“Oh,” he said in an off-hand manner which did not hide deep anxiety, “she’s probably gone to ground in one of these cars, I expect. We’ll just have a look in case.”
After the excitement and distress which she had caused, It was a little tactless of Virginia, Kate thought, to he discovered lolling at ease on the beautiful pale grey upholstery of a large Daimler whose owner had left one door slightly open. But in face of Henry’s relief she did not say anything.
“Pretty clever of her, you know, Kate!”
“Oh, very,” said Kate dryly. “You’ll notice that she has picked the best-looking car of the lot, too. It isn’t the only one with an open door. She could quite well have got into that Ford shooting-brake, but she is evidently Daimler-minded.”
Henry chuckled. “She’d have got into a Rolls if there’d been one,” he said with pride. “But she’s really frightened, Kate. Look at her, she’s shivering like anything.”
Violent tremors were agitating all Virginia’s hairs, and she flatly refused to leave her haven. ‘Drag me out if you like,’ her flattened ears and lustrous eyes said, ‘but short of brute force I will not come.’
As another shot and its attendant yells told that a second heat had begun, Virginia cowered down among the rugs and trembled more than ever.
“We’d better leave her here for a bit,” said Henry. “I’ll come and get her before the car goes away.” He shut the door as he spoke.
Between the two evils of having Virginia found there by an indignant car-owner, and the certainty that she would be greeted with rage on the running track, Kate hesitated, but only for a moment. Then she decided that it would be easier to pacify one person than a multitude, and allowed Henry to shut his treasure into the Daimler.
“And now,” he said, quite satisfied with this arrangement, “we’ll go and look at the sheep.”
From the catalogue there appeared to be a bewildering number of entries, and Kate soon gave up trying to distinguish between a ‘Fed Cheviot Gimmer’ and a ‘Hill Cheviot Gimmer’; or a ‘Half-bred Young Ewe’ and a ‘Half-bred Ewe Lamb.’ It was a relief to see the black-faced sheep, with their horns and jetty plush faces. She and Henry wandered from pen to pen, looking at the Cheviots, dipped pale buff or primrose, their broad flat backs each adorned by a ticket with a number, or the coloured placards which proclaimed that their bearers had won a prize. She was trying to think what ‘Family of half-bred Ewe, Gimmer and Ewe Lamb, unfed, clipped bare and buisted’ might mean, when Henry said: “Robin’s shepherd has won a First for a pair of hirsel half bred sheep. Look, number a hundred and fourteen, with a red label.” And in the same breath: “Here’s Father! I thought he’d still be up at Pennymuir.”
“Hullo,” said Andrew cheerfully. “Admiring the Pennymuir exhibits? Kate, have you been to look at the vegetables yet?”
Kate gave a guilty start. “No! I’d forgotten all about them. Where are they?”
“In the dirtier of the two marquees. I think the leeks might interest you,” said Andrew with a look of devilish amusement, which showed plainly the source of Henry’s wicked glances.
Henry was charmed at the prospect of further sightseeing with his father as an addition to the party, and lost no time in herding them to the marquee.
“Oughtn’t you to go and find Lucy?” asked Kate, as they were swept into the stuffy heat of the interior.
“In a minute. I want to see your face when you see the leeks.”
“I say, Father! Kate!” Henry’s voice, as usual, dominating all other sounds. “Look here! Geordie’s done awfully well—George Pow, Soonhope Lodge, first and second for six leeks grown by exhibitor in his own garden!”
But Kate, who had just caught a glimpse of a lowering whiskered face which she rightly concluded to belong to the bereaved Barrie, had turned tail and fled from the tent without seeing anything but an array of knitted socks, intricate and beautiful in design, fearsome in colour, which had been contributed by members of the W.R.I.
“You craven!” Andrew, laughing openly, had forced his way out after her. “You might have commiserated with Barrie, at least, if you didn’t want to congratulate Geordie!”
Kate put her hand up to her flushed face as if she could stem the flood of guilty colour rising there. “One would be as bad as the other,” she protested. “Oh, don’t ever mention leeks to me again!”
4
“Well, Andrew, as you’re here, I hope you will drive us home.” Lucy spoke in her most gracious tones, and smiled at him. “Eleanor and I are quite worn out with all this—aren’t you longing for a cup of tea, Eleanor?”
“I should like several,” said Mrs. Heron, who looked remarkably cool and unwearied. “Dear me, Kate, how hot and untidy you are.”
“I know,” said Kate, who had been taken by the indefatigable Henry to watch a wrestling contest, and had only left because she feared that the wrestlers, whose trousers appeared to be supported on their stout forms by faith alone, might become even more undressed at any moment. “But I have really done the Show thoroughly, Mother. If you had been squired by Henry, you’d look every bit as hot as I do!”
“Father! One of them is wearing red flannel underfugs,” said Henry’s stentorian voice. “Long ones, right down to his ankles. You really ought to see ’em. They’re worth a look.”
“No, Henry, we’re going home now, in the car, said Lucy hastily.
Henry’s face became anguished, and Kate realized that he had suddenly remembered Virginia, still, presumably, immured in the Daimler.
“Oh, Mother! Can’t I walk? I’d much rather—”
“Nonsense, Henry. We are all going in the car, or we’ll be late for tea. Come along at once,” said his mother. Then, seeing the look on her youngest son’s face: “What’s the matter, dear? Don’t you feel well?”
It was an exceedingly awkward moment, and Kate felt full of sympathy for the wretched Henry, who, seeing that there was nothing for it but the truth, gulped miserably and stammered: “Well, you see, I’ve—I’ve got a little dog—”
“A dog?” cried Lucy in horror, as if he had claimed ownership of a black mamba. “Where did you find it? Leave it here and its owner will get it.”
“But you don’t understand, Mother. She’s mine.”
“She? Good Heavens, Henry, a bitch? You know perfectly well I won’t have the brute in the house!”
Henry bit his lip, but said nothing, and Kate was wondering if to champion what looked like a lost cause would only make matters worse, when Andrew unexpectedly intervened.
“Well, we can’t stand here arguing about the dog,” he said, his cool tones falling like rain on the general excitement and dismay. “Henry will have to bring it home with him, Lucy. We can decide there what’s to be done with it.”
“Where is the creature, then? You understand, Henry, that I am very angry with you, and that on no account will you be allowed to keep it,” said Lucy.
Henry, as near tears as any boy of fourteen may be, muttered unsteadily: “She’s in a car. That big Daimler over there.”
“Go and fetch it, then,” commanded his mother.
“No, Henry. Wait a bit,” said Andrew, rather pale. “I think if Kate doesn’t mind, she’d better go.”
“Why?” Lucy whirled round. “Why should Kate have to go tramping about on Henry’s errands? Let him go himself.” Then she looked over towards the car, beside which a tall grey-tweed clad figure was now standing, and where Andrew had paled, she flushed an unbecoming bright red. “Of course you would have to choose that car, of all cars!” she exclaimed in a stifled voice, so obviously upset that Kate was suddenly sorry for her. “Didn’t you know whose it was? It’s—it’s Colonel Fardell’s, and there he is—”
She turned away and walked quickly to the entrance, followed by Andrew, who looked miserably ashamed. Mrs. Heron gave Kate a quick meaning glance.
“Fetch the dog, Kate,” she said. “Henry, Anne has gone to the car already. You and I will walk quietly on and K
ate will catch us up.”
Henry, subdued by more than the fate which threatened his dog, nodded and went with her, and to Kate was left the unwelcome task of retrieving Virginia.
As she went slowly towards the Daimler, her mind revolved a dozen forms of apology and explanation which need not introduce her name; but when she reached the car, whose owner was still standing by the door gazing in astonishment at the strange dog asleep on his rug, she could think of nothing to say.
He turned, showing her a handsome stupid face which reminded her of a good-looking carp. There was little kindliness or humour about him, she thought; his most salient characteristic, unless his appearance belied it, was a dull obstinacy. But though his eyes held no warmth, he spoke civilly enough. “Your dog? Couldn’t think how he’d got into my car.”
“I must apologize,” said Kate in her best manner, which, seldom used, was usually effective. “She was so terrified by the men running and the shots that started them that she came here of her own accord and we, very impertinently, I’m afraid, left her here. I do hope you don’t mind very much. Her feet weren’t muddy, and she is perfectly clean otherwise. “
“Quite all right. Quite all right,” he answered, a faint light beginning to gleam in his fishy eyes. Kate might have been, as her mother said, hot and untidy to a woman’s glance, but most men would have found her attractive at that moment with her flushed cheeks and parted lips, and the short ends of wavy hair clinging to the edge of her small cap. “I’ve got a dog that’s gun-shy myself. A springer spaniel. Brute goes to ground as soon as he hears a shot fired. Found him in the box-bed in a shepherd’s kitchen one day. Don’t apologize. She’s doing no harm. Let her stay here.”
“Oh, thank you,” said Kate, trying not to dislike him, but suspecting that if Henry or any other mere boy had come on this errand, he would not have been either polite or good-natured. “But we’re going home now, and I’ve come to fetch her. It is really very kind of you not to be annoyed. We took an unwarrantable liberty.”
“Can I give you a lift? I’m goin’ home myself,” he said with heavy gallantry. “Perhaps I go your way?”
“No, you don’t,” answered Kate without thinking. “I go—er—west, you see.”
“So you know that my road’s to the east, do you? You have the advantage of me, my dear young lady, for I don’t know who you are.”
“No? Oh, well, it doesn’t matter,” Kate said wildly, knowing only too well that she had blundered. “‘We aren’t likely to meet again, you know.”
“I should consider that a very great pity if it were true. But this is a small place, you know, and neighbours are always meetin’. Won’t you tell me who you are?”
Kate had opened the car door and scooped the somnolent Virginia into her arms. “Yes. I’ll tell you, but you won’t like it a bit,” she said bluntly, forgetting to finesse. “I’m Kate Heron, a cousin of Andrew Lockhart’s. And I’m staying at Soonhope. I need hardly say that of course I didn’t realize that this car belonged to you. Good-bye.” She sped away, leaving behind her a most disgruntled and astonished Colonel.
The car-load which was borne hack through the town to Soonhope was equally disgruntled, the pleasure of the day spoiled for all of them. Packed closely together, Mrs. Heron and Lucy in front with Andrew, Henry seated between Kate and Anne in speechless misery which threatened to turn to shameful weeping every time Virginia licked his hot cheek, they drove and were driven in absolute silence. On reaching home, Andrew took complete command of the situation with a firmness that impressed Kate.
“Henry, you are to stay in the car with your dog just now,” he said. “Until we have decided what is to be done. Your mother and I will talk it over in the parlour.”
Lucy’s face was still patched with the ugly red that betokened anger and distress. “There is nothing to talk over, Andrew. I won’t have the dog in the house, and Henry knows it quite well.”
“Mother, how can you be such a beast?” This violent cry came, most unexpectedly, from Anne, who, Kate had always imagined, was strongly pro-Lucy. “Let him his dog, and be thankful he doesn’t want a motor-bike to break his neck on!”
“Don’t interfere, Anne. This is nothing to do with you,” said her father abruptly. “Henry, stay where you are. Now, Lucy, if you’re ready?”
And Lucy, without another word of protest, though her rigidly held head gave little hope of yielding, walked into the hall in front of him. The group standing by the car heard the parlour door shut, and still they said nothing. It did not seem fair to offer hope to Henry, sitting in a heap with his thin arms clutching Virginia to the point of suffocation; and the sharp tones of Cousin Charlotte, who appeared at that moment, struck on their ears almost as a relief.
“Well, what are you all doing, standing here like mutes at a funeral? And what has That Boy got? A dog? It will give him fleas. All dogs have fleas.”
Anne, with a sound of suppressed fury, turned and rushed past her aged relative and upstairs like a whirlwind. “Dear me. Has Anne caught a flea already?” was Cousin Charlotte’s acid comment. “Well, something must have happened, I can see that, and you may as well tell me what it is. Eleanor?”
“It’s rather unfortunate, Cousin Charlotte,” said Mrs. Heron. “But the dog belongs to Henry, and Lucy doesn’t wish him to keep it.”
“What a fool the woman is,” said Cousin Charlotte dispassionately. “Why shouldn’t the boy have his dog? They are both dirty animals by nature, and therefore admirable companions.”
“Virginia isn’t dirty,” said Henry with a snuffle, and bending his head, he wiped his nose surreptitiously on Virginia’s back. “And she hasn’t got any fleas.”
“Can’t be healthy, then,” said Cousin Charlotte at once. “But if the creature hasn’t got fleas—which I don’t believe for one moment—what objection can Lucy possibly have to it?”
“Oh, I don’t know—” said Mrs. Heron with a distraught look at the parlour window close beside them. “And I really think we might talk of something else. Lucy and Andrew are in the parlour, discussing what is to become of the dog, and—”
“It you’re afraid that Lucy heard me call her a fool, Eleanor, you need not worry. Lucy must know my opinion of her by this time.”
Kate had an inspiration. “Cousin Charlotte, we’re simply parched with thirst,” she said. “And I saw Nina carrying the tea-tray into the billiard-room. Come and pour out for mother and me. Our need is urgent.”
“Anything to get away from the parlour window, eh? Well, come along. You can tell me about the Show,” said Cousin Charlotte. Kate and her mother drew deep breaths of relief, but they had not yet succeeded in inveigling Miss Napier from where she stood, her elastic-sided boots firmly planted on the gravel. “What about That Boy? Is he to have no tea?” she demanded, pointing a bony finger at the wretched figure in the car.
“Oh, he’ll have his presently. We needn’t wait for him,” Kate said hastily.
“Humph! Waiting to hear the verdict, I suppose? He needn’t suppose that his father will be able to get permission for him to keep his flea-ridden dog. Lucy never did listen to Andrew, and if I know her, the mere fact that he asks her to do a thing will make her do the opposite, especially now. Oh, you needn’t look so suffering, Eleanor. If you were in the habit of speaking the truth as I am, you would say the same.”
“Thank Heaven she doesn’t,” said Kate, losing her patience suddenly. “Truth, when it is carelessly used, as you do, Cousin Charlotte, is quite the most unpleasant thing in the world. Mother, you and I will go and have tea. Cousin Charlotte won’t be able to flaunt her opinions or speak the truth if we aren’t there to be horrified.”
“Kate! Dear!” said poor Mrs. Heron faintly, appalled by this outspokenness. “How very rude!”
“Impertinent minx,” said Cousin Charlotte. “Give your arm to the billiard-room.”
In the parlour Andrew Lockhart looked at his wife with a faint smile. “Cousin Charlotte evidently hasn’t much opin
ion of my powers of persuasion.”
“You mean, she hasn’t any opinion whatever of me, and never has had,” retorted Lucy quickly. She was fidgeting with a glass ash-tray on a small table, and that her hand was trembling could be heard plainly. “But I really don’t mind what she thinks. And I will not have that dog in the house. Henry must get rid of it immediately.”
“Suppose he kept the poor little brute in the stable?”
“That’s begging the question, Andrew. I told Henry, when he asked me about a year ago if he might have a dog, that I wouldn’t allow it, and I have not changed my mind,” said Lucy. “He has disobeyed me deliberately, and you are encouraging him.”
There was a pause before Andrew answered her. He seemed to be considering how best to put what he had to say. “Does it never occur to you, Lucy,” he said at last, and though he spoke slowly, there was no hesitation in his voice, “that you are running a serious risk of losing the children’s affection by being so arbitrary? Henry isn’t a baby any longer. He is quite old enough to have a dog and to look after it himself to use the example nearest to hand—and it seems a very reasonable wish, in a place where the dog has plenty of room to run about. Every boy wants a pet, and a dog is by far the most satisfactory all round. If it had been white rats, now,” he added with a conciliatory smile, “I’d have been more inclined to back you up.”
“To back me up?” Lucy echoed bitterly. ‘“When have you ever ‘backed me up’? Have you forgotten that for the last four years you’ve left me to look alter the children alone? And now the first thing you do is to undermine my authority with Henry, and then threaten me with losing their affection!“
“That is not true, Lucy, and you know it,” said Andrew sternly. “I have never interfered in your dealings with the children, but in this case you are exercising tyranny, not authority. Let Henry have his dog. You’ll be very glad in the long run.”
“If you are so interested in the children now,” said Lucy obstinately, “I wonder that you didn’t think a little more about them four years ago.”
Yoked with a Lamb Page 16
