Miss Dacre stared for a moment—then as he tore off his hat and wig, and stood revealed, she suddenly sat down and burst into a scream of hysterical laughter—the laughter of misery relieved.
“Well, I’m awfully glad you are taking it like that!” he said, also seating himself, “and I do hope you and your sister will forgive me.”
“But what possessed you to do it?” she gasped out.
“Oh, I’m always doing queer things. I’ve loved playing jokes ever since I could speak. I act a bit, and as I’m rather short and smooth-faced, in the ship’s theatricals I play the young lady. I am quite a star! I’ve just come ashore from our last cruise, where I made a splendid hit as Miss Ruby Scarlett!”
“But what put it into your head to play the part here?” demanded the girl.
“Well, now,” drawing his chair six inches nearer, and dropping his voice into a key of easy confidence, “you know my brother Ted, what an awfully soft-hearted, good-natured, unselfish beggar he is? He was always the same, and when I stopped here some months ago I found he was just preyed upon by half the ladies in the station. One wanted his ponies, another his dirzee, a third his piano, and so on—and all desired his company! I declare he could not call his soul his own. He is stiff enough with men—but with women he is just like a bit of putty. He is afraid of you all—he respects the lot of you! You see, we have no sisters, and he is so chivalrous and humble that you impose upon him! He was having rather a bad time when I came—a chit or a message or a call every ten minutes—and so I offered to rid him of the plague of women—half in joke, half in earnest, you see. Then I was so delighted with myself as Miss Ruby Scarlett, that a brilliant idea struck me. I’d rush down to Munser for a couple of days—take a rise out of him, and scare away his visitors!”
“Yes,” assented the lady, and her eyes danced.
“You agree with me it was a temptation! He was away, as you know, and I played, in one respect, to an empty house, but I had ripping fun, and I’ve scandalised his bearer nearly to death. Well, now Edgar is back. I took him in properly at first. Lord! you should have seen his face! and heard his frosty welcome! When I discovered myself, at first he was shocked. I’m used to that—that is nothing—but when he heard of your and your sister’s call, he was most frightfully cut up. I never saw him so bowled over. He has told me to clear! But before I depart to-night—and I must—leave up—I want to make a clean breast, and apologise to you.”
“But why more to me than to my sister?”
“My dear Miss Dacre, though you ask the question you know the answer. Because Edgar thinks there is no one in all the world like you. I suppose he has not dared to tell you himself, but I tell you—he is a gone coon!” Miss Dacre suddenly became scarlet. “I—I—mean that he loves you with all his heart and soul, and all that sort of thing. He has never cared a snap for any girl before—and never will again—and I’ve been and gone and ruined his life! Oh, Miss Dacre,” suddenly pouncing on her hand, “do give me a little, little scrap of hope to take him—you don’t know what a good fellow he is—then he’ll forgive me, and I’ll cut my cable with such a jolly light heart!”