As her eye roamed over her perfectly appointed and well-kept lawns, her attention was drawn to a singular-looking figure crossing the grass in the direction of the dock where the yacht was moored. It was that of a man dressed in the jacket and cap of a club commodore. He bore himself with the dignity of a lord high admiral walking the quarter-deck. Closer inspection revealed the manly form of no less distinguished a personage than Major Thomas Slocomb of Pocomoke.
Subsequent inquiries disclosed these facts: Finding in his room the night before a hitherto unsuspected closet door standing partly open, the major had, in harmless curiosity, entered the closet and inspected the contents, and had come upon some attractive garments. That these clothes had evidently been worn by and were then the sole property of his host, Morgan Leroy, Commodore N. Y. Y. C., a man whom he had never seen, only added to the charm of the discovery. Instantly a dozen thoughts crowded through his head,—each more seductive than the other. Evidently this open door and this carefully hung jacket and cap meant something out of the ordinary! It was the first time the door had been left open! It had been done purposely, of course, that he might see its contents! Everything in this wonderful palace of luxury was free,—cigars, brandy, even the stamps on the writing-table before him,—why not, then, these yachting clothes? To-morrow was the great day for the yacht, when the inspection of the engineers was to take place. His age and position naturally made him the absent commodore’s rightful successor. Had Leroy been at home, he would, undoubtedly, have worn these clothes himself. The duty of his substitute, therefore, was too plain to admit of a moment’s hesitation. He must certainly wear the clothes. One thing, however, touched him deeply,—the delicacy of his hostess in putting them where he could find them, and the exquisite tact with which it had all been done. Even if all other considerations failed, he could not disappoint that queen among women, that Cleopatra of modern times.
As he squeezed his arms into the jacket—Leroy was two thirds his size—and caught the glint of the gilt buttons in the mirror, his last lingering doubt faded.
This, then, was the figure Mrs. Leroy saw from her bedroom window.
When the major boarded the yacht the sailing-master saluted him with marked deference, remembering the uniform, even if he did not the wearer, and the sailors holystoning the decks came up to a half present as he passed them on his way to the saloon to see if Sam had carried out his instructions about certain brews necessary for the comfort of the day.
“Where the devil did you get that rig, major?” roared Smearly, when he and Sanford came down the companionway, half an hour later. “You look like a cross between Dick Deadeye and Little Lord Fauntleroy. It’s about two sizes too small for you.”
“Do you think so, gentlemen?” twisting his back to the mirrors to get a better view. His face was a study. “It’s some time since I wore ’em; they may be a little tight. I’ve noticed lately that I am gaining flesh. Will you sit here, gentlemen, or shall I order something coolin’ on deck?”—not a quaver in his voice. “Here, Sam,” he called, catching sight of that darky’s face, “take these gentlemen’s orders.”
When Helen and Mrs. Leroy appeared, followed by several ladies with Hardy as escort, the major sprang forward to greet them with all the suppressed exuberance of a siphon of Vichy. He greeted Helen first.
“Ah, my dear Helen, you look positively charmin’ this mornin’; you are like a tea-rose wet with dew; nothing like these Maryland girls,—unless, my dear madam,” he added, turning to Mrs. Leroy, bowing as low to his hostess as the grip of his shoulders would permit, “unless it be yo’r own queenly presence. Sam, put some cushions behind the ladies’ backs, or shall I order coffee for you on deck?”
But it was not until the major came up on the return curve of his bow to a perpendicular that his hostess realized in full the effect of Morgan Leroy’s nautical outfit. She gave a little gasp, and her face flushed.