poohed the notion of such unseemly haste.</p> - -<p>"What do you know about this young man, anyhow, that you should be -willing to marry him out of hand in this mad fashion?" she demanded with -decided acrimony.</p> - -<p>"I love him," Jane replied, with stubborn tranquillity. "I shall never -love anyone else," she added confidently.</p> - -<p>"What about Mr. Towle?" inquired Bertha coolly.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span></p><p>"Mr. Towle!" echoed Jane, with an air of extreme surprise. "What, pray, -has Mr. Towle to do with it?"</p> - -<p>"Isn't he a lover of yours?"</p> - -<p>"I'm sure I can't help <i>that</i>," pouted Jane, with a shrug of her slim -shoulders. "He is ages older than I am, and besides——"</p> - -<p>"Well," grunted Miss Forbes, "go on; what other crimes has he -committed?"</p> - -<p>"Of course he can't help being bald, poor man. But, Bertha, he came to -see me one day at Mrs. Belknap's; I can never forgive him for that. -Fancy his waiting in the kitchen, and being sent away—like a—like a -butcher's boy! But that wasn't enough, even; he came back and persisted -in talking to me on the kitchen porch. Do you know if it hadn't been for -Buster interrupting, just as he did, I actually believe I should -have—that is, I <i>might</i> have—and only think, Bertha, how <i>horrible</i> -that would have been! No; he shouldn't have come. I shall always think -so."</p> - -<p>Miss Forbes stared meditatively at the girl<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> for a long minute; then she -burst into what Jane was disposed to regard as unreasoning laughter of -the variety which was once sapiently characterized as "the crackling of -thorns under a pot."</p> - -<p>"I can't see," observed Jane, very grave and dignified, "why you should -laugh. There was nothing to laugh about in what I said."</p> - -<p>Miss Forbes instantly grew sober. "Heaven forfend that you should ever -see, my dear child," she observed in a grandmotherly tone, "and far be -it from me to attempt an explanation! Suppose we talk about clothes, -instead. And—how will you ever go to work to metamorphose that late -imperious mistress of yours into a fond sister-in-law?"</p> - -<p>But Mrs. Belknap came to the front full of tears and handsome apologies -and congratulations, all mixed up with embarrassed blushes and smiles, -and wouldn't dear Jane forgive her, and in token thereof be married from -her house?</p> - -<p>Jane was inclined to be a trifle stiff with her prospective -sister-in-law at first. Recent <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span>memories were far too poignant to admit -of the new relationship with real cordiality. But she relented -perceptibly when Master Belknap flung himself upon her with glad cries -of joy.</p> - -<p>"I yuve my Jane!" he cooed confidentially. "I'm doin' to div' oo my -fwannel el'phunt an'—an' my wed bwocks, if 'oo won't cwi any more, -Jane."</p> - -<p>"You must call her Aunt Jane now, Buster," observed his uncle, who was -watching the scene with an air of proud proprietorship.</p> - -<p>"I yuve my Aunt Jane," amended the infant docilely. Then, eyeing his -male relative with a searching gaze, "Have you dot any choc'late dwops, -Uncle Jack?"</p> - -<p>Jane laughed outright at this.</p> - -<p>"You'll come; won't you, dear Jane?" pleaded Mrs. Belknap, seizing the -auspicious moment.</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid Mary MacGrotty would——"</p> - -<p>"She's gone, thank Heaven!" exclaimed Mrs. Belknap with a shudder. "I -haven't a soul in the house."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span></p><p>"And I can't cook, you know," murmured Jane teasingly, as she hid her -blushing face on the infant's small shoulders.</p> - -<p>"Don't rub it in, Jane," advised Mr. Belknap urgently. "We'll have a -caterer and everything shipshape. Later, though, when you're back from -England you'll do well to let Madge here give you some cooking lessons. -Buster and I would have starved to death long ago if we hadn't been able -to keep our cook; wouldn't we, old fellow?" And he tossed his son and -heir high above his head amid a burst of infant exuberance.</p> - -<p>And so it was finally settled. The excellent Bertha Forbes handed over -her official duties to an underling for a whole week, while she shopped -and sewed and fetched and carried for Jane with an untiring devotion, -which earned that small person's lasting gratitude and friendship. On -the day of the simple home wedding Miss Forbes stood up, tall and -grenadier-like, bearing the bride's bouquet, with so uncompromising an -air and manner that Master Belknap<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> actually desisted from three several -pieces of mischief while he gazed solemnly at her with large, round -eyes.</p> - -<p>When the last flutter of pearl-gray veil and white handkerchief had -faded from view on the deck of the retreating steamer, Miss Forbes wiped -her eyes openly. "I'm glad she's gone," she said sternly. "She ought -never to have come."</p> - -<p>"If Miss Jane Aubrey-Blythe had not entered this port with five thousand -dollars of lace upon her person, she would not now be leaving it under -such happy auspices," observed Mr. Belknap mildly. "And that, Miss -Forbes, would be on the whole, a regrettable circumstance; don't you -agree with me?"</p> - -<p>"Hum!" said Bertha Forbes, rather shamefacedly, "I bought in some of -that very lace at a customhouse sale. It was that which trimmed her -wedding dress. I thought"—firmly—"that it was no more than right."</p> - -<p>Mr. Belknap cast an admiring glance at the lady. "Miss Forbes," he said -feelingly, "your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> sense of poetic justice does you credit; it does -indeed. I hope we shall see a lot of you in the future. Our house on -Staten Island is always open to you."</p> - -<p>"Thanks," said Bertha Forbes gruffly. But she shook hands with right -manly heartiness when she took leave of the little party on the dock, -and she actually kissed the infant, while depositing an unwholesomely -large box of confectionery in the pocket of his coat. "It is a shame to -call this child <i>Buster</i>," said Miss Forbes. "I detest the name myself; -think it exerts a positively demoralizing influence on the character. -<i>I</i> shall call him Everett in future."</p> - -<p>And she did so on the numerous pleasant occasions when she visited the -Belknap family.</p> - -<p>As for Master Everett, thus happily restored to his rightful -appellation, he actually came to adore Miss Forbes, and called her his -"dear old Berfa," to her immense delight and satisfaction.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> - -<p>One morning two weeks later as Lady Agatha Aubrey-Blythe, her daughter -Gwendolen, and her two sons Percy and Cecil were gathered rather -aimlessly in Lady Agatha's private morning-room, "a lady" was announced, -as desirous of speaking with Lady Agatha.</p> - -<p>"Who is it, Susan?" asked Lady Agatha of the maid, who appeared all of a -tremble with some carefully suppressed excitement.</p> - -<p>"Oh, my lady, it's Miss Jane Evelyn as ever was!" declared Susan, -beaming with doubtful delight.</p> - -<p>"<i>It's Jane!</i>" exclaimed the group in concert.</p> - -<p>"Show her up at once, Susan," said Lady Agatha, with a graciousness -which allayed poor Susan's fears. "Children," she added, turning to her -attentive offspring, "you must remember that our dear Jane is quite an -heiress now."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span></p><p>Gwendolen put up a haughty lip. "I don't want her here, even if she -is," she said disagreeably.</p> - -<p>"Of course you don't!" crowed Percy. "Jane's a beauty and you aren't!"</p> - -<p>"Percy—<i>my son</i>!" exclaimed Lady Agatha warningly, and swept forward to -greet the small, slight, bright-eyed person who entered the room -escorted by the broadly smiling Susan.</p> - -<p>"My <i>dear</i> Jane!" murmured Lady Agatha, enfolding the little figure in -her voluminous embrace. "How we <i>have</i> suffered since your cruel -desertion of us!"</p> - -<p>"I suppose it must have annoyed you, Aunt Agatha," said Jane sweetly. -"But it couldn't be helped, you see."</p> - -<p>Then she turned to the two boys, who had greeted her vociferously, and -to Gwendolen, who sulkily offered a cheek to be kissed.</p> - -<p>The girl's bright eyes were misty and she trembled a little as she -looked from one to the other. English sights and sounds and faces had -never seemed so delightful, yet she was no less<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> determined upon leaving -them all for the land of her adoption.</p> - -<p>"How much money did Uncle Foxhall leave me?" she asked, after the buzz -of greetings and questions had somewhat subsided.</p> - -<p>"Why, don't you know, my dear?" Lady Agatha exclaimed. "I thought the -solicitors would have told you before this. It is not a large sum; but -it will serve to alter your future materially. It is a trifle short of -twelve thousand pounds, I believe; but with <i>that</i> at your back I shall -be able to arrange a very suitable marriage for you, I am sure. In fact, -I have already mentioned quite an eligible <i>parti</i> to your uncle, a Mr. -Gildersleeve. He is a widower of excellent family, my dear Jane, and -<i>quite</i> suitable in every respect."</p> - -<p>"He's an old frump," put in Gwendolen, with a hateful little laugh, "but -I dare say he'll do for <i>Jane</i>."</p> - -<p>"My <i>dear</i> Gwendolen!" protested Lady Agatha. "Of course, now that you -can afford to dress in a manner becoming to your station,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> Jane, I shall -not mind taking you out with Gwendolen—at least, <i>occasionally</i>. By the -way, that is a very pretty frock you are wearing. Where did you get it, -my dear?"</p> - -<p>"This is an American gown," said Jane, drawing up her little figure with -a proud smile, "and this," she added tremulously, "is an -American—ring."</p> - -<p>"<i>What!—a wedding ring!</i> You are not <i>married already</i>?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Jane, with a blush that made her look handsomer than ever. -"My husband is waiting for me downstairs. I should like you to meet him, -Aunt Agatha, and you"—including the others with her smiling glance. "He -is an American," she finished, with a touch of hauteur which was not -lost on Lady Agatha, "and we sail for—home a week from to-day."</p> - -<p>Being doubly assured of this desirable <i>dénouement</i>, Lady Agatha -actually went to the length of giving a family dinner party in honor of -her niece by marriage, and to this dubious merry-making the Hon. -Wippingler Towle was bidden<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span> by the express commands of the master of -the house.</p> - -<p>"You've clean thrown away a good lump of money, Towle," grumbled Mr. -Aubrey-Blythe; "but perhaps it will afford you some satisfaction to look -at the hole."</p> - -<p>"I shall certainly be glad of the opportunity to meet—er—Mrs. Everett -once more," Mr. Towle said politely. "But I—er—don't quite follow you -in your remark about the money." His stern eyes actually threatened his -friend. "I am told that your niece has lately inherited a small legacy -by the bequest of—er—a deceased relative, which will, I trust, make -her quite comfortable and happy in her new home."</p> - -<p>"Damn it, Towle!" blustered Mr. Robert Aubrey-Blythe, in the language of -the hunting field; "I can't follow your lead, sir; I'd come a damned -cropper, if I tried."</p> - -<p>"Don't try, then," advised Mr. Towle curtly.</p> - -<p>Being duly presented to the bride and to the groom, who comported -himself on the happy occasion with an ease and composure which Lady<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> -Agatha Aubrey-Blythe later characterized as "brazen American boldness," -Mr. Towle shook hands with both, with such a singular and unpleasant -mist clouding his glass that he was immediately thereafter obliged to -resort to a vigorous and prolonged use of his large, scented cambric -handkerchief. And this circumstance spared him the knowledge of Jane's -smiling coldness of manner.</p> - -<p>Later in the evening Mr. Towle found himself unable to resist the -opportunity of a <i>tête-à-tête</i> which Gwendolen's half sneering, half -curious appropriation of the young American made possible. Jane was -seated upon a sofa engaged in a wholly hollow and perfunctory -conversation with Lady Agatha, when Mr. Towle tentatively approached. -Lady Agatha instantly made room for him with an air of undisguised -relief which brought a faint smile to Jane's lips.</p> - -<p>When she looked up to greet her late elderly suitor she was still -smiling, and the circumstance gave him courage to say, rather stiffly: -"I have not as yet—er—spoken with you upon the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span>subject of your -marriage, Mrs.—ah—Everett; I trust you will permit me to wish you all -happiness, and—er——"</p> - -<p>"Thank you, Mr. Towle," said Jane sweetly.</p> - -<p>She had already acquired, he reflected, the self-possessed air of the -young matron, and her clear eyes were gazing at him with a shade of -retrospection in their depths. She was thinking—and the man was -unhappily aware of the fact—"what if I had married you!"</p> - -<p>She sighed gently and stole a glance at her young husband, who was -smiling with open amusement at Gwendolen's clumsy attempts to make game -of him. "I fear," she said kindly, "that I was very rude to you the last -time I saw you. But I——"</p> - -<p>He waited for her to go on.</p> - -<p>"I was really very unhappy, and when one is unhappy——"</p> - -<p>Again she paused to glance at the young American whose handsome, -vigorous head stood out in bold relief against the crimson cushions of -his chair. "When one is unhappy it is difficult<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span> to—to be just to -others. I have talked it all over with my—with Mr. Everett since our -marriage, and he says you were a brick—<i>a brick</i>; yes, I am quite sure -that is what he called you; but it really means something very nice -and—square. You see words in America frequently mean something far -different from what one has always supposed; and I am learning as fast -as I can. But my husband says that I did not appreciate how awfully kind -it was of you to come to America just to look for me. You did come for -that; didn't you?"</p> - -<p>"I had," said Mr. Towle gravely, "no other motive in going to America."</p> - -<p>"Well, that being the case," Jane went on rapidly, "it wasn't a bit nice -of <i>me</i> to send you away without a word of explanation; now was it? But -this is the real, true reason; I don't mind telling it now." She paused -to smile happily to herself—"I caught a glimpse of Mr. Everett coming -up the street, and—and I thought it would be very awkward for you—for -him—to meet just then. I hope you are not too<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> horribly vexed with me?" -She smiled brilliantly upon him, with an obvious desire to be at peace -with all her little world.</p> - -<p>"Hum—ah," began Mr. Towle, eyeing the wistful little face which was -inclined toward his with a sternness born of his determination not to -make a fool of himself. "I—I beg to assure you, Mrs. Everett, that -I—er—quite understand, and I am not disposed to——"</p> - -<p>Jane's eyes drooped; so did the corners of her mouth. "I never seem able -to say the right thing at the right time," she said mournfully. "I see -that I have offended you again, and I only meant to tell you—to -apologize for——"</p> - -<p>"Jane," said Mr. Towle, in the deep, caressing tone which Jane had heard -only twice before from his lips, "I forgive you for—everything, and I -hope you will believe me when I tell you that I hope for nothing better -in life than to hear that all is going well with you, and that you -are—happy."</p> - -<p>"Thank you," said Jane softly. Her eyes beamed kindly upon him. "You are -very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span> good," she said; "I think I shall be even happier because you have -said this."</p> - -<p>And the Hon. Wipplinger Towle in his own peculiarly patient, middle-aged -fashion blessed her in his heart of hearts for that little word "even." -It was, in a way, one of those crumbs which sometimes fall from a rich -man's table, and as such he thankfully appropriated it as his own meager -share of the loaf which an unfriendly Fate had denied him.</p> - -<p class="center space-above">THE END</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span></p> - -<div class="box"> -<hr class="full" /> - -<h2>THE LEADING NOVEL OF TODAY.</h2> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p><b>The Fighting Chance.</b></p> - -<p>By <span class="smcap">Robert W. Chambers</span>. Illustrated by A. B. Wenzell. 12mo. Ornamental -Cloth, $1.50.</p> - -<p>In "The Fighting Chance" Mr. Chambers has taken for his hero, a young -fellow who has inherited with his wealth a craving for liquor. The -heroine has inherited a certain rebelliousness and dangerous caprice. -The two, meeting on the brink of ruin, fight out their battles, two -weaknesses joined with love to make a strength. It is refreshing to find -a story about the rich in which all the women are not sawdust at heart, -nor all the men satyrs. The rich have their longings, their ideals, -their regrets, as well as the poor; they have their struggles and -inherited evils to combat. It is a big subject, painted with a big brush -and a big heart.</p> - -<blockquote><p>"After 'The House of Mirth' a New York society novel has to be very -good not to suffer fearfully by comparison. 'The Fighting Chance' -is very good and it does not suffer."—<i>Cleveland Plain Dealer.</i></p> - -<p>"There is no more adorable person in recent fiction than Sylvia -Landis."—<i>New York Evening Sun.</i></p> - -<p>"Drawn with a master hand."—<i>Toledo Blade.</i></p> - -<p>"An absorbing tale which claims the reader's interest to the -end."—<i>Detroit Free Press.</i></p> - -<p>"Mr. Chambers has written many brilliant stories, but this is his -masterpiece."—<i>Pittsburg Chronicle Telegraph.</i></p></blockquote> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="center">D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.</p> - -<hr class="full" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span></p> - -<div class="box"> -<hr class="full" /> - -<h2>A MASTERPIECE OF FICTION.</h2> - -<p><b>The Guarded Flame.</b></p> - -<p>By <span class="smcap">W. B. Maxwell</span>, Author of "Vivien." Cloth, $1.50.</p> - -<p>"'The Guarded Flame,' by W. B. 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'The Guarded Flame' is an even more astonishing production, -a big book that takes rank with the most important fiction of the year. -It is not a book for those who read to be amused or to be entertained. -It touches the deepest issues of life and death."—<i>Albany Argus.</i></p> - -<blockquote><p>"The most powerfully written book of the year."—<i>The Independent.</i></p> - -<p>"'The Guarded Flame' is receiving high praise from the critics -everywhere."—<i>Chicago Record-Herald.</i></p> - -<p>"This is a book which cannot fail to make its mark."—<i>Detroit News.</i></p> - -<p>"Great novels are few and the appearance of one at any period must give -the early reviewer a thrill of discovery. Such a one has come -unheralded; but from a source whence it might have been confidently -expected. The author is W. B. Maxwell, son of the voluminous novelist -known to the world as Miss Braddon. His novel is entitled 'The Guarded -Flame.'"—<i>Philadelphia Press.</i></p> - -<p>"The books of W. B. Maxwell are essentially for thinkers."—<i>St. Louis -Post-Dispatch.</i></p></blockquote> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="center">D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.</p> - -<hr class="full" /></div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Truthful Jane, by Florance Morse Kingsley - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRUTHFUL JANE *** - -***** This file should be named 52447-h.htm or 52447-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/4/4/52447/ - -Produced by David Edwards, Martin Pettit and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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