"But if you know I'm a liar why are you telling me these secrets and asking me to help you play being governor?" and Ardmore, floundering hopelessly, marveled at her more and more.
"That's exactly the reason—because you came poking up to my house and told me that scandalous fib about meeting papa in New Orleans. Mr. Bassford is a beautiful liar; that's why he's papa's secretary; but you are a much more imaginative sort of liar than Mr. Bassford. He can only lie to callers about papa being engaged, or write encouraging letters to people who want appointments which papa never expects to make; but you lie because you can't help it. Now, if you're satisfied, you can take those telegrams down to the telegraph office, and you'd better mail that letter to Governor Osborne yourself, for fear the man who's running the lawn-mower will forget to come for it."
The roll of drums and the cry of a bugle broke in upon the peace of the late afternoon. Miss Jerry rose with an exclamation and ran out into the broad portico of the state house. Several battalions of a tide-water regiment, passing through town on their way to Camp Dangerfield, had taken advantage of a wait in Raleigh to disembark and show themselves at the capital. They were already halted and at parade rest at the side of the street, and a mounted officer in khaki, galloping madly into view, seemed to focus the eyes of the gathering crowd. He was a gallant figure of a man; his mount was an animal that realized Job's ideal of a battle-horse; the soldiers presented arms as the horseman rode the line. Miss Dangerfield waved her handkerchief, standing eagerly on tiptoe to make her salutation carry as far as possible.
"Who is that?" asked Ardmore, with sinking spirit.
"Why, Rutherford Gillingwater, of course."
"Fours right!" rang the command a moment later, and the militiamen tramped off to the station.
It was then that Ardmore, watching the crowd disperse at the edge of the park, saw his caller of the morning striding rapidly across the street. Ardmore started forward, then checked himself so suddenly that Miss Jerry Dangerfield turned to him inquiringly.
"What's the matter?" she demanded.
"Nothing. I have been robbed, as I hoped to be. Over there on the sidewalk, beyond the girl in the pink sunbonnet, goes my little brown jug. That lank individual with the shabby hat has lifted it out of my room at the hotel, just as I thought he would."