The Motor Maids by Rose, Shamrock and Thistle Part 5

"-the color in his cheeks is an unnatural flush caused by over-excitement. The person I speak of suffers from valvular heart trouble, and if the blood is pumped too fast, I could not answer for his life. Violent exercise is one of the things forbidden him, and it remains for a party of Americans to draw him into this dangerous and absurd game. I have charge of this boy and I forbid you to speak to him again. How do you feel, child? A little weak, here, eh?" he continued, placing his hand on the left side, over his heart.

"No, here," said Arthur irritably, placing his hand on the right side.

Telemac smiled.

"Evidently not heart trouble," he said.

"Shall I carry you to your stateroom, Arthur?" asked the doctor.

"If you please, doctor. I am sorry I can't play with you any longer, Telemac. I am very delicate, you know. I must be so careful. The doctors never let me run and romp."

The doctor lifted the child into his arms. The little face was quite pale and melancholy again, and as he waved with his thin, small hand a feeble good-by, he looked so ill and exhausted that the girls were almost convinced.

"Stuff and nonsense," exclaimed Telemac. "I should like to wring that ignorant fellow's neck for putting such ideas into the child's head!

He's a dear little fellow, too."

"Think how I feel," cried Billie. "A murderess! My goodness!"

There was a bugle call for lunch, and the young people, whose spirits had been temporarily quenched by the sour-faced doctor, hastened into the dining-room.

CHAPTER IV.-AN EPISODE ON DECK.

"'A wet sheet and a flowing sea And a wind that follows fast And fills the white and rustling sail And bends the gallant mast; And bends the gallant mast, my boys, While like the eagle free Away the good ship flies and leaves Old England on the lee.'"

So sang Feargus as he paced the deck one bl.u.s.tery, brilliant morning, two days before the ship reached port. Every little wave wore a whitecap on that beautiful day, and the sky only was bluer than the candid eyes of the young Irishman pacing the deck. Billie walked, or rather ran, beside him, her cheeks glowing with exercise, her fine brown hair tossed about by the breezes.

"Oh, it's a glorious life, Miss Billie," cried the young man. "The sea, the wonderful, splendid sea! I sometimes wish I were a deep-sea fisherman and could spend six weeks at a time out of sight of land in a smelly little sailing vessel."

"Why were you not a sailor, then?" demanded Billie, who clung to her father's theory that people should follow their own bent.

"I had always expected to go into the Navy," replied Feargus, "but it was impossible when the time came."

"Why impossible?"

"Well, you see, we lost our home. Irish people are awfully poor. What few chances we had were s.n.a.t.c.hed away from us. We have been crushed! Oh, you can never know what bitterness I feel--" he clenched his fist and raised it to heaven. "The home my people have been living in for hundreds of years,-the land we owned-or thought we owned--"

He broke off, unable to speak for the choking rage that clutched his throat. "When I am rich," he cried at last, "I shall get even. There will come a time when I shall be the man on top. It may take fifty years, but it will come."

Billie felt awed and silenced by this revengeful prophesy. The changes from fair to stormy weather which appeared with such suddenness in the young man's disposition almost frightened her.

"Do you think it will help any by filling your mind with hatred like that, Feargus?" she asked presently. "I should think it would only weaken your case and poison your whole nature."

"Weaken?" he cried. "It makes it stronger and me, too. I'm a perfect giant when I think of it. I shall bring down the skies on that man's head some day."

"What man?"

"The man that did it. The man that stole our home from us. He is a n.o.bleman and I'm just a poor boy, but the time is coming when he'll beg to me for mercy."

Feargus' round, good-natured face had turned white. His dark hair was ruffled all over his head in wild confusion. His eyes had a bloodshot look and he waved his clinched fists dramatically above his head.

Billie was frightened. She felt as if she were speaking to an insane person; but then she had really never met any one with a grievance before, and Feargus O'Connor had a serious and deep grievance against some one.

"Come on," she said kindly. "Don't spoil your appet.i.te for breakfast.

You were singing when I came out. Start up again and maybe it will help you forget your troubles. How did it go?

"'A wet sheet and a flowing sea, And a wind that follows fast-"

"You're awfully kind, Miss Billie," said the boy, waking into consciousness again, and feeling that he had been very rude to air his troubles to a comparative stranger. "Let's sing 'Come back to Erin, Mavourneen, Mavourneen.' That's my sister's favorite song. She sings it with the harp. You should hear her. It's beautiful."

They had just started on their promenade again, when they heard scampering footsteps behind them and a childish voice called:

"Please wait. I want to walk with you."

It was the pale little boy, Arthur, whose last name they had never learned, racing down the deck after them.

"Why, Arthur, where are the people who look after you?" demanded Billie.

"I thought you were not allowed on deck alone."

"The doctor is having his bath and the others are still asleep. I dressed alone and came up. Isn't it fun? You'll look after me, won't you?"

"Of course," said Billie, "but aren't you disobeying orders? Won't the doctor be angry with you, and perhaps with us, too, for letting you stay on deck?"

"But I have on my reefer and cap," objected the boy in the tone of one who gives orders and expects them to be obeyed. "I shall not go down."

"Very well," said Billie, "if that is your decision, we are delighted to have your company, and I hope the walk will do you good. You look as if you needed fresh air and exercise more than anything else."

"The doctor says that draughts are bad for me and I am not strong enough to take exercise."

"What are you doing now but exercising in one of the finest draughts that ever blew over the sea, and it only brings the color to your cheeks," exclaimed Feargus impatiently. "Where are your parents, boy, that you are left to the care of old fogy doctors and careless tutors?"

"Papa is always very busy," answered the child. "Mamma died ever so many years ago."

"You blessed child," cried Billie, pressing little Arthur to her side, "you dear little boy. I'll be a big sister to you, if that will help any."

"I like you," said Arthur ingenuously, "and I like you, too," he added to Feargus. "You are the nicest one on the ship and they won't let me speak to you. They never will let me speak to the nicest ones."

"Not speak to me? And why not, pray?"

"Oh, they know about you," said Arthur, shaking his head mysteriously.

"There's nothing to know," exclaimed Feargus exasperated. "What do they know?"

"They know that your name is 'O'Connor."