The Missioner Part 7

Lady Peggy shrugged her shoulders.

"The agent's son?" she remarked. "I shouldn't have thought that he would have cared about our points."

"He can afford it for once in a way, I should imagine," Deyes answered.

"I can't understand, though----"

He stopped short. She looked at him curiously.

"Is it possible," she murmured, "that there exists anything which Gilbert Deyes does not understand?"

"Many things," he answered; "amongst them, why does Wilhelmina patronize this young man? He is well enough, of course, but----" he shrugged his shoulders expressively; "the thing needs an explanation, doesn't it?"

"If Wilhelmina--were not Wilhelmina, it certainly would," Lady Peggy answered. "I call her craving for new things and new people positively morbid. All the time she beats her wings against the bars. There are no new things. There are no new experiences. The sooner one makes up one's mind to it the better."

Gilbert Deyes laughed softly.

"If my memory serves me," he said, "you are repeating a cry many thousand years old. Wasn't there a prophet----"

"There was," she interrupted, "but they are beckoning us. I hope I don't cut with the young man. I don't believe he has a bridge face."

CHAPTER V

EVICTED

Victor Macheson smoked his after-breakfast pipe with the lazy enjoyment of one who is thoroughly at peace with himself and his surroundings. The tiny strip of lawn on to which he had dragged his chair was surrounded with straggling bushes of cottage flowers, and flanked by a hedge thick with honeysuckle. Straight to heaven, as the flight of a bird, the thin line of blue smoke curled upwards to the summer sky; the very air seemed full of sweet scents and soothing sounds. A few yards away, a procession of lazy cows moved leisurely along the gra.s.s-bordered lane; from the other side of the hedge came the cheerful sound of a reaping-machine, driven slowly through the field of golden corn.

The man, through half closed eyes, looked out upon these things, and every line in his face spelt contentment. In repose, the artistic temperament with which he was deeply imbued, a.s.serted itself more clearly--the almost fanatical light in his eyes was softened; one saw there was something of the wistfulness of those who seek to raise but a corner of the veil that hangs before the world of hidden things--something, too, of the subdued joy which even the effort brings. The lines of his forceful mouth were less firm, more sensitive--a greater sense of humanity seemed somehow to have descended upon him as he lounged there in the warmth of the sun, with the full joy of his beautiful environment creeping through his blood.

"If you please, Mr. Macheson," some one said in his ear.

He turned his head at once. A tall, fair girl had stepped out of the room where he had been breakfasting, and was standing by his elbow. She was neatly dressed, pretty in a somewhat insipid fas.h.i.+on, and her hands and hair showed signs of a refinement superior to her station. Just now she was apparently nervous. Macheson smiled at her encouragingly.

"Well, Letty," he said, "what is it?"

"I wanted--can I say something to you, Mr. Macheson?" she began.

"Why not?" he answered kindly. "Is it anything very serious? Out with it!"

"I was thinking, Mr. Macheson," she said, "that I should like to leave home--if I could--if there was anything which I could do. I wanted to ask your advice."

He laid down his pipe and looked at her seriously.

"Why, Letty," he said, "how long have you been thinking of this?"

"Oh! ever so long, sir," she exclaimed, speaking with more confidence.

"You see there's nothing for me to do here except when there's any one staying, like you, sir, and that's not often. Mother won't let me help with the rough work, and Ruth's growing up now, she's ever such a strong girl. And I should like to go away if I could, and learn to be a little more--more ladylike," she added, with reddening cheeks.

Macheson was puzzled. The girl was not looking him in the face. He felt there was something at the back of it all.

"My dear girl," he said, "you can't learn to be ladylike. That's one of the things that's born with you or it isn't. You can be just as much a lady helping your mother here as practising grimaces in a London drawing-room."

"But I want to improve myself," she persisted.

"Go for a long walk every day, and look about you," he said. "Read. I'll lend you some books--the right sort. You'll do better here than away."

She was frankly dissatisfied.

"But I want to go away," she declared. "I want to leave Thorpe for a time. I should like to go to London. Couldn't I get a situation as lady's help or companion or something of that sort? I shouldn't want any money."

He was silent for a moment.

"Does your mother know of this, Letty?" he asked.

"She wouldn't object," the girl answered eagerly. "She lets me do what I like."

"Hadn't you better tell me--the rest?" Macheson asked quietly.

The girl looked away uneasily.

"There is no rest," she protested weakly.

Macheson shook his head.

"Letty," he said, "if you have formed any ideas of a definite future for yourself, different from any you see before you here, tell me what they are, and I will do my best to help you. But if you simply want to go away because you are dissatisfied with the life here, because you fancy yourself superior to it, well, I'm sorry, but I'd sooner prevent your going than help you."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"Oh! Mr. Macheson, it isn't that," she declared, "I--I don't want to tell any one, but I'm very--very fond of some one who's--quite different. I think he's fond of me, too," she added softly, "but he's always used to being with ladies, and I wanted to improve myself so much! I thought if I went to London," she added wistfully, "I might learn?"

Macheson laughed cheerfully. He laid his hand for a moment upon her arm.

"Oh! Letty, Letty," he declared, "you're a foolish little girl! Now, listen to me. If he's a good sort, and I'm sure he is, or you wouldn't be fond of him, he'll like you just exactly as you are. Do you know what it means to be a lady, the supreme test of good manners? It means to be natural. Take my advice! Go on helping your mother, enter into the village life, make friends with the other girls, don't imagine yourself a bit superior to anybody else. Read when you have time--I'll manage the books for you, and spend all the time you can out of doors. It's sound advice, Letty. Take my word for it. Hullo, who's this?"

A new sound in the lane made them both turn their heads. Young Hurd had just ridden up and was fastening his pony to the fence. He looked across at them curiously, and Letty retreated precipitately into the house. A moment or two later he came up the narrow path, frowning at Macheson over the low hedge of foxgloves and cottage roses, and barely returning his courteous greeting. For a moment he hesitated, however, as though about to speak. Then, changing his mind, he pa.s.sed on and entered the farmhouse.

He met Mrs. Foulton herself in the pa.s.sage, and she welcomed him with a smiling face.

"Good morning, Mr. Hurd, sir!" she exclaimed, plucking at her ap.r.o.n.

"Won't you come inside, sir, and sit down? The parlour's let to Mr.

Macheson there, but he's out in the garden, and he won't mind your stepping in for a moment. And how's your father, Mr. Hurd? Wonderful well he was looking when I saw him last."

The young man followed her inside, but declined a chair.

"Oh! the governor's all right, Mrs. Foulton," he answered. "Never knew him anything else. Good weather for the harvest, eh?"