Yates took the offered hand with genuine emotion.
"Surely," he said, "your unknown intended must be some charming leader in the social activities of the great metropolis."
"Who knows! She may be m-my own l-laundress for all I know. She may be anything, Yates! She--she might even be b-black!"
"Black!"
Mr. Carr nodded, shuddered, dashed the unmanly moisture from his eyeglass.
"I think I'd better go to town and tell my son-in-law, William Destyn, exactly what has happened to me," he said. "And I think I'll go through the kitchen garden and take my power boat so that those devilish reporters can't follow me. Ferdinand!" to the man at the door, "ring up the garage and order the blue motor, and tell those newspaper men I'm going to town. That, I think, will glue them to the lawn for a while."
"About--Drusilla, sir?" ventured Yates; but Mr. Carr was already gone, speeding noiselessly out the back way, through the kitchen garden, and across the great tree-shaded lawn which led down to the boat landing.
Across the distant hedge, from the beautiful grounds of his next-door neighbor, floated sounds of mirth and music. Gay flags fluttered among the trees. The Magnelius Grandcourts were evidently preparing for the brilliant charity bazaar to be held there that afternoon and evening.
"To think," muttered Carr, "that only an hour ago I was agreeably and comfortably prepared to pass the entire afternoon there with my daughters, amid innocent revelry. And now I'm in flight--pursued by furies of my own invoking--threatened with love in its most hideous form-- matrimony! Any woman I now look upon may be my intended bride for all I know," he continued, turning into the semiprivate driveway, bordered heavily by lilacs; "and the curious thing about it is that I really don't care; in fact, the excitement is mildly pleasing."
He halted; in the driveway, blocking it, stood a red motor car--a little runabout affair; and at the steering-wheel sat a woman--a lady's maid by her cap and narrow apron, and an exceedingly pretty one, at that.