Big Game: A Story for Girls

by Mrs. George de Horne Vaizey

  CHAPTER NINE.

  THE BROTHERS ELGOOD.

  Inside the inn a mingling of odours greeted the nostrils. Furniturepolish, soft soap, various whiffs from the bar, which by good fortuneopened into the stable-yard, and was distinct from the house itself; asweet, heavy odour of milk from the dairy; a smell of musk from theplants ranged along the window-sills. In the dining-room the tableclothwas laid, with a large home-cured ham in the place of honour. The floorwas covered with oilcloth; the furniture was covered with horsehair. Onthe mantelpiece stood two large specimens of granite, and a last year'salmanac. Red rep curtains were draped across the window, so as toconceal all the view except a glimpse of the road. The walls were hungwith a fearsome paper, in which bouquets of deep blue flowers weregrouped on a background of lozenges of an orange hue. Over themantelpiece hung a coloured print of Queen Victoria; over the sideboarda print entitled "Deerstalking," representing two Highlanders in plaidsand bonnets standing over the prostrate form of a "monarch of thewaste." In the corner by the window were massed together quite animposing collection of "burial cards," memorialising McNab connectionsdead and gone, all framed to match in black bands with silver beadings.

  Anything less homelike and inviting can hardly be imagined to welcometired travellers at the end of a long and chilly journey. Margotshivered as she crossed the portals, and rubbed her hands together indisconsolate fashion, even her cheery optimism failing at the sight.

  "It's so--_slippery_!" was the mental comment. "What an appalling roomto sit in! What must it be like in bad weather! And no fire! We'd dieof cold if we sat here all the evening. If the worst comes to theworst, I'll hug my hot bottle. What a mercy I remembered to bring it!"

  Mrs McNab was speaking in hard, aloof accents, after the manner of onewho, having been interrupted in her work by unwelcome intruders, isstill determined to perform her duty toward them, as a matter ofdistasteful necessity. Shades of the obsequious landladies of theSouth! The tired guests quailed before the severity of this Northernwelcome.

  "If it's tea you're wanting, the kettle's on the hob. It will bewaiting for you before ye're ready for it. Ye'll be wanting a wash, I'mthinking."

  It was a statement, not a question, and, in response to it, brother andsister meekly ascended the staircase to the rooms allotted to their usein the front of the house--two whitewashed cribs, provided with nothingwhich was not absolutely necessary; a small, white-covered bed; a woodenchest of drawers, made to do duty for a dressing-table also, by thepresence of a small mirror set fair and square in the middle of acoarse-grained mat; a few pegs on the wall, a deal washstand, and acouple of chairs--that was all; but everything was exquisitely clean andorderly, and what did one want with luxurious upholstery when a peepthrough the open windows revealed a view which sent the blood racingthrough the veins in very ecstasy of delight? Purple mountains and ablue sky; golden yellow of gorse--a silver sheet of water, reflectingthe dark fringe of the pines--it was wonderfully, incredibly beautifulin the clear afternoon light.

  Margot thrust her head out of the window, forgetful of cold and fatigue.What joy to think of waking up every morning for a month to a scenelike this! Thirty mornings, and on every one of them the sun wouldshine, and the air blow clear and sweet. She would put on her thick,nailed boots, and clamber up the glen, to see what lay at the other sideof the pass; she would take her sketching materials, and sit on thatsunny knoll, trying to make some sort of a picture to send home to thepoor father in his smoky prison-house. On hot days she would wade inthe cool grey tarn...

  The little maid was knocking at the door, and announcing that tea wasready, while Margot was still weaving her rose-coloured dreams. It wasa cold douche in more ways than one, to return to the depressingatmosphere of the dining-room, but the meal itself was tempting andplentiful. Scones and toast, eggs and strawberry-jam, besides the solidflank of ham, and, better than all, plenty of delicious cream and freshbutter.

  Margot poured out tea for herself and Ron, and, taking the hot-water-jugon her knee, warmed her numbed hands on it as she ate. For the firstfive or ten minutes no time was wasted in talking; then, the first pangsof hunger being appeased, the two young people began to compareimpressions.

  "Do you suppose this is the only sitting-room? Do you suppose we shallhave to sit here in the evenings and when it rains? Fancy a long wetday, Ron, shining on horsehair chairs, with your feet on an oil-clothedfloor, gazing at funeral cards! I should go to bed!"

  "It wouldn't be a bad idea. Rest cure, you know! If we are veryenergetic in fine weather, we may be glad of a rest; but there _is_another room. I caught sight of a sanctuary filled with woollen matsand wax flowers, with a real live piano in the corner. `The bestparlour,' I should say, and the pride of Mrs McNab's heart. I don'tknow if she will allow you to enter."

  "She will; but she won't have a fire. It has been spring-cleaned, andhas a waterfall of green paper in the grate--I can see it all!" Margotdeclared, with a shudder. She hugged the hot-water-jug still closer,and shivered expressively. "I shall be obliged to raid the kitchen--there's nothing else for it!"

  "You daren't!"

  Margot laughed derisively, but her answer was checked by the suddenappearance of a man's figure pacing slowly past the window. Brother andsister sprang from their chairs, with a simultaneous impulse, rushedacross the room, and crouched behind the moreen curtains. "Is it?" theyqueried breathlessly of each other--"Mr Elgood? Can it be?"

  If it were Mr Elgood, he was certainly not imposing, so far as lookswere concerned. A dumpy little man, of forty years or more, dressed ina baggy suit of grey tweed, with carpet slippers on his dumpy littlefeet. He had evidently started out of the inn to enjoy a smoke in theopen air, sublimely unconscious of the scrutiny that was levelled uponhim the while. His uncovered head showed a large bald patch, his facewas round and of a cherubic serenity.

  "I could twist him round like a teetotum!" whispered Margot, holding upa pert first finger and peering complacently.

  "He looks terribly commonplace!" sighed Ronald disconsolately. "Not inthe least the sort of man I expected."

  Together they peered and peeped, ducking behind the curtains as thestranger approached, and gazing out again the moment his back wasturned. Every now and then he halted in his promenade, stuck his handsinside his baggy pockets, and tilted slowly to and fro on the points ofhis carpeted toes. Anon he took his pipe from his mouth, and blew outbig whiffs of smoke, glancing around the while with an expression ofbeatific contentment. The whole appearance of the man was an embodimentof the holiday spirit, the unrestrained enjoyment of one who has escapedfrom work, and sees before him a pageant of golden idle hours. Margotand Ronald smiled in sympathy even as they looked. He was a plainlittle man, a fat little man, a middle-aged little man, but theyrecognised in him the spirit of abiding youth, and recognising, felttheir hearts warm towards him.

  "He is nice, Ron, after all! I like him!"

  "So do I. A capital chap. But he can't possibly be Elgood of the_Loadstar_."

  Even as he spoke the last word the door was thrown suddenly open, andMrs McNab entered, carrying a plate of hot scones. She stopped shortto stare in surprise, while the two new arrivals hurried back to thetable, obviously discomposed at being discovered playing the part ofPeeping Tom.

  Seated once more before the tea-tray, Margot made an effort atcomposure; decided that honesty was the best policy, and said in hermost charming manner--

  "We were looking at the gentleman who is walking up and down! Anotherof your guests, I suppose? It is interesting to see people who arestaying in the same house."

  Mrs McNab planted the scones in the centre of the table, and gatheredtogether the soiled plates with a wooden stolidity. To all appearancesshe might not have heard a word that had been said. Margot seized thehot-water-jug, and shivered ostentatiously, trusting to pity to prevailwhere guile had failed; and sure enough the pale blue eye turned on herlike a flash of steel.

  "What'
s ailing ye with the water-jug?"

  "I'm ailing myself!" returned Margot meekly. "So cold! I can't getwarm. Tired out after the long journey."

  She tried her best to look delicate and fragile, but the healthy bloomon her cheeks contradicted her words, and the landlady's reply showed nosoftening of heart.

  "Cramped, more like! Better go ye're ways for a guid sharp trot, tobring the blood back to your veins. Ye'll be in time for theafternoon's post; but unless ye're expecting news of your own, ye neednafash for the rest. Mr Elgood's gane to fetch them."

  "Mr Elgood?" Information had come at last, and in the most unexpectedfashion. "The gentleman we have been watching?"

  The thin lips lifted with a suspicion of scorn.

  "Oh, him! That's just the brither. The real Mr Elgood's away till thevillage. You passed it on the road."

  She disappeared into the "lobby," and brother and sister nodded at eachother solemnly, the while they munched the hot buttered scones.

  "We'll go! As soon as we have finished. I long to see what he is like.I'm glad it is not--" Margot nodded towards the window, and Ronassented with a lofty superiority--

  "Yes--he is not the type! A good sort, no doubt, but hardly anintellectual leader. One could not imagine him writing those grandarticles."

  "He may be useful, though, for he looks a friendly little soul, and ifwe get intimate with him we must know his brother, too... These sconesare the most delectable things! Do you think She will be shocked if weeat them all? I feel a conviction that I shall get into the way ofcalling her `She'--with a capital S. `She who must be obeyed!' Ithought She would be softened by the sight of me hugging the jug, andoffer to light a fire at once; but not a bit of it! Her cure was muchmore drastic. I'll accept it this time, as it suits my purpose, butwhen to-morrow comes,--we'll see!"

  Margot nodded her head meaningly, pushed her chair back from the table,and picked up the golf cape which lay over the back of a chair. "Afterall, I believe `She' is right! It will do us good to have a scamper,and the unpacking can wait until the light goes." She peered discreetlythrough the window, and held up a detaining hand. "Wait a moment untilthe `Brither' has turned back towards the village. Then we'll sally outof the door and meet him face to face."

  Ron picked up his grey cap,--a coat he disdained, though he also was farfrom warm,--and followed his sister into the bare entrance-hall, withits pungent mingling of odours. From the back of the house could beheard the jangling of milk-pails, and a feminine voice raised in shrillinvective; but no one was in sight, and the conspirators emerged unseenfrom the door of the inn, and turned to the left, endeavouring somewhatunsuccessfully to appear unconscious of the approaching figure.

  "Good afternoon! Good afternoon!" cried the stranger, in a full genialvoice.

  "Good afternoon!" cried the confederates, in eager response; then theypassed by, and were conscious, by the cessation of the crunchingfootsteps, that the "Brither" had halted to look after them as theywent.

  "He likes our looks! He is going to be friendly... I don't wonder!"soliloquised Margot, looking with fond eyes at the tall figure of theyouth by her side; at the clean-cut, sensitive face beneath thedeerstalker cap.

  "He was pleased to see us. All men admire Margot," said Ron to himself,noting with an artist's appreciation the picture made by the gracefulfigure of the girl, with her vivid, healthful colouring, the little capset jauntily on her chestnut locks, the breeze showing glimpses of thebright tartan lining of her cloak.

  Starting under such promising auspices, brother and sister merrilycontinued their way along the winding road which skirted the border ofthe tarn. Fresh from London smoke and grime, the clear mountain airtasted almost incredibly pure and fresh. One wanted to open the mouthwide and drink it in in deep gulps; to send it down to the poor cloggedlungs,--most marvellous and reviving of tonics!

  "It makes me feel--_clean_!" gasped Margot, at the end of a deeprespiration, and Ron's eyes lighted with the inward glow which showedthat imagination was perfecting the idea.

  Margot loved to watch the lad at moments like these, when he strodealong, forgetful of her presence, oblivious of everything but his ownthoughts; his face set, save for those glowing eyes, and now and then aninvoluntary twitch of the lips. In her own poor way she could grasp thetrend of his mind, could toil after him as he flew.

  That word "clean" had suggested wonderful thoughts. God's wind, blowingfresh over the ageless hills, untainted by the soil of the city; thewind of the moorland and the heights! Must not a man's soul perforce beclean who lived alone in the solitude with God? Dare he remain alone inthat awful companionship with a taint upon his life?...

  Ronald dreamt, and Margot pondered, making no excuses for the silencewhich is a sign of truest understanding, until the scattered villagecame in sight, and curiosity awakened once more.

  "Why did they have two churches, I wonder? There can't be enough peopleto fill even one, and every one is Presbyterian in the Highlands. Whydon't they all meet together?" cried Margot, in her ignorance.

  At the door of the outlying cottages the fair-haired matrons stood tostare at the new arrivals. They all seemed fresh and rosy, and of anexquisite cleanliness; they each bore a linty-haired infant in theirarms, or held by the hand a toddling mite of two or three summers; butthey made no sign of welcome, and, when Margot smiled and nodded in herfriendly fashion, either retreated hastily into the shadow, or respondedin a manner painfully suggestive of Mrs McNab's contortion. Then camethe scattered shops; the baker's, the draper's, (fancy being condemnedto purchase your whole wardrobe in that dreary little cell!) the grocerand general emporium in the middle of the row; last of all, the postoffice and stationer's shop combined.

  Brother and sister cast a swift glance down the road, but there was nomale figure in sight which could by any possibility belong to a visitorfrom the South.

  "You go in, and I'll mount guard at the door. Buy some postcards tosend home!" suggested Ron; and, nothing loath, Margot entered the littleshop, glancing round with a curious air. There was no other customerbut herself; but a queer little figure of a man stood behind thecounter, sorting packets of stationery. He turned his head at herapproach, and displayed a face thickly powdered with freckles ofextraordinary size and darkness. Margot was irresistibly reminded of anadvertisement of "The Spotted Man," which she had once seen in atravelling circus, and had some ado to restrain a start of surprise.The eyes looking out between the hairless lids, looked like nothing somuch as a pair of larger and more animated freckles, and the hair was ofthe same washed--out brown. Whether the curious-looking specimen wasfourteen or forty was at first sight a problem to decide, but a closerinspection proved the latter age to be the more likely, and when Margotsmiled and wished him a cheery good afternoon, he responded with unusualcordiality for an inhabitant of the glen.

  "Good efternoun to ye, mem! What may ye be seeking, the day?"

  Margot took refuge in the picture postcards, which afforded a goodexcuse for deliberation. The great object was to dally in the postoffice as long as possible, in the hope of meeting the real Mr Elgood;and to this end she turned over several packets of views, making thewhile many inquiries; and the spotted man was delighted to expatiate onthe beauties of his native land, the more so, as, presumably, it was notoften that so lavish a purchaser came his way.

  They were in the middle of the fourth packet of views, and the selectedpile of cards had reached quite a formidable height, when a familiarwhistle from the doorway started Margot into vivid attention, and aminute later a tall dark man stepped hastily into the shop.

  What a marvellous thing is family likeness! In height, in complexion,and feature alike this man appeared diametrically the opposite of thestout little person encountered outside the inn; yet in his thin,cadaverous face there was an intangible something which marked him outas a child of the same parents. The brother on whom Margot was nowgazing was considerably the younger of the two, and might have beenhandsome, giv
en a trifle more flesh and animation. As it was, he lookedgaunt and livid, and his shoulders were rounded, as with much stoopingover a scholar's desk.

  "A fine big bundle for ye the day, Mister Elgood! I'm thinking thewhole of London is coming down upon ye," the postmaster declaredaffably, as he handed over a formidable packet of letters. Envelopeswhite and envelopes blue, long manuscript envelopes, which Margotrecognised with a reminiscent pang; rolled-up bundles of papers. Thestranger took them over with a thin hand, thrust them into the pocketsof his coat, with a muttered word of acknowledgment, and turned back tothe door.

  Now for the first time Margot stood directly in his path, and waitedwith a thrill of curiosity and excitement to see whether he would echohis brother's welcome. In this Highland glen the ordinary forms andceremonies of society were hopelessly out of place, and it seemed as ifperforce there must be an atmosphere of _camaraderie_ between the fewvisitors whom Fate had thrown together in the spirit of holiday-making.

  Margot's prettiest smile and bow were in waiting to greet the faintestflicker of animation on the grave, dark face, but it did not come. MrElgood's deep-set eyes stared at her with an unseeing gaze--stared as itwere straight through her, without being conscious of her presence. Shemight have been a chair, a table, a post of wood by the wayside, for allthe notice bestowed upon her by the man whose favour she had travelledsome hundreds of miles to obtain.

  Another moment and he had left the shop, leaving Margot to draw out herpurse and pay for her purchases in a tingling of pique anddisappointment.

  "That gentleman will be staying up at the Nag's Head with yourself,"vouchsafed the spotted postmaster affably. "A fine gentleman--a ferryfine gentleman! They say he will be a ferry great man up in London. Isuppose you will be hearing of his name?"

  Margot's response was somewhat depressed in tone.

  "Yes. She had heard of Mr Elgood... She would take four, not five,postcards of the Nag's Head. No; there was nothing else she wasneeding. The two penny packets of notepaper were certainly very cheap,the coloured tints and scalloped borders quite wonderful to behold; butshe did not require any to-day, thank you. Perhaps another time. Goodmorning!"

  Outside in the road Ronald was pacing up and down, twirling his stick,and looking bright and animated. He came hurrying back to meet Margot,hardly waiting to reach her side before breaking into speech.

  "Well--well! You saw him? Did you notice the shape of his head? Youcan see it all in his face--the force and the insight, the imagination.The face of a scholar, and the body of a sportsman, A magnificentcombination! Did you notice his walk?"

  "Oh, I noticed him well enough. I noticed all there was to see. I haveno complaints to make about his appearance."

  "What have you to complain of then? What has gone wrong?"

  "He never noticed me!"

  Ron laughed; a loud boyish laugh of amusement!

  "Poor old Margot! That was it, was it? An unforgivable offence. Helives up in the clouds, my dear; compared with him, you and I aremiserable little earth-worms crawling about the ground. It will takesome time before he is even aware of our presence. We will have to makefriends with the brother, and trust by degrees to make him conscious ofour existence. It's worth waiting for!"

  Ronald was plainly afire with enthusiastic admiration of his hero; butfor once Margot refused to be infected.

  "I'm not a worm!" she murmured resentfully. "Worm, indeed! I'm everybit as good as he!"

  For twenty yards she walked on in silence, tilting her chin in petulantscorn. Then--

  "Do you remember the old story of Johnny-head-in-air, Ron?" she askedmischievously. "He had a fall. A fall and a dousing! If he isn't verycareful, the same sad fate may await your wonderful Mr Elgood!"