Big Game: A Story for Girls
Page 7
CHAPTER SEVEN.
PREPARATIONS.
Every one said that it would rain. It was most depressing. You hadonly to mention that you intended to spend your summer holiday in aHighland glen, to set the torrent of warning in full flow. "It willrain all the time.--It always rains in Scotland... You will besoaked... You will be starved... You will feel as if you have goneback to winter. You will miss all the summer in the South... You willget rheumatism... You will be bored to death." On and on it went, eachnewcomer adding volume to the chorus, until it became quite difficult toremember that one was starting on a pleasure trip, and not on a perilousArctic exploration.
"Take plenty of wraps!" urged the wise ones. "Don't imagine that youwill be able to wear pretty white things, as you do at home. Take oldthings that don't matter, for no one will see you, and you will neverwant to wear them again. You will shiver round the fire in theevenings. Be sure to take rugs. You won't have half enough blankets onthe bed. I was in the Highlands for a month two years ago, and we hadone fine day!"
"Well!" queried Margot of this last Job's comforter, "and what was_that_ like? Were you glad that you were there for that one day atleast?"
The speaker paused, and over her face there passed a wave ofilluminating recollection. She was a prosaic, middle-aged woman, butfor the moment she looked young,--young and ardent.
"Ah!" she sighed. "That day! It was wonderful; I shall never forgetit. We went to bed cold and tired, looking forward to another dark,depressing morning, and woke in a dazzle of sunlight, to see themountains outlined against a blue sky. We ran out into the road, andheld out our hands to the sun, and the wind blew towards us, the soft,wet, heathery wind, and it tasted like--_nectar_! We could not goindoors. We walked about all day, and laughed, and sang. We walkedmiles. It seemed as if we could not tire. I--I think we were `fey.'"She paused again, and the light flickered out, leaving her cold andprosaic once more. "The rest of the time was most unfortunate. Icontracted a severe chill, and my sister-in-law had rheumatism in herankles. Now, my dear, be sure to take good strong boots--"
Margot and Ronald listened politely to all the good advice which waslavished upon them, but, after the manner of youth, felt convinced thatin their case precautions were needless. It was going to be fine. Ifit had been wet in previous years, all the more reason why this comingsummer should be warm and dry. The sun was going to shine; the cloudswere going to roll away; Mr Elgood was going to fall in love with Ronat first sight, and prove himself all that was wise, and kind, andhelpful. Delightful optimism of youth, which is worth more than all thewisdom of maturer years!
Margot set about her preparations unhampered by the financial troubleswhich befall less fortunate girls. Her father was lavishly generous tohis favourite daughter, supplementing her dress allowance by constantgifts. It was one of his greatest pleasures in life to see his prettyMargot prettily attired, a pleasure in which the young lady herselffully concurred. She had too much good taste to transport all thefrills and fripperies of London to a Highland glen; but, on the otherhand, she set her face firmly against the mustard-coloured tweedsaffected by so many women for country wear, choosing instead a soft dullblue, a hundred times more becoming. For headgear there was a littlecap of the same material, with a quill feather stuck jauntily through afold at the side, while neat, strong little boots and a pair of doeskingloves gave a delightfully business-like air to the costume. In therug-strap was a capacious golf cloak, displaying a bright plaid lining.This was waiting in readiness for the six-mile drive at the end of thejourney, and inside the large dress-box was a selection of well-chosengarments--a white serge coat and skirt for bright weather; cottons andlawns for the warm days that must surely come; a velveteen dress forchilly evenings, blouses galore, and even a fur-lined cloak. Margotfelt a thrill of wondering satisfaction in her own prudence, as shepacked this latter garment, on a hot June day, with the scent of rosesfilling the room from the vase on the toilet table.
She packed sketching materials also, plenty of fancy-work destined toprovide presents for the coming Christmas, a selection of sixpennynovels, and one or two pet classics from her own library, whichtravelled about with her wherever she went.
Ronald's preparations were more easy, for surely no stock-in-trade is sosimple as that of an author! His favourite stylographic pen, hisfavourite note-book, and that was an end of it so far as work wasconcerned. He took his half-plate camera with him, however; and the twohandsome free-wheel bicycles were carefully swathed for the journey.
"I can't understand why you couldn't be content to go to some nicesouth-country place, instead of travelling to the other end of thecountry in this dusty weather," Agnes opined, as she assiduously fixedthe label to every separate piece of the luggage which was piledtogether in the hall. "It's so foolish to waste time and money whenthere are nice places at hand. Now, there's Cromer--"
"You don't get heather-clad mountains at Cromer, Agnes, and we shan'thave promenades at Glenaire, nor bands, nor crowds of fashionable peoplequizzing each other all day long. We prefer the real, true, genuinecountry."
"Oh, well, you'll be tired of it soon enough! Margot will hate it. Weshall have you hurrying back at the end of a fortnight, bored to death.I don't think that lock of yours is quite safe, Margot. I shouldn'twonder if you found some things missing when you arrive. The guardshave a splendid chance on these all-night journeys," prophesied Agnescheerfully. She stared in surprise when Margot burst into a peal oflaughter, and repeated, "Poor old Agnes!" as if she, secure andcomfortable at home, were the one to be pitied, instead of the carelesstravellers into the unknown!
The sisters kissed each other in perfunctory manner, Ron shook hands,and nodded vaguely in response to half a dozen injunctions andreminders; then the travellers took their places in the cab, bendingforward to wave their adieux, looking extraordinarily alike the while--young and eager and handsome, with the light of the summer sun reflectedin their happy eyes.
Agnes felt a little chill as she shut the door and walked back into thequiet house. All the morning she had looked forward to the hours ofpeace and quietness which would follow the departure of the two childrenof the household; but now that the time had arrived she was conscious ofan unwonted feeling of depression. The sound of that last pitying,"Poor old Agnes!" rang in her ears. Why "poor"? Why should Margotspeak of her as some one to be pitied? As her father's eldest unmarrieddaughter and the mistress of the house, she was surely a person to beapproved and envied. And yet, recalling those two vivid, radiant faces,Agnes dimly felt that there was something in life which Margot and Ronhad found, and she herself had missed.
"I don't understand!" she repeated to herself with wrinkled brows. Avague depression hung over her spirits; she thought uneasily of heryears, and wondered if she were growing old, unconscious of the factthat she had never yet succeeded in being young.