IN NEW QUARTERS
ORRIS did not delay in making her plans. She started at once for the
village, but on the way she met Jock Muir striding along as if he were
in a walking race.
"Ah!" he cried, when he saw her. "Good morning. I'm coming to make a
rumpus. What is this about your turning out of Pinestones? You shan't
do it. I won't have it."
Orris laughed.
"You really are a most amusing man," she said. "I am not being turned
out of my job. That is the only thing that I should mind; and I don't
think you must try to arrange our affairs for us. I shall be quite
happy if I can get rooms somewhere. Mrs. Snow is difficult, and we
shall all be relieved if we get away from her."
"Where are you going? To the village? I will walk with you. Now tell me
all about it."
Orris complied in her easy happy way. He grew calmer after a bit, and
when she mentioned Lilac Farm, his face brightened.
"I believe Mrs. Preston will take you in if anyone will. If she sees
the Elf, she'll do it. She adores children. She has several empty
attics, you know. We won't go to the village. Come straight off to her."
"I would rather not, just now," said Orris slowly. "We shall be turning
you out."
"Oh, that's nothing at all. Dunscombe wants to put me up; and I shall
be in and out of the farm all day. I have my midday meal there. We'll
all be such a happy family; and you'll be able to look out of your
window in the early morning and see me working in the fields!"
Orris laughed, and he joined her.
"It's a first-rate plan," he said eagerly. "You'll be well rid of
Snuffy, and it's quite a short walk across the fields. The places join
each other. I insist upon your coming to Lilac Farm at once."
"I must speak to my sister-in-law first. Yes, I mean it. You mustn't
try to manage me."
"But don't you see that Mrs. Preston may not be able to take you in,
and then you would be going on a wrong tack? I won't try to manage
you—I don't believe I ever could—but I will try to persuade you. Just
come along and talk it over with her. Don't be unreasonable—it's so
narrow; and if you're anything, you're open to reason and common sense."
Of course, in the end he got his way, and Orris was led off to Lilac
Farm instead of to the village. When Jock had seen her in close
confabulation with Mrs. Preston, he tactfully slipped away to his work.
And Mrs. Preston was more accommodating than Orris had dared to hope.
"If Mrs. Coventry and the little girl would share the big spare
bedroom, I have a smaller one that I could give you. I know I could
make it comfortable for you, and I could get an attic ready for the
maid. It's the attendance I'm doubtful about, but if she would wait
upon you, I could do it easily. I'm always busy in the kitchen every
morning, so my sitting-room would be at Mrs. Coventry's disposal. She
could have it to herself."
"Oh," said Orris, with a sigh of relief, "that would do beautifully.
My sister-in-law always retires to her bedroom between lunch and tea,
if she is not out-of-doors. I shall be all day at work, and my little
niece is happy anywhere."
They went on talking. Mrs. Preston suggested them coming into the
kitchen for the dinner in the middle of the day, but having their
breakfast and tea in her sitting-room, and joining them at supper
again. To Orris, this was perfectly satisfactory, but she knew that the
real difficulty would be with Venetia. And she returned home as quickly
as she could to talk it over with her.
At first, as she feared, Venetia declared that she could not and would
not live in a farmhouse. Then, when the alternative seemed to be
cottage rooms in the village, she hesitated. Finally she said, with a
very ill grace, that they could give it a trial. And Orris settled the
matter as soon as possible before she had time to change her mind.
In three days' time, Lady Violet had taken over Pinestones, and Orris
and her small family were established at Lilac Farm.
She saw Reyne Archer several times, but neither of them got an
opportunity of any quiet talk together. They were both very busy. Pippa
was enchanted with the move, though she told Jock that she was very
sorry to leave the "darling little secret powder-room," as she called
it.
"But I'll climb in at the windows like you did," she said gleefully,
"and hide when I hear Snuffy coming."
"No, no!" said Orris, overhearing this remark. "Once away, you must
keep away."
"But, Aunt Ollie, I may come and see you sometimes, just in at the
window. I can climb over ever so easy!"
Orris shook her head.
"You'll have such delightful things to see and do at the farm that you
won't want to leave it," she prophesied; "and when I am at work, I
don't want to be disturbed."
"You wait till haymaking comes," said Jock; "you'll have the time of
your life then."
Pippa insisted upon being told all details of haymaking; and Orris had
little fear that she would venture far-away from the farm.
For herself, the atmosphere of the farm was very peaceful and happy.
The only lurking doubt in her heart was the close proximity of Jock. He
was always there to early dinner, and was in and out of the farm all
day. But she had little time or opportunity of speaking to him alone.
Venetia entirely monopolized him at meal times. She told Orris that he
was the only person of their own class for her to speak to.
"And though he's a rough diamond," she said, "and nearly penniless,
there's something rather attractive about him. He can make you laugh,
which is something in this dismal desolate country."
One day Orris took an afternoon off.
Reyne Archer begged her to come a drive with her. Her mother had
just had her car down from town, but was laid up with an attack of
neuralgia, and so Reyne was free to use it.
"I want you to myself," Reyne informed her, "but I've promised to go to
tea with the Misses Dashwood, and I'm going to take you. They said they
wanted to see more of you. Don't you like the eldest one? I do."
"Yes; I think she's delightful. But I haven't time to pay many visits,
and since my sister-in-law has arrived, I feel that my spare time ought
to be devoted to her."
"Well, I want you this afternoon. Don't disappoint me."
Orris yielded. The weather was getting warmer; spring was turning into
early summer; and sometimes the many hours in the old library tired and
depressed her. She felt that a change and rest would do her good. When
she told Venetia of the invitation, she did not meet with much sympathy.
"Oh, I suppose I must accustom myself to do without you. When you're
not working, you're amusing yourself; it's quite natural, but rather
dull for me."
"What did you want to do this afternoon?" Orris asked.
They were standing in the porch after the early dinner at the farm,
Venetia with the inevitable cigarette in her mouth. Pippa had had a
swing put up in the orchard, and Jock Muir was tossing her through the
air before he went off to his work again.
Venetia shrugged her shoulders.
"We might have driven into the town. It's simply deadly, living here
day after day."
"Shall we go in after tea? I can be back at half-past five."
"Oh, I don't know, but I want some books. I shall go and rest now."
She disappeared up the stairs.
Orris gazed rather wistfully after her. She felt it was dull for
Venetia, but did not know how to remedy matters.
And then Jock came up to get his hat, and seeing the expression on her
face, stopped short.
"What's worrying you?"
Orris laughed.
"Nothing. I'm sorry for my sister-in-law."
Jock screwed up his lips rather enigmatically.
"I shouldn't be. She's going to have a visitor this afternoon."
"Who? What do you mean?"
"I came across a man at the 'Golden Bells' this morning. I had to take
one of the horses to be shod next door—that's a parenthesis to let you
know I wasn't tippling—and he asked the way to Lilac Farm. One of these
Bond Street chaps, I should say, from the cut of his clothes. I was
quite nervous lest he should have come down to see you, but it was Mrs.
Coventry, not Miss Coventry, whom he wanted, so my mind is relieved.
And he's coming over here after his lunch is over. He was surprised
that he couldn't have fried sole and spaghetti at the inn. On my honour
he was!"
"I know nobody of that description," said Orris. "I am expecting a
cousin down this week or next, but it is not he."
She beat a rapid retreat up the stairs, resenting Jock's interest in
her visitors.
"That will show him that I am not going to shut myself up entirely to
his society," said Orris to herself.
A short time after, she and Reyne Archer were gliding smoothly along
the roads in the open car.
"I want to take you to the top of Churt's Hill," Reyne said. "Have you
been there?"
"No; it is beyond my walking powers. How much ease and enjoyment you
have, if you own a car!"
"Yes, but, like everything else, you don't value it when you are
accustomed to it. I'm afraid I'm a discontented soul at present."
"Are you? I wonder why?" said Orris cheerfully. "Don't spoil a pleasant
bit of life by hankering after the impossible. If you're tired of town,
surely this must refresh you?"
"Oh," said Reyne impulsively, "isn't it a waste of life? There's so
much to be done, so few doing anything but just getting through life as
comfortably as they can."
"Isn't your mother rather delicate? If you are her only daughter, you
could not leave her."
"No," said Reyne, a little bitterly; "she has already told me that.
If I leave her, she stops my allowance. She is determined to keep me
entirely dependent on her. And penniless workers are at a disadvantage.
I have asked about various hostels, and you must contribute something
towards your keep, naturally. Of course, I could join communities where
they would take me for nothing, but my pride stands in the way."
"I wouldn't be in a hurry about leaving your mother," said Orris
gently. "I was tempted sorely, some years ago, to leave my father. I
did not seem to be of much use to him; he was a scholar and absorbed in
his books. Yet before he died, he thanked me for sticking to him, and I
have always been glad I did.'
"But you weren't in the treadmill of smart society," said Reyne.
"No, not in your set. But I thought I was stagnating, burying my
talents in the earth. And now, looking back, I see that it was all
training."
"For what you are doing now?"
"Partly. I'm able to support myself and my belongings by the knowledge
that I got with my father, but I did not mean that side. Miss Dashwood
will tell you what I mean. She, after all, is only going through the
same phase as yourself, looking after, and keeping happy, her nearest
and dearest. It makes for character, calls forth the best of one's
powers, when we're in the smallest corners."
Orris spoke gravely, but ended her sentence with her happy smile, and
Reyne took hold of her hand caressingly.
"Talk away. I love being preached to. Nobody does it. Tell me charity
begins at home, that instead of going abroad to tell the heathen what
has been done for them, I ought to be influencing my mother! But you
know that's quite an impossibility. It ought to be the other way
about—a daughter can't influence a mother, especially such a mother as
I have—a mother with a masterful spirit and an iron will."
Orris was silent.
"Love and prayer will work miracles," she said at last. "You know the
early Christian women were told to be 'keepers at home.' Of course,
people laugh at that in these days, but don't be in a hurry to rush
ahead before the door is opened. Don't make up your mind as to what you
must, or must not, do. Let God do it for you."
"It is so difficult to stay still knowing that my best years are being
given over to what is really condemned in the Bible. You must say it
is. 'Lovers of pleasures more than of God,' isn't that rightly quoted?"
"Yes," said Orris, "but the beginning of that quotation is:
'Disobedient to parents, unthankful, without natural affection.'"
Reyne sighed.
"Why don't you help a little in the parish?" Orris suggested. "I am
told that Miss Villars is overburdened with it. Mrs. Villars leaves it
all to her, and this is a big parish, they say. Couldn't you take a
Sunday class whilst you are here? I should personally love to do it. I
had one always in London, but I feel here that Pippa needs me on Sunday
afternoons. She and I always have a class together."
"I might do that," said Reyne, visibly brightening. "You don't know how
good it is to talk with anyone who cares and understands."
They reached Churt's Hill, and got out from the car, walking to the
summit, where a few stunted pines were grouped together. But the view
was a magnificent one overlooking several counties, rivers like threads
of silver wound up and down the valleys, wooded slopes, rich verdant
meadows lay before them, little villages nestling close to their
churches, and in the far distance a line of blue sea. Orris gazed with
a full heart, and Reyne drew a long breath.
"Isn't it inspiring!" she said. "We might be on the top of the
Delectable Mountains. We're so far removed up here from petty troubles
and vexations. I'm sure space and freedom are necessary to our
well-being. Nobody ought to have nerves who lives in such surroundings
as these."
"No," said Orris thoughtfully, "but I suppose every one needs a
different environment. If Venetia were here with us, she would not
enjoy it. Many only stagnate in the country; they live in town."
Reyne gave another sigh. Then she said:
"We're going to have visitors next week. I believe you know them. Now
I come to think of it, aren't they connexions of yours? Major Dugald
McTavert and Mrs. Laing, his sister."
"They're cousins," said Orris, smiling. "How strange! I only heard from
Dugald the other day, saying he would be in these parts soon, for he
would be staying with friends in the neighbourhood. Does he know you
are in the Muirs' house?"
"No, he wrote to the house of ill-omen, as we now call it. I wonder
who the next tenants will be! It is so attractively advertised that it
never remains empty long, I believe."
"I wish it could be burnt," said Orris uneasily.
"You are very superstitious about it. I felt, when I was in it, that I
was as safe there as anywhere. But it is not a happy house."
"No," said Orris. "I think I must tell you what happened the other day.
Pippa persuaded Mr. Muir to take her over it. She had heard a good deal
about it from the postman, who is a great friend of hers. When she came
back, I asked her about it. She had run away from Mr. Muir for a few
minutes, it seems, had thought she would hide from him, and then she
said suddenly:
"'I'm 'fraid Master Jock swears wicked words sometimes. I heard drefful
words one after the other behind the door. He says he didn't, but who
could it be, Aunt Ollie?'
"I asked Mr. Muir, and he vows he never uttered a word, but says Pippa
was in the room where most of the tragedies have taken place."
"That's queer. Oh, I'm thankful we're out of it! Will you come over
to dinner with us one night, when your cousins are with us? And your
sister-in-law too? Do; I know mother means to ask you."
"I think we shall be very glad to do so when the invitation arrives,"
said Orris, laughing.
Then they walked back to the car, and found their way to the
Misses Dashwood's cottage. They met Miss Villars there, who seemed
very pleased to see them. Orris had not yet spoken to her, though
she had seen her in church and in the distance. She was a thin,
harassed-looking girl, but when Orris began to talk to her, she
brightened up wonderfully.
"I have so wanted to know you," she said; "you look so happy, and you
have that darling little niece who always talks to everybody she meets."
"Yes, she's a sociable little soul, but a little too forward with her
tongue," said Orris in her cheerful way. "You must be fond of children.
I see you surrounded by them in church."
"Yes, I enjoy the Sunday school. My sister-in-law does not care for
children. I love them. Fancy! We have been here fourteen years this
month, and I've seen some of my little scholars grow up and marry. It
makes me feel so old! Have you heard our news? My brother is giving up
the living. He has been offered one in London, and my sister-in-law
wants to go. It is at Hampstead."
"Will you be sorry to leave?" Orris asked, wishing she could honestly
regret the Rector's departure, but he was a poor preacher, and had not
much personality or influence amongst his parishioners.
"I shall be very sorry. I know every one here. It is so hard to begin
all over again."
"You are happy in having such work," said Orris; "now Miss Archer, who
is with me, is bemoaning her lack of occupation."
"Oh, is she going to stay here? Would she visit a few of the old
people? We know the man who is coming, but he is unmarried and rather
young. I believe his mother, who lives with him, is old and infirm. I
wondered who would look after every one when I went. I could tell her
all about the ones who most appreciate being visited."
"I rather fancy she will be here only for the summer, but I know she
would be very glad to give all the help she can."
Then Orris introduced the girls and began to talk to the Misses
Dashwood.
When they left, Reyne was a different person. She was delighted at the
opening that seemed in front of her.
"Of course, the new Rector may not want me interfering, but if he has
no wife, he may be glad of some help," she said. "I've heard that Miss
Villars has done more in the parish than her brother."
"Yes, all the villagers turn to her. Mrs. Villars does nothing. It is
not her line, she says."
Orris was dropped at Lilac Farm on the way back. She felt that the
afternoon's drive had refreshed and rested her. She found Venetia
sitting in the orchard reading a novel, and Pippa was playing near her.
"I've had a visitor," she said, as Orris approached her.
"I wonder who?"
"You don't know him. A man I met in Italy. He is partly Italian—at
least, his mother was of that nationality. He is going to stay at
Churt's Grange. Do you know the people there?"
"My dear Venetia, I know no one."
"Mr. Muir will tell us. There he is, crossing the farmyard. Run and
tell him I want him, Pippa."
Away flew Pippa, coming back perched on Jock's broad shoulders.
He smiled when he heard Venetia's query.
"Churt's Grange lies the other side of Churt's Hill. Very worthy
people—very rich. Made their money in Glasgow. Only been there ten
years. Do you want to know them?"
"Mr. Riley is going to bring Mrs. Potter to call. I told him we did not
even possess a sitting-room of our own. It is so absurdly rustic and
unconventional here."
"Mrs. Potter won't mind. She'll gush over it all. The country to her is
a kind of stage for her amusement."
"You will be quite gay," said Orris. "An invitation to dine with the
Archers is coming to us. Dugald and Marie are actually coming to stay
at Pinestones."
"I wonder who Dugald is?" said Jock, in his usual audacious manner.
Venetia looked up quickly.
"The man who I hope is going to marry Orris," she said. "He has been
waiting for her for years."
Orris's brows contracted. A pink flush rose to her cheeks.
"Please do not talk nonsense, Venetia," she said in a vexed tone.
Jock looked as black as thunder. And then Pippa, who had been taking it
all in, suddenly threw her word in.
"Oh, but the man I want Aunt Ollie to marry is Master Jock," she said.
"I simply would love him to be my—my stone-father."
It was impossible to help laughing.
"Stepfather, you mean," corrected her mother. "He couldn't be your
stepfather unless he married me. Run away child, and don't interfere in
grown-up people's conversation."
"Pippa is wiser than the whole lot of us put together," said Jock, as
he went off to the farmyard again, where he was helping Mr. Preston
with a sick cow.
Pippa darted off with him.
"I'm very fond of Cousin Dugald," she confided in him, "but I don't
think he ever climbed up into a window in his life. And I simply
''dore' you for doing it!"