The Kittiwake
The great Easter secret, which Merle had surprised and preserved with so
much difficulty, was out at last. Clive's father and mother were coming
to Devonshire for a holiday; they had taken rooms at a farm in Chagmouth,
and they had not only arranged for their own son to join them, but they
had also asked Mavis and Merle to be their visitors. The girls thought
that no invitation could have been more delightfully acceptable. They
adored Chagmouth, and the Saturdays they managed to spend there were
always red-letter days, so the prospect of three whole weeks in this El
Dorado sent their spirits up to fizzing-over point.
"Bevis will be at Grimbal's Farm!"
"And Tudor will be at home!"
"The Castletons are expecting Morland and Claudia!"
"And, of course, Fay will be there, and Tattie, and the Colvilles!"
"Goody! What a lovely tribe of us to go out picnics!"
"We'll have the time of our lives!"
Burswood Farm, where Mr. and Mrs. Percy Tremayne had taken rooms, was on
the hillside above Chagmouth. It was a delightful spot, with that airy
feeling about it that comes from looking down upon your neighbours'
chimneys.
"I wouldn't live in Chagmouth, not if you paid me hundreds a year!"
declared Mrs. Treasure, their landlady. "Once I'm up here, here I stay!
I've not been in the town for over six months. I go on Sundays to the
little chapel close by, and if I want shops we get out the gig and drive
into Kilvan or Durracombe. It isn't worth the climb back from Chagmouth.
I carried William up when he was a baby, and it nearly killed me. I set
him down in his cradle and I said: 'There, my boy! I don't go down to
Chagmouth again till you can walk back yourself!' And I didn't! He was
three years old before I went--even to the post office. How do I manage
about stamps? Why, the postman brings them for me and takes my letters.
The grocers' carts come round from Kilvan, and the butcher calls once a
week, and what can you want more? I say when I've got a nice place like
this to live in I'll stay here, and not worry myself with climbing up and
down hill."
Though Mavis and Merle might not hold with Mrs. Treasure's depreciation
of Chagmouth, they thoroughly agreed with her eulogy of Burswood. There
was a view of the sea from the farm, and it had an old-fashioned garden
with beehives and hedges of fuchsia and blue veronica, and at the back
there was a small fir wood, with clumps of primroses and opening
bluebells. The girls christened it 'Elfland.'
"You can almost see the fairies here," said Mavis. "Why is it that some
places feel so much more romantic than others?"
"Because you're in the right mood, I suppose. This is almost as nice as
Blackthorn Bower."
"Not quite. Nothing can ever come up to that! When Bevis gets The Warren
he's going to build up the Bower again."
"Why doesn't he do it now? The Glyn Williams would let him if he wanted.
It's his property."
"He wouldn't care to ask them; especially after what happened there
between him and Tudor."
"They've forgotten that, surely!"
"Well, I sympathise with Bevis. He doesn't care to interfere with
anything until The Warren is really his own. I think he feels they'd
laugh at the Bower, and so they would!"
"It's not in their line, of course."
However much we may love old and familiar scenes, there is always a
novelty in something new, and the bird's-eye aspect of Chagmouth was
attractive, especially to those whose young limbs did not mind the climb.
Mr. and Mrs. Percy Tremayne were most enthusiastic about their quarters.
They were charming people, and ready to fall in with the young folk's
plans and give them a thoroughly happy holiday. They had brought a motor-
bicycle and side-car, and took some excursions round the neighbourhood,
going over often to Durracombe to see Dr. and Mrs. Tremayne, glad to have
the opportunity of a private chat with them while their lively son was
safely picnicking with Mavis and Merle. Picnics were the established
order of the day. The girls declared that Society at Chagmouth this
Easter began with a big S. The Castletons were a host in themselves. They
were all at home, and all equally fascinating. Musical Mavis attached
herself to Claudia with a great admiration, and Merle found a devoted
knight in ten-year-old Madox, who clung to her with the persistency of a
chestnut burr, chiefly because she had the charity to answer his
perpetual questions. "The interrogation mark," as he was called by his
own family, was a typical Castleton, and most cherubic of countenance,
though his curls had been sheared in deference to school, spoiling him,
so his father declared, for artistic purposes. He was a mixture of
mischief and romance, and Merle, who accepted his temporary allegiance,
never quite knew whether his embraces were marks of genuine affection or
were designed for the chance of dropping pebbles down her back.
Some delightful friends of the Castletons were also spending a holiday in
rooms at Chagmouth--Miss Lindsay, an artist, and Lorraine Forrester, a
chum of Claudia's, both of whom were sketching the quaint streets and the
quay and the harbour with the wildest enthusiasm. Morland had also taken
a sudden fancy for painting, and insisted upon going out with them daily,
producing some quite pretty little impressionistic pictures, with a touch
of his father's style about them. In Morland the family talent ran high
but never rose to genius. His touch on the piano was perfect. He
scribbled poems in private. His achievements, however, in either music,
art, or poetry were insufficient to justify taking one of them for a
vocation.
"I'd rather make him a chimney-sweep!" declared Mr. Castleton eloquently.
"The public nowadays don't appreciate pictures! They'll look at them in
galleries, especially when the admission is free, but you can't get them
to buy. They hang their drawing-rooms with cheap prints instead of water-
colours, and go to the photographers instead of the portrait-painter. If
you can design something to advertise mustard or cocoa you may make a
little money, but not by pure art! It's as dead as the ancient Greeks.
This is a commercial age. Music's as bad. Your pianists are glad to take
posts to play at the cinemas! I wish Claudia success; but her training is
the business of the college, not mine, and _they'll_ have to bring
her out. I've nothing to do with it. No; Morland must realise he's living
in the twentieth century, and has to earn his bread and butter. Art
doesn't pay, and that's the fact! Have it as a hobby if you wish, but
don't depend upon it!"
So Morland, who, like many young fellows of artistic calibre, had a
general affection for the muses but no very marked vocation for anything,
had been pitchforked into engineering, and was making quite tolerable
progress, and would possibly support himself later on, but always with
the feeling that life was commonplace and unromantic, and that a splendid
vision had been somewhere just round the corner, only unfortunately
missed. He allowed his artistic temperament to run loose during the
holidays. He would go up to Bella Vista and play for hours on the
Macleods' new grand piano, improvising beautiful airs, and sending Fay
into raptures.
"Why don't you write them down right away?" she demanded.
"What's the use? No one would publish them if I did. The publishers are
fed up with young composers wanting a hearing. I've made up my mind to be
just an amateur--nothing more."
"I'm not sure," ventured Mrs. Macleod, "whether you won't have the best
of it. After all, 'amateur' means 'lover,' and the art and the music that
you pursue for pure pleasure will be more to you than what you might have
had to produce for the sake of bread and butter. Why must our standard in
these things always be the commercial one, 'does it pay?' The fact of
making it pay often degrades it. My theory is that a man can have his
business, and love his hobby just as he loves his wife, without turning
it into £ s. d. Look at my husband! In his own office there isn't any one
in America knows more about motor fittings, but once outside the office
his heart and soul is in painting. I believe he's a happier man for doing
both!"
"Do you really think so? It cheers me up! When I'm a full-blown engineer,
perhaps I'll make enough to buy a grand piano at any rate. That's one way
of looking at it. It's awfully kind of you to let me come here and thump
away on yours."
"We enjoy having you, so use it whenever you like. It's always absolutely
at your disposal."
Morland was not the only one of the party who was amusing his leisure
hours. Bevis also had hobbies. He had taken up photography, had turned an
attic at Grimbal's Farm into a dark room, and was trying many
experiments. Moreover, his lawyers had at last yielded to his urgent
entreaties and had allowed him to buy a small sailing yacht. She was not
a racing craft, or remarkably smart in any way, but she was his own, and
the joy of possession was supreme. He rechristened her The Kittiwake,
painting in her new name with much satisfaction, and he made trial trips
in her along the coast as far as Port Sennen. He was extremely anxious to
take Mavis and Merle and Clive with him, but that was strictly prohibited
by Mrs. Tremayne, who would not allow either her son or her visitors to
venture.
"It's too big a risk, and I know what Clive is! Young Talland can swim
like a fish if he upsets his yacht, but _you_ can't!"
"We can swim!" protested Merle.
"A little, close by the shore, I daresay, but that's nothing if you're
plunged into deep water. I can't take the responsibility of letting you
go. Never mind! We'll make up a party one day and take a motor-boat with
a proper experienced boatman. Young Talland can join us then if he
likes."
Mavis and Merle were disappointed almost to the point of tears. They had
duly admired _The Kittiwake_ in the harbour, and they simply longed
to go on board. It seemed so particularly tempting when they had such a
cordial invitation, and so aggravating to be obliged to decline.
"Cousin Nora's very nervous," urged Mavis in extenuation. "She'd be
afraid of our being drowned if we went on a duck-pond."
Bevis passed over the slur on his seamanship.
"It's all right!" he answered quietly, but there was a certain set
obstinate look about his mouth which the girls knew well, and which meant
that he intended if possible to get his own way, though he said nothing
more at the time.
[Illustration: HE KEPT THEM DAWDLING]
It was perhaps as well for everybody's peace of mind that he should not
take Clive boating, for the boy was venturesome and mischievous, and
rather out of hand except when his father was by. He often made the
girls' hair almost stand on end by his pranks at the verge of the cliffs,
and was sometimes the cause of considerable bad language among the
sailors when he interfered with their nets or tar-pots down on the quay.
It was a relief to Mavis and Merle when Mr. Tremayne took him out in the
side-car, and they knew that for some hours at least they need not be
responsible for his behaviour. They were both fond of botany, and were
enthusiastically making collections of wild flowers to press for their
holiday task. Bevis was a good ally in this respect, and would often call
in at Burswood Farm with some uncommon specimen which he thought they had
not yet found for themselves. He had come on this errand one morning, and
was helping Mavis to screw up her pressing boards, when Mrs. Tremayne
happened to mention the scarcity of shells in the neighbourhood of
Chagmouth.
"I've hardly found any!" she remarked. "And I'm so annoyed, because it
happens to be my particular hobby. I'm collecting them. I suppose the
coast is too rocky and they get broken. They're always very local
things."
"There's just one place I know where you might find some," said Bevis.
"It's a particular patch of sand near Gurgan Point. I saw some beauties
there a while ago. I'll show you where it is with pleasure if you like."
"Oh, thanks! That would be delightful," beamed Mrs. Tremayne. "The girls
and I could go to-day if you can take us. My husband and Clive are out
with the motor-bike, so it's a splendid opportunity."
"Let me see! The tide should be just right this afternoon," agreed Bevis
cheerfully. "Mavis and Merle know the way to Gurgan Point. If they'll
take you there and down the path to the cove, I'll come round in the
yacht and meet you. Shall we say at three o'clock?"
"That would be exactly nice time after lunch."
"Very well, I'll be there."
Bevis went back to Grimbal's Farm chuckling to himself, though he did not
betray the cause of his amusement to anybody. He hunted out a hamper and
packed it with cups and saucers, a methylated spirit-lamp, and other
picnic requisites. On his way to the quay he stopped at the
confectioner's and bought cakes and fancy biscuits. He placed these
comestibles inside the hamper, and stowed it away in the locker of _The
Kittiwake_. At two o'clock he was out of the harbour, and was off in
the direction of Gurgan Point.
Mavis and Merle and Cousin Nora, bearing baskets in which to place
shells, had a pleasant walk along the cliffs, and descended the path to
the trysting-place. They found Bevis waiting for them in the cove. He had
moored _The Kittiwake_ to a buoy, and now led the way over the sands
to a sort of little peninsula that jutted out into the sea. Here he had
beached his dinghy.
"This is the shell-bank. You'll find heaps of them here!" he said.
Undoubtedly he had brought them to the right place. There were shells in
abundance, and of many different kinds, delicate pink ones, tiny cowries,
twisted wentletraps, scallops, screw-shells, and some like mother-of-
pearl. Mrs. Tremayne was in raptures, and went down on her knees to
gather them. There was such a tempting variety that it was difficult to
stop, and in the excitement of the quest the time simply fled.
"I haven't brought my watch!" declared Mrs. Tremayne once.
"Oh, it's quite early yet!" Bevis assured her. "I've lighted the spirit-
lamp, and I'm going to make you some tea."
He had carried the hamper on to the sands, and was busy setting out his
cups and saucers in a sheltered place behind some rocks, 'to be out of
the wind,' as he carefully explained. When his kettle boiled he filled
the tea-pot, and summoned his guests.
"You've chosen a snug spot!" said Mrs. Tremayne, walking along with her
eyes on the sands still looking for shells.
And Merle, who was watching a white line of advancing waves, added:
"Lovely and snug, only I hope we shan't get--"
She meant to say 'surrounded,' but Bevis pulled such a fearful face at
her behind Cousin Nora's back that she stopped short and let him finish
the sentence.
"We shan't get shells while we're having tea, of course! You can look for
some more afterwards if you haven't enough."
"Oh, surely, we have heaps and heaps! And simply exquisite ones! These
tiny yellow babies are just perfect. I like them better than the big
grandfathers," exulted Mavis.
Bevis made a polite but leisurely host. He insisted on boiling some more
water, which was not really wanted, but which took a long time, and he
spun out his own tea interminably.
"It's so jolly here under the rocks!" he declared. "I like the _dolce
far niente_--makes one think of lotus-eaters and all the rest of it.
Shall I help you sort your shells? You could wash them in the tea-cups.
It's no use carrying home surplus sand. There's some water left in the
kettle."
On one pretext or another he kept them dawdling under the rocks, till
Mrs. Tremayne at last rose up and declared they really must be starting
back for the cove.
"We shall be having the tide coming in if we don't mind," she said. "Why!
Look!"
She might well exclaim, for while they had been sitting with their backs
to the sea the water had all the while been lapping slowly in and had
changed their peninsula into an island. They were entirely surrounded,
and quite a wide channel lay between themselves and the shore. Mrs.
Tremayne looked much alarmed, but Bevis took the matter with the utmost
calm.
"It's all right! I've the dinghy here, and I can row you to the yacht.
I'd land you in the cove if I could, but it really wouldn't be safe
because of the rocks. I'll sail you all back to Chagmouth and run you
into the harbour."
There was evidently nothing else to be done, and though Cousin Nora might
not enjoy the prospect of yachting, she was obliged to accept Bevis's
offer.
It was quite a pleasant little excursion from Gurgan Point to the
harbour; the sea was luckily calm, but there was sufficient breeze to
enable The Kittiwake to skim over the water like her sea-gull namesake.
The girls, who by this time had grasped the depths of their friend's
plot, enjoyed the situation immensely. They were actually having their
coveted sail in the very company of the dear lady who had so expressly
forbidden the jaunt, and all without the slightest friction or trouble.
Bevis, indeed, was posing as rescuer and accepting grateful thanks.
"It's a lesson to us all to watch the tide and not sit talking with our
backs to the sea!" said Cousin Nora virtuously.
"It is indeed!" answered Bevis, so gravely that Merle had to stuff her
handkerchief into her mouth to stifle her chortles of mirth.
He brought them into the harbour, and helped them to land on the steps of
the jetty.
"Wasn't I clever?" he whispered, as he handed Mavis her basket of shells.
"When I really make up my mind to get a thing, I get it!"