MY LADY IS GRACIOUS.

The bustle and confusion of landing filled Will with eager joy. It is truly an experience of moment to any one, so it is not wonderful that our youth, fresh from a country town, should thrill with excitement at this first glimpse of a foreign land. But he did not lose his head, and managed to rescue his small trunk from the mass of baggage tumbled upon the quay and to get it transported to the railway station.

Then the train whirled him away, and with bustling Liverpool behind him he had mighty London to look forward to—the “City of Cities” in the eyes of all civilized humanity.

By dint of intelligent enquiry on shipboard he now knew exactly how to act. Once arrived at the terminal station he took a cab for the Savoy hotel, where Mr. Williams had requested him to take a room. He met with one disappointment, in finding that Mrs. Williams had not yet arrived, for according to her letter she should have been at the Savoy some days since, and Mr. Williams had cabled her to await there Will’s arrival.

However, there was nothing to do but await the lady’s appearance; so he went to his room, removed all traces of travel, and descended to obtain his first serene view of the world’s metropolis. He found a nearby restaurant, at which he dined most luxuriously, but grieved at sight of his bill. Dr. Meigs had impressed upon him the fact that Mr. Williams had millions at his disposal, and therefore his confidential agent’s expenses need not be in any way curtailed. Mr. Williams had himself informed the young man that so long as Will acted as his representative he must live in a style befitting his employer’s position in the world.

“Do exactly as you think I would do myself, were I making the trip in person,” he said. So Will, although conscious of reckless extravagance from his own viewpoint, determined not to hesitate to spend Mr. Williams’s money freely in providing a respectable living; but it startled him to find how much was actually required to live in London in the same way that others did with whom he was constantly thrown in contact.

After dinner he decided to attend an opera, a species of entertainment he had never before witnessed; but he contented himself with a seat obtained for the most modest sum the bills quoted. Being extremely fond of music, and of a naturally artistic and appreciative mind, the inexperienced boy found in the opera a veritable fairyland, and his dreams that night were filled with fantastic creations called up by the gorgeous spectacle he had beheld and the ravishing strains of music he had listened to. He realized he was getting a tremendous lot of experience in a very sudden manner, and it kept him keyed up to a high pitch of nervous tension until he became more accustomed to the novelty of existence in a great city.

Next morning he enquired for Mrs. Williams again, only to find she had not yet arrived.

“She should have been here several days ago,” he said to the registry clerk, in an anxious voice.

“Where was she coming from, sir?” the man enquired.

“Paris, I believe.”

“Then I beg you not to worry,” returned the clerk, with a reassuring smile; “for most ladies find it a difficult matter to leave Paris, and frequently they linger there many days after they have planned to depart. Be patient, sir; and if the lady delays too long we will make enquiries for you in Paris.”

That relieved Will’s anxiety to an extent, for he could easily understand how a woman of Mrs. Williams’s temperament would be likely to forget she was overdue in London, so long as the charms of Paris amused her.

His instructions were to await her at this hotel, so he decided to give her three days more of grace, and if she did not then arrive to cable his employer for advice how to act.

Will knew, in a general way, what he most cared to see in London, for he was as intelligent as the average American high school boy, and although he had never in his wildest dreams expected to go abroad, had stored up a mass of general information that was now very useful to draw upon. So, with the aid of a guide-book, he found his way to the Tower, the House of Parliament, and Westminster Abbey, returning toward evening to his hotel with the uncomfortable feeling that should Mrs. Williams have arrived in his absence she would surely be annoyed by his neglect.

But the clerk met his enquiry with a shake of the head, and relieved his fears.

Next day he visited St. Paul’s and stood before the tombs of Wellington, Nelson and other great men whose names were familiar in history. And then he mounted the top of an omnibus and rode for miles through the busy thoroughfares, until the immensity of the city overpowered him, and half bewildered he returned to his hotel to rest and collect his thoughts. It was a famous opportunity for a boy like Will Carden, and I am glad he took advantage of those two days of waiting to gain experience that would furnish him with pleasant recollections in all the years to come.

That evening he saw Henry Irving enact King Lear, and learned a lesson he never forgot. When on the following morning he came down to the office, the clerk informed him that Mrs. Williams had telegraphed she would arrive at ten o’clock, so he need have no further anxiety.

He watched her arrival, with two maids, a mountain of trunks and a dozen servants impressed at the entrance to carry parcels, wraps and miscellaneous articles of all descriptions; but the sight deterred him from approaching her until she was settled in her suite of rooms.

Then he sent up a card and received an answer that Mrs. Williams would see Mr. Carden at one o’clock. The tedious wait made him nervous and disconcerted, so that when the important hour arrived and he was shown to the great lady’s apartments he realized that he was not likely to create a very favorable impression.

Nor did he.

Mrs. Williams was reclining upon a couch, but she arose languidly and examined him through a little eye-glass, saying afterward in mincing tones:

“Dear me! Isn’t it the vegetable boy?”

“Yes’m,” said Will, shame-faced and awkward.

“I have been wondering whom it could be that Mr. Williams cabled would meet me here. The name was unknown to me. What are you, a valet?”

“Hardly that, madam,” replied Will, with a hearty, boyish laugh; and I think that laugh must have made a favorable impression upon the lady, for she lowered her eye-glass and murmured: “I have been from home so long that I am ignorant of present conditions there. But you seem to have grown bigger, and—and—older.”

“Naturally, madam,” said he; and then he added, with an assumption of such dignity as he could command under the circumstances: “I have the honor to be your husband’s confidential agent, abroad upon business matters. For this reason Mr. Williams thought it best that I should meet you here and offer such services as I may be able to render you.”

“To be sure,” she said, musingly; “and it was very thoughtful of him. If I remember rightly, you were the boy that carried Annabel home the day she fell into the pond.”

He bowed.

“I am glad to see, Mrs. Williams, that you seem to have quite recovered your good health,” he observed, to get away from the subject.

“Not quite, sir,” she answered, in a more cordial tone; “but I am much better than when I first came from America. Won’t you sit down?” noting that he was still standing. “And now, please tell me how you left my children. Were they well? Are they growing? Really, I shall be glad to see them again after this long separation.”

Will had his own ideas about the interest the woman took in her children; but it was a subject very interesting to him personally, so he chatted away in his usual bright manner, relating the progress of his friends and playmates and adding such gossip of Bingham as he thought might interest his listener.

And Mrs. Williams began to approve more and more the pleasant young man before her.

“Are you returning home with me?” she asked, presently.

“I’m afraid not. I have business in Birmingham that may detain me for some time,” he replied.

She seemed really disappointed.

“I hate London,” said she, wearily, “so I shall take the first steamer home. You will look it up for me, tomorrow, and make arrangements?”

“With great pleasure, madam.”

“And you must dine with me this evening. I will meet you in the pink salon at half-past seven, and we will go to the main restaurant.”

“Thank you, madam,” he said, filled with a sense of depression at the very idea of dining with the great lady.

As he rose to go she added, as if by an afterthought:

“You will, of course, appear in full dress, Mr. Carden. Until then, au revoir.”

With a bow he was dismissed, and as he stumbled into the hall and the maid closed the door behind him, he remembered that a full-dress suit was something he did not possess. Really, he ought to go back and tell her so; but the very thought of doing this made him panic-stricken, and instead he went down stairs to get some luncheon and think over his predicament.