The Honorable Percival

The Honorable Percival

The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Honorable Percival, by Alice Hegan Rice This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: The Honorable Percival
Author: Alice Hegan Rice
Release Date: February 26, 2005 [EBook #15180]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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THE HONORABLE PERCIVAL
[Illustration: Their boat had sailed]

THE HONORABLE PERCIVAL
BY ALICE HEGAN RICE
AUTHOR OF "MRS. WIGGS OF THE CABBAGE PATCH," "A ROMANCE OF BILLY-GOAT HILL," ETC.

NEW YORK THE CENTURY CO. 1914
* * * * *
Copyright, 1914, by THE CENTURY CO. Copyright, 1914, by MCCLURE'S MAGAZINE
* * * * *
_Published, October, 1914_

CONTENTS

CHAPTER
I A BLIGHTED BEING
II A COUNTER-IRRITANT
III CONVALESCENCE
IV COUNTER-CURRENTS
V STRANDED
VI IN THE WIND-SHELTER
VII THE DAY THAT NEVER WAS
VIII IN THE CROW'S-NEST
IX DRAGGING ANCHOR
X ON THE SEARCH
XI THE GYMKHANA
XII THE SONG OF THE SIREN
XIII PERCIVAL PROCRASTINATES
XIV NEPTUNE TAKES A HAND
XV PERCIVAL RISES TO AN OCCASION
XVI IN PORT

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Their boat had sailed
"Well, did you ever! Where did you come from?"
Her hair, still damp, was hanging about her shoulders, and she carried a bundle of bath-towels under her arm
"Mr. Hascombe!" she demanded breathlessly, "you'll take me out in the surf-boat, won't you?"
At a break-neck speed towards the wharf
"I don't know what makes me so everlastingly silly!" she said fiercely trying to swallow the rising sobs, "but he _won't_ understand!"
"I like the way your mouth looks when you read it"
"Roberta!" he called sternly. "What are you doing out here?"
"You will have to join the crowd," suggested Bobby when Percival complained of not seeing her as often as he wished
"If you want to hold my hand, Mr. Hascombe, you are welcome to it"
He sat on a table swinging his feet in unison with a lot of other young feet, while he sipped lemonade from the same glass as Bobby Boynton
"Isn't that the prettiest thing you ever saw?" she asked, glancing at him over her shoulder
"It's quite worth while," he said, "getting a jab in the wrist, to have you looking after me like this"
"I'm so sorry!" whispered Bobby, putting her arm impulsively around his heaving shoulders
* * * * *

THE HONORABLE PERCIVAL

I
A BLIGHTED BEING
The Honorable Percival Hascombe came aboard the Pacific liner about to sail from San Francisco, preceded by a fur coat, a gun-case, two pigskin bags, a hat-box, and a valet. He was tall and slender, and moved with an air of fastidious distinction. He wore a small mustache, a monocle, and an expression of unutterable ennui. His costume consisted of a smart tweed traveling-suit, with cap to match, white spats, and a pair of binoculars swung across his shoulders. In his eyes was the look, carefully maintained, of one who has sounded the depths of human tragedy.
Since his advent into the world twenty-eight years before, he had been made to feel but one responsibility. His elder brother, having persistently refused to provide himself with a wife and heir, the duty of perpetuating the family name fell upon him, Percival Hascombe, second son of the late Earl of Westenhanger, of Hascombe Hall, fifth in descent from the great Westenhanger whose marble effigy adorns the dullest and most respectable cathedral in southern England.
From the time Percival had been able to cast a discriminating eye, his adoring family had presented the feminine flowers of the country-side for his inspection. One after another they had met with his grave consideration and subsequent disapprobation. Fears had begun to be entertained that he would follow in the solitary footsteps of his bachelor brother, when Lady Hortense Vevay appeared on the scene.
Lady Hortense, with her mother, the Duchess of Dare, had come down to Devon for the shooting one autumn, seeking rest after a strenuous social season following her presentation at court. She had been there less than a week when she bagged the biggest game in the neighborhood. The explanation was obvious: the Lady Hortense had no faults to be discovered. The closest inspection through two pairs of glasses, Percival's and her own, failed to reveal a flaw. Her birth and position were equal to his own; her beauty, if attenuated, was sufficient; while her discriminating taste amounted to a virtue. The Honorable Percival proffered his hand, and was accepted. Hascombe Hall rang with applause.
All might have been well had not mother and daughter been pressed to seal the compact by a closer intimacy in a ten-days' visit at the hall. The young people were allowed to bask uninterrupted in the light of each other's perfections, and the result was disastrous. Two persons who have achieved distinction as soloists do not