The Vagrant Duke Part 49

"Three thousand dollars. I've already paid off three hundred."

"There ought to be enough for that," said Peter soberly.

"Oh, Mr. Nichols. I hope you don't think I'm an awful fool talkin' this way."

"Not unless you think _I_ am."

"But it _is_ nice to dream of things sometimes."

"Yes. I do that too. What do you dream of, Beth?"

"Oh, of bein' a great singer, mostly--standin' on a stage with people lookin' up and clappin' their hands at me."

"What else?"

"Oh," she laughed gayly, "I used to dream of marryin' a prince--all girls do. But there ain't any princes now to marry."

"No, that's true," he a.s.sented. "The old world hasn't any use for princes now." And then, "But why did you want to marry a prince?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't know. It's just fairy tales. Haven't you ever lived in a fairy tale and loved a princess?"

"Yes, I've lived in a fairy tale, but I've never loved a princess."

"I guess if everybody knew," said Beth with conviction, "the princes in Europe are a pretty bad lot."

"Yes," said Peter slowly, "I guess they are."

She paused a moment, looking into the fire. And then, "Were you ever acquainted with any princes in Europe, Mr. Nichols?"

Peter smiled. "Yes, Beth. I did know one prince rather intimately--rather too intimately."

"Oh. You didn't like him?"

"No, not much. He was an awful rotter. The worst of it was that he had good instincts and when he went wrong, he went wrong in spite of 'em.

You see--he was temperamental."

"What's temperamental?"

"Having the devil and G.o.d in you both at the same time," muttered Peter after a moment.

"I know," she said. "Satan and G.o.d, with G.o.d just sittin' back a little to see how far Satan will go."

He smiled at her. "You don't mean that you have temptations too, Beth?"

She ignored his question, her face sober, and went back to her subject.

"I guess your prince wasn't any better or any worse than a lot of other people. Maybe he didn't give G.o.d a chance?"

"No. Maybe not," said Peter.

"It seems to me he must have been kind of human, somehow," Beth commented reflectively. "What's become of him now?" she asked, then.

"Oh, he's out of it," replied Peter.

"Dead?"

"Yes. His country has chucked all the n.o.bility out on the dust heap."

"Russia?"

"Yes."

"Did they kill him?"

"They tried to, but couldn't."

"Where is he now?"

"A wanderer on the face of the earth."

"I'm so sorry. It must be terrible to have to eat pork and beans when your stomach's only used to chocolate sundaes."

Peter grinned.

"Some of 'em were glad enough to get off with stomachs to put beans and pork into. Oh, you needn't waste your pity, Beth."

"I don't. I read the papers. I guess they got what they deserved. The workin' people in the world ain't any too keen on buyin' any more diamond tiaras for loafers. I reckon it was about time for a new deal all around without the face cards."

"Perhaps, Beth. But there's always the ten spot to take the deuce."

"I hadn't thought of that," said Beth reflectively. "People aren't really equal--are they? Some apples _are_ better than others. I guess,"

she sighed, "that the real trouble with the world is because there ain't enough friends.h.i.+p in it."

Peter was silent for a moment.

"Yes, that's true," he said, "not enough friends.h.i.+p--not enough love.

And it's all on account of money, Beth. There wouldn't have been any European war if some people hadn't wanted property that belonged to somebody else."

"I hope wanting this money won't make me hate anybody or make anybody hate me. I don't want to make Mr. McGuire unhappy or Miss McGuire----"

"You needn't worry," said Peter dryly. "You see, it's your money."

Beth gave a deep sigh.

"I can't help it. I _would_ like to have a sport coat and a _cerise_ veil like Peggy wears."

"You shall have 'em. What else?"