Strangers at the Abbey

by Elsie J. Oxenham

  Jen ran in to change and to tell Mrs. Shirley of her success, and Rykie turned to Joan.

  “She was jolly good; Jen, I mean. They clapped her like anything. Why doesn’t she always play for them?”

  “Because she’s such a keen country-dancer and she’s not supposed to do both. Her cricket’s very good, but her dancing is better; quite unusually fine,” Joan told her. “She bucks up any set she dances in. Coming to the Abbey, Joy?”

  “Yes, I want to talk. Come and sit by my rose window!”

  “I thought so.” Joan followed her and they left Rykie standing on the terrace.

  “If there’s one place Rykie doesn’t care about to-day, it’s the Abbey,” Joan remarked, as they went round to the sacristy. “She won’t follow us here.”

  “We don’t want her.” Joy settled herself on the broad ledge below the empty rose window. “I thought a lot up by the Cross, Joan.”

  “I thought a good deal myself. What did your thinking come to?”

  “Young Rykie is right. We’re wasting those jewels, and her precious Angus needs them. Just one of them might make his whole life different. We can’t be pigs and keep them all in a glass case.”

  “I’m sure that’s right. Then——?”

  “Sell one and use the cash to provide good lessons for the great Angus. But not to send Rykie to Hollywood.”

  “We think alike,” Joan agreed. “Good lessons may be the making of Angus, but Hollywood would be ruin to Rykie. I’d come to the same point. We ought to sell one stone; I’m glad you don’t object.”

  “I do! I object most strongly. It’s like having a tooth pulled out. But we must help that silly ass with his music. That’s a thing I don’t like; he is such an ass! It seems like rewarding him for trying to steal.”

  “I know.” Joan agreed again. “I wouldn’t give him the money on any account. But we can probably arrange for the lessons through the lawyer-trustee; we’ll say we want to help Angus with his career. Last night must be buried and forgotten. If he gets the music he wants so much, he may be quite different. In a year or two he’ll be bitterly ashamed of last night.”

  “You don’t think it would be better for him to go to jail and have time to think it over?” Joy’s serious pondering by the Cross had shown her many sides to their problem.

  “No,” Joan said decisively. “No, I don’t. It would harden him and he might turn into a regular criminal. He isn’t that yet; he’s merely a frustrated, unhappy lad, who feels desperate enough to do anything. If he is helped I believe he’ll make good.”

  “It’s only because of his music that I’ll agree to help him,” Joy said. “I know so well how he feels.”

  “Yes, you can sympathise. And I can understand Rykie. You were so miserable, and we wanted so much to help you, but we couldn’t find any way to do it. We must help them, Joy! Come and choose which stone shall be sacrificed. Then we’ll tell Rykie and arrange for it to be sold. Your lawyer will do it for us.”

  “Not an emerald!” Joy pleaded, as they hung over the case of jewels together. “They’re such a glorious colour!”

  “Nor a sapphire,” Joan added. “I’m keenest on them.”

  “A ruby,” Joy announced. “Just suppose we decided to use Jehane’s stones for jewellery some day, neither you nor I would want to wear rubies.”

  “We might want to give them away. But we needn’t consider that. There are several lovely rubies; I’m sure they would sell well.”

  Joy gloated over the jewels for a moment. Then she stood upright. “Let’s do the thing properly. That one, Joan!”

  “It’s a big one; a very fine stone,” Joan began. “Are you sure you’re willing to part with it?”

  “For Angus’s musical education. It ought to see him through; at least to a point where his teacher can tell if he’s going to be any good.”

  “Then we’ll decide on that one. It’s a beautiful stone, almost the biggest there is.”

  “We must keep the biggest one to show what Jehane could do in the way of jewels. She was a lucky girl,” Joy said. “But it’s a jolly fine stone.”

  Joan unlocked the case and took out the big ruby. “I expect Jehane was very proud of it.”

  “Warn Ann that you’ve taken it, or she’ll have forty fits,” Joy suggested.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  PLANS FOR ANGUS

  “Jen and Rykie, come to my room,” Joan said that evening.

  Puzzled and eager, they obeyed, Rykie anxious, Jen expectant and thrilled. Joy followed them and sat on the window-seat to listen.

  Joan sat down beside her. “Look, girls!”

  The ruby lay in her hand. Rykie stared at it and then raised incredulous eyes to Joan’s grave face.

  “Joan!” Jen whispered. “It’s almost the biggest one! Oh, Joan, you couldn’t mean that?”

  “You don’t need to be told what we mean,” Joan commented. “You know we have to do it. Rykie, we want to help Angus. We’re going to sell this stone and ask your guardian to arrange for the lessons he needs.”

  A sob broke from Jen. “Oh, Joan! Lady Jehane’s ruby!”

  “You couldn’t!” Rykie whispered. “You couldn’t be so kind! After last night——!”

  Burning colour rushed into her face. Suddenly she was on her knees beside Joan, crying her heart out.

  Joan raised her brows in surprise. “Oh, Rykie dear, there’s no need for that! We’re sorry for Angus and we want to help him. This is the only way to do it.” She patted Rykie’s shoulder gently.

  “But after what we did!” Rykie sobbed. “You ought to hate us! Oh, I do feel bad! I feel awful! I’ll do anything in the world you want! You ought to have us put in prison, and—and you’re giving us one of the best stones you’ve got! Oh, why are you like that?”

  “It’s almost the biggest ruby there is. I can tell you I wouldn’t do it,” Jen said gloomily. “Joy, they’re partly yours. Will you let Joan, Joy?”

  “Joy suggested it,” Joan said quietly. “I had thought of it too. And Joy chose this big stone.”

  Jen looked at Joy, wide-eyed. “I didn’t know you could be like that!”

  “We won’t waste time discussing my character!” Joy retorted. “Rykie, I suppose you can get hold of Angus? He’ll still be at the same address? Then tell him to stay there till we’ve arranged for his lessons. He mustn’t go off to sea again.”

  “The money will be for lessons,” Joan explained. “It won’t be given to Angus. We shall send it to your lawyer, who will find the teacher and make the arrangements. And the teacher must be someone of whom Joy approves; she knows all those musical people by name, or she can find out about them. Angus will have really good teaching, and we shall expect reports on his progress and on his future prospects. But he must support himself; we aren’t going to pay for him to loaf about and only practise when he feels like it. You said he could always find work.”

  “Oh, he can! He’ll have lessons and practise during the day and play with bands or orchestras at night. If he feels he’s getting somewhere he’ll work terribly hard.” Rykie looked up at Joan, her face tear-stained.

  “We aren’t going to pay for you to go to Hollywood,” Joy remarked. “We know that was your idea, but it isn’t ours.”

  “You were to blame for what happened last night,” Joan reminded Rykie gravely. “I know you helped us to save the jewels from Angus, but it was your fault he was there. You must have known he was silly and weak; you might have guessed what would happen when he saw the jewels. We aren’t giving you any of the money; we don’t feel you are ready for Hollywood.”

  “Not by a very long way,” Joy observed.

  Rykie’s head was bent again. “I care more about Angus. I’m terribly sorry for him. Please help him to get on! He won’t be—what you said—weak and silly if he feels somebody cares and is going to help. He’s felt he had to do it all alone, and he didn’t know how to start. If you’ll stand by him, he’ll be different. Please help him! It doesn’t m
atter about me.”

  “Oh, yes, it does! That’s the reason we won’t send you to America. If we didn’t care about you, we’d pack you off at once.”

  Rykie looked at her. Then she hid her face again. “I don’t see why you should care. You ought to loathe us all, after last night. You’re not only letting us off, but you’re going to help. If ever there’s anything I can do to show you how I thank you, I’ll do it and be glad.”

  “That’s a promise,” Joan said, gravely kind.

  “Would you like me to give up being Jaques?” Rykie asked unsteadily. “I know you thought I ought not to have the part. I—I’ll give it up, if it would please you.”

  Over her bent head Joan looked at Jen and then at Joy. Then she said, very gently, “Of course not, Rykie dear. Don’t be silly! That would be letting down the play and the school, terribly badly. You couldn’t give it up now. We want you to do us credit and be the best Jaques anyone can imagine. Go ahead and do your best, and never, never dream of letting anybody down as badly as that.”

  “Oh! I didn’t think of it that way. I wanted to do something to show you—you know! You’ve been so awfully decent to Angus and me.”

  “Make good at school and be a success as Jaques, and don’t say any more about Hollywood,” Joan told her. “It wouldn’t do for you at all until Belle has a settled home and can look after you properly.”

  “Oh!” Rykie coloured suddenly. “Oh, as to that!—but she told me not to say anything. I’ll go and write to Angus and tell him how terribly kind you are!” And she fled from the room.

  “Belle going to get engaged?” Joy raised her brows.

  “It sounds like it,” Joan agreed. “I hope Belle will be careful. She hasn’t had very long to get to know anyone out there.”

  “It might be somebody she knew before,” Jen suggested. “Rykie doesn’t tell us much about Belle.”

  “She does not! If Belle married, we’d have to let the kid go to her.”

  “I, for one, wouldn’t break my heart if the whole family went off to Hollywood,” Joy remarked.

  “Don’t you want to know if Angus makes good?” Joan asked.

  “Well, yes, I’d like to hear what happens to him. I wonder if he has any special teacher he’s keen on?”

  “I wonder what he’ll say when he hears about the big ruby.” Jen eyed the stone regretfully. “I do hate to think of Jehane’s jewels being broken into!”

  “We all feel like that,” Joan agreed. “Joy says it feels like having a tooth pulled out. But we really seem to have no choice, Jenny-Wren. Joy, I was surprised by Angus’s voice; he stopped at the gate and said he was sorry.”

  “Made excuses, you mean,” Jen growled.

  “Perhaps. But he did say he was sorry. His voice was very pleasant; I shouldn’t wonder if he can sing. It’s easier to believe he has music in him when I remember his voice.”

  “It wasn’t a scrap musical when he said he’d bag the lot!” Jen argued.

  “He was excited and he lost his head, as he said to us. And he knew he was doing wrong; he felt guilty and uncomfortable. He sounded quite different when he said he was sorry.”

  “I didn’t think he sounded a scrap nice, ever, any of the time,” Jen said coldly. “But I did notice his hands, when I was sitting on him,” she added. “They looked just right for playing a fiddle; long and thin, you know.”

  “I’d like to hear him play some day,” Joy admitted. “Perhaps when he’s famous and plays in the Albert Hall, we could go to listen to him.”

  “We certainly will, when that day comes,” Joan assured her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  REELS AND STRATHSPEYS

  As Joan placed chairs and rugs round the side lawn on Saturday afternoon, ready for Nesta’s party, she thought of Angus and the week’s developments.

  Joy had driven to town on Monday and had left the ruby with her lawyers, to be sold to the best advantage. The proceeds, slightly over a hundred pounds, had been handed to the “lawyer-trustee-guardian,” with instructions that Angus should be told of the gift and asked what plans he wished made for his musical education. Now his reply was awaited with interest by everybody.

  “I wonder what he’ll do,” Joan thought. “I know what I should want to do in his place, but it would be an ordeal and I don’t know that Angus has the pluck to face ordeals.—Somebody coming up the avenue—not one of the party—carrying a violin! Gracious! I believe he’s done it!”

  Suddenly full of sympathy, she ran to meet the stranger. “How jolly brave of you to come!” she cried, noting his white strained face. “I’m sure it was difficult!”

  “Yes.” Angus Reekie put down his violin. “But I had to come, Miss Shirley.”

  He looked tired, and she guessed that the effort had been exhausting and very great. “Come and sit down,” she said gently. “I’m so glad you came. And you brought your violin. You want us to hear you play, don’t you?”

  “It seems only fair,” Angus admitted. “I—Miss Shirley, I don’t know how to say it. You’ve been quite wonderful. I do thank you, and I’ll make good. But I’m so sorry; so terribly sorry. It was a ghastly thing to do. I’ll never forget what an ass I was.”

  “It was a foolish thing to do,” Joan agreed. “I’m glad you are sorry. You’ll never do anything like it again, will you?”

  “I will not!” he said fervently. “I’ll show you that I’m sorry. Are you the one who plays and composes?”

  “No, that’s my cousin Joy. I’ll call her; she’ll be so glad you’ve come. She’s really interested in your music; she’ll love to hear you play.”

  “I’ll call her.” Angus opened the case and took out his violin.

  While Joan watched, in eager delight, he began to play a Scottish reel. The music had a lilt which made it hard to keep still; Joan, trained in English country-dance tunes, recognised its quality at once.

  “Oh, lovely!” she cried. “It makes me want to dance! Our fiddler must hear you; she’ll be here presently——”

  “Who’s playing reels? Angus!” Rykie shrieked from a window just above them.

  Joy’s red head appeared at another window. “Who is it? Who’s the music?”

  “Come down, Joy. This is Angus Reekie.”

  Jen was first; she dashed out of the house and stood staring. “Gosh! I won’t jump on him again if he can play like that!”

  Angus reddened and put down his fiddle. “Was it you?”

  Jen came forward with immense dignity. “Introduce us, Joan!”

  Joan’s eyes danced. “Miss Jen Robins—Mr. Angus Reekie. I think you have met before.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Reekie.”

  “Is it really Angus?” Joy and Rykie arrived together in breathless haste.

  “He’s come to say he’s sorry! Oh, Angus, how jolly decent of you!” Rykie shouted. “I’m sure you didn’t want to come!”

  “No.” Angus faced Joy bravely. “But I couldn’t take that money till I’d told you how terribly sorry I am that I was such an ass.”

  “Ass is the right word,” Joy assented. “It was more mad than evil, wasn’t it? I’m glad you’ve come, and I’m jolly glad you’ve brought the fiddle. You can certainly play for dancing. Now play for me! Play the thing you like best in the world.”

  Angus took up the violin and began to play Dvorák’s “Humoresque.” The haunting beauty of the notes hushed the girls to silence.

  “You can play!” Joy said gravely, as he paused. “You must be helped. You’re too good for dance bands.”

  “There are things I like still better, but I’m not good enough for them,” Angus said wistfully.

  He played, very softly, the air from Beethoven’s Violin Concerto, with a loving touch that told of the true musician; and followed it with the theme from the Rondo, gay and eager.

  “Oh!” Joy said. “But you want the orchestra to accompany you for those.”

  “Yes, that’s what I want.” Angus played in the same way t
he themes from the Mendelssohn Concerto, and again Joy agreed.

  “You have it in you. We’ll help. I don’t feel so sore about that ruby now.”

  Angus’s face fell. “Did you care very much? As you’ve so many I hoped perhaps——”

  “We cared terribly much!” Jen cried. “Joy said it was like having a tooth pulled out!”

  “Oh, I say! I’m terribly sorry!”

  “If the tooth is going to help you to bring out your music, it will be worth it,” Joy retorted. “But you will work, won’t you? You should do well, if you’re in earnest; you’re so good already.”

  “I’ll work night and day, always at my hardest,” Angus vowed.

  “Then you’ll have a breakdown,” Joan remarked. “Don’t be foolish in the other direction! You’re a little unbalanced, aren’t you?”

  “He always has been,” said Rykie, in the background. “He wants things so terribly much, and especially music.”

  “Is there any particular teacher you would like?” Joy asked.

  Angus grew suddenly eager and radiant. “Could I go back to Glasgow? Then I could go to McAlistair.”

  “McAlistair? Who is he?”

  “A marvellous teacher. I’ve always wanted to go to him. I know a chap who learned from him and he couldn’t say enough about him.”

  “You’d find evening jobs at once in Glasgow, where folks know you,” Rykie put in. “You’d have to work up a fresh connection in London.”

  “Very true,” Joy agreed. “If there is a good enough teacher in Glasgow, that’s the place for you. I’ll find out; I know people who will make inquiries. If your McAlistair is any good, you shall certainly go—oh, gosh! Here’s our party arriving!”

  Joan took charge. “Joy, take him in to see Mother and to have some tea; Rykie, you go too. Jen, you and I will welcome the Club. When they’ve started dancing I’ll come in and leave them with the President as M.C.”

  “Couldn’t Angus play those dance tunes for them that he played for us? The Club would love them,” Jen pleaded.

  “Later, if he will. He and Rykie must come out and see our dancing,” Joan promised.