“ It’s no good asking you to my place,” said Miles. “ We couldn’t talk or anything. I’ve got three sisters and a brother all older than myself. It’s frightful, really. They’re so interfering.”
This surprised me, for Miles seemed to be able to do exactly as he wanted.
“ It’s sickening,” Miles continued. “ I suppose it’s because I’m the youngest of the family. They seem to think I’m still a child. The parents are just as bad; I can’t go out without them asking where I’m going and when I’m coming back and all the rest of it. I suppose you’re perfectly free, David? ”
I found this question difficult to answer. As a matter of fact I felt perfectly free, but it had never occurred to me to go out without consulting Uncle Matt and telling him my plans. But how could I say this to Miles? He would think me a ninny. Of course Miles was different—naturally Miles did not want his family interfering with his liberty to come and go as he pleased.
“ Does your uncle interefere with you? ” asked Miles, putting his question differently.
“ No,” I said. “ He’s all right. We get on splendidly.”
“ You’re lucky,” said Miles with a sigh. “ I wish to goodness they’d let me go to Loretto. Then I’d get away from the family. My brother’s at Loretto—but of course I’m the youngest so I’ve got to stay at home and go to a blinking day-school. It’s rotten, isn’t it? ”
“ It doesn’t seem fair,” I agreed.
“ Just because he got a scholarship! I mean,” said Miles confidentially. “ I mean of course it was all right Robert getting a scholarship. Robert is clever, he doesn’t have to swot. But Father could easily afford to send me to Loretto without me bothering to get a scholarship. That’s what’s so unfair.”
“ But if you got a scholarship——”
“ Gosh! ” exclaimed Miles. “ You won’t see me swotting. There are lots of other much more exciting things to do.”
“ People are different,” I said. “ You’re so keen on rugger. You’ll be in the first fifteen before very long.”
“ Oh—well—perhaps,” he said, but I could see he was pleased.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
One morning when Uncle Matt and I were having breakfast together he suggested that I might ask one of my friends to lunch on Sunday.
“ We could go for an expedition,” said Uncle Matt. “ We could go to Peebles or somewhere. Perhaps you’d like to ask Miles.”
“ Can I ask Freda? ” I said.
“ Freda! ” exclaimed Uncle Matt in horrified tones. “ A girl! Great Scott, where did you meet a girl, David? ”
“ I didn’t meet her,” I said laughing. “ I’ve always known Freda. Her father is a farmer at Nethercleugh, and she’s at school in Edinburgh.”
“ When I was your age I had no use for girls.”
“ But Freda isn’t an ordinary girl, she’s different.”
“ They’re all different, David,” said Uncle Matt with a sigh. “ They’re all different—and they’re all the same. Most of the trouble in this world is made by the sex that wears the petticoats. But there’s no need for us to argue about it because they’d never let her come.”
“ Why wouldn’t they? ”
“ Because—Och, David, what a question! They’re terribly particular at these posh schools; they’d never let the girl go out with two fascinating bachelors.”
“ But I know her! ” I cried. “ I know her father and mother—I’ve known them all my life! ”
At first Uncle Matt was adamant, but when he heard that Freda was at Dinwell Hall he changed his mind, for Miss Humble, the headmistress, was one of his clients and he knew her well. He grumbled about it, of course, and he teased me quite a lot but he consented to write to Miss Humble and ask if Freda could come. Miss Humble replied that Freda would be delighted to accept the invitation and we could fetch her at twelve-thirty on Sunday morning.
“ We can’t go to St. Giles’,” said Uncle Matt, looking at me sideways. “ There wouldn’t be time. We’ll need to give it a miss—but maybe it will not matter for once.”
Dinwell Hall was a large square house in a big park with fine trees. We drove up to the door in the funny old car and were shown into Miss Humble’s presence. Miss Humble was large and fat with grey hair, cut short like a man’s, and large flashing spectacles set firmly on her fleshy nose. She shook hands with us in a masterful fashion and invited us to sit down.
“ I have sent for Freda,” said Miss Humble. “ She will be here in a few minutes.”
“ There’s no hurry at all,” said Uncle Matt politely.
We sat and talked. Uncle Matt was on his best behaviour and I could not help smiling to myself when I looked at him. Here was quite a different Uncle Matt—a polished, pleasant man-of-the-world making polite conversation with a lady. Nearly everybody is made up of a whole lot of different people but Uncle Matt was more of a mixture than anybody I have ever seen … and as a matter of fact I saw yet another side of him when Freda appeared and we managed to escape from Miss Humble. Uncle Matt treated Freda as if she were grown-up; he was gallant, he even flirted with her a little in an elephantine way.
We had a very happy time together. Freda was at her best, she was friendly and amusing and enjoyed every moment of the outing. We lunched at the Hawes Inn at Queensferry and then we went for a drive in the car and home to Ruthven Crescent for tea. After tea Freda and I went out into the gardens in front of the house and sat on a seat and talked.
“ Your Uncle Matt is a dear,” said Freda. “ I wish I had an uncle like that.”
“ You have,” I told her, smiling. “ He’s yours, Freda. You’ve got him eating out of your hand.”
Freda laughed. “ Yes, I think he likes me quite a lot. You’ll ask me again, won’t you, David? It’s lovely to get away from school.”
“ Don’t you like school? ” I asked her.
“ Of course I like it,” she replied. “ But all the same it’s nice to get away. Nearly all the other girls go out on Sundays; their parents come and take them or they have friends in Edinburgh; but I’ve got nobody to take me.” She hesitated and then added, “ It’s awfully mean of Father and Mother, they could easily come from Haines and take me out for the day.”
Freda’s face, which had been so happy, clouded over and she set her lips in a thin straight line.
“ But Freda, how could they? ” I exclaimed. “ They wouldn’t have enough petrol to come up from Haines.”
“ They could do it if they wanted,” declared Freda. “ It isn’t that I want them to come, it’s just that it seems so funny … all the other girls go out on Sundays.”
“ Well, don’t let’s talk about it,” I said. “ We’ve had a lovely time to-day and we’ll have lots of other outings.”
Freda looked at me and smiled. “ You’re just the same, David. You don’t like talking about anything unpleasant.”
“ Who does! ” I exclaimed.
“ But it’s like an ostrich, burying its head in the sand! ”
“ Not really,” I said thoughtfully. “ It’s better to be happy and think of nice things instead of being miserable and worrying over nasty things.”
“ That’s what an ostrich does,” said Freda emphatically.
It was no good arguing with her of course, so I left it and talked about something else, and presently it was time to take Freda back to Dinwell Hall.
Soon after this I wrote to Cliffe and told him I was in Edinburgh and Cliffe rang up in great excitement and invited me to supper the following Sunday. Uncle Matt was amused when he heard about the invitation but he knew Mr. Dodge’s shop and told me how to get there.
“ You’ve an odd selection of friends,” said Uncle Matt as he saw me off at the door.
“ Cliffe isn’t odd,” I said. “ Cliffe is a frightfully good sport. You’d like Cliffe. He’d make you laugh.”
“ All right, all right,” said Uncle Matt cheerfully. “ Ask him to tea if you want to.”
The Dodges’ shop was a big ironmonger’s establishment in Leith Street. It was shut, of course, but there was a side-door with DODGE written on the bell. Cliffe opened the door himself and fell upon me with cries of joy.
“ D-David! This is grand! ” he exclaimed. “ I thought it must be you when I heard the b-bell! Gosh, it’s grand to see you! ”
“ You’re bigger than ever, Cliffe! ”
“ Well, what did you expect! ” laughed Cliffe, seizing my arm. “ Of course I’m b-bigger. You’re b-b-bigger too, you old silly. Come on, David, they’re all p-panting to see you. I’ve told them all about you.”
The Dodges’ flat was over the shop. It was a biggish flat and very comfortably furnished. Mr. Dodge was small and fat, he was very bald and wore some strands of dark hair brushed across the top of his head. I could see his resemblance to his brother—the blacksmith at Haines—but his manner and way of talking were ludicrously different. Mrs. Dodge was large and statuesque, she was wearing a black silk dress and a gold brooch with a cameo in the middle of it. The five little girls had round faces and fair hair and blue eyes, they looked exactly alike, except for their sizes, and when I saw them sitting round the big dining-table I suddenly thought of Mother and her “ dozen daughters.” The room seemed full of little girls.
“ We’ve been looking forward to seeing you, Mr. Kirke,” said Mrs. Dodge grandly. “ You were so good to Cliffe.”
“ Cliffe has told us all about you,” added Mr. Dodge.
We were all shy and on our best behaviour so at first the conversation was somewhat stilted. I was even more embarrassed when I discovered that the Dodges were under the impression that I had saved their son’s life. Cliffe had given them a garbled account of his adventures in the bog and it was impossible to disabuse them of their absurd idea without saying outright that Cliffe was a liar.
“ It beats me how you got him out,” declared Mr. Dodge. “ You must be a deal stronger than you look.”
“ He’s terribly strong,” put in Cliffe.
“ It was brave,” said Mrs. Dodge. “ It was very brave. You might have been sucked under yourself.”
“ David never thought of that,” declared Cliffe. “ David’s not that sort. He came right in after me and p-pulled me out.”
“ It was nothing,” I mumbled. “ There was no danger at all.”
“ There I was,” continued Cliffe dramatically. “ There I was in the b-bog—sinking! I could feel myself sinking. The slimy m-mud was b-b-bubbling round me—and the smell was awful. I’ve never been so frightened in my life. You’ve no idea what it’s like to feel the ground all quaky and sinky under your f-feet and your f-f-feet sticking like glue so that you can’t move them. I tell you I wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for D-David.”
“ Oh rot! ” I exclaimed. “ You weren’t a bit frightened. You laughed like anything when I got you out.”
“ I was a bit hysterical,” said Cliffe solemnly. “ It was enough to m-make anyone hysterical.”
“ Nonsense, Cliffe! ” I said.
Mrs. Dodge had become quite pale. “ The country is awful dangerous,” she declared. “ We’d never have let Cliffe go to Haines if we’d realised how dangerous it was.”
“ Dangerous! ” I exclaimed in surprise. “ It’s not nearly as dangerous as town. Every time I cross the street I’m nearly run over by a bus or a lorry.”
“ Och, there’s no need to worry,” said Mr. Dodge comfortably. “ They have no wish to run over you, Mr. Kirke.”
This seemed such a comic idea that I could not help laughing, and of course Cliffe laughed too—it took very little to make Cliffe laugh—soon we were all laughing together and the ice was broken.
“ I’ve no idea what the joke is,” declared Mr. Dodge, taking a large green silk handkerchief out of his pocket and blowing his nose.
“ Nor me,” agreed Mrs. Dodge. “ Mr. Kirke will be thinking we’re all mad.”
“ Please call me David,” I said.
“ Well, it would be more friendly-like,” nodded Mr. Dodge. “ And Cliffe having talked about you so much it would be easy, too. David is a nice name. He was a sweet singer, so we’re told. If we’d had another son we would have called him David.”
“ It’s a pity I hadn’t an elder brother,” said Cliffe a trifle bitterly.
By this time we had finished supper and the two eldest little girls had begun to help their mother to clear the dishes. I wondered if we ought to help but apparently this was not expected of us.
“ What are you two lads going to do? ” asked Mr. Dodge. “ Are you going out, or what? ”
They all looked at me.
“ I wonder if I could see the shop? ” I said doubtfully. “ It’s Sunday, of course, so perhaps—but that’s what I’d like.”
“ Well, of course you can! ” cried Mr. Dodge smiling delightedly. “ You’re welcome to see the shop. Look now, Cliffe, you take David downstairs and show him round. Maybe he would like a knife to put in his pocket—one of those new knives that’s just come in. You see to that, Cliffe.”
We went downstairs together and Cliffe opened the door of the shop. It was all shut up of course and rather dark and shadowy but we switched on some of the lights and looked about. The place was large and spacious and full of all sorts of interesting things, and it was fun looking at them with Cliffe, who knew all about them.
“ What a splendid shop! ” I exclaimed.
“ Yes, it’s a good business,” he agreed. “ Dad built it up from a wee poky ironmonger’s store. That takes a lot of hard work, you know. I help as much as I can when I’m not at school; some day when I’ve left school I’ll be here for good. I like the work, it’s very interesting.”
“ Yes, it must be,” I said. I envied Cliffe. Here was his future all ready for him.
“ What about you? ” asked Cliffe. “ Are you going to be a minister like your father? ”
“ No—not that,” I told him. “ I couldn’t be a minister. I don’t know what I’ll do. I’d like to be a farmer but you’ve got to have money to buy a farm. I suppose I’ll have to go into an office or something.”
We spent a long time looking round and at last Cliffe produced a big tray of pocket-knives and put it down on the glass counter.
“ You’re to choose one,” he told me. “ Choose any one you like.”
“ No, Cliffe,” I said.
“ But Dad said so! What d’you mean, David? ”
“ I mean I don’t want one.”
“ But David, they’re fine! ”
“ I know, but I couldn’t take it, Cliffe. He said I was to have it because of that stupid story about the bog and you know perfectly well it was all lies.”
“ Not lies,” declared Cliffe cheerfully. “ It was maybe a wee bit exaggerated, but I had to make a good story of it.”
“ Well, I wish you hadn’t. I felt a perfect fool—and anyway I’m not taking the knife, that’s flat.”
“ David, you must! Look, here’s one with three b-blades and a corkscrew and a thing for taking stones out of a horse’s shoe.”
“ I can’t,” I told him. “ Honestly, Cliffe, I’d be taking it on false pretences. Don’t you understand? ”
Cliffe stood and looked at me with the knife in his hand. He was serious for once. “ I see what you mean,” he said slowly. “ I’m sorry, David … but I didn’t do it on purpose. I was just telling them about the bog and they sort of jumped to the conclusion that it was a wee bit worse than it really was. Mum has never seen a bog but she’s read about people sinking in them—and I was sinking. If you’d not been there I might have sunk up to my neck, so you see——”
“ That’s nonsense! ”
“ It’s not! And anyway that’s what they think and you can’t explain things when p-people get an idea into their heads. Look, David,” said Cliffe earnestly. “ You m-must try to understand. I d-didn’t set out to exaggerate the b-bog. It just happened … and it seemed a p-pity to spoil the story when they liked it
so much.”
He looked at me to see if I understood and of course I did understand, but all the same I was not going to accept the knife.
“ Listen, David,” said Cliffe. “ You did pull me out, didn’t you? And if it had been d-dangerous you’d have p-pulled me out just the same, wouldn’t you? ”
“ I don’t know.”
“ What? Would you have g-gone away and left me to sink? ”
“ I don’t know what I’d have done.”
“ Well, I know,” said Cliffe. “ I know what you’d have d-done. You’d have p-pulled me out of that b-bog and never thought about whether it was dangerous … so you can take the knife with a clear conscience.”
I could not help smiling at Cliffe’s reasoning, but I still shook my head.
“ Oh, all right,” said Cliffe sadly. “ Dad will be hurt, of course. He’ll think you’re too p-proud to t-take a p-present from him—that’s what he’ll think.”
This was true. I had not thought of it before but now I saw that Mr. Dodge would think just that. He would think I was too proud to accept the knife.
“ Wait,” I said quickly. “ Don’t put them away, Cliffe. I’ll choose a knife. It’s very kind of Mr. Dodge.”
Cliffe was delighted. He helped me to choose a knife and I went home with it in my pocket.
After that first visit to the Dodges I went to see them quite often and Cliffe came and had tea with me … but unfortunately Uncle Matt and Cliffe did not like one another. Uncle Matt was at his worst with Cliffe, he was stiff and patronising, and Cliffe was so nervous that he stammered and stuttered and made inane remarks, and was quite unlike his usual cheerful self. There was nothing I could do about it except to decide that I would never ask Cliffe again unless I was sure Uncle Matt would be out when he came. It seemed very odd when I liked them both so much that they should not like each other—it seemed illogical. I puzzled over it a lot.
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