AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE
“There,” said Margot, breathlessly, “Stella said that you’d drive me
down towards the station; the way you’ve just come, you know---- Can I
get into the trap?”
She stood hatless and excited, looking up into the face of the rector’s
garden-boy, who was standing at the pony’s head. He stared down at her
sheepishly enough, and with the most evident surprise at such an
unexpected proposal.
“But, Miss Stella, she said I wor to wait for her,” he volunteered at
last. “Them wor my orders--to wait for Miss Stella.”
“But I can’t help _that_, I’m afraid,” urged Margot. “I’ve got to go; so
do you mind getting in, and we’ll start.”
But the lad still stared on, and made no movement of any kind. Margot
stamped her foot with annoyance.
“But Stella said---- Well, go and ask her if you like. She’s over
there.” She pointed vaguely in the direction of the hockey-field as she
spoke, and the boy turned his head.
“Well, if Miss Stella gives me the orders herself!”
“Go and ask her, I said,” enjoined Margot. “I’ll look after the pony. I
know him quite well. Oh, do hurry, there’s the most tremendously
important thing to do!”
Much overawed by Margot’s assurance of manner, the boy, with a parting
“Whoa there, now!” to the pony, delivered up the reins and departed on
his errand.
“If Miss Stella wor to say----” were his last words.
“Of course she will,” insisted Margot. “Oh, do hurry!”
But evidently such a verb was unknown in the vocabulary of the rector’s
Jim; for five minutes Margot stood at the pony’s head in a fever and
ferment of excitement; then her powers of endurance gave out.
“Oh, how _slow_ they are in England!” she lamented, “and that boy, I
declare he’s----!” A sudden idea flashed into her mind before even she
had finished the sentence. “I’ll just not wait for him,” she said; “I’ll
_go_! Stella’ll guess when she finds the trap gone; I’m _sure_ I can
drive quicker than _he_ would, too; and who knows where Sybil mayn’t be
by this time?”
Without losing another moment she hopped up into the trap, shut the
little door with an incisive click and, with a professional shake to the
reins, was off and away down the road in the direction of the “Little
House.”
If it hadn’t been for the nature of her errand Margot would have been in
the seventh heaven of delight. Behind her was the Cliff School, with its
rules and regulations; even its delights--her friends and the hockey
match--were forgotten for a time; before her was the long winding road
with the moors on either hand, and there was no sound to be heard but
the thud-thud of the pony’s feet. She felt almost as though the old days
were back again; that she was as free as the air, and as wild as the
gulls that were circling round the cliffs. “Almost” she felt like this,
but not quite, for deep down in her heart the strongest feeling of all
was fear lest Sybil, having ventured forth to the “Little House” in a
state of pique against her sister and her cousin, might come to harm if
she were not turned back in time.
“For it _is_ partly my fault,” Margot found herself reiterating in time
to the pony’s trotting feet; “and I _have_ been rather a beast to her
lately; and if she gets frightened at the gipsies, or anything----”
Margot touched the pony lightly with the whip at the prompting of the
thought, and urged him onwards, only half-conscious that in her heart
was being born a new kind of affection for the aggravating little cousin
who was so “frightfully babyish.”
“Of course, _I’ve_ been in Australia, and she hasn’t; and _I’ve_ had
mother----; and I’m a perfect beast to think her always so silly, when
it isn’t her fault hardly at all.” This was the final summing-up of
Margot’s thoughts, and perhaps it was just as well that she had finished
her recriminations, for at that very minute the rector’s pony, having
traversed about half of the way to the station, thought well to fall
down suddenly on his two front knees!
The truth was that he wasn’t used to being driven so furiously, on
account of the fact that the rector had picked him up cheap at a sale
because of a previous accident that had left him with two broken knees.
The experienced Margot should have _known_ that, she told herself
furiously.
“If I’d had the sense to look at his knees before I started I’d have
known they’d been broken before,” she announced in contrition and
annoyance, as she stood in the middle of the road surveying the victim,
who, plainly sorry for himself, had scrambled up again with his driver’s
help, and now presented a desolate spectacle.
“_What_ would dad think of me?” continued the aforesaid driver. “He
_would_ say I was an ass. Yes, I’m sorry enough for you,” here she
addressed the martyred beast, “for you can’t be driven a single mile
farther; but what _am_ I to do about Sybil! I can’t leave you here.”
Her monologue might have lasted longer, for there certainly seemed no
way out of the difficulty, had not the sudden appearance of a strange
man, far away round a corner of the road, given Margot a clue to the
best mode of procedure.
“I’ll ask whoever this is,” she thought to herself, “to take the pony
back to the rectory for me and explain, and apologize most fearfully.
Then I can cut over the moors to the ‘Little House’; it can’t be more
than a mile away! It’s a good thing I know the way that Stella showed
me.” She sat down on a milestone to contemplate the results of her
reckless driving, and to wait till the stranger should turn the next
corner and come into view again.
“Coo-ee!” she shouted presently, as soon as he appeared within hailing
distance, standing up and waving her hand.
“Coo-ee!” responded the stranger in an equally practised manner.
“If it doesn’t feel just exactly like being back in Australia!” laughed
Margot to herself as she advanced to meet the new friend, whip in hand.
“Why, it looks something like----! But it just couldn’t be----! _Long
Jake_--why, it _is_ you!”
“Seems like it, doesn’t it!” said a tremendously tall and
broad-shouldered individual, clad in tweeds, who, with a very wide
smile, came striding towards the amazed girl. “I recognized your
‘Coo-ee!’”
“But how on earth did you get here?” Margot’s eyes opened their widest;
her surprise was so great that at first she did not realize how
delighted she was at this most unexpected appearance.
“Well, how did _you_ get here, yourself?” inquired Long Jake. “I made up
my mind to pay a call on a young lady in a fashionable boarding-school,
and instead of finding her sitting primly in the parlour at work on her
sampler, as I expected, I discover her in the middle of the road
doctoring a broken-kneed pony, with signs of furious driving strewn
around for all to see!”
“Well, anyway,” said Margot, disregarding his last remarks, “I’m
perfectly thankful you’ve come. There’s not a single sampler at our
school--I expect the boys’ schools have used them all up--but there
really is an adventure for you to help in, if you’ll only listen.” She
proceeded animatedly to lay the facts of the case before him, and the
new-comer listened with amusement in his face, that changed to interest
as the tale continued.
When she had finished he went to the head of the pony, that stood rather
miserably cropping the grass at the side of the road. “Seems to me
you’ve been breaking rules, Miss Margot,” he remarked, “and I expect
your mother will have arrived at the school by this time, and will most
likely be wondering pretty forcibly where you are. But if you ask for my
opinion I think, as we’re so far on the way to that ‘Little House’ of
yours, that we can’t do better than go straight on. I’ll doctor up this
chap’s knees a bit though, first, and then tether him so that he’ll be
safe for a time; and, as you say that little cousin of yours is likely
to have gone on rather a risky errand, we’ll make tracks straight away
in her direction and bring her back.”
“Oh, I’m so glad you think so,” breathed Margot in relief. “I was so
afraid you might want me to go back to school, and I know I’ve broken
rules, but I don’t see how I could have helped it. Gretta will tell
mother, and she’ll know I’m safe; and Sybil may be so frightened.”
“Well, that settles it; for it’s very likely, I should think,” said Long
Jake rather gravely, “if the description of the old man that you give is
a pretty correct one, that it would be best to bring her back without
delay. Look here, Margot, we’ll lose as little time as possible. We’ll
go straight over the moors in the direction of the hole in the cliff,
where you say the place is, and we’ll cut off an easy mile that way. Can
you step out, or shall I leave you here to look after the trap?”
“Rather!” declared his companion. “And, besides, Sybil knows me, you
see.” And accordingly “step out” the pair did, while the crippled pony
forgot his woes for a while and watched them wistfully till they
disappeared from his view.
“So that’s the place, is it?” inquired Long Jake, after they had walked
for a while. “Rum little spot, isn’t it? There’s been no sign of the
child, though. Would she have been likely to try to get inside?”
“Well, if she’s doing it for the bravery prize, of course,” suggested
Margot, “perhaps she might; but she’s not likely to _want_ to, all
alone; and if he’s mad and queer, like Stella says, he might frighten
her awfully, you know.”
“I think we’ll just get there as quick as we can, and investigate when
we arrive, instead of thinking of horrors. It’s most likely that the
child’s gone back.”
“But we should have passed her on the road, you see,” said Margot.
Five minutes more brought the pair to the “Little House”; by this time
the little girl was panting hard with her exertions and efforts to keep
up with the stride of her companion; she looked apprehensively towards
the windowless little place, then, as they drew up outside, she pressed
her ear to the wooden door.
“There _are_ voices!” she whispered in horror.
Long Jake nodded gravely; then, without a moment’s hesitation, he raised
his hand and knocked a loud rat-tat.