HOSPITALITY WITHOUT GRUDGING
By arrangement made the previous evening Jane was awake before the
family was astir and in Nora's hands preparing for a morning ride with
Larry, who was to give her her first lesson in equitation.
“Your habit will be too big for me, Nora, I am afraid,” she said.
“Habit!” cried Nora. “My pants, you mean. You can pull them up, you
know. There they are.”
“Pants!” gasped Jane. “Pants! Nora, pants! Do you mean to say you wear
these things where all the men will see you?” Even in the seclusion of
her bedroom Jane's face at the thought went a fiery red. Nora laughed at
her scornfully. “Oh, but I can't possibly go out in these before Larry.
I won't ride at all. Haven't you a skirt, a regular riding habit?”
But Nora derided her scruples. “Why, Jane, we all wear them here.”
“Does Kathleen?”
“Of course she does, and Mrs. Waring-Gaunt, and everybody.”
“Oh, she might, but I am sure your mother would not.”
Nora shouted joyfully. “Well, that is true, she never has, but then she
has never ridden out here. Put them on, hurry up, your legs are straight
enough, your knees don't knock.”
“Oh, Nora, they are just terrible,” said Jane, almost in tears. “I know
I will just squat down if Larry looks at me.”
“Why should he look at you? Don't you ever let on but that you have worn
them often, and he will never think of looking at you.”
In face of many protests Jane was at length arrayed in her riding
apparel.
“Why, you look perfectly stunning,” said Nora. “You have got just the
shape for them. Pull them up a little. There, that is better. Now step
out and let me see you.”
Jane walked across the room and Nora rocked in laughter. “Oh, Nora, I
will just take them off. You are as mean as you can be. I will pull them
off.”
“Not a bit,” said Nora, still laughing, “only stretch your legs a bit
when you walk. Don't mince along. Stride like a man. These men have
had all the fun in the matter of clothes. I tell you it was one of the
proudest moments of my life when I saw my own legs walking. Now step
out and swing your arms. There, you are fine, a fine little chap, Jane,
round as a barrel, and neat as a ballet dancer, although I never saw one
except in magazines.”
Trim and neat Jane looked, the riding suit showing off the beautiful
lines of her round, shapely figure. Shrinking, blushing, and horribly
conscious of her pants, Jane followed Nora from her bedroom. A swift
glance she threw around the room. To her joy it was empty but for Mrs.
Gwynne, who was ready with a big glass of rich milk and a slice of
home-made bread and delicious butter.
“Good morning, my dear,” said Mrs. Gwynne, kissing her. “You will need
something before you ride. You will have breakfast after your return.”
Jane went close to her and stood beside her, still blushing. “Oh, thank
you,” she cried, “I am really hungry already. I hope I won't get killed.
I never was on a horse before, you know.”
“Oh, never fear, Lawrence is very careful. If it were Nora now I would
not be so sure about you, but Lawrence is quite safe.”
At this point Larry came in. “Well, Jane, all ready? Good for you. I
like a girl that is always on time.”
“How do you like her pants, Larry?” said Nora, wickedly.
“Perfectly splendiferous,” cried Larry.
“Oh, you mean thing, Nora,” cried Jane, dropping hurriedly into a chair
with scarlet face and indignant eyes.
“Come along, Jane, old chap, don't mind her. Those pants never looked
so well before, I assure you. We are going to have a great time. I
guarantee that in a few minutes you will be entirely oblivious of such
trivial things as mere pants.”
They all passed out into the front yard to see Jane mount and take her
first lesson.
“This is Polly,” said Larry. “She has taught us all to ride, and though
she has lost her shape a bit, she has still 'pep' enough to decline to
take a dare.”
“What do I do?” said Jane, gazing fearfully at the fat and shapeless
Polly.
“There is just one rule in learning to ride,” said Larry, “step on and
stick there. Polly will look after the rest.”
“Step on--it is easy to say, but--”
“This way,” said Nora. She seized hold of the horn of the saddle, put
her foot into the stirrup and sprang upon Polly's back. “Oh, there's
where the pants come in,” she added as her dress caught on to the rear
of the saddle. “Now up you go. Make up your mind you are going to DO it,
not going to TRY.”
A look of serious determination came into Jane's face, a look that
her friends would have recognised as the precursor of a resolute and
determined attempt to achieve the thing in hand. She seized the horn of
the saddle, put her foot into the stirrup and “stepped on.”
The riding lesson was an unqualified success, though for some reason,
known only to herself, Polly signalised the event by promptly running
away immediately her head was turned homeward, and coming back down the
lane at a thundering gallop.
“Hello!” cried Nora, running out to meet them. “Why, Jane, you have been
fooling us all along. You needn't tell me this is your first ride.”
“My very first,” said Jane, “but I hope not my last.”
“But, my dear,” said Mrs. Gwynne, who had also come out to see the
return, “you are doing famously.”
“Am I?” cried Jane, her face aglow and her eyes shining. “I think it is
splendid. Shall we ride again to-day, Larry?”
“Right away after breakfast and all day long if you like. You are a born
horsewoman, Jane.”
“Weren't you afraid when Polly ran off with you like that?” inquired
Nora.
“Afraid? I didn't know there was any danger. Was there any?” inquired
Jane.
“Not a bit,” said Nora, “so long as you kept your head.”
“But there really was no danger, was there, Larry?” insisted Jane.
“None at all, Jane,” said Nora, “I assure you. Larry got rattled when
he saw you tear off in that wild fashion, but I knew you would be all
right. Come in; breakfast is ready.”
“And so am I,” said Jane. “I haven't been so hungry I don't know when.”
“Why, she's not plain-looking after all,” said Nora to her mother as
Jane strode manlike off to her room.
“Plain-looking?” exclaimed her mother. “I never thought her
plain-looking. She has that beauty that shines from within, a beauty
that never fades, but grows with every passing year.”
A council of war was called by Nora immediately after breakfast, at
which plans were discussed for the best employment of the three precious
days during which the visitors were to be at the ranch. There were so
many things to be done that unless some system were adopted valuable
time would be wasted.
“It appears to me, Miss Nora,” said Dr. Brown after a somewhat prolonged
discussion, “that to accomplish all the things that you have suggested,
and they all seem not only delightful but necessary, we shall require at
least a month of diligent application.”
“At the very least,” cried Nora.
“So what are we going to do?” said the doctor.
It was finally decided that the Browns should extend their stay at
Lakeside House for a week, after which the doctor should proceed to the
coast and be met on his return at Banff by Jane, with Nora as her guest.
“Then that's all settled,” said Larry. “Now what's for to-day?”
As if in answer to that question a honk of a motor car was heard
outside. Nora rushed to the door, saying, “That's Mrs. Waring-Gaunt.”
But she returned hastily with heightened colour.
“Larry,” she said, “it's that Mr. Wakeham.”
“Wakeham,” cried Larry. “What's got him up so early, I wonder?” with a
swift look at Jane.
“I wonder,” said Nora, giving Jane a little dig.
“I thought I would just run up and see if you had all got home safely
last night,” they heard his great voice booming outside to Larry.
“My, but he is anxious,” said Nora.
“But who is he, Nora?” inquired her mother.
“A friend of Jane's, and apparently terribly concerned about her
welfare.”
“Stop, Nora,” said Jane, flushing a fiery red. “Don't be silly. He is a
young man whom we met on the train, Mrs. Gwynne, a friend of some of our
Winnipeg friends.”
“We shall be very glad to have him stay with us, my dear,” said Mrs.
Gwynne. “Go and bring him in.”
“Go on, Jane,” said Nora.
“Now, Nora, stop it,” said Jane. “I will get really cross with you.
Hush, there he is.”
The young man seemed to fill up the door with his bulk. “Mr. Wakeham,”
said Larry, as the young fellow stood looking around on the group with
a frank, expansive smile upon his handsome face. As his eye fell upon
a little lady the young man seemed to come to attention. Insensibly he
appeared to assume an attitude of greater respect as he bowed low over
her hand.
“I hope you will pardon my coming here so early in the morning,” he said
with an embarrassed air. “I have the honour of knowing your guests.”
“Any friend of our guests is very welcome here, Mr. Wakeham,” said Mrs.
Gwynne, smiling at him with gentle dignity.
“Good morning, Mr. Wakeham,” said Jane, coming forward with outstretched
hand. “You are very early in your calls. You could not have slept very
much.”
“No, indeed,” replied Mr. Wakeham, “and that is one reason why I waked
so early. My bed was not so terribly attractive.”
“Oh,” exclaimed Nora in a disappointed tone, as she shook hands with
him, “we thought you were anxious to see us.”
“Quite right,” said the young man, holding her hand and looking boldly
into her eyes. “I have come to see you.”
Before his look Nora's saucy eyes fell and for some unaccountable
reason her usually ready speech forsook her. Mr. Wakeham fell into easy
conversation with Mr. Gwynne and Dr. Brown concerning mining matters, in
which he was especially interested. He had spent an hour about the Manor
Mine and there he had heard a good deal about Mr. Gwynne's mine and was
anxious to see that if there were no objections. He wondered if he might
drive Mr. Gwynne--and indeed, he had a large car and would be glad to
fill it up with a party if any one cared to come. He looked at Mrs.
Gwynne as he spoke.
“Yes, Mother, you go. It is such a lovely day,” said Nora
enthusiastically, “and Jane can go with you.”
“Jane is going riding,” said Larry firmly.
“I am going to Mrs. Waring-Gaunt's,” said Jane. “I arranged with her
last night.”
While they were settling Mrs. Gwynne's protests, and covered by the
noise of conversation, Mr. Wakeham managed to get close to Nora. “I want
you to come,” he said in a low voice. “That's what I came for.”
Startled and confused by this extraordinary announcement, Nora could
think of no answer.
“I think you were to show me the mine,” he added. Then while Nora gasped
at him, he said aloud, “My car is a seven passenger, so we can take
quite a party.”
“Why not Kathleen?” suggested Jane.
“Yes, indeed, Kathleen might like to go,” said Mrs. Gwynne.
“Then let's all go,” cried Nora.
“Thank you awfully,” murmured Mr. Wakeham. “We shall only be two or
three hours at most,” continued Nora. “We shall be back in time for
lunch.”
“For that matter,” said Mr. Gwynne, “we can lunch at the mine.”
“Splendid,” cried Nora. “Come along. We'll run up with you to the
Waring-Gaunts' for Kathleen,” she added to Mr. Wakeham.
At the Waring-Gaunts' they had some difficulty persuading Kathleen to
join the party, but under the united influence of Jack and his sister,
she agreed to go.
“Now then,” said Mrs. Waring-Gaunt, “you have your full party, Mr.
Wakeham--Mr. and Mrs. Gwynne, Dr. Brown, and the three girls.”
“What about me?” said Larry dolefully.
“I shall stay with you,” cried Nora, evading Mr. Wakeham's eyes.
“No, Nora,” said Jane in a voice of quiet decision. “Last night Mrs.
Waring-Gaunt and I arranged that I should visit her to-day.”
There was a loud chorus of protests, each one making an alternative
suggestion during which Jane went to Mrs. Waring-Gaunt's side and said
quietly, “I want to stay with you to-day.”
“All right, dear,” said Mrs. Waring-Gaunt. “Stay you shall.” And, then
to the company announced, “We have it all arranged. Jane and I are to
have a visit together. The rest of you go off.”
“And what about me, Jane?” again said Larry.
“You are going with the others,” said Jane calmly, “and in the afternoon
we are to have our ride.”
“And this is Jane,” said Jack Romayne as Mrs. Waring-Gaunt ushered the
girl into his room. “If half of what I have heard is true then I am a
lucky man to-day. Kathleen has been telling me about you.”
Jane's smile expressed her delight. “I think I could say the same of
you, Mr. Romayne.”
“What? Has Kathleen been talking about me?”
“No, I have not seen Kathleen since I came, but there are others, you
know.”
“Are there?” asked Jack. “I hadn't noticed. But I know all about you.”
It was a hasty introduction for Jane. Kathleen was easily a subject for
a day's conversation. How long she discoursed upon Kathleen neither
of them knew. But when Mrs. Waring-Gaunt had finished up her morning
household duties Jane was still busy dilating upon Kathleen's charms
and graces and expatiating upon her triumphs and achievements during her
stay in Winnipeg the previous winter.
“Still upon Kathleen?” inquired Mrs. Waring-Gaunt.
“Oh, I am learning a great deal and enjoying myself immensely,” said
Jack.
“You must be careful, Jane. Don't tell Jack everything about Kathleen.
There are certain things we keep to ourselves, you know. I don't tell
Tom everything.”
Jane opened her eyes. “I have not told Jane yet, Sybil,” said Jack
quietly. “She doesn't know, though perhaps she has guessed how dear to
me Kathleen is.”
“Had you not heard?” inquired Mrs. Waring-Gaunt.
“No, I only came last night, you see.” Then turning to Jack, she added,
“And is--is Kathleen going to marry you?” Her astonishment was evident
in her voice and eyes.
“I hope so,” said Jack, “and you are no more astonished than I am
myself. I only found it out night before last.”
It was characteristic of Jane that she sat gazing at him in silence; her
tongue had not learned the trick of easy compliment. She was trying to
take in the full meaning of this surprising announcement.
“Well?” said Jack after he had waited for some moments.
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” she said hurriedly. “I congratulate you. I
think you are a very lucky man.”
“I am, indeed,” said Jack with emphasis. “And Kathleen? You are not so
sure about her luck?”
“Well, I don't know you yet,” said Jane gravely, “and Kathleen is a very
lovely girl, the very loveliest girl I know.”
“You are quite right,” said Jack in a tone as grave as her own. “I am
not good enough for her.”
“Oh, I did not say that. Only I don't know you, and you see I know
Kathleen. She is so lovely and so good. I love her.” Jane's face was
earnest and grave.
“And so do I, Jane, if I may call you so,” said Jack, “and I am going to
try to be worthy of her.”
Jane's eyes rested quietly on his face. She made up her mind that it was
an honest face and a face one could trust, but to Jane it seemed as if
something portentous had befallen her friend and she could not bring
herself immediately to accept this new situation with an outburst of
joyous acclaim such as ordinarily greets an announcement of this kind.
For a reason she could not explain her mind turned to the memory she
cherished of her own mother and of the place she had held with her
father. She wondered if this man could give to Kathleen a place so high
and so secure in his heart. While her eyes were on his face Jack could
see that her mind was far away. She was not thinking of him.
“What is it, Jane?” he said gently.
Jane started and the blood rushed to her face. She hesitated, then said
quietly but with charming frankness, “I was thinking of my mother. She
died when I was two years old. Father says I am like her. But I am not
at all. She was very lovely. Kathleen makes me think of her, and father
often tells me about her. He has never forgotten her. You see I think he
loved her in quite a wonderful way, and he--” Jane paused abruptly.
Mrs. Waring-Gaunt rose quietly, came to her side. “Dear Jane, dear
child,” she said, kissing her. “That's the only way to love. I am sure
your mother was a lovely woman, and a very happy woman, and you are like
her.”
But Jack kept his face turned away from them.
“Oh, Mrs. Waring-Gaunt,” cried Jane, shaking her head emphatically,
“I am not the least bit like her. That is one of the points on which I
disagree with father. We do not agree upon everything, you know.”
“No? What are some of the other points?”
“We agree splendidly about Kathleen,” said Jane, laughing. “Just now we
differ about Germany.”
“Aha, how is that?” inquired Jack, immediately alert.
“Of course, I know very little about it, you understand, but last winter
our minister, Mr. McPherson, who had just been on a visit to Germany
the summer before, gave a lecture in which he said that Germany had made
enormous preparations for war and was only waiting a favourable moment
to strike. Papa says that is all nonsense.”
“Oh, Jane, Jane,” cried Mrs. Waring-Gaunt, “you have struck upon a very
sore spot in this house. Jack will indorse all your minister said. He
will doubtless go much further.”
“What did he say, Jane?” inquired Jack.
“He was greatly in earnest and he urged preparation by Canada. He thinks
we ought at the very least to begin getting our fleet ready right away.”
“That's politics, of course,” said Mrs. Waring-Gaunt, “and I do not know
what you are.”
“I am not sure that I do either,” she replied, “but I believe too that
Canada ought to get at her fleet without loss of time.”
“But what did he say about Germany?” continued Jack.
“I can't tell you everything, of course, but he assured us that Germany
had made the greatest possible preparation, that the cities, towns and
villages were full of drilling men; that there were great stores of war
material, guns and shells, everywhere throughout Germany; that they were
preparing fleets of Zeppelins and submarines too; that they were ready
to march at twenty-four hours' notice; that the whole railroad system
of Germany was organised, was really built for war; that within the last
few years the whole nation had come to believe that Germany must go to
war in order to fulfil her great destiny. Father says that this is all
foolish talk, and that all this war excitement is prompted chiefly by
professional soldiers, like Lord Roberts and others, and by armament
makers like the Armstrongs and the Krupps.”
“What do you think about it all, Jane?” inquired Jack, looking at her
curiously.
“Well, he had spent some months in Germany and had taken pains to
inquire of all kinds of people, officers and professors and preachers
and working people and politicians, and so I think he ought to know
better than others who just read books and the newspapers, don't you
think so?”
“I think you are entirely right, and I hope that minister of yours will
deliver that lecture in many places throughout this country, for there
are not many people, even in England, who believe in the reality of the
German menace. But this is my hobby, my sister says, and I don't want to
bore you.”
“But I am really interested, Mr. Romayne. Papa laughs at me, and Larry
too. He does not believe in the possibility of war. But I think that if
there is a chance, even the slightest chance, of it being true, it is
so terrible that we all ought to be making preparation to defend
ourselves.”
“Well, if it won't bore you,” said Jack, “I shall tell you a few
things.”
“Then excuse me,” said Mrs. Waring-Gaunt. “I have some matters to attend
to. I have no doubt that you at least, Jack, will have a perfectly
lovely time.”
“I am sure I shall too,” cried Jane enthusiastically. “I just want to
hear about this.”
“Will you please pass me that green book?” said Jack, after Mrs.
Waring-Gaunt had left the room. “No, the next one. Yes. The first thing
that it is almost impossible for us Britishers to get into our minds is
this, that Germany, not simply the Kaiser and the governing classes, but
the whole body of the German people, take themselves and their empire
and their destiny with most amazing seriousness. Listen to this, for
instance. This will give you, I say, the psychological condition out of
which war may easily and naturally arise.” He turned the leaves of the
book and read:
“'To live and expand at the expense of other less meritorious peoples
finds its justification in the conviction that we are of all people the
most noble and the most pure, destined before others to work for the
highest development of humanity.'
“One of their poets--I haven't got him here--speaks of the 'German life
curing all the evils of humanity by mere contact with it.' You see that
row of books? These are only a few. Most of them are German. They are
all by different authors and on different subjects, but they are quite
unanimous in setting forth the German ideal, the governing principle
of German World politics. They are filled with the most unbelievable
glorification of Germany and the German people, and the most
extraordinary prophecies as to her wonderful destiny as a World Power.
Unhappily the German has no sense of humour. A Britisher talking in
this way about his country would feel himself to be a fool. Not so the
German. With a perfectly serious face he will attribute to himself and
to his nation all the virtues in the calendar. For instance, listen to
this:
“'Domination belongs to Germany because it is a superior nation, a noble
race, and it is fitting that it should control its neighbours just as
it is the right and duty of every individual endowed with superior
intellect and force to control inferior individuals about him.'
“Here's another choice bit:
“'We are the superior race in the fields of science and of art. We are
the best colonists, the best sailors, the best merchants.'
“That's one thing. Then here's another. For many years after his
accession I believe the Kaiser was genuinely anxious to preserve the
peace of Europe and tried his best to do so, though I am bound to say
that at times he adopted rather peculiar methods, a mingling of bullying
and intrigue. But now since 1904--just hand me that thin book, please.
Thank you--the Kaiser has changed his tone. For instance, listen to
this:
“'God has called us to civilise the world. We are the missionaries of
human progress.'
“And again this:
“'The German people will be the block of granite on which our Lord will
be able to elevate and achieve the civilisation of the world.'
“But I need not weary you with quotations. The political literature of
Germany for the last fifteen years is saturated with this spirit. The
British people dismiss this with a good-natured smile of contempt. To
them it is simply an indication of German bad breeding. If you care I
shall have a number of these books sent you. They are somewhat difficult
to get. Indeed, some of them cannot be had in English at all. But you
read German, do you not? Kathleen told me about your German prize.”
“I do, a little. But I confess I prefer the English,” said Jane with a
little laugh.
“The chief trouble, however, is that so few English-speaking people care
to read them. But I assure you that the one all-absorbing topic of the
German people is this one of Germany's manifest destiny to rule and
elevate the world. And remember these two things go together. They have
no idea of dominating the world intellectually or even commercially--but
perhaps you are sick of this.”
“Not at all. I am very greatly interested,” said Jane.
“Then I shall just read you one thing more. The German has no idea that
he can benefit a nation until he conquers it. Listen to this:
“'The dominion of German thought can only be extended under the aegis of
political power, and unless we act in conformity to this idea we shall
be untrue to out great duties toward the human race.'”
“I shall be very glad to get those books,” said Jane, “and I wish you
would mark some of these passages. And I promise you I shall do all I
can to make all my friends read them. I shall begin with Papa and Larry.
They are always making fun of me and my German scare.”
“I can quite understand that,” replied Jack. “That is a very common
attitude with a great majority of the people of England to-day. But you
see I have been close to these things for years, and I have personal
knowledge of many of the plans and purposes in the minds of the German
Kaiser and the political and military leaders of Germany, and unhappily
I know too the spirit that dominates the whole body of the German
people.”
“You lived in Germany for some years?”
“Yes, for a number of years.”
“And did you like the life there?”
“In many ways I did. I met some charming Germans, and then there is
always their superb music.”
And for an hour Jack Romayne gave his listener a series of vivid
pictures of his life in Germany and in other lands for the past ten
years, mingling with personal reminiscences incidents connected with
international politics and personages. He talked well, not only because
his subject was a part of himself, but also because Jane possessed that
rare ability to listen with intelligence and sympathy. Never had she met
with a man who had been in such intimate touch with the world's Great
Affairs and who was possessed at the same time of such brilliant powers
of description.
Before either of them was aware the party from the mine had returned.
“We have had a perfectly glorious time,” cried Nora as she entered the
room with her cheeks and eyes glowing.
“So have we, Miss Nora,” said Jack. “In fact, I had not the slightest
idea of the flight of time.”
“You may say so,” exclaimed Mrs. Waring-Gaunt. “These two have been so
utterly absorbed in each other that my presence in the room or absence
from it was a matter of perfect indifference. And how Jane managed it
I don't know, but she got Jack to do for her what he has never done for
me. He has actually been giving her the story of his life.”
Jane stood by listening with a smile of frank delight on her face.
“How did you do it, Jane?” asked Kathleen shyly. “He has never told me.”
“Oh, I just listened,” said Jane.
“That's a nasty jar for you others,” said Nora.
“But he told me something else, Kathleen,” said Jane with a bright
blush, “and I am awfully glad.” As she spoke she went around to Kathleen
and, kissing her, said, “It is perfectly lovely for you both.”
“Oh, you really mean that, do you?” said Jack. “You know she was
exceedingly dubious of me this morning.”
“Well, I am not now,” said Jane. “I know you better, you see.”
“Thank God,” said Jack fervently. “The day has not been lost. You will
be sure to come again to see me,” he added as Jane said good-bye.
“Yes, indeed, you may be quite sure of that,” replied Jane, smiling
brightly back at him as she left the room with Nora.
“What a pity she is so plain,” said Mrs. Waring-Gaunt when she had
returned from seeing Jane on her way with Nora and Mr. Wakeham.
“My dear Sybil, you waste your pity,” said her brother. “That young lady
is so attractive that one forgets whether she is plain or not. I can't
quite explain her fascination for me. There's perfect sincerity to begin
with. She is never posing. And perfect simplicity. And besides that she
is so intellectually keen, she keeps one alive.”
“I just love her,” said Kathleen. “She has such a good heart.”
“You have said it,” said Mrs. Waring-Gaunt, “and that is why Jane will
never lose her charm.”