Dinner was served at seven o'clock at the Nag's Head, and was a
substantial meal, consisting of spiced salt beef, gooseberry pie, and
cheese. Mrs McNab carved the joint at the sideboard, and directed the
movements of the maid by a series of glares which appeared to be fraught
with wondrous significance.
"Brither Elgood" took the head of the table, and beamed upon his
companions with cherubic good-nature, while his brother sat on his left,
immersed in thought and his dinner. An elderly man with a strong
Glasgow accent came next, accompanied by a homely, kindly-looking wife.
(Margot sighed with relief to find that after all she was not the only
lady of the company). Across from them sat a bowed old man, wearing a
clerical collar with his tweed coat, and a thin, weedy-looking youth,
evidently his son. An eminently staid and respectable company, but
hardly of thrilling interest!
Ronald's handsome, clear-cut face stood out like a cameo among them,
while Margot's fluffy net blouse looked a garment of superfine
smartness. There was no opportunity of talking to either of the
brothers Elgood, separated as they were by the length of the table. The
clergyman, Mr Moffat, remarked that it had been a fine day, an ex-
ceptionally fine day! Mrs Macalister, the Glasgow lady, handed the
mustard with the suggestion that it was always an improvement to a
boiled round; but with these thrilling exceptions the newcomers were
left to their own devices. Conversation even among the older residents
was spasmodic and intermittent, and in no sense could the meal be termed
sociable or cheerful.
As soon as it was over "the real Mr Elgood" darted upstairs to his own
room, the remaining gentlemen strolled out of doors to smoke their
pipes, and Mrs Macalister escorted Margot to the best parlour across
the landing.
It was a chill, yet fusty little apartment, the shrine of the
accumulated treasures of Mrs McNab's lifetime. Time was when she had
been cook to a family in Edinburgh, before McNab won her reluctant
consent to matrimony. Photographs of different members of "The Family"
were displayed in plush frames on the mantelpiece, table, and piano-top.
Mr Moncrieff in Sheriff's attire, "The Mistress" in black satin;
Master Percy in cap and gown, Miss Isabel reclining in a hammock, Master
Bunting and Miss Poppet in various stages of development. There was
also a framed picture of "The House"; a tambourine painted with purple
iris by Miss Isabel's own hands; an old bannerette in cross-stitch
pendent from the mantelpiece, a collection of paper mats, shaded from
orange to white, the glass-covered vase of wax flowers which had
attracted Ron's notice, one or two cheap china vases, a pot of musk
placed diametrically in the centre of a wicker table, a sofa, and two
"occasional chairs" gorgeously upholstered in red satin and green plush.
Mrs Macalister seated herself in the larger of the chairs, Margot took
possession of the smaller, and heroically stifled a yawn. Another
evening she would wrap herself in her golf cape and go out into the
clear cool evening air; but now at last fatigue overpowered her; fatigue
and a little chill of disappointment and doubt. How would it be
possible to become intimate with a man who sat at the opposite end of
the table, shut himself in his own room, and was apparently oblivious of
his surroundings? With characteristic recklessness Margot had put on
her very prettiest blouse, hoping to make a good impression on this
first evening, but for all the attention it had received it might as
well have been black delaine! She sighed and yawned again, whereupon
Mrs Macalister manifested a kindly concern.
"You're tired out, poor lassie! Ye've had a weary journey of it. From
London, I believe? I have a daughter married in Notting Hill. Will
that be anywhere near where you stay? I'm hoping she'll be up to visit
us in the New Year, and bring the baby with her. I have five children.
The eldest girl is settled in Glasgow. I say, that's something to be
thankful for, to have a married daughter near by. There was a young
lawyer paying her attention who's away to the Cape. If it had been him,
I'd have broken my heart! It's bad enough to have Lizzie in London,
where, if the worst comes to the worst, ye can get to her for thirty-
three shillings, but I couldn't bear one of my girls to go abroad..."
"But the men have to go--it's their duty to the Empire; and somebody
must marry the poor things," Margot declared, still stifling yawns, but
roused to a sleepy interest in Lizzie and her sisters. She foresaw that
Mrs Macalister would need but the slightest encouragement to divulge
her entire family history, and wondered whether time would prove her to
be more of a solace or a bore. As a rule, she herself preferred to
monopolise the larger share of a conversation, but to-night she was too
tired to do more than offer the necessary remarks by the way.
"Oh ay, that's right enough. I don't object to their marrying, so long
as it isn't one of my girls. I sent Isabel off on a visit to a school
friend when young Bailey began to grow particular. A mother can manage
these things, if she's any gumption, without letting the young people
suspect that there is any interference. They like their own way, young
people do, and Isabel is obstinate, like her father. Mr Macalister can
be led, but he'll never be driven. Ye have to ca' canny to get the
better of him."
Margot murmured a few words of polite but somewhat vague import, being
rather puzzled to decide in what light she was expected to view Mr
Macalister's characteristics. It occurred to her that as the good lady
was determined to talk, the conversation might be carefully directed
into more interesting channels, and valuable information gleaned
concerning the other guests of the house.
"Have you been staying here long? Are you going to make a long visit?"
she inquired; whereupon her companion began again with increased vigour.
"We've been a matter of a week, and as for the future, it just depends!
Mr Macalister's been failing for the past year. He's just unduly set
on his business, and his nerves," (she pronounced it "nearves") "are in
a terrible condition. The doctor warned him he would have a collapse if
he didn't get a rest at once. `Take him away where he can't get letters
and telegrams every hour of the day,' he told me. `Take him to the
quietest place you can find, and keep him there as long as ye can!' So
here we are; but how long he'll put up with it, is past my knowledge.
He begins to weary already, and of course no man will ever believe that
any one else will take his place. They're conceited creatures, my dear.
Mr Macalister--"
"It is nice for him having so many companions. I suppose you know the
other visitors quite well?" Margot felt that for one evening she had
heard as much as she cared for about Mr Macalister, and headed the
subject in the desired direction with unflinching determination. "The
Mr Elgood who took the head of the table seems very agreeable."
"Oh ay, he's a friendly wee body!" Mrs Macalister allowed,
patronisingly. "There's no harm in him, nor in his brother neither,
though he keeps himself to himself, and is always busy with his fishing,
or writing, or what not. My husband went fishing with him one day, but
they didn't seem to hit it exactly. Mr Macalister is very genial-like
when he's in health, and he can't do with any one who's stand-off. He
always says--"
"But Mrs McNab seems to prefer the younger brother. He must be nice,
or she would not like him so much," interrupted Margot once more; and
Mrs Macalister smiled with unruffled good-humour.
"Oh ay, they're just two dour, silent bodies who understand each other
and each other's ways. He goes and has a crack with her now and then,
and I've even heard them laugh,"--her voice took an awed and incredulous
tone--"but at the table he never raises his voice. Mr Macalister says
he is very close. He couldn't get anything out of him at all, and all
his friends say Mr Macalister ought to have been a lawyer, for he's
just wonderful for getting to the bottom of things. Of course when a
man's run down, he isna at his best. Ye can't judge him, as I say, as
you can when he's in his usual--"
Margot groaned in spirit! To keep Mr Macalister out of the
conversation was evidently a hopeless feat. She saw before her a long
succession of interviews when she would sit caged up in this little
room, listening to the expressions of his virtues and failings! To-
night she felt a moral conviction that she would soon fall asleep under
the strain, and making an excuse of writing home, escaped to her own
room, scribbled a few words on the back of a postcard, wrapped herself
in her golf cape, and went out into the road in search of Ron.
It was still broad daylight, but now the sky was grey and colourless,
and the mountains had ceased to smile. Like grim watching sentinels
they stood on either side, closing in the Glen in a solitude that was
almost awesome to behold. It seemed impossible to believe that twenty-
four hours earlier one had been in the great city, and had considered
Regent's Park countrified! Margot hurried forward to meet Ron, who was
strolling along by himself, the other men of the party being out of
sight. He looked at her with some anxiety, as she approached, and asked
an eager question--
"What's the matter? Aren't you well? I thought you were not coming
out. You look quite white!"
"I'm cold and tired, and--scarey! The beauty seems to have disappeared,
and it's all so grim and grey. I made an excuse and came out to you
with a card to post--but we needn't take it to-night, it's too far to
the village."
"Nonsense! the walk is just what you need. You are tired with sitting
still, and a sharp trot will warm you up, and help you to sleep. Come
along. I'll give you a start to the bend of the road, and race you to
the nearest tree."
Margot was not in the least in the mood for running races, but as a
means of getting warm it was not to be despised, so she started
promptly, running with swift, easy steps, and gradually quickening pace,
as Ron gained upon her from the rear. She had not been educated at a
girls' public school and been captain of the sports committee for
nothing, and, given a short handicap, could often come off best. As the
following footsteps grew nearer and nearer she spurted bravely forward,
the ends of her cape streaming wildly in the breeze, her uncovered hair
ruffled into curling ends. The tree was but a few yards distant; she
was laughing and panting, dodging from right and left, to prevent Ron
from passing by from behind, when round a bend in the road a figure
appeared directly in her path, the figure of Brither Elgood himself, his
round eyes bulging with surprise and curiosity. He came to an abrupt
standstill in the middle of the road, and the racers followed his
example, looking, if the truth were told, a trifle abashed to be
discovered in so childish an amusement.
"Halloa! What is the matter? Is the Inn on fire?"
Margot laughed merrily. The voice, the tone, the manner, were those of
a friend of a lifetime, rather than an acquaintance of an hour. It was
impossible to answer formally; moreover, the humour of the idea made its
appeal.
"No, indeed! On ice, more likely! We were so cold that a race seemed
the only chance of getting warm! I hope we didn't startle you too
much!"
"I like being startled," returned Mr Elgood complacently. He stood
still, swinging his cane, looking from brother to sister with bright,
approving eyes. "I was afraid you were feeling tired after your
journey, but evidently you have not yet reached the age of fatigue.
That's right! Thats quite right! I am glad that you have joined us at
the Nag's Head. We are a respectable and harmonious party, but we need
life--young life! We may weary _you_, but you will refresh and enliven
us. In the name of our little company, I welcome you to the Glen?"
"Thank you, sir," said Ron simply, while Margot, as usual, hastened to
amplify his words.
"I hope we shall be friends. I hope we shall all be friends. I was
dreadfully tired really, but I felt worse staying in the house, and in
that little parlour after dinner I nearly fell asleep."
Mr Elgood's eyes lit up with a flash of humour.
"But when a man's out of health you canna judge him! When he's in his
usual, Mr Macalister's a verra interesting character!" he said
solemnly. Then, meeting Margot's start and smile, he began to laugh
again, and to shake in his happy, jelly-like fashion. "Ah--ha, I know!
I guessed what was in store for you, as I saw you led away. She's a
good woman that; a good, kind, womanly woman. Her devotion does her
credit. When you and I get a wife, sir, we shall do well if we find one
half so loyal and devoted."
He looked at Ron as he spoke, bringing his eyebrows together in a quick,
scrutinising glance; but Ron's face was blank and unresponsive.
Enshrined in his heart was a dim figure, half goddess, half fairy, a
creature of thistledown, of snow, of blossom tossed before the wind; a
lovely illusive vision who in due time was to appear and complete his
life. It was a violation of the shrine to suggest a Mrs Macalister!
He stood still, his brows knitted, his lips pressed together in a thin,
warning line. Margot was impatient at his lack of response, but all the
same he looked wonderfully handsome and interesting, and she could see
that Mr Elgood regarded him with awakened interest, conscious that here
was a character cut out of a pattern of its own, not made in the same
mould as the vast majority of his fellows.
They turned and walked together along the winding road. Evidently
friendship progressed quickly in this quiet glen, and guests living
beneath the same roof accepted each other in simple, natural fashion, as
members of a common household. Margot felt a sense of protection in the
presence of this little man, so much older than herself, so friendly, so
absolutely unsentimental in manner. His head was on a level with her
own, and she read a frank admiration in his eyes, but it was an
admiration of which Agnes herself could not have disapproved. He was
the kind of man one would have chosen for an uncle--an indulgent
bachelor uncle with plenty of money, and a partiality for standing
treat!
"Tell me about the people in the Inn! I am always so interested in
people!" she cried eagerly. "My brother likes other things better--
books and pictures and mountains--but I like the living things best. I
know a good deal about Mr Macalister's health, and about Lizzie, and
Isabel, and their husbands and babies, and their lovers before they were
married. They come from Glasgow--and the old clergyman is Scotch too, I
suppose. Is every one Scotch except ourselves and you? We come from
London--"
Mr Elgood's face shadowed quickly.
"Yes! but don't mention it. Never mention it!" he cried quickly. "I
live there, too, or as nearly live as is possible in the surroundings.
Now for three or four weeks I've escaped, and my one endeavour is to
forget that such a place exists. I ask every one as a favour never to
mention as much as the name in my hearing. You'll remember, won't you,
and be good enough to indulge me? For the moment Miss--Miss Vane, I am
a Heelander, born and bred, a strapping young chieftain of five-and-
twenty. The Elgood of Elgood, an it please you, in bonnet and kilt, and
my foot is on my native heather!"
He tilted his cap on one side, and threw a swagger into his walk,
cleverly remindful of the swirl of tartan skirts, then turning upon
Margot, queried quickly--
"Why do you laugh? It's rude to laugh! Is it so impossible to think of
me in the character?"
"I laugh because I'm pleased," Margot answered, truthfully enough. "I
do love to pretend! Let's bury London and our lives there, and pretend
that we are _all_ Highlanders! We will be your guests up in your
mountain fastness, and you will take us about, and show us the scenes of
your historic feuds with neighbouring clans, and we will swear to help
you, if any new trouble should arise!"
"Right oh!" cried Mr Elgood, laughing. "I shall be only too proud.
I'm a sociable beggar--during holiday time--and want to do nothing but
smoke and talk. To talk nonsense, of course. Nothing dull or
improving." He cast a sudden, suspicious look at the girl's face. "You
are not clever by any chance, are you? I can't stand cleverness in the
country."
Margot laughed gaily.
"I think I am--rather!" she declared audaciously. "I couldn't confess
to being stupid, even to please a Highland chief, but it's in a very
feminine way. I don't know anything about politics or science, and I've
forgotten almost all that I learnt at school, but I take an interest in
things, and understand people pretty well. I am generally clever enough
to get my own way!"
She laughed again, remembering the purpose of the moment, and its close
connection with this newly-made acquaintance. Instinctively she turned
towards Ron, and the two pairs of brown eyes met, and flashed a message
of mischief, affection, and secret understanding--a glance which made
the watcher sigh with a sudden realisation of his own lost youth, his
bald head, and increasing bulk. They were only a pair of children,
these newcomers; kindly, affectionate, light-hearted children, whose
companionship would be a tonic to a lonely, tired man. The broad
cherubic countenance showed a passing shadow of wistfulness, as he
slacked his pace and said in hesitating tones--
"I am afraid I have tacked myself on to you, without waiting for an
invitation. I will say good evening now, unless I can act as guide, or
help you in any way. Have you any special object in your walk?"
"Only the post office in the village. Do please come with us if you
will! We should be delighted to have you!" cried Margot eagerly; and
Ron looked down into the little man's face with his beautiful dreamy
eyes, and said simply, "Please come, sir," with a sincerity which there
was no denying.
Mr Elgood beamed with satisfaction. "Come awa, then, ma bonnie men!"
he cried jauntily, and waved his stick in the air.
For the very first evening Margot could not help thinking that they had
made an excellent beginning!