Part 21 (1/2)
”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 b.u.t.ter. 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 sh.o.r.e, 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 pa.s.sed over the slur on his seamans.h.i.+p.
”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.
[Ill.u.s.tration: 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 sh.e.l.ls 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 amus.e.m.e.nt 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 sh.e.l.ls, 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 sh.e.l.l-bank. You'll find heaps of them here!” he said.
Undoubtedly he had brought them to the right place. There were sh.e.l.ls in abundance, and of many different kinds, delicate pink ones, tiny cowries, twisted wentletraps, scallops, screw-sh.e.l.ls, 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 a.s.sured 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.