Big Game: A Story for Girls

by Mrs. George de Horne Vaizey

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

  RASPBERRY-PICKING.

  Margot awoke the next morning with the pleasant feeling that somethingwas going to happen, and as she dressed, curiosity added an additionalsavour to the anticipation. What would happen? How would the Chieftainset to work? Would the Editor consider himself a victim, or yieldreadily to the temptation? Certainly he had so far manifested noanxiety to enjoy her society, had, indeed, seemed to avoid her at allpoints; and yet, and yet-- Margot possessed her full share of a woman'sdivination, and, despite appearances, the inward conviction lingeredthat if the first natural shyness could be overcome, he would soonbecome reconciled to her companionship, and might even--she blushed ather own audacity!--_enjoy_ the change from his usual solitude.

  Like a true daughter of Eve, Margot did her best to help on this happy_denouement_ by taking special pains with her toilette, putting on oneof her prettiest washing frocks, and coiling her chestnut locks in themost becoming fashion, and the consciousness of looking her best senther down to breakfast in the happiest of spirits.

  Other countries may carry off the palm for the cooking of the moreelaborate meals of the day, but surely no breakfast can touch thatserved in a well-ordered Scottish household. The smoothly boiledporridge, with its accompaniment of thick yellow cream; the new-laideggs; the grilled trout, fresh from the stream; the freshly baked "baps"and "scones," the crisp rolls of oatcake; and last, but not least, thedelectable, home-made marmalade, which is as much a part of the meal asthe coffee itself. He must be difficult to please who does notappreciate such a meal as Mrs McNab served each morning to her guestsin the dining-room of the Nag's Head!

  It was when Margot had reached the marmalade stage, and George Elgood, apersistent late-comer, was setting to work on his ham and eggs, that theChieftain fired the first gun of the assault.

  "When are you going to invite us all to come up and have tea with you inyour fairy dell, George?" he demanded suddenly. "What do you think ofthis fellow, Mrs Macalister, finding a veritable little heaven below,and keeping it to himself all this time? There's an easy ascent by thehead of the glen for those who object to the steeper climb; there'sshade, and water and everything that the most exacting person could wantfor an ideal picnic. To be in the country on a day like this, and notto go for a picnic seems to me a deliberate waste of opportunity, Whatabout this afternoon, eh? That will suit you as well as any other time,I presume?"

  To say that the Editor appeared surprised by this sudden threatening ofhis solitude, would be to state the case too mildly. He lookedabsolutely stunned with astonishment, and his predicament was all themore enhanced by the fact that already murmurs of assent andanticipation welcomed the idea from his neighbours to right and to left.He stared incredulously into his brother's face, wrinkled his brow, andstammered out a laboured excuse.

  "I'm afraid I-- The dell is in no sense my property--No doubt it wouldmake a capital site for a picnic, but I--I have no right to pose ashost!"

  "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 thebeauties you have kept to yourself so long. Yes, and to catch sometrout for us, too! What do you say to that, Mrs Macalister? How doesfreshly grilled trout strike you as an accessory to a picnic? We'llhave 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 thefeast. We'll leave George to manage that, as he knows how to get roundher; only do the thing well when you are about it; that's all I have tosay! We shall bring rattling big appetites, shan't we, Miss Vane?"

  Margot's glance passed by his to dwell with remorseful commiseration onthe Editor's perturbed face. This was her own doing; a directconsequence of her appeal of the day before! The expression of thebrown eyes was wonderfully eloquent, and meeting them the Editorbestirred himself to smile back a grateful recognition. By this time,however, the murmur had grown into definite speech; Mrs Macalister wasstating at length her life's experience as to picnics, and laying downthe law as to what was necessary for their success; the clergyman andhis son were debating how to reach the dell from the farthest point ofthe day's expedition; Mr Macalister was slowly repeating--

  "Trout! Grilled trout! It's a strange-like idea to have fish at apicnic!"

  It was plainly too late in the day for the Editor to refuse aninvitation which had already been practically accepted! With a bettergrace than might have been expected he resigned himself to his fate, andthe smile which he sent round the table was very charming in its shycordiality.

  "I shall be delighted if you will honour me by coming so far; and nodoubt 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 overtea, and ramble about afterwards," said the Chieftain firmly; and therebeing no dissent from this amendment, the Editor nodded assent, and,gathering his papers in his hand, hurried out of the room.

  Margot followed on the first opportunity. She felt the eyes of theChieftain fixed on her face from across the room, and could imagine thetwinkle of humorous meaning with which they would be alight but she felttoo self-conscious and ill at ease to respond. Like a frightened littlerabbit she scuttled upstairs to her own room and remained there, busyingherself with odd pieces of work until the inmates of the inn had takenthemselves off for their morning's excursions, and quiet reignedthroughout the house. Then, and not till then, she opened her door andpeered cautiously at that other door across the landing. It was closelyshut, and taking for granted that within its portals the bewilderedscholar was making the most of his free hours, Margot crept quietly downthe staircase, and turned to the right towards the kitchen. It occurredto her that she might be able to help Mrs McNab in her preparations forthe afternoon, and by doing so relieve the pangs of her own conscience.All this work, and worry, and bewilderment, on her account--as aresponse to her appeal! She blushed guiltily, hardly knowing whether tofeel more gratified or annoyed with the Chieftain for so speedy ademonstration of his power; dreading the moment when they should meetagain, and she must perforce brave the mischievous messages of his eyes.

  The kitchen door was closely shut. Mrs McNab was too capable ahousewife to allow the noise and odour of culinary preparations toinvade the rest of the house; but by this time Margot was sure of herwelcome, for scarcely a day had passed by that she had not offered herservices, and been condescendingly permitted to shell peas, stone fruit,or whip up snowy masses of cream. Mrs McNab always accorded permissionwith the air of an empress conferring an order upon some humblesuppliant, but none the less Margot felt assured that she appreciatedthe help, and would have missed it, had it not been forthcoming.

  This morning she tapped on the door, opened it, and thrust her headround the corner, to behold a tableau which remained fixed irrevocablyin heart and memory. In the middle of the floor stood the mistress ofthe inn, arms akimbo, engaged in laying down the law in characteristic,downright fashion to some one who sat perched upon the dresser withhands thrust deep into knickerbocker pockets, and feet in rough climbingboots swinging nonchalantly to and fro; some one with a bright, almostboyish face alight with fun, laughter, and defiance.

  For the second time Margot beheld the real George Elgood denuded of hismask of shyness and reserve, and thrilled at the recognition. Thissunny, stone-flagged kitchen seemed fated to be the scene of unexpectedmeetings! She would have retreated in haste, but at the sound of herentrance Mr Elgood jumped hastily to the floor, and Mrs McNabauthoritatively waved her forward.

  "Here she is to speak for herself! Come yer ways, Miss Vane. I wassaying to Mr Elgood that maybe he'd listen to your advice, as he willnatak' mine. You're a leddy, and ken how such things should be done, andif there's any call to waste the morning, and run into daft-likeexpense, when everything a reasonable body need want is lying ready tohand--"

  Margot looked from one to the other in bewilderment, her spirits
risingwith the discovery that for the first time in their short acquaintancethe Editor met her glance with an expression of relief rather than ofdread. 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 beenspeaking to Ron himself.

  "I don't know in the least what I am giving an opinion about--but I amnot 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, MrsMcNab, but I must be honest. Perhaps I may feel differently when I knowwhat I am talking about."

  "Your picnic!" cried Mrs McNab.

  "My picnic!" corrected the Editor. "I never gave a picnic before, andI'm weighed down by responsibility. My brother refuses to help me, andMrs McNab is a Spartan, and nips my suggestions in the bud. She thinkswe ought to be satisfied with bread and butter; I want cakes and fruit;I want her to bake, and she says she has no time to bake; I want to sendover to Rew on the chance of getting strawberries; she says she has noone to send. If you agree with me, Miss Vane, perhaps she will maketime; I know by experience that she is always better than her word!"

  Mrs McNab sniffed ironically.

  "There's scones for ye, and good fresh butter--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 Thursdaymorning than waste my time messing over things that aren't needed."

  Mr Elgood leant against the dresser, and surveyed her more in sorrowthan in anger.

  "Now what have you to do?" he demanded. "It's absurd to pretend thatthere is anything to clean, because you never give a thing a chance tobecome dirty. There is cold meat for lunch, as you yourself informedme, so there's no cooking on hand. This house goes by machinery, withElspeth to stoke up the motive power. What can be left for you? Ican't think of a single thing."

  "Maybe not. A man-body never kens what goes on under his nose, thoughhe'd be keen enough to find out if anything went wrong. It's the day Iclean my candlesticks and brasses. They don't go on shining bythemselves, whatever ye may think."

  "Candlesticks and brasses!" George Elgood repeated the words withgloomy emphasis, fixing the speaker with reproachful eyes."Candlesticks and brasses! And you put such things as those before_me_, and the first--one of the first, favours I have ever asked! ... Abig plum cake, with almonds at the top, and a round of shortbread; itseems to me a most moderate request. There's not a soul in the inn whowill notice a shade of extra polish on the candlesticks to-night, butthey will all bear me a lifelong grudge if I don't give them enough toeat. Have you ever been to a picnic where you were expected to besatisfied with bread and butter, Miss Vane?"

  Margot's shake of the head was tragic in its solemnity.

  "Never! and I don't intend to begin. I know where we can get somefruit, at any rate, for I heard the woman at the grocer's shop sayingthat she had raspberries to sell. That is far easier than sending overto Rew, and I'd be delighted to take a basket and bring back all I canget. While Mrs McNab makes the cakes!"

  Mrs McNab sniffed again, but vouchsafed no further answer. MrElgood's face brightened, and he cried eagerly--

  "That is kind of you! Raspberries are very nearly as good asstrawberries, and it would be splendid to get them so near at hand. I--er--" he frowned, with a momentary return to his old embarrassment--"Iwill come too, and carry the basket, for we must hope to have a fairlyheavy load."

  Margot could hardly believe in the reality of this sudden change ofposition, as she set out for the village ten minutes later, with GeorgeElgood by her side. He carried the basket lent by Mrs McNab, and swungalong with big easy strides, while she trotted by his side, a prettygirlish figure in her cool white frock. It was left to her to do thegreatest share of the talking; but one reassuring fact was quicklydiscovered, namely, that her companion's shyness seemed to consistmainly in the dread of breaking strange ground, for once the firstplunge over he showed none of the expected embarrassment or distress.If he could not be called talkative, he was at least an appreciativelistener; not a single point of her conversation missed its due share ofinterest; while his deep, quiet laugh proved an incentive to freshflights of fancy. For a whole ten days had Margot been waiting for heropportunity, and now that it had come she was keen to turn it to thebest possible advantage. Had the Chieftain been at hand to watch herwith his quizzical glance, she might have been tongue-tied and ill atease; even Ronald's presence would have brought with it a feeling ofself-consciousness; but in the kindly solitude of the mountain road shecould be herself, without thought of any one but her companion.Remembering the warning which she had received, she kept theconversation on strictly impersonal topics, avoiding even the mention ofRon's name, but never had ordinary topics seemed so interesting, or theway to the village so extraordinarily quickly traversed!

  Inside the fusty grocer's shop the good Mrs Forsyth manifested none ofa Southerner's delight at the advent of a customer for her superfluousfruit; she appeared, indeed, to receive Margot's first inquiry in asomewhat flisty and off-hand manner, as though advantage were beingtaken of a careless word, which she had not expected to have taken inserious earnest. George Elgood, distinctly rebuffed, mutteredunintelligible words of apology, but already Margot was beginning tounderstand the dour Northern manner, and pressed the attack withundiminished eagerness. Thus coerced, Mrs Forsyth was forced toacknowledge that she wouldna deny that she had raspberries in thegarden; and that it seemed a pity they should waste, as she hadna thetime to "presarve." There was no telling--maybe when the children camehame from school in the afternoon they wouldna be above picking abasketful, and taking it down to the inn.

  "But we want them now! We want as many as you can possibly spare, butwe must have them to take back with us now!"

  "And who's to pick them for ye, I would ask?" demanded Mrs Forsyth withscathing directness. "I've the shop to mind, and the dinner to cook;it's not likely I can be out picking fruit at the same time, and there'snot anither soul in the house forbye mysel! I'm thinking you'll have towait, or do without!"

  "We could pick them ourselves!" pleaded the Editor eagerly. "You wouldhave no trouble except to measure the fruit after it is gathered, andtell us what we owe! I don't care how much I pay. I want some fruitthis morning, and if I can't get it from you I shall have to drive overto Rew. That would cost five or six shillings for the trap alone, soyou see I shall get off well, even if you charge me twice the usualprice."

  But here again the benighted Southerner found himself brought up sharplyagainst an unexpected phase of Scottish character, for Mrs Forsyth wasdistinctly on her high horse at the thought of being offered more thanher due. She had her price; a fair-like price, she informed himloftily, and she stuck to it. She wasna the woman to make differencesbetween one person and anither. Justice was justice, and she would liketo meet the man who could say she had ever stooped to accept a bribe.

  So on and so on, while once again George Elgood hung his head abashed,and glanced in distress at his companion. In the delight afforded bythat appeal Margot felt equal to dealing with ten Mrs Forsyths, eachequally unreasonable and "kamstary."

  "We will leave the price to you; we will leave everything to you!" shecried gaily. "I know it's asking a great deal to be allowed to comeinto your garden and pick for ourselves, but we are rather in adifficulty, for this gentleman is giving a picnic this afternoon, andMrs McNab has no fruit to give us. It would be a favour not only tous, but to the whole party if you would say Yes. _Please_!"

  The way in which Margot said "Please!" with head on one side, andupraised, beseeching _eyes_, was one of the most fatal of herblandishments. Even the redoubtable Mrs McNab had succumbed at thesight, and in her turn Mrs Forsyth also was overcome. She made nofurther objections, but led the way through the house into a longstretch of vegetable garden, the end portio
n of which was thicklyplanted with raspberry bushes.

  "Help yourself!" she said briefly. "You're welcome to all that's fit toeat."

  So the two who had been strangers, and had suddenly developed into akind of partnership of aim, set to work to fill the basket, which forbetter convenience was slung over a branch of one of the bushes.

  The sun shone down on them; the life-giving breeze blew round them; theywere alone together among the flowers and the scented herbs. Theyworked side by side, laughing over their efforts, comparing theirtakings, gloating over the quickly-filling basket like a couple ofchildren recognising each other as playmates, and disdaining theordinary preliminaries of acquaintanceship.

  "It's so kind of you to help me!" said the man.

  "It's so kind of you to let me!" returned the maid.

  "I--I have noticed that you seem always to be helping people."

  "I didn't think you noticed anything at all!"

  He had not intended to say so much. She did not stop to consider whatshe was implying. Both blushed, relapsed into silence, and picked fruitassiduously for several moments, before beginning again--

  "I am afraid this picnic will be a great bore to you."

  "Indeed, I think it is going to be a pleasure. I should have thought ofit before, but that sort of thing does not come easily to me. I havelived too much alone!"

  "You have your work--you have been absorbed in your work."

  "Have I? I'm afraid that is not altogether true!"

  Margot glanced up surprised, met the dark eyes fixed full upon her, andlooked hurriedly away.

  "I have been finding it increasingly difficult to be absorbed," hecontinued dreamily. "I have heard you all laughing and talking togetherdownstairs, and my thoughts have wandered. Once you sang... Do youremember that wet afternoon when you sang? I did not seem able to writeat all that afternoon."

  The basket was full of fruit by now; Margot lifted it by one handle;George Elgood lifted it by the other. They walked down the sunlitgarden into the house.