man!" she groaned despairingly. "A Lord-man! Bet my hoecake's
scorched! Here I've gone and pledged my word to Freckles I'd find him
some decent relatives, that he could be proud of, and now there isn't a
chance out of a dozen that he'll have to be ashamed of them after all.
It's too mean!"

The tears of vexation rolled down the tired, nerve-racked Angel's
cheeks.

"This isn't going to do," she said, resolutely wiping her eyes with the
palm of her hand and gulping down the nervous spasm in her throat. "I
must read this paper before I meet Lord O'More."

She blinked back the tears and spreading the paper on her knee, read:
"After three months' fruitless search, Lord O'More gives up the quest of
his lost nephew, and leaves Chicago today for his home in Ireland."

She read on, and realized every word. The likeness settled any doubt. It
was Freckles over again, only older and well dressed.

"Well, I must catch you if I can," muttered the Angel. "But when I do,
if you are a gentleman in name only, you shan't have Freckles; that's
flat. You're not his father and he is twenty. Anyway, if the law will
give him to you for one year, you can't spoil him, because nobody could,
and," she added, brightening, "he'll probably do you a lot of good.
Freckles and I both must study years yet, and you should be something
that will save him. I guess it will come out all right. At least, I
don't believe you can take him away if I say no."

"Thank you; and wait, no matter how long," she said to her driver.

Catching up the paper, she hurried to the desk and laid down Lord
O'More's card.

"Has my uncle started yet?" she asked sweetly.

The surprised clerk stepped back on a bellboy, and covertly kicked him
for being in the way.

"His lordship is in his room," he said, with a low bow.

"All right," said the Angel, picking up the card. "I thought he might
have started. I'll see him."

The clerk shoved the bellboy toward the Angel.

"Show her ladyship to the elevator and Lord O'More's suite," he said,
bowing double.

"Aw, thanks," said the Angel with a slight nod, as she turned away.

"I'm not sure," she muttered to herself as the elevator sped upward,
"whether it's the Irish or the English who say: 'Aw, thanks,' but it's
probable he isn't either; and anyway, I just had to do something to
counteract that 'All right.' How stupid of me!"

At the bellboy's tap, the door swung open and the liveried servant
thrust a cardtray before th