Margot set about her preparations unhampered by the financial troubles
which befall less fortunate girls. Her father was lavishly generous to
his favourite daughter, supplementing her dress allowance by constant
gifts. It was one of his greatest pleasures in life to see his pretty
Margot prettily attired, a pleasure in which the young lady herself
fully concurred. She had too much good taste to transport all the
frills and fripperies of London to a Highland glen; but, on the other
hand, she set her face firmly against the mustard-coloured tweeds
affected by so many women for country wear, choosing instead a soft dull
blue, a hundred times more becoming. For headgear there was a little
cap of the same material, with a quill feather stuck jauntily through a
fold at the side, while neat, strong little boots and a pair of doeskin
gloves gave a delightfully business-like air to the costume. In the
rug-strap was a capacious golf cloak, displaying a bright plaid lining.
This was waiting in readiness for the six-mile drive at the end of the
journey, and inside the large dress-box was a selection of well-chosen
garments--a white serge coat and skirt for bright weather; cottons and
lawns for the warm days that must surely come; a velveteen dress for
chilly evenings, blouses galore, and even a fur-lined cloak. Margot
felt a thrill of wondering satisfaction in her own prudence, as she
packed this latter garment, on a hot June day, with the scent of roses
filling the room from the vase on the toilet table.
She packed sketching materials also, plenty of fancy-work destined to
provide presents for the coming Christmas, a selection of sixpenny
novels, and one or two pet classics from her own library, which
travelled about with her wherever she went.
Ronald's preparations were more easy, for surely no stock-in-trade is so
simple as that of an author! His favourite stylographic pen, his
favourite note-book, and that was an end of it so far as work was
concerned. He took his half-plate camera with him, however; and the two
handsome free-wheel bicycles were carefully swathed for the journey.
"I can't understand why you couldn't be content to go to some nice
south-country place, instead of travelling to the other end of the
country in this dusty weather," Agnes opined, as she assiduously fixed
the label to every separate piece of the luggage which was piled
together in the hall. "It's so foolish to waste time and money when
there are nice places at hand. Now, there's Cromer--"
"You don't get heather-clad mountains at Cromer, Agnes, and we shan't
have promenades at Glenaire, nor bands, nor crowds of fashionable people
quizzing each other all day long. We prefer the real, true, genuine
country."
"Oh, well, you'll be tired of it soon enough! Margot will hate it. We
shall have you hurrying back at the end of a fortnight, bored to death.
I don't think that lock of yours is quite safe, Margot. I shouldn't
wonder if you found some things missing when you arrive. The guards
have a splendid chance on these all-night journeys," prophesied Agnes
cheerfully. She stared in surprise when Margot burst into a peal of
laughter, and repeated, "Poor old Agnes!" as if she, secure and
comfortable at home, were the one to be pitied, instead of the careless
travellers into the unknown!