Inside the inn a mingling of odours greeted the nostrils. Furniture
polish, soft soap, various whiffs from the bar, which by good fortune
opened into the stable-yard, and was distinct from the house itself; a
sweet, heavy odour of milk from the dairy; a smell of musk from the
plants ranged along the window-sills. In the dining-room the tablecloth
was laid, with a large home-cured ham in the place of honour. The floor
was covered with oilcloth; the furniture was covered with horsehair. On
the mantelpiece stood two large specimens of granite, and a last year's
almanac. Red rep curtains were draped across the window, so as to
conceal all the view except a glimpse of the road. The walls were hung
with a fearsome paper, in which bouquets of deep blue flowers were
grouped on a background of lozenges of an orange hue. Over the
mantelpiece hung a coloured print of Queen Victoria; over the sideboard
a print entitled "Deerstalking," representing two Highlanders in plaids
and bonnets standing over the prostrate form of a "monarch of the
waste." In the corner by the window were massed together quite an
imposing collection of "burial cards," memorialising McNab connections
dead and gone, all framed to match in black bands with silver beadings.
Anything less homelike and inviting can hardly be imagined to welcome
tired travellers at the end of a long and chilly journey. Margot
shivered as she crossed the portals, and rubbed her hands together in
disconsolate fashion, even her cheery optimism failing at the sight.
"It's so--slippery!" was the mental comment. "What an appalling room
to sit in! What must it be like in bad weather! And no fire! We'd die
of cold if we sat here all the evening. If the worst comes to the
worst, I'll hug my hot bottle. What a mercy I remembered to bring it!"
Mrs McNab was speaking in hard, aloof accents, after the manner of one
who, having been interrupted in her work by unwelcome intruders, is
still determined to perform her duty toward them, as a matter of
distasteful necessity. Shades of the obsequious landladies of the
South! The tired guests quailed before the severity of this Northern
welcome.
"If it's tea you're wanting, the kettle's on the hob. It will be
waiting for you before ye're ready for it. Ye'll be wanting a wash, I'm
thinking."
It was a statement, not a question, and, in response to it, brother and
sister meekly ascended the staircase to the rooms allotted to their use
in the front of the house--two whitewashed cribs, provided with nothing
which was not absolutely necessary; a small, white-covered bed; a wooden
chest of drawers, made to do duty for a dressing-table also, by the
presence of a small mirror set fair and square in the middle of a
coarse-grained mat; a few pegs on the wall, a deal washstand, and a
couple of chairs--that was all; but everything was exquisitely clean and
orderly, and what did one want with luxurious upholstery when a peep
through the open windows revealed a view which sent the blood racing
through the veins in very ecstasy of delight? Purple mountains and a
blue sky; golden yellow of gorse--a silver sheet of water, reflecting
the dark fringe of the pines--it was wonderfully, incredibly beautiful
in the clear afternoon light.