Three days later a wagonette was chartered from Rew, to drive the
diminished party to the scene of the haunted castle. Margot felt rather
shy in the position of the only lady, but a mild proposition that she
should stay at home had been so vigorously vetoed that she had nothing
more to say.
"If one clergyman, plus one brother, plus one bald-headed veteran,
aren't sufficient chaperons for one small girl, things are coming to a
pretty pass indeed!" protested the Chieftain vigorously. "If you stay
at home, we all stay, so that's settled, and the disappointment and
upset will be on your head. Why all this fuss, I should like to know?
One might think you were shy."
Margot pouted, and wriggled her shoulders inside her white blouse.
"I am shy!"
"You are, are you? Hadn't noticed it before. Of whom, if one may ask?"
She turned at that, and walked back to the inn, nose in air, but
thereafter there were no more demurs.
It was indeed a very decorous little party which sat in two rows of
three, facing each other in the wagonette during the eight-mile drive.
The clergyman and the Chieftain, with Margot between them; and opposite,
the three dreamers: the Editor, Ron, and young Mr Menzies,--each
apparently too much immersed in his own thoughts to care for
conversation. Margot was quite thankful when the drive came to an end,
outside castle walls, grim and grey, but imposing as ever, though they
were in reality but a shell, surrounding a plot of innocent green grass.
There were isolated towers still standing, however, approached by
winding stone stairways, and short lengths of walks along the ramparts,
and quaint little barred windows through which one could view the
surrounding country. When Margot thrust her pretty laughing face
through one of these latter to greet her friends below, every
photographer among them insisted upon snap-shotting her then and there,
and for a good half-hour she was kept busy, posing in various attitudes,
to give the desired touch of life to the pictures.
Photography over, the next duties were to partake of lunch and to wander
round the small, and it must be confessed somewhat uninteresting little
village; then,--since the return home counted as one of the chief
attractions in the programme--the little party broke up into two, the
clergyman and his son preferring the longer route, round by the roads,
the other four to take the short--cut across the moors.
A five-mile walk across the moors! Given health, settled skies, and
congenial society, it would be difficult to name a more exhilarating
occupation for a summer afternoon; but, truth to tell, the weather had
taken a decided turn for the worse since midday, and it needed some
optimism to set forth on a long exposed walk.