Of all these things was he ignorant, and Lesley (sure that he had never received her offering) would have seen Sidney Cremer's forty horse-power Gloria burnt before her eyes rather than confess what she had done. Nevertheless, she was enjoying herself very much, and if Cremer's chauffeur went about with an unsmiling face it did not depress her spirits, unless for a minute at a time when she was particularly and foolishly soft-hearted. She knew that all the chauffeur's bodily wants were being well cared for at the Hill Farm. He had a comfortable bedroom and a little sitting-room attached, in the far corner of the west wing, which was the newest part of the old red brick house. She did not suggest his wearing the costume of a chauffeur, but sent him by Uncle Wally a fur-lined overcoat and motoring cap which she said, Sidney Cremer had ordered for the future driver of his car. Mr. Gordon's meals were served in his own small sitting-room, and he had plenty of books to read. Had it not been that Miss Dearmer wished to drive Cremer's automobile, Val would have seen little of her; but she took two lessons a day.
Her aunt, Mrs. Loveland, sat in the tonneau, dutifully, perhaps cheerfully, playing the part of chaperon, after Lesley had experimented a little, and become proficient enough not to be a public danger. But the girl sat in the driver's seat, with Mr. Cremer's temporary chauffeur beside her, and they could talk of what they chose (if they chose to talk at all) without being overheard by Aunt Barbara in the snug shelter of the Limousine.
Loveland wrote to the theatre at Bonnerstown, asking the manager to forward anything that might arrive; but days passed on, and nothing came. This was not strange, considering Miss Moon's bold treatment of Bill's fat envelope with its important contents. But it seemed strange to Loveland, who had allowed more than enough time for letters to his mother and Betty Harborough to be answered and forwarded.
Everything in his life of late was so extraordinary, however, that to find his expectations fulfilled in a commonplace way would have surprised him almost more than having them blighted.
Besides, his disappointment at not hearing from home was not as poignant as it had been. He had kept ten dollars for himself, out of his advance of salary, therefore he was not entirely penniless, and he had few, if any, expenses at the Hill Farm, where all his needs were as carefully considered as if he had been a member of the family.
Though Sidney Cremer's speedy arrival dangled over his head, like a sharp sword, which might fall at any moment and cut short the thread of his happiness, while it lasted the thread was of glistening gold.
He could not be sure whether Lesley Dearmer believed in him as Lord Loveland, or whether she really thought him a repentant impostor, whom she was befriending and trying to reform; but she was unvaryingly kind, and the subject of his true identity was not further discussed. He was too proud to allude to, and force it upon her, after the doubts which she had hinted, and she seemed to have no wish to bring it up. As to that sweet and kindly lady who was chaperon and aunt, she appeared to take Mr. Gordon trustfully for granted as an unfortunate but talented young gentleman rescued from a run of bad luck. She spoke to him pleasantly when necessary, asked polite questions now and then about the car, or his personal comfort in the house, but otherwise seemed to regard him with no very lively interest.
Lesley was everything to her. She adored Lesley, and whatever Lesley did or wished to do was perfect in her eyes. Therefore it was not odd that she should accept the transplanted actor as "one of Lesley's lucky finds."
In the house, he and Miss Dearmer had no intercourse, and he did not even know what the girl's daily occupations were, or what visitors she saw. But at least three hours out of every twenty-four gave her to him as an intimate companion, near in mind and body; therefore until the hateful Cremer should fall out of a clear sky, Val was not eager for home news which would leave no excuse for lingering at this old homestead in the Blue Grass country.
Though he was a paid employé, the Hill Farm seemed to him the pleasantest place in which he had ever lived, not excepting any splendid and well ordered country mansion where he had been a flattered member of a house party.