The Honorable Percival by Alice Hegan Rice

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Percival raged inwardly at the length of the dinner. The golden moments
were racing by, and he was in a fever to get Bobby away to himself,
he had decided on a course which he felt did credit to his power of
self-control. He would permit himself the luxury of showing her that her
affection for him was wholly returned, without in any way committing
himself to a definite engagement. He would, in short, ask her to accept
a sort of promissory note on his affections, to be presented at any time
after the steamer left Hong-Kong.

It was ten o'clock before he contrived, to escape Mrs. Weston's vigilant
eye and whisk Bobby off to a certain favored nook on the boat-deck just
outside the captain's state-room. Here they had spent many happy
evenings, notwithstanding the fact that their figures, silhouetted
against the light, had never failed to provoke the captain to a
profanity that was not always inaudible.

To-night, however, the captain was detained below, and they had the
entire Yellow Sea to themselves as they sat on a projecting ledge and
leaned their elbows comfortably on the rail.

It was an enticing night, with nothing left of the recent storm save a
subtle thrill that still lingered in wind and wave. Overhead spread a
canopy of luminous, subtropical stars; in undisturbed silence they gazed
up at their brilliance. From below floated faint strains of music
mingling with the sound of rippling: water.

"And to think it's our very last night!" murmured Bobby, her chin on her
palm. "I'll never bear 'La Paloma' that I sha'n't think of this trip and
of you."

Percival dared not answer. He had reached that stage when, according
to the philosopher, the moonlight is a pleasing fever, the stars are
letters, the flowers ciphers, and the air is coined into song. He
regarded her gaze as she bent it upon the stars as the most exquisitely
pensive thing he had ever behold.

"My! but there are some dandy billiard-shots up there!" she exclaimed
suddenly. "Do you see that lovely carom over there beyond the Dipper?"

"I am not thinking of caroms," he said impatiently, "I am thinking of
you."

"What have I done now?" she asked indignantly.

"You've made me forget that there's anything else in the whole universe
but just you!"

"And now you've got to begin to remember," said Bobby, sympathetically.

He searched her face for a clue as to what was passing in her mind, but
he found none.

"You are a most awfully baffling girl," he said. "Sometimes I can't
determine whether you are subtle or merely ingenuous."

"I'd give it up," advised Bobby.

"But I sha'n't give it up. I sha'n't be content until I know every
little corner of your mind and heart."

She stirred uneasily. From, the way he was looking at her it was
evidently a good thing that his near arm was in a sling.

"You need a cigar," she said soothingly. "Get one out; I'll light it for
you."

He obediently produced his cigar-case, and together they selected a
cigar. She made a great point of cutting off the end, and then, when he
had got it into his mouth, she struck a match and, sheltering the blaze
with her scarf, held it close. The sudden intimacy of that beautiful
face in the little circle of light, with the darkness all around, was
quite too much for Percival. He looked straight into her eyes for one
resolution-breaking second, then he blew out the match and catching her
to him, passionately kissed those smiling, upturned lips.

"Mr. Hascombe!" she protested, shrinking away; but Percival had made his
leap and nothing could stop him.

"You are mine!" he cried rapturously, pressing her hand again and again
to his lips. "It's all quite right, my darling. Don't be frightened. We
shall be married any time, anywhere you say, to-morrow, if you like, in
Hong-Kong."

"But, Mr. Hascombe--"

"Not Mr. Hascombe. Percival, Percy, if you will. Fancy! Love at first
sight. One glance on those desolate plains, and you were mine!"

"But I'm not. That's what I'm trying to tell you."

He looked at her fatuously. "But you will be! My little lady of the
manor! My beautiful little mistress of Hascombe Hall!"

She struggled away from him, and stood at bay.

"How _can_ you talk to me like this?" she cried, her voice
trembling with indignation, "after what I told you that day in the
wind-shelter?"

"In the wind-shelter?" He looked at her in bewilderment.

"Yea, about Hal Ford and the captain and all that. Why, you promised to
help me, and now--"

"Hal Ford?" repeated Percival, dazed. "What has he to do with it?"

"More than anybody else in the world. He's waiting for me in Wyoming,
and I'm counting the days and the hours and the minutes until I get back
to him. I thought you understood, and were helping me bring the captain
around."

He stood before her too stunned to speak.

Sheer amazement for the moment crowded out the pain.

"But--but don't you love me?" he stammered at last.

"Of course I don't," said Bobby, almost indignantly; "I never have loved
anybody, and I never will love anybody but Hal."

Then Percival realized that it was quite possible for lightning to
strike twice in the same place. He felt a sudden pain in his throat,
a burning under his lids, and he sat down limply.

[Illustration: "I'm so sorry!" whispered Bobby, putting her arm
impulsively around his heaving shoulders]

"I'm so sorry!" whispered Bobby, putting her arm impulsively around his
heaving shoulders. "I thought we were playing a game. I thought you
understood. Please forgive me, Mr. Hascombe! Please! Won't you?"

He shook off her arm and stood up. He was whiter than he had been on the
night of the accident, but he managed to achieve a smile.

"Nothing whatever to forgive, I assure you. Just a bit of a bunker, you
know. Silly ass I was, not to have seen it all along. May I offer my
congratulations?" he added.

She took the hand that he hold out, and for a longer time than either of
them knew they stood silent, looking out into the vast mystery of the
night, while the throbbing strains of "La Paloma" floated up from below,
mingling with the music of the rippling water.

"I guess this is good-by," said Bobby, tremulously.

Then it was that the Honorable Percival illustrated the fact that an
English gentleman is often greatest in defeat.

"Not necessarily," he said gamely. "Quite possible you and your husband
may come to England."

"Or you to Wyoming!" cried Bobby, brightening instantly, and turning
upon him the full splendor of her eyes. "Hal and I'd just _love_ to
give you a summer on the ranch. Do you suppose it ever will be
possible?"

"Oh, I dare say," said the Honorable Percival, nonchalantly adjusting
his monocle.

XVI

IN PORT

The next morning the long voyage of the _Saluria_ came to an end.
The steamer docked at Hong-Kong just as the first pink streaks of dawn
crept over the bay and the terraced city.

Bobby was up with the officers, and breakfasted alone with the captain.

"Can you spare me five minutes?" she asked as he was hurrying through
his second cup of coffee.

"What for?"

"For a talk. I've got something to tell you."

"It'll have to wait," said the captain, gruffly. "We are landing a cargo
of sugar machinery here, and I've got my hands full."

"I don't want your hands," said Bobby, quietly; "I want your ears.
There's something I've just got to tell you."

"I can't listen. I'm due on the bridge now."

He escaped for the time being, but later In the morning, when the
commotion of arrival was at its height, and the passengers were
beginning to go ashore, he found Bobby on the bridge beside him. He
fancied he saw defiance written all over her, from the crown of her
white hat to the tip of her white shoes.

"Captain," she said, "It won't take a minute."

He was on the point of refusing when she laid her hand on his.

"Cut away!" he said, looking straight ahead of him. "Make it short."

"It's about Mr. Hascombe. He's--he's asked me to marry him."

The captain jerked his hand away and brought it down on the rail with a
resounding blow.

"You sha'n't do it!" he thundered. "I'd see you sewed up in a bag and
dropped alongside first."

"But, Captain--"

"I won't have it! There's no use arguing. The idea of a girl of mine
being carried away by a condescending, conceited jack-in-the-box--"

"He _isn't_! He's a darling!" Bobby flashed out hotly. "It's just
that you don't understand him."

"What's more, I don't want to. I've had enough of him and his kind. If
I'd known you were going to run amuck of a thing like this, I'd have let
you bury yourself on the ranch for the rest of your life."

"Well," agreed Bobby, carefully studying her pink palm, and weighing her
words as one who is quite open to reason, "I think I could have been
happy with Hal; but you thought we were both too young and that I ought
to see some other men first."

"Yes, but I didn't know you were going to get your head turned by the
first fool that came lording it around with a valet and a title. The
Fords may be plain people, but, by Jugs! they are the sort to tie up to
in a squall."

Bobby smiled broadly under the brim of her hat.

"Then you advise me to take Hal?"

"I advise you to let me send this fellow Hascombe about his business.
I'll make short work of him."

Bobby slipped her arm through his, and looked up saucily.

"You needn't bother, dear," she said. "Now that it's all settled about
Hal, I don't mind telling you that I refused Mr. Hascombe last night."

* * * * *

On the gangway below, the passengers were slowly filing ashore. Among
the last to debark was the Honorable Percival Hascombe, followed by a
fur coat, a gun-case, two pigskin bags, a hat-box, and a valet. On his
face was an expression of unutterable ennui. As he reached the wharf he
turned and casually surveyed the steamer. On the bridge he discerned a
small alert figure, clad in white, her dark head framed by the broad
brim of a Panama hat. She waved her hand and smiled, and he waved back,
but he did not smile.

"Judson," said the Honorable Percival as they handed their bags to
Sister Cordelia's footman, "quite unnecessary to mention any--er--any
incidents of the voyage. You understand?"

"Quite so, sir," said Judson.

FINIS

* * * * *

"When Alice Hegan Rice writes a little book, lovers of whimsical
fiction rejoice with open rejoicing."--_Chicago Tribune_.

"Mrs. Rice has been paid the compliment of being compared with Dickens.
Those who appreciate her real merits will see that she is more natural,
more lifelike, and more unaffectedly humorous than the author of
'Pickwick Papers.'"--_Rochester Post-Express_.

"There is a delicious humor in everything she writes, and it has
the virtue of non-boisterousness and sobriety in tone. There is
no straining for wit: everything has the merit of spontaneity and
naturalness."--_Philadelphia Record_.

"She is one of the real humorists, for at the bottom of her humor there
is a deep well of human kindness."--_The Metropolitan_.

_See next page for complete list of Mrs. Rice's books_

* * * * *

Books by Alice Hegan Rice

MRS. WIGGS OF THE CABBAGE PATCH

"A sure cure for the blues, and a gay challenge to pessimists in
general."--_Chicago Herald_.

_Price_ $1.00

LOVEY MARY

"For fun and pathos, for crisp wit and serene philosophy, and for the
charm that holds the reader spellbound, 'Lovey Mary' is as notable as
'Mrs. Wiggs.'"--_The Christian Intelligencer_.

_Price_ $1.00

MR. OPP

"He is a figure that might hang without insidious
comparison in George Eliot's own immortal
character portrait gallery."--_New York Sun_.
_Price_ $1.00

A ROMANCE OF BILLY-GOAT HILL

"The love story has the fragrance of a wild rose, and every character in
the book is worth knowing."--_Chicago Record-Herald_.

_Price_ $1.25 _net, postage_ 10 _cents_

SANDY

Sandy is a lovable Irish waif, and his story overflows with sunshine and
humor.

_Price_ $1.00

CAPTAIN JUNE

A happy story of a dear little American lad who has all kinds of
interesting and unusual experiences in Japan.

_Price_ $1.00

At all booksellers. Published by THE CENTURY CO.

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