Chapter XVII: A Morning Call

One morning, a few days after the visit to Virginia's home, the Motor Maids and Miss Helen Campbell received a surprise. Never was anything more utterly unexpected than the event which I am now about to record.

They were in their rooms preparing for an after-breakfast dash in the Comet, when there was a tap on Miss Helen's door.

"See who it is," she said to Elinor, the one Motor Maid who knew how to fasten the little lady's blue veil to her satisfaction.

The knock proved to be a bellboy with a sealed note.

"It's addressed to Miss Helen Campbell and the Motor Maids," said Elinor laughing. "Some one who knows us, evidently. Shall I open it?"

"Of course, my dear," answered Miss Campbell, busy at the mirror with her headgear, just as the rest of the maids came in.

Elinor tore off the end of the envelope and took out two cards, while the others with young-girl curiosity made haste to look over her shoulder.

On a piece of folded note paper was written:

"Introducing the Marquis di Briganza and Lord Albert Spencer Ormond. Ignatius Donahue."

The cards were foreign-looking square pieces of pasteboard engraved with the names of these noble gentlemen, one of whom was attached to an Embassy in Washington.

"Now, what in the world?" cried Miss Campbell, and the girls seemed quite awe-struck at these high-sounding titles. "Why should Ignatius Donahue send these titled persons to meet us? We are just plain, simple Americans and I don't think a Marquis and a Lord would add to our pleasure a bit. Do you, children?"

"No," answered Billie emphatically.

"I shall be afraid of them, I am certain," said Mary.

"We shall have to put on our best clothes to meet them, I suppose," was Nancy's observation; while Elinor, holding herself very grandly, remarked:

"I am sure, we are quite as good as they."

"Noble princess," laughed Billie, "of course you are and so are we all, but don't you think it's a nuisance to have to give up our morning ride and change our dresses just to spend half an hour with two silly foreign lords? They'll probably have little mustaches that are waxed and turned up at the ends, and wear high-heeled shoes and carry rattan canes and----"

"But the boy is waiting," interrupted Miss Campbell. "Shall I send word we'll be down presently?"

"Of course," they answered in a chorus, and Miss Campbell smiled to herself. After all, it was not an every-day occurrence to have a Lord and a Marquis pay a friendly morning call.

"You may tell the gentlemen we will see them on the piazza in ten minutes, boy," she said, commencing to unpin her veil as she spoke.

They were much longer than ten minutes, however, in making the proper toilets in which to receive their distinguished guests. Miss Campbell put on a lavender silk she usually wore in the afternoon. Nancy insisted on wearing her very best lingerie and a leghorn hat with a wreath of pink roses encircling the crown.

Billie removed a linen suit only slightly wrinkled and replaced it with a fresh one as dazzling white as the snow that caps the Atlas Mountains. Elinor wore a beautiful creamy organdy trimmed with real lace, a gown that she had been saving for Mrs. Duffy's next party; and little Mary attired herself in the daintiest and prettiest muslin that that clever mother of hers had ever made.

"Shall I wear my hat or not?" asked Miss Campbell, taking a final survey of herself in the cheval glass. "Billie, you have lived in Europe. Is it customary over there to receive visitors at hotels in bonnets in the morning?"

"Dearest Cousin," laughed Billie, "I never received a visitor in my life that I can remember except some of Papa's friends, and I never wore a bonnet for them. I suppose people in very high society may do as they please. Papa told me he saw a funny, shabby old English lady once at a hotel who turned out to be a real duchess. But she poured her tea into a saucer and drank it, and when her granddaughter remonstrated Papa heard her say in a deep bass voice: 'My dear child, don't you know a Duchess may drink tea from a tin pail if she chooses?'"

"Very good, my dear, we are American princesses and it's nobody's business whether we wear hats or not. Now, are you ready? Let me see how all of you look first. Very charming and lovely, my four little rosebuds. I am quite proud of you. Am I all right?"

"Sweet as a peach," answered Billie.

"Now, children, let me caution all of you not to let two foreign noblemen make you feel ill at ease. They are not a bit better than you are, remember, no matter how many titled generations they may have back of them."

"I wonder if they live in castles," said Nancy with a little fluttering laugh that showed the state of her feelings better than words could tell.

Elinor swept along with her proud head held high. Her friends decided that she looked the part of a noble princess to perfection. Mary, with a feeling of timidity, stuck close to Miss Campbell's side, and Billie, feeling rather bashful herself about confronting these grand strangers, brought up the rear of the procession. Miss Campbell stepped resolutely into the elevator, determined not to be frightened by two paltry titles, and in this wise they approached the hotel piazza, unable to disguise from themselves that they were all feeling slightly shaky in the region of the knee joints.

"Where are the gentlemen who sent up these cards?" Miss Campbell asked a bellboy, as she searched the piazza which was almost empty at this hour.

The boy took the cards and read them slowly. Then he began an itinerary of the piazzas and parlors calling in a loud voice:

"The Marqueese dee Brigander,--Lord Albert Spencer Ormond."

"Good heavens, how very embarrassing," exclaimed Miss Campbell. "I didn't know the child was going to scream the names all over the place."

It was indeed a conspicuous moment in the lives of these five ladies. People scattered about the piazzas and in the parlors began slowly to collect near the entrance to the lobby. There were faces at every window. Bellboys peeped from the doorways and around corners. But no gentlemen answering to the names of these ancient titles responded. In truth, Miss Campbell and her charges appeared to form a highly interesting group as they sat waiting for the noble strangers to approach.

At last the boy returned.

"They ain't no such persons registered at this here hotel, ma'am. They may have come over from one of the others. Do you remember the boy as brought you the card?"

"I do," answered Elinor. "He had a freckled face and a snub nose and I think his name is Joey."

Joey was produced immediately. It appeared that he had been watching the callers who had sent up the sealed envelope, but he had not known that it was their names being called about the hotel. He had noticed, however, that they had slipped into the garden with some rapidity and no doubt they were there now, although he, Joey, had distrusted them from the first.

"But why, Joey?" asked Miss Campbell with some concern. "I'm sure they came very properly introduced by our great, although still unseen friend, Mr. Ignatius Donahue."

Joey could give no better reason for mistrusting the strangers than that they seemed sly.

"I am afraid you are a person of exceedingly poor judgment then, Joey," answered Miss Campbell with great dignity. "We shall see the gentlemen in the garden. It is less conspicuous than here. Go before and announce us."

Following the little page, who resembled an imp in bottle green, they went forth into the garden, where in the distance they beheld two figures in white flannels seated on a rustic seat under a poinciana tree.

"They are," whispered Nancy in an excited voice. "The blonde one is the English lord, I suppose, and the dark one is the marquis."

"It may be just the other way around," replied Billie. "Things always turn out contrariwise when you arrange them yourself beforehand."

"I'm sure the blonde one is English," repeated Nancy with conviction, "and from the back of his head, I should say he was quite handsome."

While they were whispering together as they followed slowly after Miss Campbell, they were amazed to behold Timothy Peppercorn running at full speed down another walk which branched off toward the hotel. In his haste he leaped over a low stone bench and landed right beside the two strangers.

"If this isn't jolly," they heard him cry, slapping the blonde lord on the back. "By Jove, but I'm glad to see you. How are you, old man?"

Suddenly Miss Campbell pressed her lips together. Two red spots appeared on either cheek, and she hurried as fast as her diminutive feet could carry her toward the group of young men.

"Percival Algernon St. Clair," she cried, shaking the blonde lord by the shoulders. "Charlie Clay! You young rascals, how dare you play a practical joke on an unprotected old lady and four helpless children? I would just like to box your jaws well, the both of you two upstarts! Marquis and Lord, indeed! Think of our having wasted the morning dressing up in our best clothes like this! You are a precious pair, but I'm glad to see you," she added, beginning already to relent.

Her occasional mild bursts of anger were like brief summer tempests, done almost before they had begun.

"We are so ashamed, Miss Campbell," answered Percy. "We thought it would be a bully good joke on you and the girls, but we had no idea they were going to shout those names all over the hotel. I got the cards from my senator-uncle in Washington, and we used Mr. Donahue's name for fun. But when they began to yell those titles we had to run. We couldn't face it."

"Well, well," said Miss Campbell, "I will forgive you this time, but never play another practical joke on me. You've no idea what a sensation your names created in the hotel."

There was no bad feeling on the part of the Motor Maids. They were too glad to see their friends from West Haven to mind having been fooled.

"I recognized you as soon as I saw your back, Percy-Algy," said Nancy. "Only I couldn't think who on earth you were."

"Do you call that recognizing, Miss Nancy-Bell?" laughed her friend, his handsome ruddy face flushing deeper with the pleasure of seeing her again.

"But how did you happen to come?" inquired Billie.

"It was Timothy, here, who got us down," answered Percy. "You see we were great chums one summer in the mountains. I didn't know how much I wanted to see him again until I found he was at Palm Beach, and the Midget and I decided we'd run down and look him over."

"So you didn't come to see us at all, then?" inquired Miss Campbell.

Timothy winked slyly and grinned.

"I guess I'm a pretty good excuse, Miss Campbell," he said. "But don't tease the lad. He blushes too easily."

"And Charlie came to see you, too, I suppose?" pursued Miss Campbell, glancing at the other boy who was at that moment engaged in an earnest and interested conversation with Mary Price.

"Let's go back and get into our every-days and take a ride in the Comet," suggested Billie. "We can all squeeze in just as we used to do."

As the notion seemed agreeable, they parted company for a time, while the ladies fled by a side door into the hotel. And you may be sure they were not as long in "dressing down" for old friends as they were in dressing up for foreign lords. It was not many minutes before they crowded into the red motor which Edward Paxton had brought around from the garage.

"Why, hello," exclaimed Percy, noticing the young chauffeur at once. "I'm awfully glad to see you again, but I thought you were gone to New York. You must have changed your mind in a hurry to have beat us down."

"You have made a mistake," said Edward stiffly. "I never saw you before."

"Curious," said Percy, "but you are enough like a fellow we met on the way down to be his twin brother."

"Was he alone?" demanded Billie.

"He seemed to be, but why?"

"Oh, nothing," she replied, jumping into the car with the others.

As the automobile turned down the driveway, it met another approaching. The occupants in it bowed politely to Miss Campbell and her party. They were old Mrs. Paxton-Steele, her granddaughter, Georgiana, and her grandson, Clarence. Edward l'Estrange was not with them.