"Have you been staying here long? Are you going to make a long visit?"
she inquired; whereupon her companion began again with increased vigour.
"We've been a matter of a week, and as for the future, it just depends!
Mr Macalister's been failing for the past year. He's just unduly set
on his business, and his nerves," (she pronounced it "nearves") "are in
a terrible condition. The doctor warned him he would have a collapse if
he didn't get a rest at once. `Take him away where he can't get letters
and telegrams every hour of the day,' he told me. `Take him to the
quietest place you can find, and keep him there as long as ye can!' So
here we are; but how long he'll put up with it, is past my knowledge.
He begins to weary already, and of course no man will ever believe that
any one else will take his place. They're conceited creatures, my dear.
Mr Macalister--"
"It is nice for him having so many companions. I suppose you know the
other visitors quite well?" Margot felt that for one evening she had
heard as much as she cared for about Mr Macalister, and headed the
subject in the desired direction with unflinching determination. "The
Mr Elgood who took the head of the table seems very agreeable."
"Oh ay, he's a friendly wee body!" Mrs Macalister allowed,
patronisingly. "There's no harm in him, nor in his brother neither,
though he keeps himself to himself, and is always busy with his fishing,
or writing, or what not. My husband went fishing with him one day, but
they didn't seem to hit it exactly. Mr Macalister is very genial-like
when he's in health, and he can't do with any one who's stand-off. He
always says--"
"But Mrs McNab seems to prefer the younger brother. He must be nice,
or she would not like him so much," interrupted Margot once more; and
Mrs Macalister smiled with unruffled good-humour.
"Oh ay, they're just two dour, silent bodies who understand each other
and each other's ways. He goes and has a crack with her now and then,
and I've even heard them laugh,"--her voice took an awed and incredulous
tone--"but at the table he never raises his voice. Mr Macalister says
he is very close. He couldn't get anything out of him at all, and all
his friends say Mr Macalister ought to have been a lawyer, for he's
just wonderful for getting to the bottom of things. Of course when a
man's run down, he isna at his best. Ye can't judge him, as I say, as
you can when he's in his usual--"
Margot groaned in spirit! To keep Mr Macalister out of the
conversation was evidently a hopeless feat. She saw before her a long
succession of interviews when she would sit caged up in this little
room, listening to the expressions of his virtues and failings! To-
night she felt a moral conviction that she would soon fall asleep under
the strain, and making an excuse of writing home, escaped to her own
room, scribbled a few words on the back of a postcard, wrapped herself
in her golf cape, and went out into the road in search of Ron.