“That’s a real inspiration on your part, Mr. Ardmore; and it’s very sweet of you to mention it, but I have no idea that any harm has come to papa. It’s too much trouble to get elected governor, without dying in office, and besides, papa is none too friendly with the lieutenant-governor, and would never think of allowing such a person to succeed him. But those bonds seem rather serious, and I don’t like the idea of your Mr. Billings making a fuss at Raleigh.”
“That will be all right,” remarked Ardmore, blotting the last of a number of telegrams which he had been writing, and pressing a button. “It’s much more important for us to get Appleweight into a South Carolina jail; and it’s not going to be so easy to do, now that Grissy is working on the other side, and angry at me about that scarlet fever telegram.
“There may be trouble,” said Ardmore to his guests as they sat at luncheon. “But I should hate to have it said that my guests could not be taken care of here perfectly. I beg that you will all remain.”
“If there’s to be a row, why don’t you call the police and be done with it?” asked a sad young member of the company. His motor number had so often figured in reports of speed law violations that he was known as Eighteen Eighty. “I thought you came down here for quiet and not to get into trouble, Ardy.”
“If I miss my steamer nine days from to-day, and meanwhile have to eat horse meat, just as they did in the siege of Paris, I shall be greatly provoked, to say the least,” remarked Mrs. Atchison pleasantly; for her brother’s amazing awakening delighted her, and it was a cheering experience that he promised, of civil war, battle, murder, and sudden death.
“I think I shall spend more time in America after this,” remarked Eighteen Eighty. “I did not know that amusing things ever happened over here. What did you say the name of this state is?”
“The name of this state,” replied Miss Dangerfield, “is North Carolina, and I have my opinion of any native American who runs around Europe all the time, and who can visit a place in this country without even knowing the name of the state he is in.”
“But there’s really no difference between North and South Carolina, is there?” persisted Eighteen Eighty.
Jerry put down her fork, and folded her hands beside her plate, while she addressed the offender.
“Mr. Number Something, the difference between the Old North State and South Carolina is not merely geographical—it is also intellectual, ethical, and spiritual. But may I ask you whether you know of which state you are a citizen?”