A Damsel in Distress

Even her brother, Percy, a stern critic where his nearest and

dearest were concerned, had admitted on meeting her in the

drawing-room before dinner that that particular dress suited Maud.

It was a shimmering dream-thing of rose-leaves and moon-beams. That,

at least, was how it struck George; a dressmaker would have found a

longer and less romantic description for it. But that does not

matter. Whoever wishes for a cold and technical catalogue of the

stuffs which went to make up the picture that deprived George of

speech may consult the files of the Belpher Intelligencer and

Farmers' Guide, and read the report of the editor's wife, who

"does" the dresses for the Intelligencer under the pen-name of

"Birdie Bright-Eye". As far as George was concerned, the thing was

made of rose-leaves and moon-beams.

George, as I say, was deprived of speech. That any girl could

possibly look so beautiful was enough to paralyse his faculties;

but that this ethereal being straight from Fairyland could have

stooped to love him--him--an earthy brute who wore sock-suspenders

and drank coffee for breakfast . . . that was what robbed George of

the power to articulate. He could do nothing but look at her.

From the Hills of Fairyland soft music came. Or, if we must be

exact, Maud spoke.

"I couldn't get away before!" Then she stopped short and darted to

the door listening. "Was that somebody coming? I had to cut a

dance with Mr. Plummer to get here, and I'm so afraid he may. . ."

He had. A moment later it was only too evident that this was

precisely what Mr. Plummer had done. There was a footstep on the

stairs, a heavy footstep this time, and from outside the voice of

the pursuer made itself heard.

"Oh, there you are, Lady Maud! I was looking for you. This is our

dance."

George did not know who Mr. Plummer was. He did not want to know.

His only thought regarding Mr. Plummer was a passionate realization

of the superfluity of his existence. It is the presence on the

globe of these Plummers that delays the coming of the Millennium.

His stunned mind leaped into sudden activity. He must not be found

here, that was certain. Waiters who ramble at large about a feudal

castle and are discovered in conversation with the daughter of the

house excite comment. And, conversely, daughters of the house who

talk in secluded rooms with waiters also find explanations

necessary. He must withdraw. He must withdraw quickly. And, as a

gesture from Maud indicated, the withdrawal must be effected

through the french window opening on the balcony. Estimating the

distance that separated him from the approaching Plummer at three

stairs--the voice had come from below--and a landing, the space of

time allotted to him by a hustling Fate for disappearing was some

four seconds. Inside two and half, the french window had opened

and closed, and George was out under the stars, with the cool winds

of the night playing on his heated forehead.