“That would be very unnecessary. A duke, after all, is something, and I should hate to have the poor man killed on my account. And besides, Mrs. Atchison, I am perfectly able to take care of myself.”
“I believe you are, Jerry. But it’s a terrible thing to have that beast about, and I shall tell him to-night that he must leave this place and the country.”
“But first,” said Jerry, “I have an engagement to ride with him after dinner to see the moon, and the opportunity of seeing a moon with a duke of ancient family, here on the sacred soil of North Carolina, is something that I cannot lightly put aside.”
“You cannot—you must not go!”
“Leave it to me,” said Jerry, smiling slightly; “and I promise you that the duke will never again insult an American girl. And now I think I must dress for dinner.”
She rose and turned her eyes dreamily to the tower above, where the North Carolina state flag flapped idly in the breeze. This silken emblem with its single star Miss Geraldine Dangerfield carried with her in her trunk wherever she travelled; and having noted Ardsley’s unadorned flagstaff, she had, with her own hands, unfurled it, highly resolved that it should remain until the rightful governor returned to his own.
A few minutes later, as Mrs. Atchison was reading the late mail in her sitting-room, she took up a New York newspaper of the day before and ran over the headlines. “Lost: A Governor” was a caption that held her eye, and she read a special despatch dated Raleigh with deepest interest. Governor Dangerfield, the item hinted, had not yet returned from New Orleans, where he had gone to attend the Cotton Planters’ Convention, and where, moreover, he had quarrelled with the governor of South Carolina. The cowardly conduct of both governors in dealing with the Appleweight band of outlaws was recited at length; and it was also intimated that Governor Dangerfield was deliberately absenting himself from his office to avoid meeting squarely the Appleweight issue.
Mrs. Atchison smiled to herself; then she laughed merrily as she rang for her maid.
“Little Jerry’s story seemed highly plausible as she told it; and yet she is perfectly capable of spinning romance with that pretty mouth of hers, particularly when backed by those sweet and serious blue eyes. Tommy and Jerry! The combination is irresistible! If she has really turned the state of North Carolina over to my little brother, something unusual will certainly happen before long.”
And Mrs. Atchison was quite right in her surmise, as we shall see.