Margaret and Miss Penny were lying in long chairs on the verandah when
he came over the green wall into the Red House garden, by the same gap
as he had used that first morning when he came upon Margaret standing
in the hedge.
They were resting from labours, joyful, but none the less tiring.
"Jock, we were just wanting you!" said Margaret, sitting up. "Have all
the things come all right?"
"All come all right," and he wondered how she would take his next
announcement. "In fact more came than we expected."
"I guess we can use it all," said Miss Penny. "You've no idea of the
capacity of children. I know something about it, and these children
are more expansible even than school-girls."
"I was surprised to meet a gentleman down there who says he has come
across on purpose for the wedding."
"A gentleman--come for the wedding?" and both girls eyed him as
pictured terriers greet the word "Rats!"
"I'll give you three guesses."
"Mr. Pixley," said Miss Penny.
"Bull's-eye first shot! Clever girl!"
"Not really, Jock!" said Margaret, with a suspicion of dismay in her
voice.
"Well, Charles Svendt anyway--as representing the old man, he says."
"But what has he come for, and how did he get to know?"
"I didn't ask him. It was quite enough to see him there. He says he's
going to stop it,"--and Margaret's cheeks flamed,--"but I've assured
him that he can't, and I'll take jolly good care that he doesn't, if I
have to knock him on the head and drop him off the Coupée."
"It would be shameful of him if he tried," cried Miss Penny. "Just let
me have a talk with him, Mr. Graeme, and I'll make him wish he'd never
been born. He's really not such a bad sort, you know. Where is he?"
"I left him at the Bel-Air about to tackle lobsters. My idea is to
take him to the Vicar, then to the Seigneur. They both understand the
whole matter. I explained it fully when I told them we intended
getting married here. When they understand that this is the gentleman
who would like to occupy my place, and that he has no legal grounds
for interfering, I think they will open his eyes--"
"I do hope he won't make any trouble in the church," said Margaret,
with a little flutter.
"I'll promise you he won't."
"I'm sure he won't, if you can make it quite clear that it could not
possibly accomplish what, I suppose, his father sent him to try to
do," said Miss Penny. "Charles Pixley is no fool, though he has his
little peculiarities."
"It would be a wonder if he hadn't some, after his daddie," said
Graeme lightly. "I'm sorry he's come, Meg, but I'm certain you don't
need to worry about him. If I could have knocked him on the head and
dropped him in the sea and said nothing to nobody--"
"Don't be absurd, Jock," said Margaret, and her voice showed that the
matter was troubling her in spite of his assurances.
"After lunch I shall call for him and take him for a little walk. If
you'd seen him when he got to the Bel-Air after toiling up the Creux
Road! He was nearly in pieces. I'll trot him round to the Vicarage,
and then to the Seigneurie, and then I'll bring him here and turn him
over to you and Hennie Penny. He'll be as limp as a rag by that time,
and as wax in your hands."
Nevertheless, Margaret could not quite get rid of the feeling of
discomfort which the news of Charles Pixley's arrival had cast over
her, and Graeme anathematised that young man most fervently each time
he glanced at her face.