"Pip" Part 41

There was a pause--a long pause. Elsie was thinking--of what, she hardly knew. Pip was watching her, anxious to see how she received his great idea. Presently he continued,--

"Of course the golf-match is all in your favour. The chances are about three to one on your winning."

Suddenly Elsie flared up with a curious little spirit of anger. Her mind, highly trained though it was in these matters, could not quite appreciate Pip's Quixotic consideration for an opponent.

"Pip," she said, "I don't believe you _want_ to win! The whole thing is simply a joke on your part--your idea of a joke. I don't think it's a very nice one: you know you can't beat me. If you really want to marry me you wouldn't--"

"I shall beat you all right," said Pip simply.

"Why?"

"I know I shall, that's all."

"Why?"

"Because I _know_."

A new idea occurred to Elsie.

"You dare to insinuate," she said, "that I would--would purposely let you--"

"Should I want to marry a girl of that sort?" asked Pip gravely.

Elsie softened again at this genuine compliment, but she still felt rather doubtful as to whether this extraordinary young man really and truly believed that she was to be won, and won only, by being beaten in a golf-match. In any case the situation was becoming difficult. She began to dust the sand from her skirt and to make other preparations for departure. Pip regarded her with some concern.

"You're not going yet, are you?" he said.

"Yes. It's getting late."

"Well, will you play me?"

"On those terms?"

"Yes."

"Of course not, Pip. You're not serious."

Pip leaned forward, and put his hand on her arm. She had half risen, but she now found herself sitting down again, rather astonished and rebellious, listening to what he was saying.

"Elsie, what is the date to-morrow?"

"I don't know," petulantly. "Girls never know dates."

"I forgot that. Well, it is the fourteenth of August. Do you know what is going to happen at Old Trafford to-morrow?"

"Why--the Australians! Fancy forgetting a Test Match! That comes of playing golf all day. But, Pip,"--she stared at him in dismayed surprise,--"why aren't you there? Surely you were chosen?"

"Yes, I was chosen."

"Then, why aren't you there?"

"Because I'm here."

"But, Pip, you ought to be playing cricket."

"I prefer to play golf."

"But it's a Test Match."

"I'm going to play in a Test Match of my own--here."

Elsie was silent again, and gazed at him, open-eyed. Pip saw that he had struck the right note.

"I gave up the cricket-match to play with you," he said. "Will you play with me?"

Elsie was defenceless against this appeal. She knew, better than most girls, perhaps, what it must cost a man to decline an invitation to play for England.

"All right, Pip," she said gently, getting up and shaking her skirt, "I'll play you. Nine o'clock to-morrow morning. I shall beat you, though," she added.

Pip said nothing. It is always politic to make a virtue of necessity.

That is why one allows a woman the last word.

They were very silent as they walked home in the twilight. Pip, having achieved the object with which he had set out, had no further remarks to make. Elsie seemed less at ease, and kept shooting half-amused, half-angry glances at the obtuse young man beside her. She objected to being treated as something between a Prehistoric Peep and a Scratch Medal.

Presently they came to Raven Innes's cottage.

"Are you coming in, Pip?" inquired Elsie as she stood at the door.

"No, thanks. Raven would keep me up all hours, and I'm going to bed _very_ early. Good-night."

"Pip--" began Elsie rather unsteadily.

Pip turned quickly, and beheld her standing on the step, framed by the open doorway. The setting sun glinted on her hair, and there was a curious and unfamiliar note in her voice as she addressed him.

"Pip," she said, "I don't like the idea of this match. It's--it's contrary to Nature, somehow. Golf wasn't intended to settle such questions."

Pip made no reply, but gazed upon her. In matters of this kind he was not very "quick in the uptake," as they say in Scotland. Elsie made a curious little grimace to herself, and continued--

"Pip, supposing you wanted, _very_ much, to get something that lay across a stream which looked rather deep, would you make a jump and risk a ducking, or would you walk miles on the off-chance of finding a bridge?"

They looked at each other steadily for a minute, while Pip worked out the answer to this conundrum.

"I should probably jump," he replied,--"that is, if--"

And then at last light seemed to break upon him. The blood surged to his brain, and he stepped forward impetuously.

"Elsie!" he cried.