Part 23 (1/2)

There was actually a suspicion of a sob in her voice when she made this statement.

”Hang it all,” exclaimed one of the shadowy company in the background, ”we are a lot of brutes not to have offered to help the young lady.

Madam,” he said,-was not that the way to address a strange lady?-”won't you let me go with you to find your friends?”

Nancy put her handkerchief to her mouth to conceal the smile that would curve her charming lips.

”It would be very kind of you,” she replied with a gesture of helplessness that drew first one and then another of the bashful youths to the center of the room.

”It's my place to help the young lady, Bulger,” said the boy who had first spoken.

”And why? You didn't offer to.”

”But she is my guest. I am sure she expects me to find her friends.”

”Stuff and nonsense!” exclaimed the other, half angrily.

Nancy again put her handkerchief to her face. It was impossible to keep from smiling.

”I'll show the young lady the way,” here put in a voice much deeper than the others. ”I've met Peppercorn. He belongs to Magdalen College.”

”Yes!” exclaimed Nancy with some excitement.

”I'm afraid I don't know where he lodges, but we can inquire at the offices of the college.”

”I suppose I could do that just as well as you, Bixby,” put in the young man who was host of the party.

”Won't all of you come? I shouldn't mind,” murmured Nancy.

There was a general movement at this astonis.h.i.+ng invitation, a shuffling of feet on the floor and a simultaneous disappearance of pipes, and appearance of hats and caps.

”Won't you let me carry your parasol?” asked one who craved that honor so deeply that he forgot to stammer and blush.

”Allow me to carry your bag,” another requested, as if Nancy were a queen and he her most devoted subject.

And even as a queen did she now descend the steps and pa.s.s out of the lodging house, surrounded by a n.o.ble escort of eight; nor did she heed that sorrowful token of her impatience, the uprooted bell.

As she went out, she said:

”Perhaps I had better introduce myself. I am an American girl--”

A telegraphic smile flashed from one member of the company to the other.

”And-my name is Nancy Brown.”

If anything could have been more captivating than herself, it was her name, and her eight cavaliers pressed about her in order to catch a glimpse of her pretty face under the pink-lined drooping brim of her hat.

As they strolled along, the young man named ”Bixby” proceeded to enumerate the names of his seven friends to Nancy, who paused at the archway to get them straight. And of all the escort, she liked the handsomest best. His name was Edward Bacon.

”Jolly afternoon for boating,” remarked the handsome Edward, pointing to the pretty river below dotted with small craft. ”Wouldn't it be good sport, Miss Brown, to bring Peppercorn and your friends along for a row before supper? Would they like it, do you suppose?”