CHAPTER ELEVEN.
AN AWKWARD MEETING.
Being a prudent damsel, and wise in her day and generation, Margot setbefore herself the subjugation of Mrs McNab as her first duty inGlenaire. To this end she repaired to her bedroom after breakfast onthe morning after her arrival, made her bed, carefully put away everyarticle of clothing, and tidied the oddments on the dressing-table; wentthrough the same performance in Ron's little crib adjoining her own, andsailed downstairs in a glow of virtuous satisfaction.
Mrs McNab had apparently only one maid to help her to attend to hereight guests and to keep the inn in its present condition of immaculateorder and cleanliness, though a shaggy-headed man--presumably the masterof the house--could be seen through the staircase window, meeklybrushing boots, and cleaning knives in a corner of the flagged yard. Hehad a small, wizened face, to which the unkempt hair, tufted eyebrows,and straggling whiskers gave a strong resemblance to a Skye terrier dog.Margot watched him now and then for a minute or two as she passed upand down, and heard him speaking once or twice, but he "had the Gaelic,"and the sing-song voice and mysterious words sounded weirdly in herears. Sometimes, as he put the final polish on the boots, he wouldbreak into song,--a strange, tuneless song which quavered up and down,and ended on long-sustained notes. Once even she saw the slippered feetmove in jaunty dance-step to and fro, but at the sound of a clatter ofsaucepans from the kitchen close at hand he retired into his corner, andpolished with redoubled energy. Mrs McNab evidently kept her husbandin order, even as she did her house!
Elspeth, the maid, was a girl of eighteen or twenty, with a thin figureencased in a lavender print gown, and flaxen hair pulled so tightly backfrom her forehead that her eyebrows seemed to be permanently elevated bythe process. Her face shone from the effects of constant soaping, andwas absolutely void of expression. From morn till night she rushedbreathlessly from one duty to another, rated continuously by MrsMcNab's strident voice, with never so much as a bleat of protest. Whenwaiting at table, she snored loudly from nervousness, and the big redfist trembled as she carried the dishes to and fro, but her faceremained blankly expressionless as before. Margot smiled at herradiantly every time that they met, and mentally decided to bequeath toher half her own wardrobe before leaving the Glen. In comparison withsuch a lot of drudgery, her own life seemed inexcusably idle and self-indulgent!
It took a considerable amount of courage to beard in her own den a womanof whom the members of her own household stood in such evident awe, butthere was at least no nervousness apparent in Margot's manner as shetapped at the kitchen door at eleven o'clock that first morning, andthrust her pretty face round the opening to request permission to enter.Mrs McNab had descended from her work upstairs, and surely her heartmust be softened by the spectacle of those two immaculately tidy rooms!
"Mrs McNab, I'm cold! May I come in and warm myself by your fire?"
The mistress of the inn turned a stonily surprised face from the table,before which she stood chopping suet with a short-handled knife; she didnot suspend her work, but simply heightened her voice to make it heardabove the harsh, monotonous noise.
"Cold, are ye? Havers! It's a fine June day. There's no call for anyone to feel cold, if they don't sit about idling away their time. Puton yer cloak, and go a turn down the Glen!"
Margot suppressed a thrill of indignation at that accusation ofidleness. Had she not made two whole beds, and even stooped to pickstray pins off the carpet? She pushed the door open and walked boldlyforward.
"I'll go out as soon as I'm warm. If I caught a chill, I should give alot of trouble, and you have enough to do without fussing over me. Iknow you would be a good nurse, Mrs McNab--good housekeepers alwaysare. I know without being told that you have a cupboard chock full ofmedicines and mixtures, and plasters and liniments, and neat littlerolls of lint and oilskins. Is it this one?" She laid her hand on aclosed door, drawing the while nearer and nearer to the fire. "What aperfectly beautiful oak chest! That's genuine! One can see it at aglance. The lovely elbow-grease polish can never be imitated. Sodifferent from the faked-up, over-carved things glittering with varnishthat one sees so often nowadays. What a shame to keep it hidden away inthe kitchen!"
Mrs McNab pounded stolidly away at the suet.
"I dinna ken where the shame can be!" she responded drily. "It's my ownchest, and my mither's before me, and it's a pity if I mayna keep itwhere it pleases meself. There's no call that I know of to turn out mythings, so that ither folks can have the fun of staring at them!"
Mrs McNab's manner was certainly the reverse of gracious, but,remembering the momentary softening of the grim face which she hadwitnessed the night before, Margot was determined not to be easilydiscouraged. Having gone so far, one could not retreat withoutirrevocably burning one's boats. Now or never victory must be wrestedfrom the enemy!
With a charming little air of domesticity she seated herself upon thepolished fender-stool at the side of the open grate, catching up herskirt so that it should not be caught by the blaze, and smiling acrossthe room in her most confiding fashion.
"Please let me stay, Mrs McNab! It's such a lovely cosy kitchen, andmy brother is out, and I feel so lost! Couldn't I do something to help?Are those gooseberries in that basket? Do they need picking? I can'tcook, but I can pick gooseberries with any man living. Do let me! Yousaid I was idling away my time. Give me a chance to work!"
Mrs McNab grunted sourly.
"There's no call for you to do anything of the sort. I never was one totake work upon myself that I couldna perform. The girl would havepicked them before now, if she didna go about making more work than shegets through. She can do them when she gets downstairs!"
Poor, struggling, machine-like Elspeth! Margot felt a pang of pity forher unappreciated efforts, and the determination to spare her one taskat least brought with it renewed courage.
"Let me do them as a pleasure to myself! I should feel so proud whenthe pie came to table, if I had helped to prepare it, and it would be anexcuse to sit by this lovely fire. Please?"
"Kitchen work is no for the likes of you. Ye wouldna like it if yesoiled yer fine new gown!"
"If I asked you very nicely, perhaps you would lend me an apron!"
Mrs McNab threw down her chopper, and turned to wipe her hands on aroller towel. Perhaps she had come to the conclusion that as a puresaving of time it would be wise to give in without further demur;perhaps the twinkling appeal of the brown eyes touched a vulnerable spotin her heart; perhaps the service itself was of some value at themoment.
Margot did not concern herself as to causes, but was content to realisethat she had won the victory. She meekly allowed herself to be tiedinto a coarse white apron, and set to work on the big basket of berrieswith nimble fingers. Picking gooseberries is not a task which requiresmuch skill or experience; perhaps quickness is the criterion by which itcan best be tested, and Mrs McNab's sharp glances soon discovered thather new apprentice was no laggard at the work. The little green ballsfell from Margot's fingers into the basin with quite extraordinaryquickness. She kept her eyes on her work, but her tongue wagged.
Margot talked, and Mrs McNab grunted, but the grunts grew ever softerand less repellent. The first attempt at a joke was met with a sniff ofdisdain, but a second effort produced a dry cackle, and that was atriumph indeed! When the suet had been reduced to shreds, there wasbread to sift, and eggs to beat; and then Mrs McNab washed her handsand dropped her working apron preparatory to going upstairs to see after"the girl." She made no demur at leaving Margot alone in the kitchen,for, having undertaken a task, she was plainly expected to carry itthrough.
It was astonishing how much fruit one basket could hold! One wide-lipped basin had already been filled, and another pressed into theservice, yet even a vigorous tilt to the side failed to show any signsof the bottom of the basket. Margot had achieved her double purpose ofwarming herself and breaking the ice of her hostess's reserve, and nowwas in a fidge
t to be off to join Ron on the hillside; but the fear ofMrs McNab was strong upon her, and she dare not move until her task wascomplete.
There she sat upon the low fender-stool, the big white apron concealingthe blue tweed dress, her pretty, flushed face bent over her work, toall appearances the most industrious of Cinderellas, while the pendulumof the old oak clock clicked noisily to and fro, and through the opendoor came a whiff of clean cool air, laden with the scent of flowers andsweet-briar, with the pungent aromatic odour of growing herbs, with theheavy sweetness of the dairy.
Margot thought with a shudder of the gloomy underground regions inRegent's Park, where the servants of the house spent the greater part oftheir lives. In her own future spells of authority she determined to bevery, very indulgent to pleas for "outings"; nay, even to make it amatter of duty to plan days of sunshine and liberty for the patient,uncomplaining workers.
The sun was beginning to peep forth from behind the clouds, and its raysdancing across the kitchen floor were an almost irresistible temptationto one newly escaped from town. Margot gave the basket an impatientshake, and, as another means to the desired end, popped a couple ofberries into her mouth. So sweet did they taste, so fresh and ripe,that another two soon followed suit, and henceforth she ate as steadilyas she worked. There could be no hesitation in so doing, for in fruit-picking it is an unwritten law that the worker is free to take his toll.
It was while Margot's hand was raised to her mouth for the eighth orninth time that a footstep sounded on the flagged floor of the scullerybehind her back, and a man's voice and laugh startled her into vividattention. In both was a note which immediately recalled her companionof the night before,--the cheery, warm-hearted pseudo-chieftain of theGlen--yet in both rang a difference which told that the newcomer was nothe, but probably one closely connected by birth and association.
_The_ Mr Elgood; the Editor; the all-powerful dispenser of Ronald'sfortunes! Margot felt convinced that it could be no one else, andexperienced a moment of keen anticipation, followed by a shock ofdisgust, as she grasped the meaning of his words.
"Ah-ha! So I've caught you pilfering again. What will Mrs McNab saywhen she finds all her good fruit disappearing like this? You'll haveto bribe me not to carry tales. Better turn me into a confederate--eh?Are they ripe?"
A long thin hand descended over Margot's shoulder, the fingersdeliberately feeling after the plumpest and yellowest of the berries._He had mistaken her for Elspeth_! Stupefaction mingled withwrath,--_Elspeth_! A vision of the square-built, flat-headed,hopelessly graceless figure rose before Margot's outraged vision, andresentment lighted into a blaze. Could any apron in the world be largeenough to cause a resemblance between two such diametrically differentfigures! Margot appreciated her own beauty in an honest, unaffectedfashion, as one of the good gifts which had been showered upon her, andfor the moment the sense of injury eclipsed that of embarrassment.
With an impetuous movement she turned her face over her shoulder--thatvivid pink and white face which made such a startling contrast toElspeth's stolidity--and stared with widely-opened hazel eyes into thatother pair of eyes so near her own.
It was the younger Mr Elgood sure enough,--but seen close at hand, withthat mischievous smile curling his lips, he had an extraordinaryyouthful and boyish appearance. Margot received an instantaneousimpression of kindliness and strength, of a glinting sense of humour,before the change came. Such a change! If she had been a wild animalprepared to spring, horror and dismay could not have been moreeloquently depicted upon his face. The eyes widened, the featuresstiffened into a mask, the outstretched hand fell limply to his side.He opened his lips to say something, several things, but the words wereunintelligible; a mere broken stammer of apology, as he wheeled roundand walked hastily from the room.
The door slammed behind him; she heard his footsteps over the flaggedhall. Poor Margot! Never before in her life had she so keenly desiredto make a good impression; never had she so signally failed. It wasindeed an unpromising beginning to the campaign!
Big Game: A Story for Girls Page 11