"Papa will not be at home to-night, or probably to-morrow night, or the night afterward. I'm not sure we'll wait next Christmas dinner for papa."
"But of course you know where he is! It isn't possible—" and Ardmore stared in astonishment into Miss Dangerfield's tranquil blue eyes.
"It is possible. Papa is ducking his official responsibilities. That's what's the matter with papa! And I guess they're enough to drive any man into the woods. Just look at all this!"
Miss Dangerfield rested one of those diminutive hands of hers on the pile of documents, letters and telegrams the secretary had left behind him; with a nod of the head she indicated the governor's desk in the inner room, and it, too, was piled high with documents.
"I supposed," faltered Ardmore, "that in the absence of the governor the lieutenant-governor would act. I think I read that once."
"You must have read it wrong, Mr. Ardmore. In North Carolina, in the absence of the governor, I am governor! Don't look so shocked; when I say I, I mean I—me! Do you understand what I said?"
"I heard what you said, Miss Dangerfield."
"I mean what I said, Mr. Ardmore. I have taken you into my confidence because I don't know you. I don't know anything about you. I don't want to know anything about you. I'd be ashamed to ask anybody I know to help me. The people of North Carolina must never know that the governor is absent during times of great public peril. And if you are afraid, Mr. Ardmore, you had better not accept the position."
"There's nothing I wouldn't do for you," blurted Ardmore.
"I'm not asking you—I would not ask you—to do anything for me. I am asking you to do it for the Old North State. Our relations, Mr. Ardmore, will not be social, but purely official. Do you accept the terms?"