"Well, there, there; I dare say you don't care to hear your folks spoken of in that way," she said, in a milder tone. "But then Richard West was no kin to you, anyway—only your husband's brother!"
Mrs. West could not forbear a pertinent little retort.
"And Captain Lancaster is only your husband's nephew, my lady, yet you take a great interest in him," she said.
Lady Lancaster gave her a keen little glance. "Humph! West has some spirit in her," she said to herself; then, aloud, she replied:
"I can assure you the only interest I take in him is because he is my Lord Lancaster; and as he holds the title my late husband held, I should like for him to have money enough to support it properly. But if he does not marry to please me, you shall see how little I care for the young popinjay."
Mrs. West made no reply, and her mistress continued, after a moment's thought:
"Must you really take the child, do you think, West?"
"I couldn't think of refusing poor Dick's dying request," was the answer.
"Shall you make your home in America?" continued the lady.
"Oh, no, no; I should come back to dear old England. I couldn't consent to pass my last days in a strange country."
Lady Lancaster was silent a moment. Her eyes were very thoughtful; her thin lips worked nervously. Mrs. West waited patiently, her plump hands folded together over the letter that had brought her such strange, unwelcome news. "Where are you going to live when the child comes?" Lady Lancaster snapped, almost rudely.
"I don't know yet, my lady. I have made no plans. I only received my letter a little while ago."
"You don't want my advice, I presume?"—more snappishly than ever.
"I should be very glad of it," Mrs. West replied, respectfully.
"Why didn't you ask it, then?"
"I didn't dare."
"Didn't dare, eh? Am I an ogress? Should I have eaten you if you had asked my advice?" demanded the irascible old lady, shortly.
"Oh, no, Lady Lancaster; but I shouldn't have presumed to trouble you so far," Mrs. West replied, in her quiet way that was so strange a contrast to the other's irritability.
"Very well. I've presumed to lay a plan for you," replied the grim old lady.
"A plan for me!" Mrs. West echoed, vaguely.
"Yes. You shall not go away from Lancaster Park. You shall have the child here."
"Here!" cried the housekeeper, doubtful if she were in her proper senses.
"Why, do you echo my words so stupidly, West?"
"I beg your pardon. I was doubtful if I understood your words rightly. I thought you disliked children," Mrs. West answered, confusedly.
"I did, and do," tartly. "But, for all that, I had sooner have Dick West's child here than for you to leave me. You could keep her in your own rooms, couldn't you? I needn't be bothered with her society?"
"Certainly," faltered Mrs. West, in a tremor of joy. She was very glad that she was not to leave Lancaster Park, where she had dwelt in peace and comfort for sixteen years—ever since her faithful, hard-working John had died and left her a lone widow with only fifteen pounds between her and the world. She had thought herself a very fortunate woman when she secured this place, and her heart bounded with joy at the thought that she was to stay on in peace, in spite of the incumbrance of her brother-in-law's orphan child.
"Oh, Lady Lancaster, I don't know how to thank you!" she cried. "I shall be very glad not to go away from the Park. I will keep Leonora very close, indeed I will, if you allow me to bring her here."
"Well, she shall be brought here. Of course I rely on you to keep her out of my way. I dislike the ways of children," said the hard old lady, who had never had any children herself, and who was an old maid at heart. "That is all I ask of you. Don't have her around under my feet, and I shall never remember that she is here."
"Thanks, my lady. And when am I to go and fetch my niece?" inquired the housekeeper, timidly.
"You're not to fetch her at all. I thought I had told you that already," tartly.
Mrs. West's eyes grew large and round with dismay.
"Indeed, I thought you said I should have her here," she exclaimed.
"So I did; I said she should be brought here, but I didn't say you should go to New York and fetch her home!"
"But Dick wished me to go," perplexedly; "and how is she to come if I do not go?"
"She may come with Lord Lancaster the first of June. I dare say he can go and get her all right."
"But it seems as if I ought to go myself. Besides, Lord Lancaster mightn't like it, indeed," whimpered poor Mrs. West.
"Fiddlesticks! I do not care whether he likes it or not," declared the octogenarian, snapping her fingers. "He shall do as I bid him. Aren't you willing to trust the brat with him?"
"Oh, yes, my lady," declared the housekeeper, with a sigh of relief.
CHAPTER V
"I'll be shot!" ejaculated Captain Lancaster, in a voice of the liveliest exasperation.
"Oh, no; what have you done?" exclaimed his chum, lifting his handsome head from his lounge amid a cloud of curling, blue cigar-smoke.
"Nothing; I never did anything in my life," in an injured tone, "and I am fain to ask why I am so bitterly persecuted."
"Persecuted?" inquired De Vere, languidly.
"Oh, yes, you can afford to be cool. You are the legal heir to ten thousand a year. You are not at the beck and call of a relative who gives you the most troublesome commissions to execute without so much as saying 'by your leave,'" growled Lancaster.
The young lieutenant laughed lazily.
"You have had a letter from my lady?" he said.
"Yes. Look here, De Vere, I wonder if she thinks I belong to her wholly? Must one be a white slave for the sake of coming into twenty thousand a year?"
"It is worth lots of toadying," declared De Vere, emphatically.
"I used to like Aunt Lydia—rather—before my uncle died," said Lancaster, reflectively. "She was always tart and waspish. I didn't care for it when I didn't have to bear the brunt of it. She rather amused me then, but now I get out of patience with her whims and exactions."
"What is it she wants now?" asked Harry De Vere, lazily.
"It is something I have to carry home to her from New York. By Jove! I have a great mind to refuse. Anything in reason I would willingly undertake; but, ah, really, this is too bad!" groaned the victim, dropping his head back among the cushions of his chair.
It was a handsome head, crowned with short, crisp masses of fair hair, and he was a blue-eyed young giant with the perfect features of an Antinous, and a smile that dazzled one when it played around the full red lips half veiled by the drooping ends of the long, fair mustache. He had an indolent air that was not unbecoming to him, but rather taking than otherwise. He did not look like a man who would overexert himself for anything, and yet the air might have been cultivated and not natural.
"I did not know that there was anything on this side of the 'herring-pond' her ladyship would deign to accept," said De Vere.
"There isn't. She has a horror of everything American."
"Then why—what?" inquired the other, perplexedly, and Captain Lancaster's moody brow cleared a moment, and he laughed merrily at his friend's amazed air.
"Give it up, Harry. You couldn't guess in a month," he said.
"I give it up," resignedly.
"It's a female," said Lancaster, lifting his head to note the effect on his inferior officer.
It was startling. The hands that were clasped behind the lieutenant's head relaxed suddenly, and he sat bolt upright on his sofa, his brown eyes distended to their greatest size, his whole air indicative of the greatest astonishment.
"By George! You don't say so?" he ejaculated.
Lancaster relaxed from his perturbation to laugh at his startled hearer. "It's astonishing what an effect the mere mention of the female sex has upon you, De Vere," he observed.
"Well, you did take my breath away. I confess myself astonished. Who is the female, Lancaster? Not," catching his breath excitedly, "the chosen fair?—the fatal she who is to out-captain the captain himself, and lead him captive to the hymeneal altar?"