A Damsel in Distress

"I understand," "Very well."

Lord Marshmoreton coughed. George looked at him with some surprise.

He had supposed the interview to be at an end, but the other made

no move to go. There seemed to be something on the earl's mind.

"There is--ah--just one other thing," said Lord Marshmoreton. He

coughed again. He felt embarrassed. "Just--just one other thing,"

he repeated.

The reason for Lord Marshmoreton's visit to George had been

twofold. In the first place, Lady Caroline had told him to go.

That would have been reason enough. But what made the visit

imperative was an unfortunate accident of which he had only that

morning been made aware.

It will be remembered that Billie Dore had told George that the

gardener with whom she had become so friendly had taken her name

and address with a view later on to send her some of his roses. The

scrap of paper on which this information had been written was now

lost. Lord Marshmoreton had been hunting for it since breakfast

without avail.

Billie Dore had made a decided impression upon Lord Marshmoreton.

She belonged to a type which he had never before encountered, and

it was one which he had found more than agreeable. Her knowledge of

roses and the proper feeling which she manifested towards

rose-growing as a life-work consolidated the earl's liking for her.

Never, in his memory, had he come across so sensible and charming a

girl; and he had looked forward with a singular intensity to

meeting her again. And now some too zealous housemaid, tidying up

after the irritating manner of her species, had destroyed the only

clue to her identity.

It was not for some time after this discovery that hope dawned

again for Lord Marshmoreton. Only after he had given up the search

for the missing paper as fruitless did he recall that it was in

George's company that Billie had first come into his life. Between

her, then, and himself George was the only link.

It was primarily for the purpose of getting Billie's name and

address from George that he had come to the cottage. And now that

the moment had arrived for touching upon the subject, he felt a

little embarrassed.

"When you visited the castle," he said, "when you visited the

castle . . ."

"Last Thursday," said George helpfully.

"Exactly. When you visited the castle last Thursday, there was a

young lady with you."

Not realizing that the subject had been changed, George was under

the impression that the other had shifted his front and was about

to attack him from another angle. He countered what seemed to him

an insinuation stoutly.