Part 16 (1/2)
To say that the Editor appeared surprised by this sudden threatening of his solitude, would be to state the case too mildly. He looked absolutely stunned with astonishment, and his predicament was all the more enhanced by the fact that already murmurs of a.s.sent and antic.i.p.ation welcomed the idea from his neighbours to right and to left.
He stared incredulously into his brother's face, wrinkled his brow, and stammered out a laboured excuse.
”I'm afraid I-- The dell is in no sense my property--No doubt it would make a capital site for a picnic, but I--I have no right to pose as host!”
”Rubbish, my boy! You are not going to get out of it so easily as that.
We expect you to act as master of the ceremonies, and show us the beauties you have kept to yourself so long. Yes, and to catch some trout for us, too! What do you say to that, Mrs Macalister? How does freshly grilled trout strike you as an accessory to a picnic? We'll have two fires, with the kettle on one, and the gridiron on the other, and Mrs McNab will send up a hamper of good things to complete the feast. We'll leave George to manage that, as he knows how to get round her; only do the thing well when you are about it; that's all I have to say! We shall bring rattling big appet.i.tes, shan't we, Miss Vane?”
Margot's glance pa.s.sed by his to dwell with remorseful commiseration on the Editor's perturbed face. This was her own doing; a direct consequence of her appeal of the day before! The expression of the brown eyes was wonderfully eloquent, and meeting them the Editor bestirred himself to smile back a grateful recognition. By this time, however, the murmur had grown into definite speech; Mrs Macalister was stating at length her life's experience as to picnics, and laying down the law as to what was necessary for their success; the clergyman and his son were debating how to reach the dell from the farthest point of the day's expedition; Mr Macalister was slowly repeating--
”Trout! Grilled trout! It's a strange-like idea to have fish at a picnic!”
It was plainly too late in the day for the Editor to refuse an invitation which had already been practically accepted! With a better grace than might have been expected he resigned himself to his fate, and the smile which he sent round the table was very charming in its shy cordiality.
”I shall be delighted if you will honour me by coming so far; and no doubt with Mrs McNab's help I shall be able to provide refreshments.
Shall we say half-past four?”
”Four o'clock would be better. We want plenty of time to linger over tea, and ramble about afterwards,” said the Chieftain firmly; and there being no dissent from this amendment, the Editor nodded a.s.sent, and, gathering his papers in his hand, hurried out of the room.
Margot followed on the first opportunity. She felt the eyes of the Chieftain fixed on her face from across the room, and could imagine the twinkle of humorous meaning with which they would be alight but she felt too self-conscious and ill at ease to respond. Like a frightened little rabbit she scuttled upstairs to her own room and remained there, busying herself with odd pieces of work until the inmates of the inn had taken themselves off for their morning's excursions, and quiet reigned throughout the house. Then, and not till then, she opened her door and peered cautiously at that other door across the landing. It was closely shut, and taking for granted that within its portals the bewildered scholar was making the most of his free hours, Margot crept quietly down the staircase, and turned to the right towards the kitchen. It occurred to her that she might be able to help Mrs McNab in her preparations for the afternoon, and by doing so relieve the pangs of her own conscience.
All this work, and worry, and bewilderment, on her account--as a response to her appeal! She blushed guiltily, hardly knowing whether to feel more gratified or annoyed with the Chieftain for so speedy a demonstration of his power; dreading the moment when they should meet again, and she must perforce brave the mischievous messages of his eyes.
The kitchen door was closely shut. Mrs McNab was too capable a housewife to allow the noise and odour of culinary preparations to invade the rest of the house; but by this time Margot was sure of her welcome, for scarcely a day had pa.s.sed by that she had not offered her services, and been condescendingly permitted to sh.e.l.l peas, stone fruit, or whip up snowy ma.s.ses of cream. Mrs McNab always accorded permission with the air of an empress conferring an order upon some humble suppliant, but none the less Margot felt a.s.sured that she appreciated the help, and would have missed it, had it not been forthcoming.
This morning she tapped on the door, opened it, and thrust her head round the corner, to behold a tableau which remained fixed irrevocably in heart and memory. In the middle of the floor stood the mistress of the inn, arms akimbo, engaged in laying down the law in characteristic, downright fas.h.i.+on to some one who sat perched upon the dresser with hands thrust deep into knickerbocker pockets, and feet in rough climbing boots swinging nonchalantly to and fro; some one with a bright, almost boyish face alight with fun, laughter, and defiance.
For the second time Margot beheld the real George Elgood denuded of his mask of shyness and reserve, and thrilled at the recognition. This sunny, stone-flagged kitchen seemed fated to be the scene of unexpected meetings! She would have retreated in haste, but at the sound of her entrance Mr Elgood jumped hastily to the floor, and Mrs McNab authoritatively waved her forward.
”Here she is to speak for herself! Come yer ways, Miss Vane. I was saying to Mr Elgood that maybe he'd listen to your advice, as he willna tak' mine. You're a leddy, and ken how such things should be done, and if there's any call to waste the morning, and run into daft-like expense, when everything a reasonable body need want is lying ready to hand--”
Margot looked from one to the other in bewilderment, her spirits rising with the discovery that for the first time in their short acquaintance the Editor met her glance with an expression of relief rather than of dread. He was smiling still, and the boyish look lingered on his face, making him appear an absolutely different creature from the grave, formidable hermit to whom she was accustomed.
Margot's eyes danced, and she answered as naturally as if she had been speaking to Ron himself.
”I don't know in the least what I am giving an opinion about--but I am not a 'reasonable body,' and as a rule the result of 'daft-like expense'
is very nice! I'm afraid that isn't what you wanted me to say, Mrs McNab, but I must be honest. Perhaps I may feel differently when I know what I am talking about.”
”Your picnic!” cried Mrs McNab.
”My picnic!” corrected the Editor. ”I never gave a picnic before, and I'm weighed down by responsibility. My brother refuses to help me, and Mrs McNab is a Spartan, and nips my suggestions in the bud. She thinks we ought to be satisfied with bread and b.u.t.ter; I want cakes and fruit; I want her to bake, and she says she has no time to bake; I want to send over to Rew on the chance of getting strawberries; she says she has no one to send. If you agree with me, Miss Vane, perhaps she will make time; I know by experience that she is always better than her word!”
Mrs McNab sniffed ironically.
”There's scones for ye, and good fresh b.u.t.ter--what do ye want forbye?
Ye'd get nae mair if ye were at hame, and it's not going to kill ye, walking a couple of miles. I've something else to do on a Thursday morning than waste my time messing over things that aren't needed.”
Mr Elgood leant against the dresser, and surveyed her more in sorrow than in anger.
”Now what have you to do?” he demanded. ”It's absurd to pretend that there is anything to clean, because you never give a thing a chance to become dirty. There is cold meat for lunch, as you yourself informed me, so there's no cooking on hand. This house goes by machinery, with Elspeth to stoke up the motive power. What can be left for you? I can't think of a single thing.”