Margaret Vincent Part 12

"Miss Barton is rather strict, you know."

"Hannah was brought up to think the theatre a wicked place, so she is quite right not to go to one, and to disapprove of people who do--my father doesn't think it wrong."

"Neither do I, Miss Vincent." They were walking across the field by this time, he leading the mare, and she taking the narrow foot-path; "in fact, though I wouldn't like to tell Miss Barton so, I am very fond of it. Why, when I was up for a week a month ago I went four times." He looked at her knowingly, as if to establish a confidence. "I went to see 'The Lovers' Lesson'--a lovely piece, Miss Vincent; it made one feel"--Mr. Garratt lowered his voice at this point--"what real love was.

Oh, I say, there's a stile to this next field; I didn't know that. I shall have to take the mare over." He put his foot into the stirrup, vaulted into the saddle, and went over with the air of a huntsman talking a five-barred gate; then dismounted and waited for Margaret.

"Allow me to give you a hand," he said, and squeezed her fingers as she stepped down.

"Please don't," she said, haughtily.

"I'd do it again," he said, "to see the color come like that; you don't know what you make one feel like."

"I don't wish to know. Be good enough to remember that you come to see Hannah."

"But it isn't Hannah I want to come and see."

She turned upon him quickly. "It is only Hannah who wishes to see you, understand that."

"Oh, I say, what a spitfire! Look here, Miss Vincent, don't be angry.

You and I ought to be friends, you know; and I don't mean any harm."

After all, he was only vulgar, Margaret thought. "I'm sure you don't mean any harm--" she said, though not very graciously.

He felt that it would be a good move to get back to neutral subjects.

"Do you know the gent who has taken the house by the church?" he asked.

"You seemed to be taking an interest in him."

"He is a friend of my father's," she condescended to inform him.

"He must be a swell--he's a 'Sir,' anyhow. You know, I've got an idea that you and your father are swells, too. Why, you and Miss Barton are as different as chalk from cheese--there isn't any looking at her when you are there."

Margaret walked on without a word, but he followed her meekly; it was all the same to Mr. Garratt.

"You're a downright beauty, that's what I think. I say! There's Hannah standing by the porch, looking out," for by this time they were within half a field and the length of the garden from the house. "She will be wild when she sees me walking with you, you know. Now, then," he added, touching his own shoulder with the crop in his hand as she made a sign of impatience, "don't be disagreeable again, there's a dear girl. Let's talk about the theatre; you like that, you know, and we've only got five minutes left. I'll tell you what you ought to have seen--'The School for Scandal,' and Miss Hunstan in it."

"Oh, did you see her!" Margaret exclaimed, and took a step nearer to him.

Hannah, watching from the porch, saw it. A deep pink came to her cheeks and to the tip of her nose. Some one in the best parlor, looking through the little lattice window, saw it, too, and drew conclusions.

"Oh, you want to know about her, do you?" Mr. Garratt said, triumphantly. "Now, why is that?"

"I met her at a friend's house when I was in London with father."

"Did you? Well, I wouldn't tell Hannah that if I were you; she'd ask them to put up a prayer in chapel for you."

"Tell me about Miss Hunstan--she played Lady Teazle--"

"Oh, you've heard about Lady Teazle, have you? Well, she was just splendid. You should have seen her chaff that old husband of hers, and the way she held her head when the screen fell. A friend of mine was over in New York when she first came out--fifteen years ago, now; getting on, isn't it?"

"What did she do first?"

"She walked on, holding up the train of a princess, but she did it with such an air the young fellows used to go in just to look at her. Then Dawson Farley went over there with an English company and spotted her, I suppose, and gave her a small part to play. She was just about your age," Mr. Garratt added, significantly. "People said they were going to be married, and there was a lot of talk about it, but it didn't come off, and she went about the States acting, and became a swell, and he became a swell over here. Now she's over here, too, starring as Lady Teazle. I wonder if she ever sees Dawson Farley?"

"Oh yes. I met them both when I was in London; he said they were old friends."

"You seem to have done a great deal on that visit of yours, and it only lasted a sandwiched night, I think?" he said, hurrying after her, but handicapped by having to lead his horse.

"Did you see Miss Hunstan in anything else?" Margaret asked, taking no notice of his remark.

"I saw her once in a mixture performance, got up for a charity--actors and actresses showing off in little bits, you know."

"What did she do?"

"She recited a poem by an American chap called Field. I dare say you know all about him, being fond of poetry?"

"No, I never heard of him."

Mr. Garratt was triumphant. "Really! I bought his poems and recited one of them myself at an entertainment we got up for the new chapel at Midhurst--"

"Oh!"

"I might lend you the book," but she made no answer. "I take a lively interest in most things," he went on, quickly, for he saw that their talk must necessarily come to an end in a moment, "and I should very much enjoy getting a little more conversation with you than I do at present. I think we take a similar view of a good many things. Now, Miss Barton and I take a different one. To tell the truth, I'm not overfond of chapel going and psalm singing. I believe in seeing a bit of life, and London's the place to see it in. I say"--he went up nearer to her--"I wish we were there together, don't you, eh?" and he gave her a little nudge.

She stopped and flushed with rage. "No, I do not," she answered, "and you will not touch me again, Mr. Garratt; I dislike people who are too familiar." She rubbed her elbow as if it had been stung, and strode on.

"Well, you've got a plainer way of speaking than any other young lady I've ever met in my life," he said, catching her up, "but I'll tell you something before we part--there isn't anything in the world I wouldn't do for you. Perhaps you think I'm a little free in my manner, but we can't all be as high and mighty as you are--we're not made that way, you know."

Margaret went through the garden gate without a word. Mr. Garratt had to stand still and hold his horse. "Hannah!" Margaret called. He looked alarmed, as if he thought she might be going to tell tales. "You had better come--Mr. Garratt is here."

Hannah came quickly along the garden, her face very red, and its expression by no means a pleasant one.

"How do you do, Miss Barton?" Mr. Garratt shouted, pleasantly. "I met Miss Vincent on the hill and led the mare across the fields for the pleasure of her company."

"Was it an appointment?" she asked, sharply.

"Not on her side," he said, by way of a little joke--"and not on mine,"

he added, quickly, for Margaret had stopped, and there seemed to be an explanation on her lips; "only an unexpected pleasure. Shall I take the mare round to the stable, Miss Barton?"

"Jim!" Hannah called at the top of her voice, and a boy appeared from one of the side buildings. "Come and take Mr. Garratt's horse--and give it a feed of corn," she added, for it suddenly occurred to her that she was not making a very amiable appearance before her supposed suitor.

"Margaret, you had better go into the house; there is some one with mother, and she wants you."

Margaret was half-way down a side path on the left, but she turned in an instant, went quickly up the garden, and vanished through the porch.

"What was she up to?" Mr. Garratt asked Hannah, as they walked on beside the yew hedge, reluctantly on his part, but she was a dominant person, and not easy to thwart. "Going to meet any one?"

"Oh, she was only taking herself off to that wood up there--that's what she does on Sunday mornings instead of going to church like a Christian and walking home with mother," Hannah answered, resentfully, for if Margaret had attended to her religious duties properly, she reflected, it would not have been necessary for Mr. Garratt to walk back beside Mrs. Vincent. "In these days, Mr. Garratt, people don't seem to be taken with the thought of going to heaven, as they used, and they are not afraid of eternal punishment as they should be."

"Well, you see, Miss Barton, according to them there is nothing to be gained by dying, and the only thing to do is to make the best of what they've got."