Madcap

Madcap
by George Gibbs
[Illustration: "'You must flirt, Mr. Markham-and make pretty
speeches-'"]
I. Hermia
II. The Gorilla
III. The Ineffectual Aunt
IV. Marooned
V. Bread and Salt
VI. The Rescue
VII. "Wake Robin"
VIII. Olga Tcherny
IX. Out of His Depth
X. The Fugitive
XI. The Gates of Chance
XII. The Fairy Godmother
XIII. Vagabondia
XIV. The Fabiani Family
XV. Danger

XVI. Manet Cicatrix
XVII. Pére Guégou's Roses
XVIII. A Philosopher in a Quandary
XIX. Mountebanks
XX. The Empty House
XXI. Nemasis
XXII. Great Pan is Dead
XXIII. A Lady in the Dark
XXIV. The Wings of the Butterfly
XXV. Circe and the Fossil
XXVI. Mrs. Berkeley Hammond Entertains
XXVII. The Seats of the Mighty
XXVIII. The Brass Bell
XXIX. Duo
CHAPTER I
HERMIA
Titine glanced at the parted curtains and empty bed, then at the clock,
and yawned. It was not yet eight o'clock. From the look of things, she
was sure that Miss Challoner had arisen and departed for a morning
ride before the breaking of the dawn. She peered out of the window and
contracted her shoulders expressively. To ride in the cold morning air
upon a violent horse when she had been out late! B--r! But then,
Mademoiselle was a wonderful person--like no one since the beginning

of the world. She made her own laws and Titine was reluctantly
obliged to confess that she herself was delighted to obey them.
Another slight shrug of incomprehension--of absolution from such
practices--and Titine moved to the linen cabinet and took out some
fluffy things of lace and ribbon, then to a closet from which she
brought a soft room-gown, a pair of silk stockings and some very small
suede slippers.
She had hardly completed these preparations when there was the sound
of a door hurriedly closed downstairs, a series of joyous yelps from a
dog, a rush of feet on the stairs and the door of the room gave way
before the precipitate entrance of a slight, almost boyish, female person,
with blue eyes, the rosiest of cheeks and a mass of yellow hair, most of
which had burst from its confines beneath her hat.
To the quiet Titine her mistress created an impression of bringing not
only herself into the room, but also the violent horse and the whole of
the out-of-doors besides.
"Down, Domino! Down, I say!" to the clamorous puppy. "Now--out
with you!" And as he refused to obey she waved her crop threateningly
and at a propitious moment banged the door upon his impertinent
snub-nose.
"Quick, Titine, my bath and--why, what are you looking at?"
"Your hat, Mademoiselle," in alarm, "It is broken, and your face--"
"It's a perfectly good face. What's the matter with it?"
By this time Miss Challoner had reached the cheval glass. Her hat was
smashed in at one side and several dark stains disfigured her cheek and
temple.
"Oh, I'm a sight. He chucked me into some bushes, Titine--"
"That terrible horse--Mademoiselle!"

"The same--into some very sticky bushes--but he didn't get away. I got
on without help, too. Lordy, but I did take it out of him! Oh, didn't I!"
Her eye lighted gaily as though in challenge at nothing at all as she
removed her gloves and tossed her hat and crop on the bed and
sprawled into a chair with a sigh, while Titine removed her boots and
made tremulous and reproachful inquiries.
"Mademoiselle--will--will kill herself, I am sure."
Hermia Challoner laughed.
"Better die living--than be living dead. Besides, no one ever dies who
doesn't care whether he dies or not. I shall die comfortably in bed at the
age of eighty-three, I'm sure of it. Now, my bath. Vite, Titine! I have a
hunger like that which never was before."
Miss Challoner undressed and entered her bathroom, where she
splashed industriously for some minutes, emerging at last radiant and
glowing with health and a delight in the mere joy of existence. While
Titine brushed her hair, the girl sat before her dressing-table putting
lotion on her injured cheeks and temple. Her hair arranged, she sent the
maid for her breakfast tray while she finished her toilet in leisurely
fashion and went into her morning room. The suede slippers
contributed their three inches to her stature, the long lines of the
flowing robe added their dignity, and the strands of her hair, each
woven carefully into its appointed place, completed the transformation
from the touseled, hoydenish boy-girl of half an hour before into the
luxurious and somewhat bored young lady of fashion.
But she sank into the chair before her breakfast tray and ate with an
appetite which took something form this illusion, while Titine brought
her letters and a long box of flowers which were unwrapped and placed
in a floor-vase of silver and glass in an embrasure of