C.R. FIGURES HIS OPTIONS

Cyril Rackstraw Cardew gazed down at his blind little brother, marveling at what a quick worker he was. C.R. was the scoundrel of the family, the black sheep, but Reckness behaved much, much worse, or at least C.R. thought, and got away with it all because of his illness.

Poor little Mole, who can't see…forgiven any escapades, everything. But C.R. had to admit he'd missed Reckness—though three years C.R.'s junior, the boy had a wisdom!

Shame I didn't make the deb thing last night. Don't know much about the trouble I can get in here at this boring barbecue, but there may be another ball tonight, if I'm lucky, C.R. thought, as he fumbled for his pipe.

No, damn it, I can't smoke here. That old fool Aunt Queenie is here, and I think Reck and I promised her we wouldn't smoke till we were twenty-five, and she'd give us a thousand dollars each in gold…C.R. looked at his younger brother, pouting.

Reckness turned his head towards his older brother, grinning. "So, what do you think of my friend, the little Country Mouse. I can tell you've been watching her…she has a peculiar smell, her dowdy clothes, and you get awfully quiet, C.R. when she taps on by with Missy and Flap."

C.R. had not been able to make Missy's debutante ball, but he'd arrived this morning. Yes, that girl Mary Ingalls was something else. "Have you gotten your way with her, Reckness?"

C.R. watched Reckness's sightless eyes blink in frustration. "Do you know that little bitch Missy actually had Mary removed to the carriage house last night? Damned if I could find her."

"The carriage house?" C.R. laughed. "She ain't a horse, is she?" Certainly not. Look at that pretty nose.

"Oh, they've got a side room there that's well furbished for guests" mumbled Reckness resentfully. "But you know, I couldn't find it out there, I'm not acquainted with the yard, and besides I think Mary was sharing the room with that idiot Augusta Myers from Plaintree."

C.R. snorted. "Yes, and today, Devereaux is haunting your friend. He is all over her. If she could see, she'd laugh…Dev looks like a calf about to be slaughtered, and dashed if he doesn't have potato salad on his spectacles."

The brothers laughed together. "Missed havin' you here, C.R., you give me such lovely observations." Reckness said, chuckling. "Is Father still upset about your dismissal from West Point?"

His older brother tapped a knee, and smiled. "Well, that's why I've not returned to New York just yet, you know. I felt the Middle West would be a safer place to hide out. Ma says she will wire me when the old dragon's calmed his nerves a bit."

C.R. paused. "I think the big problem was, Colonel Baskin was distressed at how young his daughter was, when we were caught together in the armory. I do like them young. How old is Mary Ingalls?"

"She is a sprightly fifteen" Reckness said, feeling around for his snuff box. "Yes, she is nice and youthful, just like our dancing instructor's niece that caused you so many questions, and the cook's eleven year old daughter at the Maine summer house—"

"Yes, yes." C.R. was annoyed now. Not only was his little brother the Mole smarmy with the ladies, and with all Father's friends so you'd never know what a blackguard he was, but he had a damnable memory, and had made some very unkind comments last June in Saratoga.

This when the young girls had been ushered out as dashing Cyril Rackstraw Cardew had made his appearance. Fortunately, no one knew of C.R.'s embarrassing reputation here at this hick event.

And of course Father had no sympathy, as he'd had to pay off that idiot servant so she wouldn't whine…Father was so damned cheap!

Reckness patted his resentful brother's arm. "So, my goodness, you're not coming up with some plea for me to introduce you in some private spot—"

"Well, actually I had an idea that might benefit the both of us, Reck." C.R. said softly. "You were tellin' me that although you've made some strides with the Ingalls mare, with your European paws—"

"Roman hands and Russian fingers." Reckness said, laughing as he blew snuff unceremoniously into a lilac bush. "Yes, I got Mary's pinafore off once at the school, but she would allow me to venture no further."

"Well, my skills of seduction are somewhat renown—" C. carefully.

"Among the under sixteen set, and it's a wonder no farmer's not hung you." His younger brother laughed.

"But I was thinking—if I could convince Miss Ingalls that I was you—we sound alike and if she touched my face, even resemble one another, and I was able to get her to go through completely, then the next time you worked on her, you'd have an automatic in, as of course you'd already been there, so to speak."

C.R. watched somewhat anxiously as his younger brother took this proposition in. It was unthinkable to almost anyone else—and perhaps Mother's sermons had actually affected Reckness! Certainly, C.R.'s conscience bothered him.

C.R. looked over at Uncle Willoughby. Uncle was telling a younger fellow "What you got to do is get one of these octoroons to clean your house. But don't pay 'em too much, my boy 'tisn't good for their pride, you know. They wander around the country with their hands out…don't want to work for a dollar a week any more."

C.R. wondered if he should tell Reckness the other part—that if he could get Mary Ingalls alone, that Uncle Willoughby had also expressed an interest in her, and had offered to cover some of C.R.'s gambling debts, if something (very silent) could be arranged. Just the two of them, and the pretty blind girl.

C.R. again looked anxiously at his young brother.

But Reckness was laughing. Loudly.

Goodness, that boy was the devil. C.R. leaned over and hesitantly whispered the rest of the plan, as he knew Reckness could always use ready cash.

"Why (ho) not?" Reckness said, almost falling off his wicker seat. "The more the merrier." He paused, and thumbed snuff into his gums. "I've been wondering what would take the wind out of the proud little Ice Queen's sails…yes, C.R., this might be it."