Part 25 (1/2)

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!