AN INTERVIEW WITH THE INTERVIEWER
He could hardly wait to ring the bell; the front door was open and
seemed to suggest that he should stride in and march directly to the
room from which children's voices were coming and where the victim of
his brutality most likely also was sitting.
But he thought better of such behaviour and loudly rang the bell.
Anna came down the hall, evidently trying to restrain a giggle at his
dusty appearance.
"Is Miss Bibby in?" he demanded sternly.
Anna looked uncertainly at the sitting-room door. "I--don't know for
certain. Will I go and see?"
"Yes, immediately, please," said Hugh.
She did not ask him in at once: instead she took a few steps to the
sitting-room door, opened it, giggled at the children, smoothed her face
and turned round again.
"She's not in there, sir," she said. "Will you come in and sit down, and
I'll go and see if she's anywhere else?"
Hugh strode into the sitting-room.
"Well, you'd think he'd wash hisself afore he came calling on a lady,"
said Anna to herself as she went in search of Miss Bibby, "an' brush his
dirty hat. If that's what making books brings you to, give me bread,"
and she sent a loving thought to a certain dapper baker of her
acquaintance.
In the sitting-room Pauline had screwed herself round and round on the
piano stool till her knees were higher than the keyboard and she was
able to contemplate her Serenade from a new point of view. She looked at
Hugh in some excitement but without speaking.
Lynn, Muffie and Max had evidently been at work on their letters, but
had all evidently pulled up suddenly, for each displayed a blot as a
full stop.
Max was the first to recover himself. He remembered he had a use for
this man.
"Did you ling me a lalagmite?" he demanded.
"Oh, yes," cried Muffie, "our stalagtites,--did you break some off? We
knowed a boy that got one in a dark cave when the guard wasn't looking
and pushed it up his sleeve to carry. Did you?"
"Not this time," said Hugh; "but look here, young people, I didn't come
to see you to-day. Where's Miss Bibby?"
At this question Paul began to revolve faster and faster on a downward
journey simply to save herself the embarrassment of answering, and Lynn
fell to writing a new sentence in her letter with great assiduity.
But Muffie had no qualms.
"She doesn't want to see you, and she said we could talk to you and she
wasn't at home," she answered.
"But she doesn't know yet who it is," objected Hugh.
"Yes she does," said Muffie, "she sawed you coming up the path."
"An' she lushed out of the loom," volunteered Max.
"Well," said Hugh, "she's got to see me, for it's very important. Will
you go to her room, Muffie, and say Mr. Kinross begs to see her as a
special favour?"
"Oh," said Muffie, "she isn't in her room. When you say you're not at
home you go and stand out in the garden till the visitors go."
"You don't," argued Lynn, "only Mrs. Merrick; but mother says 'No,' an'
she never does, an' it just means 'engaged,' only it's not so rude."
"Well," said Hugh desperately, "will you penetrate to the spot in the
garden where Miss Bibby's notions of honour may have taken her, Lynn,
and say Mr. Kinross will be greatly obliged if she will see him for five
minutes?"
"I really couldn't," said Lynn distressedly. "I'm very sorry, but I'm
sure she wouldn't like me to."
"Very well," said Hugh, "I shall simply go and find her myself," and he
pushed up the French window and stepped out into the garden.
"_We_ gen'ally hide ahind the waratahs or the bamboos, or up a tree's a
good place," said Muffie, much interested.
If it were hide-and-seek about to begin, this is where Max shone. He
laid down his pen and slipped down from his chair.
"I'll find her for you," he said. "I find licker than any one. Once I
found Paul an' she was lapped up in the sheets in the linen less."
But Hugh had made off towards the bamboos without any help. He could see
a moving dress beyond the loose striped leaves.
At the sound of footsteps on the gravel the skirts moved rapidly away.
"So!" he said to himself. "Very well, Miss Bibby, it's not dignified for
persons of our age, but you'll give up this chase before I do."
She must have realized this, for, when they neared the waratahs she
stood absolutely still and waited.
"You're in for it now, my fine chap," Hugh said to himself, "and she'll
weep--she's just the sort to weep. Well, you jolly well deserve it, you
brute."
Then he walked up to her.
She wore a dark blue cambric to-day with a soft leather belt and dainty
white muslin cuffs and collar as a relief. The costume suited her
infinitely better than the limp lavender had done.
The colour was ebbing and flowing in her cheeks; her grey eyes wore
their startled expression. But she held out her slim hand, albeit it
trembled a little.
"Good-morning, Mr. Kinross," she said, "slightly pleasanter weather, is
it not? Though I rather expect a thunderstorm, and then perhaps that
will be the end of heat waves this summer. What do you think? Must we
expect another?"
"Er----" said Hugh, "I really don't know."
"Mrs. Lomax writes that it is delightful in New Zealand just now--just
like fresh spring weather all the time. Both she and the Judge are
feeling better."
"Glad to hear it," said Hugh, "but----"
"They are at Rotorua at present," Miss Bibby persisted. "The Judge is
fortunate enough to have among his memories that of the country before
the Pink and White Terraces were swallowed up. But they write that all
is very beautiful still. Of course you have been in New Zealand, Mr.
Kinross?"
"Miss Bibby," said Hugh, "I did not come to talk of Pink and White
Terraces to you before I removed the dust of my journey. I want to tell
you how sorry----"
"I would rather talk of the Terraces, Mr. Kinross," Miss Bibby said,
with a gentle dignity of manner that surprised him. But her soft lip
quivered one moment.
"And, by George, Kate," he said afterwards, recounting the interview to
his sister, "I nearly kissed her on the spot--just like I do you when
I've been ramping round and have hurt you and want to make up. She was
taking it so gamely."
"But I must talk of it," he insisted. "What a low ruffian you must
consider me! I----"
"Oh, no," she said, "I--I quite understand now. I was importunate and at
an infelicitous time. I recognize that I brought it upon myself. Well,
people will forget about it presently--a new sensation will come along,"
she smiled faintly.
"I was in a vile temper that afternoon, certainly," he said, "and I
treated you shamefully. But what I do want to make you realize is that
I would have cut off my hand rather than have made you--or any
one--publicly ridiculous. Will you believe that?"
She only looked at him very gently and without speaking.
"Don't you remember my coming up here--four or five days ago now? I was
coming to tell you to burn the stuff, and then you know one of the
youngsters stirred up an ant-bed and drove it out of my mind."
"Yes," she said politely; "oh, yes, that was quite enough to put it out
of your head." But she looked away from him.
"Then, as you know," pursued Hugh, "I have been at the Caves ever since.
But I took the precaution the moment I remembered to send you word."
Now she was looking at him. "I received no message."
"That scoundrelly young Larkin--do you say that he did not bring you a
note from me?" he cried.
"No, I had no note," she said faintly. "He must have lost it or have
forgotten to bring it."
"That is it," said Hugh, "but I still blame myself. I ought to have
turned back when I remembered and not have trusted a lad."
"There he is now. Oh, Larkin! Larkin!" murmured Miss Bibby in the tone
Sir Isaac Newton must have used when his dog Diamond did him the
irreparable mischief.
Yes, there was Larkin, riding gaily off down the path to the gate, an
empty basket swung on one arm. He had just received another commission
from Anna--a large bottle of patent medicine and a complexion remedy,
and as he had lately extended the field of his operation by acting as a
sort of travelling agent (on commission) for a chemist in an adjoining
village, it brought the piano and the grocery emporium a little closer.
Hugh gave a peremptory whistle and the boy looked over his shoulder,
then responded to the beckon by bringing his horse sharply round and
cantering briskly across to the waratahs.
"Something else, Miss Bibby, ma'am?" he said, whipping out his order
book.
"What do you mean by not delivering the note I gave you from the
wagonette on Thursday?" said Hugh angrily.
"I did deliver it!" said Larkin in much indignation, "which I can say
honest, sir; I never neglected a message yet. And that's why our
business is what it is."
"Whom did you give it to?" said Miss Bibby. "Was it to one of the
children?"
"Not much, ma'am," said Larkin, in open scorn. "I don't do business that
ways, knowin' well what kids--begging yer pardon, children are. I did
hand it to the oldest of 'em, certainly, but I took the precaution, Miss
Bibby, ma'am, to stay at the door till I seen her hand it to you. You
was standin' by the fire and I seen it _acshally in yer hand_."
"But that was no letter," said Miss Bibby, a faint recollection stealing
over her, "it was one of your trade cards."
"It was on one of those I wrote," said Hugh, "having no other paper. I
remember apologizing for using it."
"And I burnt it!" said Miss Bibby in a stricken tone. "Tossed it on the
fire without a glance--I thought they were playing me a trick! Poor
Pauline--I--must apologize to Pauline."
"You can go," said Hugh to Larkin, "and here's a shilling to wipe the
momentary slur off from your character."
And Larkin rode off, vindicated, slapping the left-hand pocket of his
trousers.
"Does it make my crime a little less brutal?" said Hugh gently.
She put out her slim white hand again.
"Let us forget about it," she said; "I shall soon live it down." Her
eyes flashed for a moment bravely up to his.
He gripped her hand hard, shook it several times, and told her she had
behaved in a manner altogether more generous than he deserved.
"If you want to make me a little more comfortable in my own mind," he
said as he was leaving, "you will give me something to do for you. Can
I--my sister tells me you write a great deal and--and have not had any
very great fortune with the editors and publishers yet. Is there any MS
I could read--and perhaps presume to offer a little advice upon? It
would make me very happy--that is, if you have sufficient confidence in
me."
The humble, anxious note in his voice would have amazed several score of
his readers who had written to him to ask him, since he was a literary
man, to read through an accompanying bulky parcel of MS, advise about
its faults and give hints about publishing. For these persons--anathema
maranatha to all authors--received by return of post one of a large
packet of printed slips that stood ever ready on Hugh's desk, and
learned briefly that "Mr. Hugh Kinross, being neither a literary agent
nor a philanthropist but merely a working man with a market value on
every hour, begs to repudiate the honour his correspondent would do him,
and informs him that his MS will be returned on receipt of stamps to
cover postage."
Miss Bibby was not proof against this offer. She gave Hugh one look of
intense gratitude and hurried into the house, returning presently with
a small roll of typewritten MS--her latest creation, _Hypocrites_.
"This story," she said quite tremulously--"Oh, I am so anxious, so very
anxious about it. The editor of the _Evening Mail_--has promised to use
one of mine; it will be--well, not quite my first story in print, but
certainly the first one paid for. There is such a difference, isn't
there? Nearly any one can get a story into print if they want no
remuneration. You can understand how anxious I am that it should be
good. I sent it to be typed in town so that it would present a better
appearance. It has just come back by the post. Oh! if you _could_ spare
time to glance at it. Is it too much to ask?"
He laughed at her. "A bit of a story like that--three thousand words at
the most! You are too modest, Miss Bibby. You should have brought me a
packet weighing about half a hundredweight as the rest of them send me."
"No, no;--just that I am pinning all my hopes on _Hypocrites_." A wave
of pink was in her cheeks, her eyes shone softly.
"With the greatest pleasure in life," said Hugh heartily, and tucked the
little roll beneath his arm. "And now I had better go and wash my face,
or Kate will be coming after me with a sponge and towel."
[Illustration: "A wave of pink was in her cheeks, her eyes shone
softly."]
And back he went to "Tenby," while Miss Bibby with a much less heavy
heart returned to her interrupted "one, two, three, four" with Pauline.