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The Lightning Conductor Discovers America

Chapter 2 THE HONBLE MRS. WINSTON TO HER FRIEND

Word Count: 6164    |    Released on: 01/12/2017

UNTESS

a, Long

ch

is more American than the United States, being Indian; and meaning "it calms." Belonging to Long Island, it is Algonquian of course. Don't you think that rather a nice name for a place on a shady shore by quiet waters, where fierce winds never blow

anything Colonial. When I used to talk about a house being "Colonial," it left him cold. He had an idea that to the trained eye of a true Englishman "Colonial" would mean debased Georgian. But now he admits-he's a darling about admitting things, which I hear is a rare virtue in husbands!-that there's a delicious uniqueness about an American Colonial house not to be found anywhere or in anything else the world over. It is, he thinks, as if America had spiritualized the Georgian era

e words, veni, vidi, vici. We came, we saw, we conquered-or anyhow took possession. It's much the same thing. But Patsey! Her world has turned upside down, and Jack and I are trying with

d size of a setting hen. You may imagine a description of Mrs. Shuster irrelevant to Patsey Moore's fate and the entangling of the Mystery Man: but you'll see in a few minutes that this is not so. Our dear millionairess had been "making up" to Pat as well as to Jack and me a good deal, for several days before landing; and you know how Jack and I just can't

ould have made the Queen of Sheba "look like thirty cents," I was weak enough to breathe

ered the information that she'd "dress

nd Mr. Caspian to meet me. You know, the Caspian-Ed Caspian, who's come

es. I longed to say so. But one doesn't say to Mrs. Shuster the

ave Peter Storm," she went on. "That poor fellow's so quixotic he won't take fav

at you're going to do for h

es that he's an American (though you know what I think!), so he's no emigrant, but a returning citizen of the United States. That's what his passport makes him out to be. I've seen it

ing from the newspapers, that Mr. Caspian had-er-turned

l the day of our landing: I've been on the other side of the water so much since Jack and I were married and father died. But one has often heard of Ed Caspian, the "gentleman socialist,

only a fat woman with two or three chins can bridle, and I understood what she wished me to understand, though Ed Caspian can't be more than thirty-two, and she's perhaps forty-five)-"at one time-oh, well, he was a poor young man with noble principles, and I'm always interested in such. My poor husband left me free to do as I liked at his death, and I was able to help

e a big chocolate cream. Of course, Jack and I are quite nobodies; but it did occur to me when in the same breath she said, "Ed would do anything," etc., and "I mentioned you," that Mr. Caspia

sey Moore and Mrs. Shuster were two of the most excited people on board. Jack and I expected no one to meet us, beca

aiming. And her cheeks were like roses and h

d at half-past feeding time. But at last she had to bow to the inevitable. Larry had not materialized. She was in "M" and we were in "W," so we couldn't do as much for her as we should have liked, and for a while had to leave her to

just the same. Not one bit spoilt. But oh, what d

ad?" I

to pant some more. I

upon her protégé. "There's Peter Storm!" she exclaimed. "I've been

way, though I wasn't so sure about the r

ith the long strides which had been leading him in another direction. He took

e, searching for some on

long now. But when I mentioned Miss Moore, the young lady on the ship, and pointed her out to him, he told me the most dreadful news about her father. The poor man is absolutely ruined and bankrupt and everything else that's bad; and here's this dear

t" Ed Caspian had undergone with his change of purse. "Oh, he can't be allowed to do anything of that sort for Miss Moore," I said quickly. "Her fath

ed about Mr. Moore not coming to the boat. I'm sure Mr. Caspian wouldn't say a word to frighten her. He's as gentle as a

ystery had given me a look. Not a word had he spoken since Mrs. Shuster began on the subject of Patsey Moore (not that he'd had a cha

istance and diverged to him. "I'll get hold of a man

!" I snapped. "Ne

our hats?"

ruined, and that Caspian creature is tel

perfectly turned out by his tailor and fairly well by his Maker: all the upper part of a blond head and face rather beautiful and idealistic, the lower part not so good, might even be a rude contradiction. Then my eyes went to Pat's, which were more sapp

ng girls How to Succeed in Society. Her lips were white and moved stiffly, as lips do when they are cold, th

o Jack and me, "but Miss Moore was worrying-when Mrs. Shuster introduced us-beca

ad only met him at houses of mutual friends. Laurence Moore had come a regular cropper, it seemed. Things had been faring badly with him for some time "because he was no business man, and fellows were always persuading him to go into rotten things." "But we'

e last fifteen minutes, and whatever he might do would be for value received. Not that it was quite fair to blame him for that. With another type of man I might have thought it thrillingly romantic that he should fall in love at first sight and resolve to save the girl's father. But with Ed Caspian it was different-somehow. You see, he used to pose as a saint, a sort of third-rate St. George, with Society for the Dragon: he was all for the poor and oppressed. I remember reading speeches of his, in rather prim language. He was supposed to live like an anchorite. Now, here was S

ear Molly, beggars mustn't be choosers. Pat is, it seems, a beggar maid. You shouldn't look a

nd if a man were a Man, it didn't matter whether he were a Cophetua or not. So I listened quite disgustedly as Mr. Ed Casp

! That's a famous place. There was a picture of it in the Sunday Times, and something about its history. I've always wanted to see the house. May I come down, Miss Moore? There might be ways I could help you-your father, I mean-i

nderstand,

ey, to say nothing of the Belgian refugees to whom we've given up Edencourt. There are fourteen families, and not less than seven children in the smallest, the largest has sixteen-the average is ten. Is your brain equal to the calculation? Mine isn't, but our purse has to be; for we've guaranteed to clothe as well as feed the lot for the duration of the war, and I hear we're keeping a shoe factory working double time. I felt that the most we could do in a financial

is look of interested curiosity Caspian-ward was only equalled by mine at him. Remembering vividly the strange, brilliant, and puzzling glance he had thrown to me as I left him with Mrs. Shuster, I threw him on

rled himself blindly into the breach it would be something. By the time Mr. Caspian could

something to carry in record time. Whether my glance had lassoed him, or whether he wanted to be introduced to Mrs. Shuster's rich friend, I couldn't tell. Anyhow, he la

before he stopped his explanation had got as far as "a perfectl

haped; and if so whether he would guess what was up, and take enough imperson

ace which is her own in spite of all misfortunes." She stopped and giggled a little; then went on in a coy tone, with an arch glance at her tall protégé. "I had to confess that I could never believe he was an American. But now I have to. He knows too much about America not to have lived here. He says h

important Caspian in his pluperfect clothes, looking insignificant; the unimportant Storm in his junk-shop get-up, looking e

a hotel, should I?" faltered P

t expert assistan

over here as my secretary till he gets something better to do. And, dear Miss Patty, I'll be just delighted to come as your first guest, to bring you luck, if you approve of the idea.

said Ed Caspian acidly. "I, too, have a plan, haven't I, Miss Moore? And with all respect

he lady hastened to disclaim res

Have you ever seen a pet fox terrier or a dachshund with a bone, tr

can't be paid, why it's foreclosed, both in real life and Irish melodramas where the lovely heroine has the most agonizing alternatives offered her. Suppose, anyh

t to get in, they'll all fight to do so." He looked at Pat. "I hope you won't think I'm pushing," he said, "I remember Kidd's Pines w

one lifted up the world to ease his shoulders. "Why, do you know when I first met you, I had a feeling as if I'd seen you before somewhere-

the S. M., quietly. "He wouldn't know

uttered to me, the day we went to visit the third class-part of a letter which, rightly or wrongly, I had attributed to Peter Storm. Could it be possible that he had kno

sudden, really very odd look in the man's expressive dark eyes-a l

a story I read once-almost the first after I learned to read and could enjoy my

Pat. "An uncle of mine wrote t

low hasn't? I've given it away for prizes to boys in mission schools. To my mind

look, Caspian with as rude a stare as his sainted eyebrows would permit. "A good thing," thought I, "that you've reconside

ut we must consult Mr. Moore himself before we can decide anything definite. For some reason he hasn't been able to come to the ship: a business reason probably. My wife and I are going to be neighbour

new secretary?" s

borate this interesting hotel scheme of his. I

asked Caspian. "Don't forge

, making no allusion t

ut delay and without mortification to her. Even before the blow fell, she had given Jack the bills for the Paris purchases, so that he might help her calculate the sums which must be paid. "Larry always wr

a tower of strength she could be to him than anything else. The first thought in many girls' heads would have been: "Here's an end of my good times before they've begun!" but I'm sure there was no place in Pat's mind for her own grievances. I fancied that she'd even forgotten those dresses for the débutante who might now never "début," and the birthday car which might appropriately be n

for her things, as she thinks they'd better be sold for what they'll fe

of that! She gave my husband the bills. I too

st pathetic faith in Americans." (I wondered how he knew that!) "But," he went on more slowly, "I should have liked to su

to all that, and the Paris people shan't suffer. I'm afraid these custom-house chaps won't be kee

rising Storm, taking from a breast pocket of his cheap ready-made coat an anci

d wished that the most top-heavy skyscraper in New York would fall on my head. But the S. M. only laughed. "It was not," he re

k-notes! But, I reminded myself, he had a right to be Spartan if he liked: there was no crime in that, and if he'd st

because the S. M. was what he was, and wore what he wore, the dear boy treated him as man to man. I do think men are nice, don't you?... All the same, for a minute I came near doin

se went down with him in the Lusitania and the Arabic, and bobbed up again. I couldn't help seeing that when they came out they left his wallet as empty

had come for us with a respectable elderly automobile which (as the estate agents say) "went with the place." The chauffeur was (is) elderly and respectable, too, evidently transferred by the fairy wand of Circumstance from the box-seat of a carriage to th

my next letter. I do want this to catch the first ship bound for England, home, and beaut

ove to you and

r y

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1 Chapter 1 THE HONBLE MRS. WINSTON (NéE MOLLY2 Chapter 2 THE HONBLE MRS. WINSTON TO HER FRIEND3 Chapter 3 THE HONBLE MRS. WINSTON TO THE COUNTESS OF LANE4 Chapter 4 PATRICIA MOORE TO ADRIENNE DE MONCOURT,5 Chapter 5 PETER STORM TO JAMES STRICKLAND, A NEW6 Chapter 6 THE HONBLE MRS. WINSTON TO THE COUNTESS OF LANE 67 Chapter 7 EDWARD CASPIAN TO MRS. L. SHUSTER8 Chapter 8 PATRICIA MOORE TO ADRIENNE DE MONCOURT9 Chapter 9 ANGéLE DUBOIS, PATRICIA MOORE'S MAID, TO THE MARQUISE DE MONCOURT10 Chapter 10 EDWARD CASPIAN TO MRS. SHUSTER11 Chapter 11 PETER STORM TO JAMES STRICKLAND12 Chapter 12 PATRICIA MOORE TO ADRIENNE DE MONCOURT 1213 Chapter 13 MOLLY WINSTON TO MERCéDES LANE14 Chapter 14 PETER STORM TO JAMES STRICKLAND 1415 Chapter 15 MOLLY WINSTON TO MERCéDES LANE 1516 Chapter 16 ANGéLE, PATRICIAS MAID, TO THE MARQUISE DE MONCOURT17 Chapter 17 PETER STORM TO JAMES STRICKLAND 1718 Chapter 18 MOLLY WINSTON TO LORD AND LADY LANE19 Chapter 19 PATRICIA MOORE TO ADRIENNE DE MONCOURT 1920 Chapter 20 NIGHT LETTER TELEGRAM FROM PETER STORM TO JAMES STRICKLAND21 Chapter 21 MOLLY WINSTON TO MERCéDES LANE 2122 Chapter 22 MOLLY WINSTON TO MERCéDES LANE 2223 Chapter 23 PETER STORM TO JAMES STRICKLAND 2324 Chapter 24 EDWARD CASPIAN TO RICHARD MOYLE, KNOWN25 Chapter 25 MOLLY WINSTON TO MERCéDES LANE 2526 Chapter 26 MOLLY WINSTON TO MERCéDES LANE 2627 Chapter 27 EDWARD CASPIAN TO DANIEL WINTERTON THE MANAGER OF A DETECTIVE AGENCY IN NEW YORK28 Chapter 28 PATRICIA MOORE TO ADRIENNE DE MONCOURT 2829 Chapter 29 MOLLY WINSTON TO MERCéDES LANE 2930 Chapter 30 EDWARD CASPIAN TO DANIEL WINTERTON31 Chapter 31 MOLLY WINSTON TO MERCéDES LANE 3132 Chapter 32 MOLLY WINSTON TO MERCéDES LANE 3233 Chapter 33 MOLLY WINSTON TO MERCéDES LANE 33