"None, fortunately. Where can we get a cab? Or can you bring one here?"
"I"m afraid there"ll be none nearer than Fifty-ninth Street. They leave the other entrances before it"s as dark as this."
"Never mind the cab," said the girl. "If you"ll help me to mount, I"ll ride home."
"That"s the pluck!" said the policeman.
"Do you think you had better?" asked Peter.
"Yes. I"m not a bit afraid. If you"ll just tighten the girth."
It seemed to Peter he had never encountered such a marvellously fascinating combination as was indicated by the clinging position of a minute ago and the erect one of the present moment. He tightened the girth with a pull that made the roan mare wonder if a steam-winch had hold of the end, and then had the pleasure of the little foot being placed in his hand for a moment, as he lifted the girl into the saddle.
"I shall ride with you," he said, mounting instantly.
"Beg pardon," said the policeman. "I must take your names. We are required to report all such things to headquarters."
"Why, Williams, don"t you know me?" asked Peter.
Williams looked at Peter, now for the first time on a level with him. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Stirling. It was so dark, and you are so seldom here afternoons that I didn"t know you."
"Tell the chief that this needn"t go on record, nor be given to the reporters."
"Very well, Mr. Stirling."
"I beg your pardon," said the girl in a frank yet shy way, "but will you tell me your first name?"
Peter was rather astonished, but he said "Peter."
"Oh!" cried the girl, looking Peter in the face. "I understand it now. I didn"t think I could behave so to a stranger! I must have felt it was you." She was smiling joyfully, and she did not drop her eyes from his.
On the contrary she held out her hand to him.
Of course Peter took it. He did not stop to ask if it was right or wrong to hold a young girl"s hand. If it was wrong, it was certainly a very small one, judging from the size of the hand.
"I was so mortified! But if it"s you it"s all right."
Peter thought this mood of the girl was both delightful and complimentary, but he failed to understand anything of it, except its general friendliness. His manner may have suggested this, for suddenly the girl said:
"But of course, you do not know who I am? How foolish of me! I am Leonore D"Alloi."
It was Peter"s turn to gasp. "Not--?" he began and then stopped.
"Yes," said the girl joyfully, as if Peter"s "not" had had something delightful in it.
"But--she"s a child."
"I"ll be eighteen next week," said Leonore, with all the readiness of that number of years to proclaim its age.
Peter concluded that he must accept the fact. Watts could have a child that old. Having reached this conclusion, he said, "I ought to have known you by your likeness to your mother." Which was an unintentional lie. Her mother"s eyes she had, as well as the long lashes; and she had her mother"s pretty figure, though she was taller. But otherwise she was far more like Watts. Her curly hair, her curvy mouth, the dimple, and the contour of the face were his. Leonore D"Alloi was a far greater beauty than her mother had ever been. But to Peter, it was merely a renewal of his dream.
Just at this point the groom rode up. "Beg pardon, Miss D"Alloi," he said, touching his cap. "My "orse went down on a bit of hice."
"You are not hurt, Belden?" said Miss D"Alloi.
Peter thought the anxious tone heavenly. He rather wished he had broken something himself.
"No. Nor the "orse."
"Then it"s all right. Mr. Stirling, we need not interrupt your ride.
Belden will see me home."
Belden see her home! Peter would see him do it! That was what Peter thought. He said, "I shall ride with you, of course." So they started their horses, the groom dropping behind.
"Do you want to try it again?" asked Mutineer of the roan.
"No," said the mare. "You are too big and strong."
Leonore was just saying: "I could hear the pound of a horse"s feet behind me, but I thought it was the groom, and knew he could never overtake Fly-away. So when I felt the saddle begin to slip, I thought I was--was going to be dragged--as I once saw a woman in England--Oh!--and then suddenly I saw a horse"s head, and then I felt some one take hold of me so firmly that I didn"t have to hold myself at all, and I knew I was safe. Oh, how nice it is to be big and strong!"
Peter thought so too.
So it is the world over. Peter and Mutineer felt happy and proud in their strength, and Leonore and Fly-away glorified them for it. Yet in spite of this, as Peter looked down at the curly head, from his own and Mutineers alt.i.tude, he felt no superiority, and knew that the slightest wish expressed by that small mouth, would be as strong with him as if a European army obeyed its commands.
"What a tremendous horse you have?" said Leonore. "Isn"t he?" a.s.sented Peter. "He"s got a bad temper, I"m sorry to say, but I"m very fond of him. He was given me by my regiment, and was the choice of a very dear friend now dead."
"Who was that?"
"No one you know. A Mr. Costell."
"Oh, yes I do. I"ve heard all about him."
"What do you know of Mr. Costell?"
"What Miss De Voe told me."
"Miss De Voe?"
"Yes. We saw her both times in Europe. Once at Nice, and once in--in 1882--at Maggiore. The first time, I was only six, but she used to tell me stories about you and the little children in the angle. The last time she told me all she could remember about you. We used to drift about the lake moonlight nights, and talk about you."
"What made that worth doing to you?"
"Oh from the very beginning, that I can remember, papa was always talking about "dear old Peter""--the talker said the last three words in such a tone, shot such a look up at Peter, half laughing and half timid, that in combination they nearly made Peter reel in his saddle--"and you seemed almost the only one of his friends he did speak of, so I became very curious about you as a little girl, and then Miss De Voe made me more interested, so that I began questioning Americans, because I was really anxious to learn things concerning you. Nearly every one did know something, so I found out a great deal about you."
Peter was realizing for the first time in his life, how champagne made one feel.
"Tell me whom you found who knew anything about me?"
"Oh, nearly everybody knew something. That is, every one we"ve met in the last five years. Before that, there was Miss De Voe, and grandpapa, of course, when he came over in 1879--"