Charles Svendt dined with them that evening, and in the process
developed heights and depths of genial common-sense which quite
surprised some among them.
They took him for a stroll up to the Eperquerie in the cool of the
gloaming, and showed him more shooting stars than ever he had seen in
his life, and a silver sickle of a moon, and a western sky still
smouldering with the afterglow of a crimson and amber sunset, and he
acknowledged that, from some points of view, Sark had advantages over
Throgmorton Street.
In the natural course of things, Margaret and Graeme walked together,
and since they could not go four abreast among the gorse cushions,
Charles Svendt and Miss Penny had to put up with one another, and
seemed to get on remarkably well. More than once Graeme squeezed
Margaret's arm within his own and chuckled, as he heard the animated
talk and laughter from the pair behind.
"I'm very glad he's taken a sensible view of the matter," said
Margaret.
"Oh, Charles Svendt is no fool, and he certainly would have been if
he'd done anything but what he has done. He saw that he could do no
good and might get into trouble. The Seigneur scowled dungeons and
gibbets at him, and he looked decidedly uncomfortable."
"I will tender the Seigneur my very best thanks the first time I see
him."
When the men had seen the ladies home, they strolled up the garden to
the Red House for a final smoke.
"Say, Graeme, I've been wondering what you'd have done if I'd played
mule and persisted in kicking up my heels in church. I asked Miss
Penny--and, by Jove, I tell you, that's about as sensible a girl as
I've met for a long time--"
"Miss Penny is an extremely clever girl and an exceptionally fine
character. Good family too. Her father was the Brigadier-General Penny
who was killed in Afghanistan."
"So?"
"She's an M.A., and she's worked like a slave to educate her brothers
and sisters, and they're all turning out well. I don't know any girl,
except Meg, of whom I think so highly as Hennie Penny."
"Henrietta?"
Graeme nodded.
"Well now," said Pixley presently. "As a matter of information, what
was in your mind to do if I'd gone on?"
"You'd never have got as far as the church, my boy."
"No? Why?"
"If the Seigneur hadn't stopped you, I would. But I'm inclined to
think he'd have seen to you all right."
"By Jove, he looked it! What would he have done?"
"Confined you as a harmless lunatic till the ceremony was over, I
should say, and then sent you home with the proverbial insect in your
ear."
"And if he hadn't?"
"Then I should have taken matters into my own hands and bottled you up
till you couldn't do any mischief. You could have hauled me before the
court here, and I'd probably have been fined one and eightpence. It
would have been worth the money, and cheap at the price, simply to see
the proceedings."
"It's an extraordinary place this."
"It's without exception the most delightful little place in the
world."
"Jolly nice house you've got here too. Think of stopping long?"
"Some months probably. The curious thing about Sark is that the longer
you stop the longer you want to stop. It grows on you. First week I
was here it seemed to me very small--felt afraid of walking fast lest
I should step over the edge, and all that kind of thing. Now that I've
been here a couple of months it is growing bigger every day. I'm not
sure that one could know Sark under a lifetime. We'll take you round
in a boat and show it you from the outside."
"I'll have to get back, I'm sorry to say. You see, I started at a
moment's notice. Things are duller than a ditch in the City, but I'd
no chance to make any arrangements for a stay. But I'll tell you what.
If you're stopping on here and like to send me an invitation for a
week or two, I'd come like a shot. I'll take a carriage up that road
from the harbour, though, next time. Jove! I felt like a convict on
the treadmill."
"You have the invitation now, my boy, and we'll be delighted to see
you whenever it suits you to come."
"That's very good of you. Miss Penny be stopping on with you?"
"As long as she will. She'd got a bit run down and it's done her a
heap of good."
"Well, if you'll show me how to go, I'll toddle off home now. I
haven't the remotest idea where my digs are."
And Graeme led him through the back fields among the tethered cows,
who stopped their slow chewing as they passed, and lay gazing after
them in blank astonishment, into the Avenue and so to the Bel-Air.
"I'll come round then a bit before eleven and we'll all go along
together," was Charles Svendt's parting word.
"Right! Au revoir!" and Graeme went home across the fields smiling
happily to himself.