“You oughtn’t to speak that way of my fiancé. It’s quite impertinent in a mere private secretary to talk so.”
“I beg your pardon. I forgot that you were engaged. You’ll have to go to Camp Dangerfield and inspect the troops yourself, and they would a lot rather have you inspect them than have your father do it.”
“You mustn’t say things like that! I thought I told you your appointment carried no social recognition. You mustn’t talk to me as though I was a girl you really know——”
“But there’s no use of making-believe such things when I do know you!”
“Not the least little tiny bit, you don’t! Do you suppose, if you were a gentleman I knew and had been introduced to, I would be talking to you here in papa’s office?”
“But I pretend to be a gentleman; you certainly wouldn’t be talking to me if you thought me anything else.”
“I can’t even discuss the matter, Mr. Ardmore. A gentleman wouldn’t lie to a lady.”
“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, marvelled 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.