Part 27 (1/2)

”Bless you, dear!” he said, and stroked her hand with tender fingers.

”It is sweet to hear you say so, at least. I'm glad you are going to be happy, and if I am to give you away at all, I am glad it is to a strong, sensible man whom I can trust and respect; but it will be a sad day for me when you leave the old home, Margot.”

Margot purred over him with tenderest affection.

”How I wish Agnes would marry!”

”What has that to do with it, pray?”

”Then you could live with me, of course! I should love it,” said Margot warmly; and though her father had no intention of accepting such an invitation, it remained through life a solace to him to remember that it had been in the girl's heart to wish it.

Next morning at twelve o'clock a daintily attired damsel ascended a dusty staircase in Fleet Street and desired to see the Editor in his den. The dragon who guarded the fastness inquired of her if she had an appointment, and, unsoftened by the charm of her appearance, volunteered the information that Mr Elgood would see no stray callers.

”He will see _me_!” returned Margot arrogantly; and she was right, for, to the surprise of the messenger, the sight of the little printed card was followed by an order to ”Show the lady in at once.”

A moment later Margot made her first entrance into an Editor's den, and round the corner of a big desk caught a glimpse of a decorous, black- coated figure whom at first sight it was difficult to a.s.sociate with the light-hearted Chieftain of Glenaire. As they confronted each other, however, the round face twinkled into a smile, which served as fuel to the girl's indignation. She stopped short, ostentatiously disregarding the outstretched hand, drew her brows together, and proclaimed haughtily--

”I have come to let you know that you are found out. I know all about it now. You have been laughing at me all the time?”

”Well,--very nearly!” he a.s.sented smilingly. ”You are such a nice little girl to laugh at, you see, and it was an uncommonly good joke!

Do you remember the day when you confided to me solemnly that you had journeyed to Scotland on purpose to stalk me, and run me to earth?

You'd have been a bit embarra.s.sed if I'd told you the truth then and there, wouldn't you now? And besides--I see quite enough of literary aspirants all the year round. It was a bit hard to be hunted down on one's holidays. I felt bound to prevaricate, for the sake of my own peace. Then again there was George! Where would George have come in?

If I had confessed my ident.i.ty, should I have been kept awake, as I was last night, listening to his rhapsodies by the hour together? By the way, we are going to be near relatives. Don't you want to shake hands?”