The Motor Maids by Rose, Shamrock and Thistle Part 7

"Who is this poor, unhappy, neglected little soul?" he asked in a low voice.

"He is the second son of the Duke of Kilkenty," answered the doctor in a half-frightened voice.

"The Duke of Kilkenty?" gasped Feargus.

He exchanged a long glance with Telemac and then walked swiftly away, but Billie felt sure that it had been the Duke of Kilkenty who had driven the O'Connor family out of their ancestral holdings.

CHAPTER V.-LONDON AT NIGHT.

It was quite dark when the train pulled into Paddington Station in London. It was raining, too, and the wet asphalt streets became mirrors underfoot, reflecting the myriad lights of the city. There was great confusion at the depot. Luggage must be identified and collected; steamer friends parted with and cabs engaged.

"My goodness!" exclaimed Miss Campbell, who had not been in London for twenty years, "I feel so lonesome all of a sudden in this crush. I do wish we had a man to help us."

The wish was no sooner uttered than it was granted by the kind and merciful providence who has a special tenderness for helpless, middle-aged spinsters.

Feargus O'Connor, the only one of their steamer friends whom they had missed on the way up to London,-chiefly because he had traveled third cla.s.s and hidden himself away,-now approached.

"How may I help the ladies?" he asked.

"My dear Mr. O'Connor, you are as welcome as the flowers in spring," the little lady cried. "I am afraid to trust my girls out of my sight for a minute in this enormous city for fear they might be kidnapped, and I simply cannot face those luggage people myself."

"Let me be your guide, counsellor and friend, then," said Feargus.

"First, let's get the luggage business straightened, and then I'll see you safe to your cab, or your hotel, if you wish."

"We are going into lodgings," cried the Motor Maids in unison.

It seemed to the four young girls at that time that life could not offer a more romantic experience than lodgings in London. The rooms had been engaged long ago, and the landlady notified from Liverpool to have the supper prepared and all things ready. It was to be a chapter out of d.i.c.kens. They did not mind the wet sheet of rain that blew in their faces, nor the glimmering mud puddles. The cries of the cab-men were music to their ears. A lonely little boy in the station reminded them of David Copperfield. The c.o.c.kney accent was a strange new language to them, and the throngs of travelers in rough ulsters and fore-and-aft caps filled them with the most profound interest.

At last the luggage, collected and identified, was piled on top of a hackney coach and the bags stored inside with Miss Campbell, Elinor and Mary. Billie and Nancy were in a hansom waiting just behind.

"Thank you a thousand times; you're a nice boy," said Miss Campbell, giving her hand to Feargus. "I hope you'll come and see us while we are in London."

Feargus was about to reply when a splendid carriage with footman and coachman on the box slowly approached. Just as it came opposite the two cabs, a child's voice called:

"Feargus, Billie, please don't forget me," and little Arthur, leaning from the window, waved his cap at them. Inside were his three "keepers,"

as Billie called them, who took not the slightest notice of the Americans or the young Irishman.

"Good-by, Arthur, dear, I shall never forget you," cried Billie. "We shall meet again, some day."

Arthur leaned out of the window farther.

"Good-by, dear Billie," he called again, when some one pulled him roughly back on the seat, and the carriage disappeared in the darkness.

During this episode, Miss Campbell had called out the address to the coachman, who had flicked his horses sharply with his whip and they had started on. The hansom in which were Billie and Nancy was delayed a moment while the two girls said farewell to their steamer friend, who with a last wave of his hat was soon lost in the throng on the station platform. All this is very important, because of what happened later. In the meantime, the two girls settled back comfortably on the seat and clasped hands.

"Isn't it wonderful, Billie?" cried Nancy, as the cab rolled along the slippery street. "It is London, really London."

"And we are alone in London, too," continued Billie. "Isn't it like a play? Two young girls just arrived from another country suddenly find themselves alone, without friends or money, in a great city. It is night, and the rain is beating on the wet asphalt. In a great rumbling carriage crouch the two orphans, their hands clasped--"

"Wot h'address, Miss?" broke in a harsh voice.

The cab had stopped on a street corner and the coachman was leering at them through the trap door above.

"What address?" repeated Billie, bewildered.

"Certainly, Miss. Them was the words I used. Wot h'address? A'n't it an ord'nary question for a cabbie to awsk his fare?"

The two girls looked at each other speechless with amazement.

"But, weren't you told?" demanded Nancy, when she could collect her thoughts. "Didn't the lady in the other cab tell you?"

"Now, Miss, w'y need I be awskin' if I wuz told?"

"But why didn't you follow the other cab?" cried Billie.

"I wasn't told to, Miss. I wasn't told to do anythink but do as I was bid."

"Where were you going, then?" demanded Nancy, who was a sprightly young person when it came to cabbies and stewardesses.

"Ah, ma'am, now you've awsked me somethink I cawn't tell you. Not havin'

no address, how can I?"

"Idiot!" exclaimed Nancy under her breath. What could they do with this incorrigible man?

"Can't you even remember the street, Nancy?" whispered Billie.

They wrinkled their brows and sat in deep thought for a moment. Their young minds were like travelers on a dark road stumbling blindly through a host of misty names.

At last Nancy exclaimed triumphantly:

"I've got it! Miss Rivers."

"Do you happen to know of a Miss Rivers who has a lodging house, driver?" asked Billie, trying to appear calm and unafraid.

"No, Miss," answered the cabbie with a queer laugh; "Miss Rivers and I a'n't personally acquainted."

"What are we going to do, Billie?" whispered Nancy.

"Let's look in a city directory and see if we can't find Miss Rivers'

Lodgings or Chambers or whatever it is," suggested Billie. "Drive us to a city directory, cabbie."

Once more the hansom started on its way.

"The worst of it is, Nancy," observed Billie, after an uneasy pause, "the most terrible part of it is, I haven't any money. I had given what I had to Cousin Helen on the s.h.i.+p to be changed with hers into English money, and I never got it back. I thought it would be time when we reached our lodgings."