A Meeting
After a morning in Wells, to look at the Cathedral and other beauty
spots, the party motored on to Glastonbury, where again they called a
halt to look at the Abbey and the Museum. Major Rogers was interested in
the objects which had been excavated from the prehistoric lake dwellings
in the neighborhood, and spent so much time poring over bronze brooches,
horn weaving-combs, flint scrapers, glass rings, and fragments of
decorated pottery that Sheila lost all patience.
"Is Dad going to spend the whole day in this moldy old museum?" she
asked dramatically. "I hate anything B. C.! What does it matter to us
how people lived in pile dwellings in the middle of a lake? To judge
from those fancy pictures of them on the wall there they must have been
a set of uncouth savages. Why can't we drive on to Dawlish, or some
other decent seaside place, instead of poking about in musty cathedrals
and tiresome museums? I'm fed up!"
"Now, Sheila, don't be naughty!" whispered her mother. "I'm only too
glad to see your father take an interest in anything. I believe he's
enjoying this tour. If you're tired of the museum, go out and look at
the shops until we're ready."
"There aren't any worth looking at in a wretched little country town!"
yawned Sheila. "No, I really don't want to go over the Abbey either,
thanks! I shall sit inside the car and write, while you do the
sight-seeing."
Major Rogers never hurried himself to suit his daughter's whims, so
Sheila was left to sit in the car, addressing tragic letters and picture
post cards to her friends, and the rest of the party finished examining
the museum, and went to view the ruins of the famous Abbey.
"If Sheila prefers to stay outside, she can look after the car," said
her father, "and I shall take Johnson in with us. He's an intelligent
fellow, and I'm sure he appreciates the shows. It's rather hard on him
if he never gets the chance to see anything."
"I believe he goes sight-seeing on his own account when he has the
opportunity," replied Mrs. Rogers, "but bring him in, by all means. He
always strikes me as having very refined tastes. I should think he's
trying to educate himself. But he's so reserved, I never can get
anything out of him."
"He seems fond of books," volunteered Carmel. "He reads all the time
when he's waiting for us in the car."
Johnson accepted with alacrity the invitation to view the Abbey, and
walked round the ruins apparently much interested in what he saw,
though, following his usual custom, he spoke seldom, and then only in
brief reply to questions. Once, when Major and Mrs. Rogers were puzzling
over a Latin inscription, he seemed on the point of making a remark, but
apparently changed his mind, and walked away.
"He's almost _too_ well trained!" commented Mrs. Rogers. "Of course a
conversational chauffeur is a nuisance, but I have an impression that
Johnson could be quite interesting if he liked. Some day I shall try to
make him talk."
"Better leave him alone," said Major Rogers. "I think things do very
well as they are."
From Glastonbury they motored through the beautiful county of Somerset
into leafy Devonshire, taking easy stages so as not to overtire the
invalid, and halting at any place where the guide book pointed out
objects worthy of notice. To please Carmel, they were making in the
direction of Tivermouth, where they hoped to arrive in time to meet the
Ingletons. They had telegraphed for rooms at the Hill Crest Hotel, and,
if the place suited Major Rogers, they proposed to spend a week there.
"There may be perhaps a dance, or a tennis tournament, or something
interesting going on!" exulted Sheila, who had urged the decision. "At
any rate there'll be somebody to talk to in a decent hotel--it won't be
just all scenery! Let us spin along, Dad, and get there!"
"Hurry no man's cattle!" replied her father. "Remember, I am out for a
'rabbit' holiday, and I like long rests by the roadside. I'm looking
forward to a siesta on the grass somewhere this afternoon. The scent of
the woods does me good."
So once more the party found a picturesque spot and stopped for lunch
and an hour or two of quiet under the trees before they took again to
the open road. The spot which they chose this time was on a slope
reaching down to a river. Above was a thick belt of pines, and below the
water dashed with a pleasant murmuring sound very soothing on a warm
afternoon. It was an ideal "rabbit playground" for Major Rogers, and he
established himself comfortably with rugs and cushions after lunch,
hoping to be able to snatch some much-needed sleep. Mrs. Rogers took her
knitting from her hand-bag, and Sheila, who had a voluminous
correspondence, asked Johnson for her dispatch case and began to write
letters.
As Carmel had nothing very particular to do, and grew tired of sitting
still, she rose presently and rambled down the wood to the river-side.
It was beautiful to stand and watch the water swirling by, to gaze at
the meadow on the opposite bank, and to amuse herself by throwing little
sticks into the hurrying current. There was an old split tree-trunk that
overhung the bank, and it struck her that this would make a most
comfortable and delightful rustic seat. She climbed on to it quite
easily, crawled along, and sat at the end with her feet swinging over
the river. It was such an idyllic situation that she felt herself a
mixture of a tree nymph and a water nymph, or--to follow the Major's
humor--could almost imagine that she was taking her holiday in the shape
of a bird. If she would have been content to remain quietly seated, just
enjoying the scenery all might have been well, but unfortunately Carmel
made the discovery that by exercising a little energy she could make the
stump rock. The sensation was as pleasant as a swing. Up and down and up
and down she swayed, till the poor old split tree could bear the strain
no longer, and suddenly, with an awful crash, the part on which she
rested broke off, and precipitated her into the river. Her cry of terror
as she struck the water echoed through the wood. As she rose to the
surface she managed to clutch hold of some of the branches and support
herself, but she was in a position of great danger, for the stump was
hardly holding to the edge of the bank, and in another moment or two
would probably be whirled away by the current.
As she shouted again there was a quick dash through the undergrowth, and
Johnson the chauffeur shot down through the wood at a speed that could
almost compete with the car's. In a bound he jumped the bank, and,
plunging into the river, struggled to her help and succeeded in pulling
her back out of the current into the shallow water among the reeds at
the brink.
By this time Major and Mrs. Rogers and Sheila had all three rushed to
the spot, and were able to extend hands from the bank. Carmel and
Johnson both scrambled out of the river wet through and covered with
mud, the most wretched and dilapidated objects.
"Oh! she'll take a chill! Whatever are we to do to get her dry?" cried
Mrs. Rogers distractedly, mopping her young guest's streaming face with
a dainty lace-bordered handkerchief. "Is there a cottage anywhere near?"
"We'd better get into the car and motor along till we find one,"
suggested Major Rogers. "Johnson, you deserve a medal for this! I never
saw anything so prompt in my life. It was like a whirlwind!"
"We shall make a horrible mess of the car!" objected Carmel, trying to
wipe some of the mud from her clothes.
"Never mind; sit on this rug. You're shivering already, child! Sheila,
bring my hand-bag and your father's cushion. Now, Johnson, just
anywhere! The very first cottage that will take us in!"
Luckily they were not far from a village with a fairly comfortable inn,
where a sympathetic landlady provided bedrooms and hot water. As their
luggage was on the car, it was an easy matter to change, and before very
long both Carmel and her rescuer were in dry garments, and drinking the
hot coffee which Mrs. Rogers insisted upon as a preventive against
catching cold.
"I shall hardly dare to let you out of my sight again, Carmel!" she
said, half laughingly, yet half in earnest. "I don't want to have to
write to your mother and tell her you're drowned!"
"Nonsense!" declared the Major rather testily. "It's not a thing she's
likely to do twice! I should think she'd be frightened to go anywhere
near a river again just yet. Are those clothes dry? Well, never mind,
pack them as they are; we can't wait for them. And the rug, too, just
bundle it up and put it at the bottom of the car. Johnson can brush it
to-morrow. He's a fine chap. I shall write to the 'Humane Society'
about this business. They ought to give him a medal."
"I've tried to thank him," said Carmel, "but directly I begin he dives
away and does something at the car. He doesn't seem to want to be
thanked."
"Oh, that's just Johnson's usual way!" drawled Sheila. "I expect he's
pleased all the same. You look a little more respectable now, Carmel. I
shouldn't have liked to take you into the Hill Crest Hotel as you were
an hour ago! I expect after this stoppage we shall arrive too late to
dress comfortably for dinner, unless Johnson literally tears along, and
then I'm scared out of my wits! What a life! I'd never go motoring for
choice! It's not my idea of a holiday, I must say."
After all, though Johnson seldom exceeded the speed limit, the Rogers
arrived at Tivermouth in ample time for Sheila to don a fascinating
evening costume, and to arrange her fair hair in an elaborate coiffure.
The hotel was full of summer visitors, and in her opinion the large
dining-room with its Moorish decorations, the numerous daintily-spread
little tables, and the fashionable well-dressed crowd who flocked in at
the sounding of a gong were far more entertaining than a wood and a
picnic meal. But Sheila was not fond of "rabbit" holidays.
[Illustration: JOHNSON THE CHAUFFEUR SHOT DOWN THROUGH THE WOOD]
"It beats those old-fashioned places we stayed at in the country towns,
doesn't it?" she said to Carmel, as they sat in the lounge, waiting for
Major and Mrs. Rogers to come down stairs. "By the by, are your cousins
here? I looked in the visitors' book and couldn't find their names. What
has happened to them?"
"A letter from Dulcie was waiting for me," explained Carmel. "They
couldn't get rooms here. They were writing to the 'Eagle's Nest Hotel,'
and hoped to get taken in there. I don't know whether they've arrived or
not. Dulcie didn't say exactly which day they were starting. It's just
like Dulcie! She generally misses out the most important point!"
"Well, I suppose they'll look you up when they do arrive," said Sheila
carelessly. "Anyway, I bless them for giving us some sort of an anchor
down here. I feel I'm going to enjoy myself. I asked the manageress, and
she says there's to be a dance to-night after dinner."
Carmel, sitting on a cane chair in the palm lounge next morning, agreed
with Sheila that Hill Crest Hotel was a remarkably comfortable and
luxurious place. A fountain was splashing near her, foreign birds sang
and twittered in the aviary, and large pots of geraniums made bright
patches of color under the green of the palms. Pleasant though it was,
however, it lacked the charm of the open air, and, throwing down the
magazine she was reading, Carmel strolled through the hall and the glass
veranda on to the terrace outside. The hotel certainly had a most
beautiful situation. As its name implied, it stood on the crest of a
hill, surrounded by woods and grounds that stretched to the beach. A
little noisy Devonshire river raced past it through the glen, and behind
it lay the heathery waste of a great moorland. Below lay the gleaming
waters of the bay, with small boats bobbing about, and a distant view of
the crags and headlands of a rugged coast line. The terrace was planted
with a border of trailing pink ivy-leaved geraniums, and the bank that
sloped below was a superb mass of hydrangeas in full bloom, their
delicate shades of blue and pink looking like the hues of dawn in a
clear sky.
Carmel established herself on a seat to enjoy the prospect, and picking
up a gray Persian cat which was also sunning itself on the terrace,
fondled the pretty creature in her arms. She was seeing England to the
best advantage, for nowhere could there have been a lovelier scene than
the one which lay before her delighted eyes. Tivermouth had a reputation
as a beauty spot, and owing to its long distance from the railway was as
yet unspoilt by a too great invasion of tourists. There were other
hotels nestling among the greenery of the woods, and Carmel wondered if
the Ingletons had arrived at one of them, and at which of the white
houses on the beach the boys were staying with Miss Mason.
As she was still gazing and speculating there was a crunch of footsteps
on the gravel behind, a voice called her name, and looking round she saw
Cousin Clare, Lilias, and Dulcie, hurrying towards her. There was an
enthusiastic greeting, followed by explanations from all three.
"We'd the greatest difficulty to get rooms!"
"The whole place seems full up!"
"They couldn't take us at the 'Eagle's Nest.'"
"We've got in at the 'Victoria,' though!"
"I wish we could have been here with you!"
"Never mind, so long as we're at Tivermouth at all!"
"Isn't it just too gorgeous for words!"
"We only arrived late last night."
"There's such heaps we want to tell you!"
There was indeed much to be told on both sides. All three girls had had
numerous experiences during the short time of their parting, and they
were anxious to compare notes. Then Cousin Clare, Lilias, and Dulcie
must be introduced to the Rogers family, who were all writing letters in
a private sitting-room, but stopped their correspondence to extend a
hearty welcome and to chat with the new-comers. In a short time the
party rearranged itself, leaving Cousin Clare to talk with Major and
Mrs. Rogers, Lilias and Dulcie arm-in-arm with Carmel on the terrace,
and Sheila, who had stepped with them out at the French window, straying
away with a young Highland officer with whom she had danced the night
before.
"Never mind Sheila--she doesn't want _us_!" laughed Carmel, squeezing
both her cousins' arms, for she was in the middle. "Oh, it's nice to see
you again! Let's walk along here to the end of the terrace. I've had all
sorts of adventures since I saw you. I was nearly drowned yesterday in a
river, only Johnson, the chauffeur, fished me out. You should have seen
me all dripping and covered with mud. And Johnson was just as bad. We
made such a mess of the car with our muddy clothes. I wonder if he's got
it clean yet? By the by, I left my post cards in the side pocket. I'd
love to show them to you. Shall we go and get them? The garage is quite
close, only just down this path. Do you mind coming?"
"Go ahead; we'd like to," agreed Dulcie.
So they plunged down the hill-side on a twisting path, past the bank of
hydrangeas and through a grove of shiny-leaved escallonias to where the
garage, a large building with a corrugated-iron roof, stood on a natural
platform of rock close to the steep high road that flanked the hotel.
The yard was full of visitors' cars in process of being cleaned, and
chauffeurs were busy with hose, or polishing fittings.
"I wonder where Johnson has put ours?" said Carmel, threading her way
between an enormous Daimler and a pretty little two-seater. "Oh, there
it is! That dark-green one in the corner. Come along! There's just room
to pass here behind this coupé. I expect the post cards are all right.
Johnson would take care of them for me. I'll ask him to get them.
Johnson!"
The chauffeur, who was bending over the car, too busy with wrench and
screwdriver to notice their approach, straightened himself instantly,
and glanced at the three girls. As his eyes fell on Lilias and Dulcie,
his expression changed to one of utter consternation and amazement, and
he colored to the roots of his fair hair. They on their part gazed at
him as if they had encountered a specter.
"Everard!" gasped Dulcie.
"Everard!" faltered Lilias. "It's never _you_!"
Here indeed was a drama. Four more astonished young people it would have
been impossible to conceive. For a moment Everard seemed as if he were
going to bolt, but Carmel, whose quick mind instantly grasped the
situation, motioned him into the empty motor-shed behind, and,
following with Lilias and Dulcie, partly closed the door.
"So you're Everard, are you?" she said, looking at him hard. "Well, to
tell you the truth, I never thought your name was really Johnson! I told
Sheila I was sure you were a gentleman. Why have you been masquerading
like this? Why don't you go home to the Chase?"
"Oh, _do_ come home, Everard!" echoed Lilias entreatingly.
The ex-chauffeur shook his head. He was still almost too covered with
confusion to admit of speech.
"I didn't expect to meet you girls," he said at last. "The best thing
you can do is just to forget me, and leave me where I am. I shall
_never_ go back to the Chase! That point I've quite decided."
"But we want you there," said Carmel gently.
"You!" Everard looked frankly puzzled.
"Oh, Everard!" burst out Dulcie. "You don't understand! You ran away and
never waited to hear anything, and we couldn't write to you, because you
sent no address. You thought Grandfather had left the property to a boy
cousin--Leslie!"
"Well, didn't he?"
"Yes, and no! There is no boy cousin. This is Leslie--only she's called
Carmel--the heiress of Cheverley Chase!"
"You!" exclaimed Everard again, gazing at Carmel.
"Don't call me 'the heiress,' Dulcie," protested Carmel. "You know I've
said from the very first that I don't intend to take the Chase away from
you all. It's yours every bit as much as mine, and more so, because my
own real home is in Sicily, and I hope to go back there some day.
Everard, will you make friends with me on that understanding, and shake
hands? I don't want to turn anybody out of the Chase."
Carmel held out a slim little hand, and Everard accepted it delicately,
as if it had been that of a princess.
"I'm still stunned," he remarked. "To think I should have been driving
you all this time, and not have known you were Leslie Ingleton! I never
chanced to hear your surname. I thought you were Mrs. Rogers' niece."
"And so I am!" laughed Carmel. "At least she's my step-aunt, at any
rate. Isn't it a regular _Comedy of Errors_?"
"Everard," put in Lilias, "why did you turn chauffeur? We thought you
had run away to sea!"
"I meant to," answered her brother bitterly, "but when it came to the
point of getting employment, I found the only thing I could earn a
living at was driving a car. I don't know that I even do that very
decently, but at any rate I'm self-supporting. You'd better leave me
where I am! It's all I'm good for!"
"Not a bit of it!" answered Carmel. "I've arranged the whole thing in my
mind already. We'll make an exchange. Milner shall take charge of the
car for the Rogers until they can find another chauffeur, and you shall
drive Cousin Clare and Lilias and Dulcie and me back to the Chase. Now
don't begin to talk, for it's quite settled, and for once in my life I
declare I mean to have my own way!"