The Lever - Part 8
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Part 8

"But where is she--has she been hurt?"

"No, ma'am; but she done it. She's under th' bed in ye'er room."

The entire party rushed to the bedroom, not knowing what they might find. Mrs. Gorham knelt on the floor and raised the counterpane. There lay the Disinherited Knight, fast asleep, exhausted from her first jousting victories.

"Pat!" cried Eleanor, "are you all right?"

"h.e.l.lo, mamma Eleanor," she answered, sweetly; "is Riley after you, too?"

VI

Mr. Gorham studied Allen carefully during dinner. What Eleanor had told him of the boy interested him, and his intimate knowledge of Stephen Sanford's personality made him a more sympathetic adviser than might otherwise have been the case. Allen, too, was distinctly attracted by Gorham, though his eyes rested more often on the girl facing him across the small table, who seemed even more lovely to him now, in a soft, clinging gown of exquisite texture. His memory of Gorham had been indistinct, but he had heard so much of him through his father and others during these intervening years that he was prepared to see a man who would intimidate him by his severity and awe him by the manifestation of his greatness. In fact, a.s.sociating business success with his father's manners and methods, Allen had come to believe that force meant noise and bl.u.s.ter, and that firmness stood for an intolerance of discussion. But here, in the midst of his family, Robert Gorham displayed a side of his nature which Stephen Sanford had never seen; yet Allen was no less conscious of the man's power. The boy was more quick to sense than he was to a.n.a.lyze, and it was not until he had left the Gorhams, some hours later, that he was able to satisfy his silent query as to what was reminiscent in the strength behind Gorham's genial face and cordial bearing. The thought took him back to his college days, and the course in ancient history which, strange to say, he had enjoyed most of all--to the old-time Roman emperors, born to command, and indifferent to the criticism or the commendation of the world in which they labored, made up of the lesser men they dominated.

The conversation at the dinner-table soon turned to Allen's experiences in Europe, and his naive manner of telling about them afforded no little amus.e.m.e.nt.

"I like everything in London except the telephone," he explained. "It's easy enough to blow in the hot air, but it takes a whole lot of experience on the flute to make the proper connections with your fingers. And to get a number--well, it's a joke, that's what it is."

"Is it really worse than our service?" asked Alice.

"Worse? Why, ours is a direct line without a switchboard compared with theirs. I gave it up altogether after my experience trying to get Crecy & Brown--you know them, Mr. Gorham. I dropped into the office of one of the pater's correspondents and asked to use their telephone. One of the clerks offered to help me out, and I let him.

"'I say, miss,' began the clerk, 'put me through to Crecy & Brown, will you?' Then a few moments went by. 'Oh! thank you very much,' was his reply, and he restored the receiver noisily to its position on the rack.

'They have no telephone,' he said.

"I looked at him a moment, then I said as calmly as I could, 'and yet they say the English are slow.'

"'Do they?' he replied, good-naturedly. 'I don't think I quite follow you.'

"'Why, they have taken that telephone out since four o'clock yesterday afternoon. In America it would have required several days.'

"'Oh, you're joking,' he laughed; 'they couldn't have taken it out since then, you know.'

"'But they have,' I said, boldly, making a noise like the pater. 'I called them up myself at that time yesterday.'

"Then he rang the central office again. 'I say, miss, the gentleman is really positive that Crecy & Brown have a telephone, you know.'

"Some more minutes pa.s.sed by, and again the clerk said, 'Oh, thank you very kindly,' and he put the receiver back.

"'They have no telephone,' he said.

"'There you are,' I cried, 'it has been taken out since four o'clock yesterday afternoon. It's simply wonderful!'

"'You Americans are such bally jokers,' the clerk said. 'They really couldn't have done that, you know.'

"'But they have! I still insist.'

"Then the Englishman went into a trance for a moment. 'I believe you think they have a telephone, after all,' he declared.

"'I really do,' I admitted.

"'Well, we'll soon find out,' the clerk cried, with an awful burst of speed, striking a bell upon his desk.

"'George,' he said to the boy, 'run around to Crecy & Brown's, will you, and see if they have a telephone.'

"I sat there for twenty minutes, discussing the weather, the Derby winner, and all the other favorite English subjects before the boy came back.

"'Yes, sir,' the boy reported, 'Crecy & Brown have a telephone, sir.

Their number is 485 Gerard, sir.'

"The clerk got me the number this time, and I did fairly well. Then I sat down.

"'Did you want to call another number?' he asked me.

"'No, not two in the same day,' I said; 'but over in America we always pa.s.s out something to the operator when she gives us wrong information like that--just for the good of the service.'

"'I suppose I ought to reprimand her,' the clerk admitted--'call her down, as you would say.'

"'If you don't, I will,' I told him.

"'Oh, I had much better do it,' he replied, hastily, taking the receiver in his hand.

"'I say, miss,' he chirped, 'that number you just gave me, 485 Gerard, _is_ Crecy & Brown, you know, the one you said had no telephone. Rather a good joke on you, isn't it, miss?' Then he slammed the receiver on its hook.

"'There!' he said, 'I think that will hold her for a while, as you say in your country!'

"Wouldn't you think that would have just mortified her to death?"

Alice laughed. "If you were amba.s.sador to England, Allen, you could change all that. Perhaps that's the niche for you, after all."

"What's a 'niche'?" demanded Patricia, taking advantage of the first opportunity to join in the conversation.

"What do you think it is, dear?" Mrs. Gorham asked, smiling.

"I think an itch is an awful feeling; why do you want him to have that?"

Patricia replied, sinking into obscurity at the laugh which her definition evoked.

Her father, who had been an interested listener thus far, came to her rescue, and took advantage of Alice's remark to turn the conversation in the direction he had previously determined upon.

"You haven't heard from your father recently, I judge?" he said.

"I have an idea that the pater has overlooked me," Allen replied; "he's been so busy with other things."

"Why don't you fall in with his ambition to make a diplomat of you?"