"'He do, do he?' says I.

"'He do!' says he. 'Sure, ave I not talked wit him over that same bit ave bronze but yisterday?'"

"'Will yees show me the scow cabin?' says I.

"'Indade I'll do that same,' says he, 'and wan thing more,' says he.

"Hist!" and Smith spoke very low and cautiously. "He heard a child cry--or maybe it was a cat. Kelly didn't know which, not bein'

interested."

The two stared at each other for a moment in silence, then Sam said: "How long has your friend Kelly known him?"

"I don't knaw--sure, I didn't ax him, but I thought it was impartant to tell yees at once. Kelly is waitin' down be the shipyard. Will yees come?"

"I'll meet both of you there in an hour. Sh! Aunty is coming. Mum is the word, Smith!"

"Sure, the ould divil himself cudn't make me tell it to yees aunt." As he was leaving, Smith said in a whisper, "We'll wait for yees."

"I'll be along soon," replied Sam, and he muttered thoughtfully, "May be something in it."

CHAPTER XI.

Suddenly Sam became all attention, for he heard the voice of Mrs.

Harris, who then reappeared with an open book in her hand.

"The work is ent.i.tled 'Chesterfieldian Deportment,' by Garrilus Gibbs, Ph.D. D. D., Now, Sam, I desire your strict attention to this paragraph," and she read from the book.

"'Nothing so militates against the first impression of a gentleman as ingrat.i.tude for a special service rendered; for example'"--and she looked at Sam very significantly, as she lowered the book, "His Grace was so solicitous about your hurt that, regardless of convenience and also of prior appointments, he hastened to make a personal call, rather than use the 'phone."

"Particularly so," Sam added, provoked to grin, "when a right pretty and wealthy maid is in the corral. Eh, aunty?"

"That is my lord's prerogative, but I shall permit of no digression,"

she severely remarked. "To continue--'nothing to mind so convincingly proclaims the ignorance of an ill-bred commoner than vulgar liberty in the presence of a peer of England's realm!' You follow me?"

"I guess I do, aunty," Sam replied, with his characteristic side movement of the head, and then, as he stood in an expectant att.i.tude, carelessly fingered, with both hands, his watch chain.

"Sam, stop fidgeting with your watch chain. It is characteristic of a nervous gawk. The very reverse of good form and quite unbecoming a well-bred, polite gentleman."

"All right, aunty, fire away." And Sam's eyes twinkled mischievously, as his hands fell by his side.

"In order that the house of Harris shall not be defamed through an act of discourtesy to one of its guests, I insist, first of all, that you give me an example of your expression of grat.i.tude to his Lordship for his great humanitarian act and kindness to you in your hour of insensibility."

"Ea--ah! Eh!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Sam in laughing surprise, but much as he disliked to comply, he felt there was no use trying to dodge the issue.

His aunt was determined and experience had taught him that in order to retain the indulgence of the "best and fondest aunt on earth," a discreet concurrence in her whims was imperative. So with an agreeable smile, he added, "All right, aunty, here goes."

"For the purpose of approach, you may address me as 'my lord,'"

interjected Mrs. Harris.

"Ha! That's easier, aunty," and a smile of satisfaction spread over his face.

"Proceed!" exclaimed his aunt, sententiously.

"I beg to express to your lordship"--

"Sam!" said Mrs. Harris, interrupting him, "you have omitted the very pith and essence of initiatory greeting."

"Ea--ha! How?" exclaimed Sam, surprised.

"By neglecting to make obeisance."

"To you, aunty?"

"To me. Now, Sam, beware of shyness. Bow naturally and with unaffected ease."

"All ready?" inquired Sam.

"Proceed!"

With that he bowed--bowed with a charm of grace that brought a look of pleased surprise from Mrs. Harris. It was evident she was already mollified.

"I beg your lordship will permit me the honor personally to express my appreciation, and to tender to you my heartfelt thanks for your kind services to me last night."

The smile of unaffected pleasure that brightened his face, at the knowledge that his aunt was pleased, a.s.sisted him wonderfully through the ordeal, for such he considered it.

"My compliments, Sam!" exclaimed Mrs. Harris, who appeared immensely pleased.

"Aw--deuced well delivered, don't che know!"

They turned and beheld Rutley and Hazel standing in the doorway.

Sam's chagrin was very great, and conscious of his inability to conceal his disgusted facial expression, turned aside and muttered, "Wouldn't that fizz you?"

Mrs. Harris was evidently much gratified, for she pointedly remarked, "Your lordship must now concede that our boy was not intentionally rude."

As for Sam, his vexation was great, and though he discreetly kept silence, the hot blood reddened his face perceptibly. He had unwittingly humbled himself to a man, who, he felt instinctively, was his enemy.

Just what brought Rutley and Hazel to the doorway in time to hear Sam's expression of thanks was never explained. But it may be presumed he had some announcement to make which the unexpected apology from Sam had made unnecessary.

Its effect on Rutley was instantaneous, for his frigidity melted as snow beneath a summer sun. The monocle came down from his eye and a gracious, condescending smile overspread his face.

"I am very sorry the accident happened, and I beg you to believe I have been deeply concerned about your hurt."

"We are sure your lordship has suffered great mental anguish over the unfortunate affair," responded Mrs. Harris, relieved by Rutley's condescension.