And why not? That was the question. Was there any reason why not? Of
course Alicia had her parent, who was naturally the prime factor in any
restraint that might be put upon her. But then, Mr. Pegg did not know of
the incident of the motion-picture house. Not that there was anything in
it to the young man's discredit. But suitable bachelors did not
generally have a mystery attached to them anywhere. Of course we did not
as yet even know that he was a bachelor, though from the way he looked
at Peaches I earnestly hoped he was.
Should I inform Mr. Pegg of what I knew? But what, after all, did I
know? Nothing except that two quite unattractive foreigners seemed to
have designs upon him. And those friends of his, Lord and Lady Gordon,
were presumably highly desirable. Well, Abby might know something about
him. I felt my responsibility toward Peaches heavily. And yet I longed
for a romance. Or at any rate, at least for the spectacle of one. Such a
time and such a place demanded it. Through the window of my unhomelike
hotel bedroom crept the scent of exotic blossoms on the wings of a
gentle breeze which stirred my letter to the minister to a faint
fluttering. I looked at it hard for a long moment, a trifle saddened
that so much sweetness should be wasted on anything less than a love
epistle. Then I collected my emotions, put them, metaphorically
speaking, away in dried lavender, where they belonged, sealed my letter
and made myself ready for dinner.
When I rejoined my little family the duke had gone, but Peaches could
talk of nothing else.
"Isn't he a regular guy?" she challenged the world from her seat upon
the end of a high table. "He's two inches taller than I am! We measured.
And he's the goods--absolutely! Got an old ranch that was staked out
during the pioneer Christian days, back in the mountains. But it's been
let run down."
"Orchards?" inquired her father, his interest quickening.
"Some," said his daughter. "But mostly human livestock, I guess. A
tenantry, they call it."
"Italian for rent hog," commented her father.
And we went down to dinner.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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