An Oregon Girl Part 25

suggested Rutley, with a smile. "Perhaps it is a case of heart failure."

"Nonsense!"

"James!" quickly retorted Mrs. Harris, with asperity.

Mr. Harris looked meaningly at her, then turned to Rutley. "I beg Your Lords.h.i.+p's pardon. I did not mean to ridicule your suggestion. At the time I used the word 'nonsense' I was thinking of the fact, the one of love," replied Mr. Harris.

"James! I never thought when I plighted my love to you it was nonsense!" and Mrs. Harris brushed a handkerchief across her eyes.

"There, there, dear heart!" and Mr. Harris stepped to her side, tenderly turned her face upward and kissed her lips. "That day was the happiest of my life, though I have been happy ever since."

"Heart of gold!" exclaimed Mrs. Harris, smiling through her tears.

"And I have never wished I had turned from that altar of our happy union."

"I perceive the cause of Sam's worry now, dear," and the irrepressible Mr. Harris turned to Rutley, "You see, My Lord, it is this way, a lovely young lady guest--since Mr. Corway's strange disappearance--is an inadvertent companion of our Sam, and his troubles were brought on by the sly darts of a little fellow with wings."

"Wrong again!" a.s.serted Mrs. Harris. "James, let me a.s.sure you in all candor that Hazel Brooke is not the lady our Sam is worrying about, as the fair democrat can testify."

Just then Hazel entered the room, a poem of grace; a rose glow overspread her soft cheeks, while her eyes sparkled with health and vivacity.

Rutley's eyes at once betrayed his admiration.

The girl was quick to notice it and immediately evinced her pleasure by advancing straight to his side.

"Good morning, My Lord. When I plucked this beauty," displaying a slender stemmed white chrysanthemum which was held between her fingers, "I instinctively felt that it was to adorn the breast of a distinguished friend, and now see where it flies for rest," and she smilingly fastened the flower to the lapel of his coat.

"I shall proudly treasure it, for without doubt its chrysalis chast.i.ty is jealous of its human rival, hence the parting of the two flowers.

Is it not so?" questioned Rutley, with the most winsome, yet grave smile he could fas.h.i.+on.

"Hazel--the Lady Beauchamp, sounds quite recherche," Mrs. Harris whispered to Mr. Harris.

"Looks as if it might be a go," he responded in like tones.

"It is white and pretty," Hazel murmured, casting a demure glance at her own faultlessly white dress and then naively remarked, while a serious question stole over her countenance:

"I have just come from the water front, where I have been watching the men drag for poor little Dorothy."

"Poor child! So sad to be drowned!" said Mrs. Harris, in a reflective mood.

"Or stolen!" exclaimed Mr. Harris. "I shall not give up hope until that old cripple is located."

Only Hazel noticed the swift glance Rutley shot at Mr. Harris, but she gave it no significance.

"Poor fellow, he feels the loss of his child very deeply," continued Mr. Harris. "Yesterday Thorpe was in one of the boats for three hours.

My Lord may see them dragging the river from the piazza." Whereupon Mr. Harris and Rutley went out on the piazza, leaving Mrs. Harris and Hazel by themselves.

"Hazel, dear," spoke Mrs. Harris softly and confidentially, "there is a lady's tiara awaiting you, if my judgment is not faulty."

"He seems to be a nice sort of man," replied the girl.

"A nice sort of man!" remarked Mrs. Harris, astonished. "Why, Hazel!

He is one of the n.o.bility. Superior, distinguished! Do you note his condescending air? It is hereditary, my dear. Conscious of being above us, yet every look and move indicates a study to make a descent to our level."

"Notwithstanding--I think--well--I prefer Joe!" demurely insisted the maid. "He is not quite so polished, but--I like him better, anyway."

"What! A commoner to a lord? A straw hat to a lady's tiara? Why, Hazel!"

"That is my choice," replied the girl, quietly but firmly.

Hazel's calm dignity irritated Mrs. Harris, and she remarked with a puzzled expression of countenance, "Dear me! I never could understand the fountain of your democratic ideas, Hazel; and the enigma is deeper to me now than ever."

Hazel's reply, muttered with the same quiet dignity, was as puzzling to Mrs. Harris as ever. "I am an American, and I love our country too well to leave it for some foreign land."

Further conversation was cut short by Mr. Harris, who addressed Hazel.

"Did you notice John Thorpe in one of the boats, Hazel?"

"I think so; they were too far away to say positively," replied the girl.

"Well, here comes Sam, and--and--yes, it's Virginia Thorpe!" exclaimed Mr. Harris exultantly turning to Mrs. Harris.

"Did I not say it was possible he had met with a friend? Look how proud and joyous he seems walking by her side. No kink in his knee now. Sound as a bell."

"James, I beg again to correct you. Sam is not lame. His malady has something to do with the charming lady by his side," remarked Mrs.

Harris.

"Oh, I see. She has a pull on him, eh?"

"Yes, a most strenuous one, I may add, as you mere merchants speak of it."

When Sam entered the room, he was greeted by Mr. and Mrs. Harris with much fervor.

Sam had removed his hat in the vestibule and unconsciously displayed the evidence of his night's encounter with the automobile. The sight of the plastered wound on his head caused Mrs. Harris to exclaim:

"Oh, my boy, my boy!" and she put her motherly arms about his neck.

"All right, aunty!" said Sam, as he lightly kissed her on the forehead. "Never felt better. Just a scratch. Might have been worse.

Eh? I guess so!" and he held her at arms' length and grinned at her affectionately.

"Where is Virginia? I am sure we saw her with you, Sam!" questioned Mr. Harris.

"She wouldn't come in, uncle. Gone on down to the sh.o.r.e. She expressed a wish to find you there."

"Oh!" exclaimed Mr. Harris, with alacrity. "I shan't disappoint her.

Splendid young lady. Brainy, good-looking, very fetching, eh, Sam?"

and so saying, he turned, bowed to Rutley and left the room.

"I am thankful you were not killed, and think how much we owe his lords.h.i.+p for having so promptly brought you home," continued Mrs.

Harris.