Miss Million's Maid Part 28

Oh! Why is life like this? Long dull stretches of nothing at all happening for years and years. Then, quite suddenly, "a crowded hour"

of--No! Not "glorious life" exactly. But one disturbing thing happening on the top of another, until----

"Ppppring!"

Ah, the telephone again. Perhaps this is some news. The cobra-lady may have heard where Miss Million went.... "Yes?"

It wasn't the cobra-lady.

It was the rich, untrustworthy accent of the Honourable James Burke.

Ah! At last! At last! Now, I thought, I should hear something; some hint of Miss Million's whereabouts.

"Yes?" I called eagerly.

"Yes! I know who that is," called the voice--how different, now that I heard it again, from that of the Mr. J. Burke I rang up earlier, by mistake. "That's the pearl of all ladies'-maids, isn't it? Good morning, Miss Lovelace-Smith!"

"Good morning, Mr. Burke," I called back grudgingly. Aggravating young man! How was I to find out what I wanted to know without possibly giving my mistress away?

Perhaps he had been sent to ring me up to bring Miss Million's things to--wherever the party of them were. I began: "Can I do anything for you--sir?"

"Certainly. Call me that again!"

"What?" snappishly.

"Call me 'sir' again, just like that," pleaded the Honourable and Exasperating Jim. "I never heard any pet name sound so pretty!"

I shook my head furiously at the receiver.

Teasing me like this, when I was deadly serious, and so anxious to get sense out of him for once! Tormenting me from "under cover" of a telephone that didn't allow me to see his face or to know where he was.

I said angrily: "Where are you speaking from?"

"I've paid--I mean I've had to get a trunk-call for these few minutes, so don't let them be spent in squabbling, child," said Mr. Burke sweetly. "I'm in Brighton."

"Brighton----"

Ah! They were all down there probably. That was it! He'd whisked them away on his coach--on Leo Rosencranz's coach--just as he'd said he would! At last I'd know----

"Brighton's looking fine this morning," took up the easy, teasing voice.

"Let me take you down here for a glimpse of the waves and the downs on your next afternoon out, Miss Maid. Say you will? You've no engagement?"

I began, quite savagely: "Yes, I've----"

"Mr. Brace!" announced one of the chocolate-liveried page-boys at the door.

Quickly I turned. And in my silly flurry I was idiotic enough to hang up the receiver again!

Horrors!

That's done it! I've rung off before I've been able to ask that villain, the Honourable Jim, where I am to ring him up, or ring any of them up, in Brighton!

They may be anywhere there! I've missed my chance of getting them!

Yes; that's done it....

Meanwhile here's this young man who proposed to me on the top of the 'bus last night coming in for his answer!

In he came, looking rather tense and nervous.

But after all my adventures of this morning what a relief it was to me to see a friend; a man who wasn't a suspicious waiter or an attendant who stared, or a teasing incorrigible who exasperated me from the other side of a telephone!

I don't think I've ever been so glad to see anybody as I was to see Mr.

Brace again!

I said "Good morning" most welcomingly. And then I was sorry.

For he caught me by both hands and looked down into my face, while his own lighted up into the most indescribable joy.

"Beatrice!" he exclaimed. "It's 'Yes,' then? Oh, my dar----"

"Oh, please don't, please don't!" I besought him, s.n.a.t.c.hing my hands away in sudden horror. "I didn't mean that. It isn't 'Yes'----" He took a step back, and all the light went out of his face.

Very quietly he said: "It's 'No'?"

I hate being "rushed." It seems to me everybody tries to rush me. I hate having to give answers on the spur of the moment!

I said: "I don't know what it is! I haven't been thinking about what you said!"

That seemed rather an ungracious thing to say to a man who had just offered one the devotion of his whole life. So I added what was the honest truth: "I haven't had time to think about it!"

A scowl came over Mr. Brace's fair face. He said in tones of real indignation: "You're as pale as a little ghost this morning. You've been working too hard. You've been running yourself off your feet for that wretched little--for that mistress of yours!"

So true, in one way!

"It's got to stop," said Mr. Reginald Brace firmly. "I won't have you slaving like this. I'm going to take you away out of it all. I'm going to tell Miss Million so now."

"You can't," I said hastily.

"Why? Isn't she up?" (disgustedly).

"Y--yes, I think so. I mean yes, of course. Only just now she's out."

"When will she be in, Miss Lovelace?"

"I don't know in the very least," I said with perfect truth. "I haven't the slightest idea." But I realised that I had better keep any further details of my mistress's absence to myself.

"There you are, you see. She treats you abominably. A girl like you!"

declared the young bank manager wrathfully. "Works you to death, and then goes off to enjoy herself, without even letting you know how long you may expect to have to yourself! Shameful! But, look here, Miss Lovelace, you must leave her. You must marry me. I tell you----"