his habit of yelping with nervous laughter whenever he encountered the girl of his dreams. It was calculated to give her a wrong impression of a chap—make her think him a fearful chump and what not!
“Lady Caroline is leaving by the twelve-fifteen.”
“That’s good! What I mean to say is—oh, she is, is she? I see what you mean.” The absolute necessity of saying something at least moderately coherent gripped him. He rallied his forces. “You wouldn’t care to come for a stroll, after I’ve seen the mater, or a row on the lake, or any rot like that, would you?”
“Thank you very much, but I must go in and help Lord Marshmoreton with his book.”
“What a rotten—I mean what a dam shame!” The pity of it tore at Reggie’s heartstrings. He burned with generous wrath against Lord Marshmoreton, that modern Simon Legree, who used his capitalistic power to make a slave of this girl and keep her toiling indoors when all the world was sunshine.
“Shall I go and ask him if you can’t put it off till after dinner?”
“Oh, no, thanks very much. I’m sure Lord Marshmoreton wouldn’t dream of it.”
She passed on with a pleasant smile. When he had recovered from the effect of this, Reggie proceeded slowly to the upper level to meet his stepmother.
“Hullo, mater! Pretty fit and so forth? What did you want to see me about?”
“Well, Reggie? What is the news?”
“Eh? What? News? Didn’t you get hold of a paper at breakfast? Nothing much in it. Tam Duggan beat Alec Fraser three up and two to play at Prestwick. I didn’t notice anything else much. There’s a new musical comedy at the Regal. An American
