THE PINES.
Now there dawned an apparently very happy time in the life of little
Margot St. Juste. Her whole heart was full of love, and with love
was also a keen interest for the Desmonds of Desmondstown. Of course
grand-dad, _the_ grand-dad, came first, but next to him was Uncle
Fergus. As they talked together over the trees they were planting, and
the fruit that would come to perfection from the same trees, the little
girl rejoiced at the thought that her small efforts were bringing
comfort and riches to the home of her ancestors.
In short, whenever she was not with grand-dad, she was with Uncle
Fergus, who threw himself into his work as indeed a son of the
soil. It was amazing to see this fine-looking man digging, delving,
ploughing, arranging. He also got Phinias Maloney to assist him, and
in an incredibly short space of time the brick wall was built and the
tiny trees planted, which were to bring forth such a rich harvest
by-and-bye. Then Margot suggested strawberries and Uncle Fergus made
a strawberry plot. Then she suggested raspberries and gooseberries, to
say nothing of various sorts of roses, little bush roses which would go
on flowering during the greater part of the year.
Whatever Margot suggested, Fergus obeyed. He had not been so happy
since he had left Old Trinity. Margot called herself his assistant
gardener, and The Desmond came out now and then to watch the pair with
pride.
"Wherever does the avick get the money, Madam?" he said more than once.
But Madam would only shake her head and say they might safely leave it
in the hands of Fergus.
The Desmond happened to make this remark one day at the mid-day meal
and in the presence of Reparation. Reparation was going back to England
in a couple of days now. She dreaded the thought beyond words. What
was grand-dad going to do when he was left to the complete wiles
of the little Comtesse? She dreaded "grand-dad," as she called him
privately to herself, inexpressibly. She wouldn't dare utter a word in
his presence. As to The Desmond, he hardly ever gave the bit colleen a
thought. She was welcome to stay in the old house if she didn't bother
him, but Margot was equally determined that Reparation should go.
She was not thoroughly happy with her about. As a matter of fact she
was not sure of her. There was a light which she could by no means
admire or trust in the small, light-blue eyes of Tilly of England. In
short, she avoided her as much as possible, but Tilly was completely
taken up with young Aunt Norah and young Aunt Bridget, whom she called
by their Christian names, and said that they looked a lot younger than
herself.
"I'm fourteen," she said, "but you--you are only kittens!"
Now nothing could please the Misses Desmond more than to be compared to
kittens, and they petted Tilly when she talked to them in this strain,
and thoroughly believed her. But Tilly had her own object in view. She
did not want to leave Desmondstown, and said that she thought the best
possible thing she could do would be to explain certain matters to
The Desmond. These matters would of course relate to Margot and would
require a great deal of courage.
Nevertheless she believed she might manage it and as the days flew by
and as the time of her departure approached, so the more strongly did
she make up her mind to the final and great step.
Now Malachi was a man of his word. For that matter all the Desmonds
were truthful. Malachi had promised to teach Tilly to ride, and he took
her out on a broken-down old mare, a creature so feeble and slow that
the timidest person could not fear when seated on her back.
Tilly bore with the mare for a few days, but then she became
discontented. She saw Norah and Bridget fly by on thoroughbreds of
rare spirit. They bounded over hedges and gates and ditches, they
seemed to tread the very air. Tilly got jealous of them and also became
exceedingly tired of her slow old mare.
There happened to be a horse in the stable, a young and exquisite
creature whom Malachi was taking special care of. He was a thoroughbred
from Donegal, and was not yet quite broken in, but every day Malachi
put on a sort of skirt and rode sideways on the spirited and lovely
creature, and gradually brought the horse into training. He obeyed
Malachi's slightest touch. He was of a deep chestnut in tone with a
white star on his forehead. His points were perfect, and Malachi was
teaching him, as he expressed it, "to 'lep' over everything, so that he
might be fit for the hunting when it began."
One day he brought the horse "Starlight" home covered with foam and
somewhat disturbed in his temper.
"There now, old boy," said Malachi, "you'll have your feed of the
whitest of white oats, and be ready for another try over that wide
ditch to-morrow."
Malachi, as was his custom, spoke his words aloud. He was busy all the
time washing down and rubbing the beautiful creature. He then took him
to his stall, and said, "Good old boy, dear old boy! You'll be fit for
that very wide ditch to-morrow. You funked it a bit to-day but you
won't ever again. How then, eat, my mannikin, eat."
"That's a lovely horse," said Reparation standing at the door.
Malachi gave a start when he saw the ugly little girl.
"To be sure he's a jewel, no less," was his instant rejoinder.
"I'd like well to ride him, Malachi," said Reparation. "I'm tired of
the old mare. She's so slow--she only crawls. I want to fly like Norah
and Bridget and you on Starlight. May I ride Starlight to-morrow,
Malachi?"
"May you!" exclaimed Malachi. "Do I want to see yourself broken into
little bits? You keep away from this horse. He's not for you."
"But why not?" asked Tilly, coming into the stable now and approaching
close to the animal.
"Keep back, if you want to keep your features," said Malachi. "He'll
kick out if he looks at you, as sure as my name is Malachi Desmond."
"Why should he, Malachi?" but Tilly stepped back a pace or two as she
spoke. "Why shouldn't I ride Starlight? What are you keeping him for?
And you do look such a figure of fun, Malachi, dressed like an old
woman with a skirt over you."
"I'm training the horse for my niece," said Malachi. "He'll be ready
for her long before she goes back to that place in France, drat it!
There now, you'll never manage more than the mare, Tilly, and I can't
stand talking to you any more. Be off and play with the gurrls. They've
come in from their ride, and I am sure they are willing enough to amuse
you."
"Take my hand for one minute, Malachi," said Tilly.
Malachi with extreme unwillingness complied and led the little girl out
of the stables. He shut the door behind Starlight, who was enjoying his
oats and feeling soothed and comfortable. He did not like his training
at all, but afterwards there always came the wash down and the rub down
and the delicious tender white oats, and he couldn't unseat Malachi,
try as he would.
"Is that beautiful horse really for the shopkeeper?" inquired Tilly.
"It's for no shopkeeper. What on earth do ye mean? It's for my niece,
the pushkeen; and I've saved up and sent for an elegant habit for her
to Cork. It will arrive any day now. There, I can't talk to ye any
more, ye are so downright foolish."
"Come and play horses with us, Till," said Norah, who appeared at that
moment.
As a matter of fact Norah had been standing in the vicinity of
Starlight's stable for the last few minutes, and certain words uttered
by Tilly had aroused her curiosity.
"Why ever did ye go ballyragging Malachi?" she exclaimed. "He's not a
boy to be put out when he's over the horses. Leave him to himself and
come with me. Biddy and I and the curate, Mr. Flannigan, are going to
have a jolly play."
"I'm willing to come," said Till.
"Well, you must be prepared to run, while the others follow. I say,
Till, whatever nonsense did you talk to Malachi about the pushkeen's
horse?"
"I said it wasn't a horse fit for a shopkeeper," replied Tilly.
"Well, and whoever said it was? It is for the pushkeen, the sweetest
pet in the world. Why, me old father, he is fit to devour her with
love."
"For all that she is the shopkeeper," said Tilly. "She keeps a shop at
Arles. She goes to the shop; every day of her life, when there, and
sells things and calls herself _la petite_ Comtesse, and they all buy
from her, more especially the farmers' wives, and she puts on the price
like anything. She's a real, real shopkeeper, but I can't see why she
should get a beautiful horse like Starlight, and I should have nothing
but a stupid old mare who will hardly stir her stumps. You come in,
Norah, flying over every obstacle, and there's that beauty being got
ready for the pushkeen as you call her. But I know what she is--the
shopkeeper of Arles."
"I don't believe it for a single moment," said Norah, but her pretty
old-young face turned a little white. "Look here, Till," she said.
"You keep that bit of gossip safe in your breast and don't let it out
for the Lord's sake, or there'll be a hue and a cry. There now, you
understand what I mean. There's no sense in it. My word! A daughter of
the Desmonds a shopkeeper! Get out with you and don't be such a fool!"
"I'm not a fool and I know who I'll tell it to," said Till, who was
now bursting with rage. She had only two more days at delightful
Desmondstown. Little it mattered to her that the house was half bare,
that the food was a trifle coarse. Was there not life in the place,
and nobody scolded, and no one was cross? She did not want to go. She
would get that old man Desmond to let her stay a good bit longer.
Why should Margot, who kept a shop, have everything and she, Matilda
Raynes, have nothing but the use of an old mare? And she must go back,
oh, in a couple of days now, to her dreadful stepmother and her cross,
cross father. But, but she would have her revenge first. She did not
care what happened if only she had her revenge.
While the old-youngs and Mr. Flannigan and Tilly were playing the
celebrated game of "Puss in the Corner," Malachi, his face all alight
with joy, entered his father's sanctum.
Little Margot had been helping Fergus with the making of the beautiful
new fruit garden, but her toils were over for the present, and she was
sitting on grand-dad's knee; wrapped up, in short, in grand-dad, as
though she was part of him. Her beautiful soft, jet-black hair made
a vivid contrast to his white beard. She lay back comfortably in his
arms, almost too happy to speak. She felt as though she was indeed part
of him, he belonged to her. She was his very own.
Madam, as usual, was crocheting in the distant window. No one took much
outward notice of the sweet little Madam, but then she was the very
person whom her sons and daughters, and her old husband adored. And
little Margot loved her, also, although not quite so much as she loved
The Desmond.
"To be sure, it must be just as you wish, pushkeen," said the old man,
and just at that moment Malachi, with his smiling, handsome face,
entered the room.
"What are you up to now, Malachi?" said the old man.
"Starlight is quite broken in for gentle exercise," he said. "I
wouldn't trust him yet for great gaps or ditches, but he'd be safe,
quite safe, for the pushkeen to ride on the highroad, and I'll ride
beside her on Brian the Brave. I've come to tell you this, pushkeen.
The horse is ready, Starlight is ready. I took a good bit out of her
this morning, and your habit has come from Cork, as well as the saddle.
You'll look elegant--that's the only word for it--mounted on Starlight
with me alongside of you. We might go for a ride after dinner. I've
taken some of the nonsense out of Starlight this morning. He'll be as
easy as a bit of silk to manage after we have had our early dinner."
"To be sure, that's fine news," said The Desmond, "but you must take
precious care of my little treasure, Malachi."
"To be sure and that I will. You can trust me," said Malachi. "We'll go
soft and easy along the highroad and pushkeen can call and see Annie
Maloney and her childer."
"Oh, I _would_ like it, grand-dad," said Margot, raising her dear,
bright little face.
"To be sure you would," said The Desmond. "I suppose the _King of all
the Desmonds_ is a bit stale for me to mount, Malachi."
"He's a bit old, father, but there's good blood in him still. You sit
easy by the fire with little Madam, and I'll take pushkeen for her
first ride on Starlight alone--we can talk about your riding the _King
of the Desmonds_ later."
The habit was a very pretty one of dark blue cloth, and there was a
little soft crimson cap with a long tassel for the pushkeen to put over
her jet-black hair. Nothing could be more altogether becoming, and the
child's total absence of fear communicated itself to the high-spirited
horse, who led her bravely up hill and down dale, Malachi riding beside
her on Brian the Brave.
Oh, never was there anything quite so delightful as that ride to the
little pushkeen, and little, little did she suspect that her happy
days at Desmondstown were coming so quickly to an end. She could dance
by nature and she could ride by nature. What Desmond had ever funked
a horse? And this child surely was a true Desmond, a chip of the old
block.
[Illustration: Never was there anything quite so delightful as that
ride.--_Page 207._]
The old-youngs and Mr. Flannigan were enjoying themselves at special
games on the back lawn when little Margot flashed by in her new dark
blue habit with her crimson cap and tassel. She came up quite close to
the gate, but pulled in Starlight at a word from Malachi, and then the
two horses and the man and the girl disappeared up the highroad.
"Isn't she a purty little thing?" said Flannigan.
Tilly felt a sense of madness coming over her. Now was her
opportunity--now--now or never. She slipped away from the old-youngs
and softly unhasping the door of The Desmond's sanctum entered and
stood before him, her hands folded, her heart beating fast.
The Desmond was gently going off into the land of dreams and Madam was
motioning to Till to leave the room, but Till's chance had come and she
would not lose it.
"I want to speak," she said. "I want to speak to The Desmond. I won't
keep him long. He can grant my request and then nothing need be done,
or he can refuse it and then, behold, consider the fruit trees of all
sorts, the strawberry beds, the raspberry canes, the roses!"
"Who is talking, who is bothering me entirely?" exclaimed The Desmond.
"I don't want to bother you, sir," said Tilly, although she had such a
queer trembling in her limbs that she never exactly knew the meaning of
gooseflesh before.
"Oh you are Till Raynes," said the old man. "I couldn't get at the back
of your name for a minute. What do ye want, alanna? I'm sleepy and I
want to doze. I want to doze while my pushkeen is out."
"Oh, do you indeed?" said Tilly, who, as is often the case, got less
nervous as the time went on.
The old man raised his jet-black eyes and looked at the girl.
"What do ye want, young English miss?" he said. He looked very severe
and very stately.
Tilly's voice began to choke a little.
"You are The Desmond," she said.
"I'm that, who doubts it?"
"I don't, sir; only you, you frighten me a bit, and I don't like to see
you deceived."
"Arrah, then, get out of this!" said The Desmond. "Play with the young
gurrls and don't keep botherin' me."
"I will, in one minute; I will, really, only I have something dreadful
to tell you."
"Not about my pushkeen? God Almighty help us, not about my pushkeen!"
"Listen to me, sir," said Tilly. "May I stay here as long as your
pushkeen stays, and may I ride Starlight every second day? If you say
yes to those two things sir, everything will be right and you'll never,
never _know_."
The Desmond rose slowly and ponderously from his chair.
"What are ye after at all, colleen?" he said. "The pushkeen herself
says ye are to go in two days and her wishes are to be first considered
in this house."
"Oh, are they?" said Tilly, her face almost black with rage, "then I'll
tell--I'll tell!"
"You'll tell nothing, Tilly Raynes," said Madam, coming up in her soft
and sweet way; and, taking the girl out of the room, she closed the
door between her and The Desmond. "Now you behave yourself while you
are here," she said. "Himself is not to be worried. You understand that
clear and cool. Go back and play with my daughters. You can't hurt our
pushkeen nor The Desmond himself for all your trying."
Tilly was terribly disappointed. What with the ferocity of The Desmond
and the calm, cool firmness of Madam, she had not a chance to get
out those hateful words, but she would punish pushkeen yet, yes she
would. She did not go back to join the others but sitting in the porch,
thought and thought out her system of revenge. Presently came the
sound of horses' feet tramping down the avenue.
Little Margot leaped to the ground as light as a feather, a groom
sprang into view and Margot went straight up to Tilly.
"Why aren't you with the others?" she said. "Oh, I have had a glorious
ride!"
"You are a nasty, mean, deceitful thing," said Tilly. "They would have
kept me on here but for you, and I just downright hate you."
"Oh, Tilly, you oughtn't," said Margot. "What have I done to you?"
"Done! You've done enough in all conscience. You get everything, I
get nothing; and when I went and spoke to The Desmond about staying
a little longer, he said you didn't wish it--you, forsooth! I must
ride that doddering old mare, and you must have that beautiful horse
Starlight. You must have everything and I must have nothing. But I'll
revenge myself on you yet, see if I don't!"
"I'm sorry, Tilly," said Margot, in her sweet voice, "but I do think
you ought to go back home on Thursday. You have been with us for three
weeks and we have all tried to give you a good time."
"You haven't, so don't think it," said Tilly.
"Well, I did my best. I told you I should have to spend most of the
time with my grand-dad, and the people and the place here do belong to
me, Tilly, and they don't to you. I'm very, very sorry, but I do think
you ought to go home. I wouldn't say it, indeed I wouldn't, if I didn't
most truly think it. You'll have been here three weeks on Thursday, and
that's a good long time, Tilly, now isn't it?"
"I'll have my revenge, I vow I will," said Tilly.
"I don't know what you can do, but you must just act as you please,"
said Margot in a very sad voice. "I did want to make you happy, I did
most truly, but what was I to do? You wouldn't be happy, try as I
would. You can't ride like a Desmond; it isn't in you."
"Little shopkeeper, don't talk any more," said Tilly, and she dashed
out of sight, crying as she went.
How it so happened that while Matilda Raynes was planning out her
revenge with a certain amount of skill, little Margot had taken off her
habit and was seated in her favourite place on her grandfather's knee.
He told her a little about the troublesome girl, and Margot begged of
him not to mind, for it was only her way and she was soon going.
"Thank the Lord for that," said The Desmond. "I'd have let her stay,
but you put your own big foot down, pushkeen."
"Oh, yes, grand-dad, it is time she went home. I'm sorry for her,
rather, but she's not--not very nice, I mean."
"She's not nice at all," said The Desmond. "She's a common little brat.
What sort of school was that they sent you to, light of my eyes? How
did you come by her sort entirely?"
"I couldn't help it, grand-dad; she was at the school. Shall I tell you
about my ride on Starlight?"
"Yes, do, to be sure. It's real pretty, to hear your sweet voice."
So Margot talked and the old man asked questions. He asked innumerable
questions and Margot showed that she was a true Desmond by her replies.
Meanwhile Tilly, her heart set on revenge, was creeping nearer and
nearer to the stables and the beautiful new loose box which had all
been arranged for the comfort of Starlight. There, in a certain corner
hung the new saddle, which had just arrived from Cork.
Malachi was having a gentle snooze in a corner of the stall, but he
was fond of calling himself a cat who invariably slept with one eye
open. Tilly had not the least idea that he was there, but he saw her
all the time. She thought herself quite alone with the exception of
Starlight and the new saddle. She did not guess even for a moment that
Malachi had opened that one eye of his very wide; in fact, that he
had opened both eyes. Tilly produced out of her pocket a pincushion,
which contained pins of different sorts and degrees. These she cleverly
inserted in the lining of the new saddle.
Malachi watched her, his eyes twinkling. She put the saddle back in
its place, but did not do it well, for the saddle fell. Nevertheless,
Malachi did not stir. Tilly now rushed out of the stable. Her revenge
was in sure progress of beginning and acting well. When she was quite
out of sight, Malachi rose, picked up the saddle, which was bristling
with pins, and removed all of them except one. This he left in, placing
it carefully and with skill in such a position that whoever rode on
Starlight would drive the obnoxious pin a little way into the animal's
hide. He very carefully folded up the rest of the pins in a piece of
paper, slipped them into his vest pocket and entered the house. During
the whole of that evening he was in the highest spirits and laid
himself out to entertain Tilly.
The next morning he went to his father and said that as this was the
very last day that Tilly Raynes would spend with them she might as
well have a little bit of a ride on Starlight. His face was all over
twinkles as he made the request.
"It won't do the beastie any harm," he said, "and pushkeen will lend
Tilly her habit."
"Of course I will," said pushkeen, who was feeling a little bad at
Tilly's cruel words.
Accordingly, at breakfast time, Malachi turned to Tilly, told her that
he had been considering matters, and did not see why she should not
ride quite as well as the pushkeen, and if she liked he would take her
out that morning on the pushkeen's thoroughbred, the pushkeen lending
her her habit and he riding beside her on Brian the Brave.
"Oh, but, but will you really!" exclaimed Tilly, then she remembered
the pins and became very grave and distrait.
"Please, Malachi," said Tilly, "may I run round to the stables first? I
want to look at Starlight before I mount him."
"And what would ail ye not to?" said Malachi.
Tilly rushed as fast as she could to the stables, entered the one
containing Starlight and taking down the new side-saddle began to
search for the pins, but Malachi had been too clever for Till, for he
had placed the one pin in such a way that it would soon begin to annoy
Starlight and in such a position that Tilly could not find it.
She came back to the house in the highest spirits for her ride. Someone
had removed the pins; she was quite safe. She would show the Irish
Margot what riding really meant.