NEXT morning, after the usual tussle and struggle for their luggage, in which the whole party, including Mr. Romaine's valet, Sir Archy's man and Miss Maywood's and Mrs. Chessingham's maid took part, they were all driven up to the old-fashioned "before the war" hotel where they had all engaged quarters.
Those for Mr. Romaine and his party were of course the finest in the house, on the drawing-room floor, and the best corner rooms. Sir Archy cared very little where he was put, except that his rooms must be large and have a bath, at which he never ceased to grumble, because there were not shower baths, Turkish baths, Russian baths, and every other arrangement provided for all varieties of bathing.
Colonel Corbin, having in hand what he considered a magnificent sum of money, less a considerable hole in it made by prolonging his stay at Newport, and a present to Letty and a like sum to Miss Jemima, established himself en prince. He had a bed-room and sitting-room for himself, besides the bed-rooms and sitting-room for Miss Jemima and Letty. He insisted upon having their meals served in private, but at this Letty flatly rebelled. Go to the public dining-room she would, to see and be seen. The Colonel was no match for Letty when she really put forth her prowess—for liberty or death was that young woman's motto—and in an hour or two after their arrival at the hotel, he very obediently followed her down to the great red-carpeted room, where all the lazy people in the hotel were taking a ten o'clock breakfast.
Letty looked uncommonly charming in her simple, well-fitting gown of dark blue, and masculine eyes were pretty generally turned on her as she entered. But the Colonel attracted still more attention. As he stalked in the great open doorway the head waiter, as imposing as only a black head waiter can be, suddenly exclaimed:
"Hi! Good Lord A'mighty! Ef dis heah ain' Marse Colonel!"
" The Colonel recognized his friend in an instant, and extended his hand cordially.
"Why, bless my soul! If it is n't Black Peter, that used to be Tom Lightfoot's body servant! How do you do? how do you do?"
By that time they were sawing the air with mutual delight.
"An' ter think I done live ter see Marse Colonel agin! An' how is all de folks? How ole missis, and Miss Sally Lightfoot, and little Marse Torm?"
"Admirably, admirably well," cried the Colonel, beginning to give all the particulars of ole missis, Miss Sally, little Marse Torm, etc., in his big baritone. The people all turned toward the Colonel and his long-lost friend, and everybody smiled. Letty, not at all confused, stood by her grandfather's side and put her hand into Black Peter's paw.
Peter was extremely elegant, after an antique pattern, not unlike the Colonel's own, and proud to be recognized as a friend by "de fust quality."
He escorted Colonel Corbin and Letty to the most prominent table in the room, called up half a dozen waiters to take their orders, and succeeded in making everybody in the great room see and hear what was going on. He was at last obliged to tear himself away, and the Colonel, while waiting for breakfast, suddenly remembering that he must go to the office to inquire after the health of the room-clerk, who was also an old acquaintance, he left Letty alone for a moment, while he stalked out, magnificently.
Letty had picked up the newspaper and was deep in an editorial on the tariff, when she realized that some one was approaching, and the next moment Farebrother drew a chair up to hers.
For a moment she was too astonished to speak, and simply stared at him, upon which Farebrother began laughing.
"W-where did you come from?" she cried, breathlessly.
"From Newport," answered Farebrother, still laughing at Letty's face.
"And how did you come?"
"By train. Do you suppose when I saw Sir Archy turn up, to come down here, that I meant to be left in the lurch? So I made up my mind in a jiffy, threw a few things in my bag, and made the ten o'clock train; lovely night going down, was n't it?"
"Yes," answered Letty, who was instantly armed with the whole panoply of coquetry, "lovely. I sat out on deck two hours with Sir Archy."
"That was a pretty good stretch for a fellow. There are very few girls who can hold a man's attention that long, and it's rather a dangerous thing to try," said Farebrother, with calm assurance.
"We had a very interesting time," answered Letty, stiffly.
"Oh, yes, I know how an Englishman talks to a girl by moonlight. Tells her about sheep farming, or how he hooked a salmon in the Highlands, or killed a pig in India."
"Our conversation was a little on that order," replied Letty, weakly. "But it is a relief to meet with a man who can withstand the influences of the moon and talk sense."
"I never could," said Farebrother, and then he asked for Miss Jemima and the rest of the party. Letty explained that Mr. Romaine and the Chessinghams preferred their meals in their rooms, and the Colonel proposed the same thing to her, but she objected, first, because she liked the liveliness of the public dining-room, and secondly, because it cost more, and she did n't believe in spending money to make one's self lonely and uncomfortable, which could generally be done for nothing.
Presently the Colonel reappeared, and was delighted to see Farebrother, whose arrival did not surprise him in the least. Farebrother, who was astute, immediately made a series of engagements with the Colonel and Miss Jemima and Letty for a drive in Central Park, a visit to the opera, and various other festivities, strictly limited to a party of four, from which he intended Sir Archy should be conspicuously left out.
When breakfast was over, and Letty had gone to prepare for the drive, she met Sir Archy as she was coming down the stairs, putting on her gloves.
"Are you going out?" he asked. "I had my breakfast in my room, and took a spin around the park before nine o'clock."
"I am going to the park now. Mr. Farebrother takes us. He came down last night, on the late train."
Sir Archy looked rather black at this. Of course Farebrother's arrival could mean but one thing—he had Letty's encouragement to come. Letty, however, was anxious to disclaim all responsibility for his presence in New York. This only puzzled Sir Archy the more. He was not up in the subtility of American flirtations, and regarded Letty's way of playing off as a grave infraction of the moral code. Something of this he hinted to her. At this Letty's gay laughter pealed out.
"Why, don't you suppose that American men know how to take care of themselves?" she cried.
"They ought to—they have opportunities enough to learn," answered Sir Archy, grimly.
But then Letty heard the Colonel's voice, and tripped down the steps, leaving Sir Archy moodily chewing his mustache, and wondering at the depravity of American girls.
The day was bright and beautiful, and there was an autumn crispness in the blue air. Letty leaned back in her own corner of the big easy landau, shading her pretty, thoughtful face with her red parasol. She had on a little black gown, and a large black hat, which suited well her dainty type. Farebrother thought so, sitting opposite her, and watching the look of calm delight in her eyes as they drove along the leafy roads, and stopped in the bosky dells of the park.
There were not many people out—the "carriage people" had not yet returned to town, and there was a charming air of peace and quiet over the scene. The leaves were beginning to turn, and the caretakers were busy gathering up piles of those that had dropped. Occasionally the carriage stopped in the shade, and the voices of the little party fell in unison with the faint rustling of the leaves and the sylvan stillness. Sometimes they could almost forget that they were near the throbbing heart of a mighty city.
At one part of the drive, in the very loneliest spot they had yet seen, Farebrother proposed to Letty to get out and take a little stroll. Letty agreed very promptly, and the Colonel and Miss Jemima concluded they would stay where they were. So Letty and her friend strolled away down to the banks of a little stream, where the dry leaves of the young trees rustled to the whispering of the wind. It was high noon then, but so retired was this spot that the glare was utterly shut out. Whenever Letty found herself alone with Farebrother she felt a very acute sympathy between them. She felt this now, more than usual, Farebrother did not make love to her in the least with seriousness. Indeed, he had never done so, and his most suggestive compliments were paid when they were laughing and joking most familiarly. When they were alone, his tone was one of tender friendship and respect, which was very captivating to Letty. She was used to the overflowing sentiment of Southern men, and the calm and sane admiration of a man like Farebrother pleased her with its novelty, and flattered her by its respect.
They stood there a long time, Letty idly throwing pebbles into the stream. They said but little, and that in the low tone to which the voice naturally drops in the woods, and presently, a silence that was full of sweet companionship fell between them. They might have stayed there all day, so charming was it, had not Letty suddenly remembered herself.
"Oh, we must be going," she said.
"Yes," answered Farebrother, with a little sigh, "we must be going."
When they caught sight of the carriage, the Colonel was just about getting out in order to go in search of them. Letty's face grew scarlet, and she was unusually silent on their way home and wished she had not stayed so long alone with Farebrother.
Farebrother had arranged to take the Colonel and Letty to the theater that evening; Miss Jemima had declined. Letty spent the afternoon in her room, resting. At dinner she came out radiant in a white gown, a charming white hat, with white fan and gloves. This, she fondly imagined, was the correct wear for the theater, in orchestra seats. Farebrother had got those seats with a wary design. If he had taken a box, Sir Archy might have found out where they were going, and it is possible to pay visits in a box, and Farebrother determined to have Letty free from the claims of any other man except the Colonel on that one evening. He saw in a moment that Letty had got altogether the wrong ideas about costume, but she looked so fresh and fair that, with masculine indifference to conventionality, he was glad she had put on her white gown.
When dinner was over, and they were waiting in the reception-room for their carriage, the Chessinghams, Ethel Maywood and Mr. Romaine appeared, also bound for the theater, and for the same play that Farebrother had selected. It was the first appearance of a celebrated artist in a play new in this country, and Farebrother had given more attention to the artist than the piece. It was the first meeting of the whole party since they had parted on the boat that morning. Mr. Romaine, when he found that they were all bound for the same performance, grinned suggestively, and said to Farebrother:
"May I ask if you have ever seen this piece?"
"No," answered Farebrother, "but I fancy it's very good. It's an adaptation from the the French, no doubt made over to suit American audiences, which are the most prudish in the world."
Mr. Romaine indulged in one of his peculiar silent laughs. "It is thoroughly French," he remarked, slyly.
This made Farebrother genuinely uncomfortable. He knew that not only Letty knew little of the theater, but that she was super-sensitive as to questions of propriety, and that this outrageous coquette would not stand one equivocal word. And the Colonel was as prudish as she. Farebrother would have hailed with delight then anything that would have broken up his party, and wished that he had suggested the Eden Musée.
Nothing escaped Mr. Romaine's brilliant black eyes. He took in at once Letty's white costume, and with malice aforethought, whispered to Miss Maywood:
"Pardon me, but is a white gown the correct thing for the theater, except in a box, for I see our young friend is radiant to-night as snow."
"No," answered Ethel, very positively, "it is the worst possible form, and if we were going in the same party, I should not hesitate to ask Miss Corbin to wear something quieter. Otherwise we would all be made conspicuous from her bad judgment."
Miss Maywood had on her darkest and severest tweed frock, and her most uncompromising turban. Mr. Romaine, having got this much out of Miss Maywood, proceeded to extract amusement from Miss Corbin. He went over to her, and leaning down, whispered:
"My dear young friend, I wish you had persuaded Miss Maywood into wearing something more festive than her traveling gown on this occasion. Because ladies wear their bonnets at the theater, that is no reason why they should ransack their trunks for their oldest and plainest gowns, too."
"I quite agree with you," answered Letty, promptly, who was not ill-pleased to be complimented at Ethel Maywood's expense. "She looks a regular guy. Of course if we were going together, I should n't mind giving her a delicate hint, because it would scarcely be kind of me to carry off all the honors of costume on the occasion, and no doubt she would be much obliged to me. But I really can't interfere now."
Mr. Romaine went off chuckling, and the whole way to the theater he was evidently in a state of suppressed amusement, which puzzled Ethel very much.
Arrived in their seats, which were near the other party, Letty settled herself with an ecstatic air of enjoyment to hear the play. The overture was unmixed delight. So was the first quarter of the first act. But in about ten minutes "the fun began," as Farebrother afterward ruefully expressed it. The play was one of the larkiest descriptions of larky French comedy.
At the first risqué situation, Farebrother, whose heart was in his mouth, saw the Colonel's eyes flash, and an angry dull red creep into his fine old face. Letty was blissfully unconscious of the whole thing, and remained so much longer than the Colonel. But when the curtain came down on the first act, her cheeks were blazing, and she turned a pair of indignant eyes full on Farebrother, who felt like a thief, a sneak, and a liar. What made Letty blush never frightened her in the least, but simply angered her, so that she was always able to take care of herself. Farebrother, whose ruddy face was crimson, and who struggled between a wild disposition to swear and to laugh, leaned over toward the Colonel, and said in an agonized whisper, that Letty caught distinctly:
"For Heaven's sake, Colonel, don't think that I brought you knowingly to see this thing. I had never seen it myself, and merely went by the advertisement in the papers."
"Your intentions were no doubt good, my young friend," replied the Colonel, stiffly, "but you should exercise greater care in the selection of plays to which you ask innocent young women."
At that, Farebrother would have been thankful if the floor had opened and swallowed him up. But Letty had evidently heard his few words of explanation, and they had mollified her. She felt sorry for Mr. Farebrother, and pitied his chagrin.
"Nevertheless, sir," continued the Colonel, in a savage whisper, "if this sort of thing continues, I shall deem it my duty to withdraw my granddaughter."
Farebrother was in an agony, and looking around, he saw Mr. Romaine's bright eyes fixed on him gleaming with malicious amusement. Poor Farebrother at that moment was truly to be pitied. But disaster followed disaster, and worse ever seemed to remain behind. The second act was simply outrageous, and Farebrother, although he had more than the average masculine tolerance for risqué and amusing plays, was so disconcerted by the Colonel's scowl and Letty's discomfort that he fixed his eyes on his program and studied it as if it were the most fascinating composition he had ever read. Not so the Colonel. He kept his attention closely upon the stage, and at one point which brought down the house with roars of laughter and applause, the Colonel rose, with a snort, and with a countenance like a thunder-cloud, offering his arm to Letty, stalked down the main aisle of the theater, with Farebrother, utterly crest-fallen, following them. Not only was Farebrother deeply annoyed at having brought his innocent Virginia friends to such a play, but the absurdity of his own position and the illimitable chaff he would have to put up with on account of it at the club and at masculine dinners was a serious consideration with him.
And there was no room for misunderstanding the reason of their departure. The Colonel's face was a study of virtuous indignation. Letty was crimson, and her eyes persistently sought the floor, particularly as they passed the Romaine party, while poor Farebrother's hangdog look was simply pitiable. He glanced woefully at Mr. Romaine and Dr. Chessingham; both of them were grinning broadly, while a particular chum of his, who had an end seat, actually winked and poked a stick at him as he followed his friends out.
In the carriage he laid his hand upon the knee of the Colonel, who had maintained a terrible and portentous silence, and said, earnestly:
"Pray, Colonel Corbin, forgive me for my mistake in taking you and Miss Corbin there. Of course I did n't dream that anything would be given which would offend you, and I am more sorry than I can express."
The Colonel cleared his throat and responded:
"I can well believe, my dear sir, that your mistake came from the head, not the heart, and as such I fully condone it. But I could not allow my granddaughter to remain and see and hear things that no young girl, or any woman for that matter, should see or hear, and so I felt compelled to take some decisive step. I am prodigiously concerned at treating your hospitable intention to give us pleasure in this manner. But I ask you, as a man of the world, what was I to do?"
Farebrother restrained his inclination to haw-haw at the Colonel's idea of a man of the world, and accepted his view of the whole thing with the most slavish submission. He whispered in Letty's ear, though, as they rattled over the cobblestones, "Forgive me," to which Letty, after a moment, whispered back, "I do."
As it was so early in the evening, Farebrother proposed Delmonico's, not having the courage to suggest any more theaters. They went, therefore, and had a very jolly little supper, during which the entente cordiale was thoroughly restored, and the unlucky play forgotten. On the whole the evening did not end badly for Farebrother.
He remained in New York as long as the Corbins did, which was about two weeks. He accompanied Letty on her shopping tours, aiding her with his advice, which she usually took, and then bitterly reproached him for afterward. When Mrs. Cary's chair had been bought, and lavish presents for Miss Jemima, the Colonel, Dad Davy and all the servants, and an evening gown contracted for, Letty then quite unexpectedly indulged in a full set of silver for her toilet table. This left her without any money to buy the shoes, gloves, and fan for her evening gown, but Letty consoled herself by saying:
"Very probably I sha'n't have a chance to wear it, anyhow, after we get back to the country, and I could n't use white gloves and shoes and a lace fan every day, and I can use a silver comb and brush, and look at myself in a silver glass."
Ethel Maywood thought this very impractical of Letty, and Farebrother laughed so uproariously that Letty was quite offended with him. But she frankly acknowledged that she felt happier after her mind had been relieved of the strain of spending so large a capital, than when she was burdened with its responsibilities. The Colonel's purchases were very much after the same order. He bought a pair of carriage horses which in Virginia he could have got for considerably less than he paid, and he quite forgot that the rickety old carriage for which they were intended was past praying for. He also bought a variety of ornamental shrubs and plants for which the climate at Corbin Hall was totally unsuited. He indulged himself in twelve dozen of port, which, with his hotel bills, swallowed up the rest of his cash capital.
Meanwhile, Sir Archy was by no means out of the running, and saw almost as much of his cousins as Farebrother. But he became deeply interested in New York, and went to work studying the great city with a characteristic English thoroughness. Before the two weeks were over, he knew more about the city government, taxation, rents, values, commerce, museums, theaters, press, literature, and everything else, than Farebrother did, who had lived there all his life.
The night before the Corbins were to start for Virginia, Letty knocked at the door of the Chessinghams' sitting-room to say good-by. Ethel Maywood opened the door for her. She was quite alone, and the two girls seated themselves for a farewell chat. They did not like each other one whit better than in the beginning, but neither had they infringed the armed neutrality which existed between them. They knew that in the country that winter they would be thrown together, and sensible people do not quarrel in the country; they are too dependent on each other.
"And I suppose I am to congratulate you," said Ethel, with rather a chill smile.
"On what, pray?" asked Letty, putting the top of her slipper on the fender, and clasping her hands around her knee in a graceful but unconventional attitude.
"Upon your engagement to Mr. Farebrother," said Ethel, looking more surprised than Letty.
"But I am not engaged to Mr. Farebrother," answered Letty, sitting up very straight, "and he has not asked me to marry him."
"Oh, I am so sorry for you," cried Ethel. "I would never have mentioned it if I had known."
"Why are you sorry for me?" demanded Letty, her cheeks showing a danger signal.
"Because—because, dear, after a man has paid a girl the marked attention for weeks that Mr. Farebrother has paid you, it is certainly very bad treatment not to make an offer, and I should think your grandpapa would bring Mr. Farebrother to terms."
Letty's surprise was indescribable. She could only murmur confusedly:
"Grandpapa—Mr. Farebrother to terms—bad treatment—what do you mean?"
"Just what I say," answered Ethel, tartly. "If a man devotes himself to a girl, he has no right to withdraw without making her an offer, and such conduct is considered highly dishonorable in England."
Rage and laughter struggled together in Letty's breast, but laughter triumphed. She lay back in her chair, and peal after peal of laughter poured forth. Ethel Maywood thought Letty was losing her mind, until at last she managed to gasp, between explosions of merriment, that things were a little different in this country, and that neither she nor Mr. Farebrother had incurred the slightest obligation toward each other by their conduct.
It was now the English girl's turn to be surprised, and surprised she was. In the midst of it Mr. Romaine came in upon one of his rare visits. He demanded to know the meaning of Letty's merriment, and Letty, quite unable to keep so diverting a cat in the bag, could not forbear letting it out. Mr. Romaine enjoyed it in his furtive, silent manner.
It found its way to Farebrother's ears, who was as much amused as anybody, and when he and Letty met a few hours afterward, each of them, on catching the other's eye, laughed unaccountably.
The Romaine party was to follow later in the season, considerable preparations being necessary for the house at Shrewsbury to be inhabitable after forty years of solitude. Farebrother and Sir Archy had both accepted the Colonel's pressing invitations to pay a visit to Corbin Hall in time for the shooting, and so the parting with Letty was not for long. He and Sir Archy went with them to the station, and Letty found her chair surrounded by piles of flowers, books, and everything that custom permits a man to give to a girl. There was also a very handsome bouquet with Mr. Romaine's card. Letty penned a card of thanks which Farebrother delivered to Mr. Romaine before Miss Maywood. Mr. Romaine, with elaborate gallantry, placed it in his breast pocket, to Miss Maywood's evident discomfiture.
Meanwhile the Corbins were speeding homeward on the Southern train. Letty had enjoyed immensely her first view of the great, big, outside world.