Part 37 (2/2)

”I can't understand,” she said. ”It's too deep for me.”

”Well, you did miss it by not coming,” cried Nancy, das.h.i.+ng into the room excitedly, her arms filled with roses. ”We have been over to Kilkenty Hall-think of that! The housekeeper showed us all over the house. There's a picture gallery and a grand ballroom and a beautiful boudoir all hung in pink brocade. Beatrice saw her uncle and he kissed her, the first time since she was a child, she said; and he didn't fall in the hall at all, but down a flight of steps leading to the chapel, where he had gone to pray.”

”Dear me,” exclaimed Billie, ”I never heard such an interesting mixture of news in all my life. You'll be telling me His Grace kissed you next.”

”He didn't, but he ordered the head gardener to take us through the hot houses--”

”Conservatories, child,” corrected Billie.

”And we came away simply laden with flowers. These are Killarney roses.

Mary chose white roses and Elinor took pink carnations.”

Undoubtedly a wonderful change had come over the Duke of Kilkenty and his whole nature appeared to be transformed.

It was not easy for Billie to conceal from the watchful eye of Miss Campbell and the girls the tremendous secret that she must keep to herself until five o'clock the next afternoon. It was an anxious and uneasy time for her. Suppose Beatrice should arrange to take them off somewhere at that hour, she thought. Suppose there should be visitors to tea in the garden; suppose it should be raining; suppose a hundred things. The weary minutes stretched themselves into hours and the hours became interminably long, it seemed to her, before the time even approached five o'clock the next day. The strain of waiting was almost more than she could endure alone. At last, after an endless time of playing tennis and walking and visiting the kennels and doing fifty other things, the five girls repaired to the Abbey garden, where Miss Campbell and Maria sat talking with Lord Glenarm and-was it possible?-the Duke of Kilkenty, himself. He was pale and his head was bandaged, but he insisted on rising and being duly presented to the four agitated young Americans. Did he recall the five pounds and the angry beast Feargus had killed? They could not tell. He was extremely courteous and there was a kindly light in his eyes that rea.s.sured them.

Billie sat down limply in a chair and waited. Some one gave her a cup of tea which she forgot to drink. Her eyes were fastened on the ivy-grown arch in the wall of the ruins, and all the time a little figure was approaching slowly along the garden walk from the other end.

It was Beatrice who first called out with much excitement:

”Why, who is that?”

Everybody looked up and the Duke of Kilkenty cried:

”Arthur! Arthur!”

”Papa, have you cut your head?” demanded the little boy, who was strangely familiar and yet unfamiliar, and the next minute he was in their midst and they were all laughing and embracing him at once.

It was some time before they could realize that the pale, delicate Arthur was a st.u.r.dy, beautiful boy. His face was tanned to a healthy brown and his eyes were clear and merry.

”Where have you been all this time, Arthur?” demanded his father, lifting him onto a bench and gazing at him with the expression of one who has made a wonderful and happy discovery.

”I've been with grandpapa,” answered Arthur. The half-brothers exchanged a long look. ”Grandpapa and Marie-Jeanne. We have had such ripping times. We played out of doors every day and I never had to study at all.

Marie-Jeanne knows more games than Grandpapa, even. And she can make little cakes. I have been very happy, but Grandpapa said you wanted me and you loved me now--”

The Duke stroked the little boy's head and looked down.

”I should think he might feel a trifle uncomfortable,” thought Miss Campbell, still a bit skeptical over the Duke's complete reformation.

”And Grandpapa said that Billie sent word I was to come home and it was all right.”

”Who's Billie?”

”My best girl,” answered Arthur, running over and leaning against the blus.h.i.+ng Billie's shoulder with entire confidence.

Then she was obliged to explain what she had done. His Grace was much moved. He pressed her hand and said she was a remarkable young woman, and that she had done what the highest paid detectives in the kingdom had been unable to accomplish, and he wished to thank her with all his heart.

Thus five o'clock merged into six, and six into half past, and at last His Grace took his little son away, leaving the others still in the garden feeling quite as if they had been taking part in a play.

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