Part 7 (1/2)

”Oh, I always forget.”

”Your servant, ma'am.” Geoffrey bowed.

”Oh,”--Lady Waverton turned on her elbow. ”Colonel Boyce--Mrs. Weston, Alison's companion. Faith, duenna, I think.”

”Your most obedient, ma'am.” Colonel Boyce bowed low.

Mrs. Weston stared at him, seemed to try to speak, said nothing, and hurried across the room.

”Alison, dear, are you ready?” her voice sounded hoa.r.s.e.

”Am I ever ready?” Alison laughed. ”Weston, dear, we are finding friends here;” she pointed to Harry.

Colonel Boyce had followed. He laid his hand on Harry's shoulder: ”My son, ma'am,” said he.

Mrs. Weston's eyes grew wide, and her face was white and drawn, and she swayed. As Harry bowed to her, a lacquered box was swept off the table with a great clatter, and Colonel Boyce cried, ”Odds life, Harry, you are a clumsy fellow. Here, man, here,” and made a great commotion over picking it up.

Alison had her arm about Mrs. Weston: ”Why, Weston, dear, what is it? Are you seeing a ghost?” She laughed. ”Pray, Mr. Boyce, come to life.”

”I ask pardon, ma'am.” Harry rose with the box.

”'Bid me to live and I will live,'” said the Colonel, with a grand air.

”Come away, dear, come,” Mrs. Weston gasped, in much agitation.

”Why, Weston, he is not our highwayman, you know,” Alison was still laughing, and then seeing her distress real, took it in earnest. ”You are shaken, poor thing. Come!” She mothered the woman away and, turning, called over her shoulder--

”_Revanche_, Mr. Boyce.” There was an explanation to Lady Waverton: poor Weston had been so alarmed by the highwaymen that she was not fit to be out of her bed, and anything alarmed her; even Mr. Boyce; so dear Lady Waverton must forgive them. And Geoffrey took them to their carriage.

”What a person!” said Lady Waverton.

Mr. Hadley came out of his corner and looked Harry up and down with dislike. ”Let me know when you play the next act, Mr. Boyce,” he said, and turned to Lady Waverton. ”My lady, I beg leave to go with my friends.”

CHAPTER IV

A GENTLEMAN'S PURSE

In a small, bare room Colonel Boyce sat himself down on a pallet bed and made a wry face at his son. ”My poor, dear boy,” he said, and s.h.i.+fted uneasily, and looked round at the stained walls and s.h.i.+vered. ”It's damp, I vow it's damp,” he complained.

”Oh yes. It's damp after rain, and it's hot after sun, and it's icy after frost. It's a very sympathetic room,” said Harry.

”They are barbarians, these Wavertons. I vow they give their horses better lodging.”

”Oh yes. I am not worth so much as a horse,” said Harry.

”Lud, Harry, don't whine,”--his father was irritated. ”Have some spirit.

I hate to hear a lad meek.”