Lord Loveland Discovers America

by C. N. Williamson; A. M. Williamson

Loveland's heart reproached him. He had shuddered a little at the thought that this gaudy young beauty in flaunting feathers and cheap finery had gone to the Waldorf claiming him as her "gentleman friend." But it was a thought far less palatable that she should spend her savings for him. He was grateful—more grateful than he would have known how to be yesterday, to a person not of his own class—yet gratitude was not now his strongest emotion.

He thanked her as best he could for all she had done, and talked down her objections to being repaid. Now, he said, owing to her kindness he could walk the streets without being stared at, and would lose no time in cabling to his mother. Oh, he had plenty of money for that! and smiling as if it were part of a huge joke, he showed what the payment of his small debt to the restaurant had left of his eight dollars.

Seven dollars and a bit-nearly thirty shillings! Why, he was rich. All he asked now, was a room in which to change his clothes.

As there was a houseful of empty rooms, this request was easily granted; and presently Loveland came back to the kitchen suitably clad for daylight—except for the detail of his necktie. He would have given a good deal for a change of linen; but there was no use in crying for the moon. And Isidora saw no fault in his appearance as she walked proudly at his side, on the way to send a cablegram to Scotland.

Secretly, Loveland would have been glad to dispense with her company, but she assured him that she had "more time than anything else," and that she would be delighted to guide him. Only, they "mustn't go past home, for if Pa saw her with a strange gentleman, there'd be trouble."

Isidora peered over her companion's shoulder, as he wrote out his message to his mother, and was much interested in the address. To save expense, he put only "Loveland, Dorloch, North Britain," therefore the girl's curiosity was not greatly rewarded. All she could say to herself was that, apparently, he had some right to the name of Loveland, and that he really did seem to expect that "somebody over there" might send him a remittance. Otherwise why should he waste good money on a cablegram, and without a code, too?

Loveland had not written to his mother since his change of plan about the ships. But after all, he said to himself, it did not matter. He was always a bad correspondent—always had been—and the mater just put up with it, poor dear. She wouldn't be worrying anyway, as she must suppose him to be on the high seas at this moment, a passenger on the Baltic—unless she had heard from Betty or Jim—an improbable contingency. Even if he had sent off a letter directly after landing, she would not get it for days yet, so his negligence had done no harm. As for the Marconigram Jim had suggested—why, as things had turned out, it was as well he hadn't wasted money on it.

Unfortunately, to make his need of money clear, Val was obliged to write a long message, even though he attempted no elaborate explanation, beyond saying: "Don't believe newspaper canards." When he had finished, and did not see his way to striking out a single word, he was vexed to find that he would have to pay six dollars and fifty cents. Still, his mother would instantly send the fifty pounds he asked for, even if she had to borrow, and in a few hours this hideous situation would be ended. He could pay all he owed; and then, if there were no hope of anything good in America, he would take passage on the first homeward bound ship.

Isidora advised him to give as an address the house where Mrs. Gernsbacher was caretaker, as embarrassing questions might be asked by Pa if an answer came to the restaurant. She was afraid that Mr. Gordon would have to "chum up" with Bill again for the night, if he were determined not to accept a little loan from her; and she was grieved to think of the boring evening he would have to spend.

It would be fun, she thought, if he would "just drop in at the restaurant like a stranger," and have some supper, which would cost him as little there as anywhere, since he was bent on paying. But Loveland made an excuse which pleased her so much that she relinquished the plan almost without a pang. It would be difficult, he said, after all her goodness, to treat her like an entire stranger. He said this carelessly, but to her it meant a great deal—so much, that she went straight home almost as happy as if he had been by her side.