In the Bishops Carriage | Page 8

eat since early morning. But the Dowager sent the maid away and took the tray herself, operating all the jugs and pots for me, and then tried to feed me the tea. She was about as handy as Molly's little sister is with the baby--but I allowed myself to be coaxed, and drank it down.
Tea, Tom Dorgan. Ever taste tea? If you knew how to behave yourself in polite society, I'd give you a card to my friend, the Dowager, up in the Square.
How to get away! That was the thing that worried me. I'd just made up my mind to have a lucid interval, when cr-creak, the front door opened, and in walked--
Tom, you're mighty cute--so cute you'll land us both behind bars some day--but you can't guess who came in on our little family party. Yes--oh, yes, you've met him.
Well, the old duffer whose watch was ticking inside my waist that very minute! Yes, sir, the same red-faced, big-necked fellow we'd spied getting full at the little station in the country. Only, he was a bit mellower than when you grabbed his chain. Well, he was Edward.
I almost dropped the cup when I saw him. The Dowager took it from me, saying:
"There, dear, don't be nervous. It's only--only--"
She got lost. It couldn't be my daddy--the Bishop was that. But it was her husband, so who could it be?
"Evening, Bishop. Hello, Henrietta, back so soon from the opera?" roared Edward, in a big, husky voice. He'd had more since we saw him, but he walked straight as the Bishop himself, and he's a dear little ramrod. "Ah!"--his eyes lit up at sight of me--"ah, Miss--Miss--of course, I've met the young lady, Henrietta, but hang me if I haven't forgotten her name."
"Miss--Miss Murieson," lied the old lady, glibly. "A--a relative."
"Why, mummy!" I said reproachfully.
"There--there. It's only a joke. Isn't it a joke, Edward?" she demanded, laughing uneasily.
"Joke?" he repeated with a hearty bellow of laughter. "Best kind of a joke, I call it, to find so pretty a girl right in your own house, eh, Bishop?"
"Why does he call my father `Bishop', mummy?"
I couldn't help it. The fun of hearing the Dowager lie and knowing the Bishop beside himself with the pain of deception was too much for me. I could see she didn't dare trust her Edward with my sad story.
"Ho! ho! The Bishop--that's good. No, my dear Miss Murieson, if this lady's your mother, why, I must be--at least, I ought to be, your father. As such, I'm going to have all the privileges of a parent--bless me, if I'm not."
I don't suppose he'd have done it if he'd been sober, but there's no telling, when you remember the reputation the Dowager had given him. But he'd got no further than to put his arm around me when both the Bishop and the Dowager flew to the rescue. My, but they were shocked! I couldn't help wondering what they'd have done if Edward had happened to see the Bishop in the same sort of tableau earlier in the afternoon.
But I got a lucid interval just then, and distracted their attention. I stood for a moment, my head bent as though I was thinking deeply.
"I think I'll go now," I said at length. "I--I don't understand exactly how I got here," I went on, looking from the Bishop to the Dowager and back again, "or how I happened to miss my father. I'm ever--so much obliged to you, and if you will give me my hat, I'll take the next train back to college."
"You'll do nothing of the sort," said the Dowager, promptly. "My dear, you're a sweet girl that's been studying too hard. You must go to my room and rest--"
"And stay for dinner. Don't you care. Sometimes I don't know how I get here myself." Edward winked jovially.
Well, I did. While the Dowager's back was turned, I gave him the littlest one, in return for his. It made him drunker than ever.
"I think," said the Bishop, grimly, with a significant glance at the Dowager, as he turned just then and saw the old cock ogling me, "the young lady is wiser than we. I'll take her to the station--"
The station! Ugh! Not Nance Olden, with the red coat still on.
"Impossible, my dear Bishop," interrupted the Dowager. "She can't be permitted to go back on the train alone."
"Why, Miss--Miss Murieson, I'll see you back all the way to the college door. Not at all, not at all. Charmed. First, we'll have dinner--or, first I'll telephone out there and tell 'em you're with us, so that if there's any rule or anything of that sort--"
The telephone! This wretched Edward with half his wits gave me more trouble than the Bishop and the Dowager put together. She jumped at the