Margot awoke the next morning with the pleasant feeling that something
was going to happen, and as she dressed, curiosity added an additional
savour to the anticipation. What would happen? How would the Chieftain
set to work? Would the Editor consider himself a victim, or yield
readily to the temptation? Certainly he had so far manifested no
anxiety to enjoy her society, had, indeed, seemed to avoid her at all
points; and yet, and yet-- Margot possessed her full share of a woman's
divination, and, despite appearances, the inward conviction lingered
that if the first natural shyness could be overcome, he would soon
become reconciled to her companionship, and might even--she blushed at
her own audacity!--_enjoy_ the change from his usual solitude.
Like a true daughter of Eve, Margot did her best to help on this happy
_denouement_ by taking special pains with her toilette, putting on one
of her prettiest washing frocks, and coiling her chestnut locks in the
most becoming fashion, and the consciousness of looking her best sent
her down to breakfast in the happiest of spirits.
Other countries may carry off the palm for the cooking of the more
elaborate meals of the day, but surely no breakfast can touch that
served in a well-ordered Scottish household. The smoothly boiled
porridge, with its accompaniment of thick yellow cream; the new-laid
eggs; the grilled trout, fresh from the stream; the freshly baked "baps"
and "scones," the crisp rolls of oatcake; and last, but not least, the
delectable, home-made marmalade, which is as much a part of the meal as
the coffee itself. He must be difficult to please who does not
appreciate such a meal as Mrs McNab served each morning to her guests
in the dining-room of the Nag's Head!
It was when Margot had reached the marmalade stage, and George Elgood, a
persistent late-comer, was setting to work on his ham and eggs, that the
Chieftain fired the first gun of the assault.
"When are you going to invite us all to come up and have tea with you in
your fairy dell, George?" he demanded suddenly. "What do you think of
this fellow, Mrs Macalister, finding a veritable little heaven below,
and keeping it to himself all this time? There's an easy ascent by the
head of the glen for those who object to the steeper climb; there's
shade, and water and everything that the most exacting person could want
for an ideal picnic. To be in the country on a day like this, and not
to go for a picnic seems to me a deliberate waste of opportunity, What
about this afternoon, eh? That will suit you as well as any other time,
I presume?"
To say that the Editor appeared surprised by this sudden threatening of
his solitude, would be to state the case too mildly. He looked
absolutely stunned with astonishment, and his predicament was all the
more enhanced by the fact that already murmurs of assent and
anticipation welcomed the idea from his neighbours to right and to left.
He stared incredulously into his brother's face, wrinkled his brow, and
stammered out a laboured excuse.
"I'm afraid I-- The dell is in no sense my property--No doubt it would
make a capital site for a picnic, but I--I have no right to pose as
host!"
"Rubbish, my boy! You are not going to get out of it so easily as that.
We expect you to act as master of the ceremonies, and show us the
beauties you have kept to yourself so long. Yes, and to catch some
trout for us, too! What do you say to that, Mrs Macalister? How does
freshly grilled trout strike you as an accessory to a picnic? We'll
have two fires, with the kettle on one, and the gridiron on the other,
and Mrs McNab will send up a hamper of good things to complete the
feast. We'll leave George to manage that, as he knows how to get round
her; only do the thing well when you are about it; that's all I have to
say! We shall bring rattling big appetites, shan't we, Miss Vane?"
Margot's glance passed by his to dwell with remorseful commiseration on
the Editor's perturbed face. This was her own doing; a direct
consequence of her appeal of the day before! The expression of the
brown eyes was wonderfully eloquent, and meeting them the Editor
bestirred himself to smile back a grateful recognition. By this time,
however, the murmur had grown into definite speech; Mrs Macalister was
stating at length her life's experience as to picnics, and laying down
the law as to what was necessary for their success; the clergyman and
his son were debating how to reach the dell from the farthest point of
the day's expedition; Mr Macalister was slowly repeating--
"Trout! Grilled trout! It's a strange-like idea to have fish at a
picnic!"
It was plainly too late in the day for the Editor to refuse an
invitation which had already been practically accepted! With a better
grace than might have been expected he resigned himself to his fate, and
the smile which he sent round the table was very charming in its shy
cordiality.
"I shall be delighted if you will honour me by coming so far; and no
doubt with Mrs McNab's help I shall be able to provide refreshments.
Shall we say half-past four?"
"Four o'clock would be better. We want plenty of time to linger over
tea, and ramble about afterwards," said the Chieftain firmly; and there
being no dissent from this amendment, the Editor nodded assent, and,
gathering his papers in his hand, hurried out of the room.
Margot followed on the first opportunity. She felt the eyes of the
Chieftain fixed on her face from across the room, and could imagine the
twinkle of humorous meaning with which they would be alight but she felt
too self-conscious and ill at ease to respond. Like a frightened little
rabbit she scuttled upstairs to her own room and remained there, busying
herself with odd pieces of work until the inmates of the inn had taken
themselves off for their morning's excursions, and quiet reigned
throughout the house. Then, and not till then, she opened her door and
peered cautiously at that other door across the landing. It was closely
shut, and taking for granted that within its portals the bewildered
scholar was making the most of his free hours, Margot crept quietly down
the staircase, and turned to the right towards the kitchen. It occurred
to her that she might be able to help Mrs McNab in her preparations for
the afternoon, and by doing so relieve the pangs of her own conscience.
All this work, and worry, and bewilderment, on her account--as a
response to her appeal! She blushed guiltily, hardly knowing whether to
feel more gratified or annoyed with the Chieftain for so speedy a
demonstration of his power; dreading the moment when they should meet
again, and she must perforce brave the mischievous messages of his eyes.
The kitchen door was closely shut. Mrs McNab was too capable a
housewife to allow the noise and odour of culinary preparations to
invade the rest of the house; but by this time Margot was sure of her
welcome, for scarcely a day had passed by that she had not offered her
services, and been condescendingly permitted to shell peas, stone fruit,
or whip up snowy masses of cream. Mrs McNab always accorded permission
with the air of an empress conferring an order upon some humble
suppliant, but none the less Margot felt assured that she appreciated
the help, and would have missed it, had it not been forthcoming.
This morning she tapped on the door, opened it, and thrust her head
round the corner, to behold a tableau which remained fixed irrevocably
in heart and memory. In the middle of the floor stood the mistress of
the inn, arms akimbo, engaged in laying down the law in characteristic,
downright fashion to some one who sat perched upon the dresser with
hands thrust deep into knickerbocker pockets, and feet in rough climbing
boots swinging nonchalantly to and fro; some one with a bright, almost
boyish face alight with fun, laughter, and defiance.
For the second time Margot beheld the real George Elgood denuded of his
mask of shyness and reserve, and thrilled at the recognition. This
sunny, stone-flagged kitchen seemed fated to be the scene of unexpected
meetings! She would have retreated in haste, but at the sound of her
entrance Mr Elgood jumped hastily to the floor, and Mrs McNab
authoritatively waved her forward.
"Here she is to speak for herself! Come yer ways, Miss Vane. I was
saying to Mr Elgood that maybe he'd listen to your advice, as he willna
tak' mine. You're a leddy, and ken how such things should be done, and
if there's any call to waste the morning, and run into daft-like
expense, when everything a reasonable body need want is lying ready to
hand--"
Margot looked from one to the other in bewilderment, her spirits rising
with the discovery that for the first time in their short acquaintance
the Editor met her glance with an expression of relief rather than of
dread. He was smiling still, and the boyish look lingered on his face,
making him appear an absolutely different creature from the grave,
formidable hermit to whom she was accustomed.
Margot's eyes danced, and she answered as naturally as if she had been
speaking to Ron himself.
"I don't know in the least what I am giving an opinion about--but I am
not a `reasonable body,' and as a rule the result of `daft-like expense'
is very nice! I'm afraid that isn't what you wanted me to say, Mrs
McNab, but I must be honest. Perhaps I may feel differently when I know
what I am talking about."
"Your picnic!" cried Mrs McNab.
"My picnic!" corrected the Editor. "I never gave a picnic before, and
I'm weighed down by responsibility. My brother refuses to help me, and
Mrs McNab is a Spartan, and nips my suggestions in the bud. She thinks
we ought to be satisfied with bread and butter; I want cakes and fruit;
I want her to bake, and she says she has no time to bake; I want to send
over to Rew on the chance of getting strawberries; she says she has no
one to send. If you agree with me, Miss Vane, perhaps she will make
time; I know by experience that she is always better than her word!"
Mrs McNab sniffed ironically.
"There's scones for ye, and good fresh butter--what do ye want forbye?
Ye'd get nae mair if ye were at hame, and it's not going to kill ye,
walking a couple of miles. I've something else to do on a Thursday
morning than waste my time messing over things that aren't needed."
Mr Elgood leant against the dresser, and surveyed her more in sorrow
than in anger.
"Now what have you to do?" he demanded. "It's absurd to pretend that
there is anything to clean, because you never give a thing a chance to
become dirty. There is cold meat for lunch, as you yourself informed
me, so there's no cooking on hand. This house goes by machinery, with
Elspeth to stoke up the motive power. What can be left for you? I
can't think of a single thing."
"Maybe not. A man-body never kens what goes on under his nose, though
he'd be keen enough to find out if anything went wrong. It's the day I
clean my candlesticks and brasses. They don't go on shining by
themselves, whatever ye may think."
"Candlesticks and brasses!" George Elgood repeated the words with
gloomy emphasis, fixing the speaker with reproachful eyes.
"Candlesticks and brasses! And you put such things as those before
_me_, and the first--one of the first, favours I have ever asked! ... A
big plum cake, with almonds at the top, and a round of shortbread; it
seems to me a most moderate request. There's not a soul in the inn who
will notice a shade of extra polish on the candlesticks to-night, but
they will all bear me a lifelong grudge if I don't give them enough to
eat. Have you ever been to a picnic where you were expected to be
satisfied with bread and butter, Miss Vane?"
Margot's shake of the head was tragic in its solemnity.
"Never! and I don't intend to begin. I know where we can get some
fruit, at any rate, for I heard the woman at the grocer's shop saying
that she had raspberries to sell. That is far easier than sending over
to Rew, and I'd be delighted to take a basket and bring back all I can
get. While Mrs McNab makes the cakes!"
Mrs McNab sniffed again, but vouchsafed no further answer. Mr
Elgood's face brightened, and he cried eagerly--
"That is kind of you! Raspberries are very nearly as good as
strawberries, and it would be splendid to get them so near at hand. I--
er--" he frowned, with a momentary return to his old embarrassment--"I
will come too, and carry the basket, for we must hope to have a fairly
heavy load."
Margot could hardly believe in the reality of this sudden change of
position, as she set out for the village ten minutes later, with George
Elgood by her side. He carried the basket lent by Mrs McNab, and swung
along with big easy strides, while she trotted by his side, a pretty
girlish figure in her cool white frock. It was left to her to do the
greatest share of the talking; but one reassuring fact was quickly
discovered, namely, that her companion's shyness seemed to consist
mainly in the dread of breaking strange ground, for once the first
plunge over he showed none of the expected embarrassment or distress.
If he could not be called talkative, he was at least an appreciative
listener; not a single point of her conversation missed its due share of
interest; while his deep, quiet laugh proved an incentive to fresh
flights of fancy. For a whole ten days had Margot been waiting for her
opportunity, and now that it had come she was keen to turn it to the
best possible advantage. Had the Chieftain been at hand to watch her
with his quizzical glance, she might have been tongue-tied and ill at
ease; even Ronald's presence would have brought with it a feeling of
self-consciousness; but in the kindly solitude of the mountain road she
could be herself, without thought of any one but her companion.
Remembering the warning which she had received, she kept the
conversation on strictly impersonal topics, avoiding even the mention of
Ron's name, but never had ordinary topics seemed so interesting, or the
way to the village so extraordinarily quickly traversed!
Inside the fusty grocer's shop the good Mrs Forsyth manifested none of
a Southerner's delight at the advent of a customer for her superfluous
fruit; she appeared, indeed, to receive Margot's first inquiry in a
somewhat flisty and off-hand manner, as though advantage were being
taken of a careless word, which she had not expected to have taken in
serious earnest. George Elgood, distinctly rebuffed, muttered
unintelligible words of apology, but already Margot was beginning to
understand the dour Northern manner, and pressed the attack with
undiminished eagerness. Thus coerced, Mrs Forsyth was forced to
acknowledge that she wouldna deny that she had raspberries in the
garden; and that it seemed a pity they should waste, as she hadna the
time to "presarve." There was no telling--maybe when the children came
hame from school in the afternoon they wouldna be above picking a
basketful, and taking it down to the inn.
"But we want them now! We want as many as you can possibly spare, but
we must have them to take back with us now!"
"And who's to pick them for ye, I would ask?" demanded Mrs Forsyth with
scathing directness. "I've the shop to mind, and the dinner to cook;
it's not likely I can be out picking fruit at the same time, and there's
not anither soul in the house forbye mysel! I'm thinking you'll have to
wait, or do without!"
"We could pick them ourselves!" pleaded the Editor eagerly. "You would
have no trouble except to measure the fruit after it is gathered, and
tell us what we owe! I don't care how much I pay. I want some fruit
this morning, and if I can't get it from you I shall have to drive over
to Rew. That would cost five or six shillings for the trap alone, so
you see I shall get off well, even if you charge me twice the usual
price."
But here again the benighted Southerner found himself brought up sharply
against an unexpected phase of Scottish character, for Mrs Forsyth was
distinctly on her high horse at the thought of being offered more than
her due. She had her price; a fair-like price, she informed him
loftily, and she stuck to it. She wasna the woman to make differences
between one person and anither. Justice was justice, and she would like
to meet the man who could say she had ever stooped to accept a bribe.
So on and so on, while once again George Elgood hung his head abashed,
and glanced in distress at his companion. In the delight afforded by
that appeal Margot felt equal to dealing with ten Mrs Forsyths, each
equally unreasonable and "kamstary."
"We will leave the price to you; we will leave everything to you!" she
cried gaily. "I know it's asking a great deal to be allowed to come
into your garden and pick for ourselves, but we are rather in a
difficulty, for this gentleman is giving a picnic this afternoon, and
Mrs McNab has no fruit to give us. It would be a favour not only to
us, but to the whole party if you would say Yes. _Please_!"
The way in which Margot said "Please!" with head on one side, and
upraised, beseeching _eyes_, was one of the most fatal of her
blandishments. Even the redoubtable Mrs McNab had succumbed at the
sight, and in her turn Mrs Forsyth also was overcome. She made no
further objections, but led the way through the house into a long
stretch of vegetable garden, the end portion of which was thickly
planted with raspberry bushes.
"Help yourself!" she said briefly. "You're welcome to all that's fit to
eat."
So the two who had been strangers, and had suddenly developed into a
kind of partnership of aim, set to work to fill the basket, which for
better convenience was slung over a branch of one of the bushes.
The sun shone down on them; the life-giving breeze blew round them; they
were alone together among the flowers and the scented herbs. They
worked side by side, laughing over their efforts, comparing their
takings, gloating over the quickly-filling basket like a couple of
children recognising each other as playmates, and disdaining the
ordinary preliminaries of acquaintanceship.
"It's so kind of you to help me!" said the man.
"It's so kind of you to let me!" returned the maid.
"I--I have noticed that you seem always to be helping people."
"I didn't think you noticed anything at all!"
He had not intended to say so much. She did not stop to consider what
she was implying. Both blushed, relapsed into silence, and picked fruit
assiduously for several moments, before beginning again--
"I am afraid this picnic will be a great bore to you."
"Indeed, I think it is going to be a pleasure. I should have thought of
it before, but that sort of thing does not come easily to me. I have
lived too much alone!"
"You have your work--you have been absorbed in your work."
"Have I? I'm afraid that is not altogether true!"
Margot glanced up surprised, met the dark eyes fixed full upon her, and
looked hurriedly away.
"I have been finding it increasingly difficult to be absorbed," he
continued dreamily. "I have heard you all laughing and talking together
downstairs, and my thoughts have wandered. Once you sang... Do you
remember that wet afternoon when you sang? I did not seem able to write
at all that afternoon."
The basket was full of fruit by now; Margot lifted it by one handle;
George Elgood lifted it by the other. They walked down the sunlit
garden into the house.