The Maid-At-Arms. Robert W. Chambers

      "Dorothy, I want my watch!" repeated the voice.

      Still looking at me, my cousin slowly drew from her bosom a huge, jewelled watch, and displayed it for my inspection.

      "We were matching mint-dates with shillings for father's watch; I won it," she observed.

      "Dorothy!" insisted the voice.

      "Oh, la!" she cried, impatiently, "will you hush?"

      "No, I won't!"

      "Then our cousin Ormond will come up-stairs and give you what Paddy gave the kettle-drum--won't you?" she added, raising her eyes to me.

      "And what was that?" I asked, astonished.

      Somebody on the landing above went off into fits of laughter; and, as I reddened, my cousin Dorothy, too, began to laugh, showing an edge of small, white teeth under the red lip's line.

      "Are you vexed because we laugh?" she asked.

      My tongue stung with a retort, but I stood silent. These Varicks might forget their manners, but I might not forget mine.

      She honored me with a smile, sweeping me from head to foot with her bright eyes. My buckskins were dirty from travel, and the thrums in rags; and I knew that she noted all these matters.

      "Cousin," she lisped, "I fear you are something of a macaroni."

      Instantly a fresh volley of laughter rattled from the landing--such clear, hearty laughter that it infected me, spite my chagrin.

      "He's a good fellow, our cousin Ormond!" came a fresh young voice from above.

      "He shall be one of us!" cried another; and I thought to catch a glimpse of a flowered petticoat whisked from the gallery's edge.

      I looked at my cousin Dorothy Varick; she stood at gaze, laughter in her eyes, but the mouth demure.

      "Cousin Dorothy," said I, "I believe I am a good fellow, even though ragged and respectable. If these qualities be not bars to your society, give me your hand in fellowship, for upon my soul I am nigh sick for a welcome from somebody in this unfriendly land."

      Still at gaze, she slowly raised her arm and held out to me a fresh, sun-tanned hand; and I had meant to press it, but a sudden shyness scotched me, and, as the soft fingers rested in my palm, I raised them and touched them with my lips in silent respect.

      "You have pretty manners," she said, looking at her hand, but not withdrawing it from where it rested. Then, of an impulse, her fingers closed on mine firmly, and she looked me straight in the eye.

      "You are a good comrade; welcome to Varicks', cousin Ormond!"

      Our hands fell apart, and, glancing up, I perceived a group of youthful barbarians on the stairs, intently watching us. As my eyes fell on them they scattered, then closed in together defiantly. A red-haired lad of seventeen came down the steps, offering his hand awkwardly.

      "I'm Ruyven Varick," he said. "These girls are fools to bait men of our age--" He broke off to seize Dorothy by the arm. "Give me that watch, you vixen!"

      His sister scornfully freed her arm, and Ruyven stood sullenly clutching a handful of torn lace.

      "Why don't you present us to our cousin Ormond?" spoke up a maid of sixteen.

      "Who wants to make your acquaintance?" retorted Ruyven, edging again towards his sister.

      I protested that I did; and Dorothy, with mock empressement, presented me to Cecile Butler, a slender, olive-skinned girl with pretty, dark eyes, who offered me her hand to kiss in such determined manner that I bowed very low to cover my smile, knowing that she had witnessed my salute to my cousin Dorothy and meant to take nothing less for herself.

      "And those boys yonder are Harry Varick and Sam Butler, my cousins," observed Dorothy, nonchalantly relapsing into barbarism to point them out separately with her pink-tipped thumb; "and that lad on the stairs is Benny. Come on, we're to throw hunting-knives for pennies. Can you?--but of course you can."

      I looked around at my barbarian kin, who had produced hunters' knives from recesses in their clothing, and now gathered impatiently around Dorothy, who appeared to be the leader in their collective deviltries.

      "All the same, that watch is mine," broke out Ruyven, defiantly. "I'll leave it to our cousin Ormond--" but Dorothy cut in: "Cousin, it was done in this manner: father lost his timepiece, and the law is that whoever finds things about the house may keep them. So we all ran to the porch where father had fallen off his horse last night, and I think we all saw it at the same time; and I, being the older and stronger--"

      "You're not the stronger!" cried Sam and Harry, in the same breath.

      "I," repeated Dorothy, serenely, "being not only older than Ruyven by a year, but also stronger than you all together, kept the watch, spite of your silly clamor--and mean to keep it."

      "Then we matched shillings for it!" cried Cecile.

      "It was only fair; we all discovered it," explained Dorothy. "But Ruyven matched with a Spanish piece where the date was under the reverse, and he says he won. Did he, cousin?"

      "Mint-dates always match!" said Ruyven; "gentlemen of our age understand that, Cousin George, don't we?"

      "Have I not won fairly?" asked Dorothy, looking at me. "If I have not, tell me."

      With that, Sam Butler and Harry set up a clamor that they and Cecile had been unfairly dealt with, and all appealed to me until, bewildered, I sat down on the stairs and looked wistfully at Dorothy.

      "In Heaven's name, cousins, give me something to eat and drink before you bring your lawsuits to me for judgment," I said.

      "Oh," cried Dorothy, biting her lip, "I forgot. Come with me, cousin!" She seized a bell-rope and rang it furiously, and a loud gong filled the hall with its brazen din; but nobody came.

      "Where the devil are those blacks?" said Dorothy, biting off her words with a crisp snap that startled me more than her profanity. "Cato! Where are you, you lazy--"

      "Ahm hyah, Miss Dorry," came a patient voice from the kitchen stairs.

      "Then bring something to eat--bring it to the gun-room instantly--something for Captain Ormond--and a bottle of Sir Lupus's own claret--and two glasses--"

      "Three glasses!" cried Ruyven.

      "Four!" "Five!" shouted Harry and Cecile.

      "Six!" added Samuel; and little Benny piped out, "Theven!"

      "Then bring two bottles, Cato," called out Dorothy.

      "I want some small-beer!" protested Benny.

      "Oh, go suck your thumbs," retorted Ruyven, with an elder brother's brutality; but Dorothy ordered the small-beer, and bade the negro hasten.

      "We all mean to bear you company, Cousin," said Ruyven, cheerfully, patting my arm for my reassurance; and truly I lacked something of assurance among these kinsmen of mine, who appeared to lack none.

      "You spoke of me as Captain Ormond," I said, turning with a smile to Dorothy.

      "Oh, it's all one," she said, gayly; "if you're not a captain now, you will be soon, I'll wager--but I'm not to talk of that before the children--"

      "You may talk of it before me," said Ruyven. "Harry, take Benny and Sam and Cecile out of earshot--"

      "Pooh!" cried Harry, "I know all about Sir John's new regiment--"

      "Will you hush your head, you little fool!" cut in Dorothy. "Servants and asses have long ears, and I'll clip yours if you bray again!"

      The jingling of glasses on a tray put an end to the matter; Cato, the black, followed by two more blacks, entered the hall bearing silver salvers, and at a nod from Dorothy we all trooped after them.

      "Guests first!" hissed Dorothy, in a fierce whisper, as Ruyven crowded