Part 7 (1/2)
”Vievie!” she half shrieked.
Blake glanced over his shoulder and stopped short at sight of the girls locked in each other's arms. After a moment's fervent embrace, Dolores thrust her cousin out at arm's-length and surveyed her from top to toe with radiant eyes.
”Vievie! Vievie! I really can't believe it! To think you're home again--when we never expected to see you--and you've got almost all the tan off already!”
Genevieve looked up into the vivacious face of the younger girl with an affectionate smile on her delicately curved lips and tears of joy in her hazel eyes.
”It _is_ good to be home again, dear!” she murmured. She drew Dolores about to face the big man, who stood looking on with rather a surly expression, in his pale blue eyes. ”Tom,” she said, ”this is my cousin, Miss Gantry. Dolores, Mr. Blake.”
”The hee-row!” sighed Dolores, clasping a hand dramatically on her heart.
Blake's strong face lighted with a humorous smile. ”Guess I've got to own up to it, Miss Dolores. Anything Jenny--Miss Leslie--says goes.”
As he spoke he raised his English steamer cap slightly and extended a square powerful hand. Dolores entrusted her slender fingers to the calloused palm, which closed upon them with utmost gentleness.
”Really, Mr. Blake!” she exclaimed, ”I mean it. You _are_ a hero.”
Blake's smile broadened, and as he released her hand, he glanced at her mother, who had drawn a little apart with the Englishman. ”Don't let me shut out your mamma and Jimmy.”
”Oh, mamma believes that any display of family affection is immodest,”
she replied. ”But duty, you know--duty!”
She whirled about and impressed a loud salute upon the drooping jowl of the stately Mrs. Gantry.
”Dolores!” admonished the dame. ”When _will_ you remember you're no longer a hoyden? Such impetuosity--and before his lords.h.i.+p!”
”Goodness! Is he really?” panted her daughter, surveying the Englishman with candid curiosity.
”Is he really!” Mrs. Gantry was profoundly shocked. ”If you weren't out, I'd see that you had at least two more years in a finis.h.i.+ng school.”
”Horrors! that certainly would finish me. But you forget yourself, mamma. You keep his earls.h.i.+p waiting for his introduction.”
The Englishman shot a humorous glance at Blake, and drew out his monocle. He screwed it into his eye and stared blandly at the irrepressible Miss Gantry, while her mother, with some effort, regained a degree of composure. She bowed in a most formal manner.
”The Right Honorable the Earl of Avondale: I present my daughter.”
The earl dropped his monocle, raised his cap, and bowed with unaffected grace. Dolores nodded and caught his hand in her vigorous clasp.
”Glad to meet you,” she said. ”It's rare we meet a real live earl in Chicago. Most of 'em are caught in New York, soon as they land.”
”It's good of you to say it, Miss Gantry,” he replied, tugging at the tip of his little mustache. ”I've been over before, you know. Came in disguise. This time I was able to march through New York with colors flying, thanks to your mother and Miss Leslie.”
Dolores sent her glance flas.h.i.+ng after his, and saw Genevieve responding coldly to the effusive greeting of Ashton. The young man was edging towards the earl. But Genevieve turned to introduce him first to her companion.
”Mr. Blake, Mr. Brice-Ashton.”
”I'm sure I'm--pleased to meet you, Mr. Blake,” murmured Ashton, his voice breaking slightly as Blake grasped his gloved hand in the bare calloused palm.
”Any friend of Miss Jenny's!” responded Blake with hearty cordiality.
But as he released the other's hand, he muttered half to himself, ”Ashton?--Ashton? Haven't I met you before, somewhere?”