"Tell me about the people in the Inn! I am always so interested in
people!" she cried eagerly. "My brother likes other things better--
books and pictures and mountains--but I like the living things best. I
know a good deal about Mr Macalister's health, and about Lizzie, and
Isabel, and their husbands and babies, and their lovers before they were
married. They come from Glasgow--and the old clergyman is Scotch too, I
suppose. Is every one Scotch except ourselves and you? We come from
London--"
Mr Elgood's face shadowed quickly.
"Yes! but don't mention it. Never mention it!" he cried quickly. "I
live there, too, or as nearly live as is possible in the surroundings.
Now for three or four weeks I've escaped, and my one endeavour is to
forget that such a place exists. I ask every one as a favour never to
mention as much as the name in my hearing. You'll remember, won't you,
and be good enough to indulge me? For the moment Miss--Miss Vane, I am
a Heelander, born and bred, a strapping young chieftain of five-and-
twenty. The Elgood of Elgood, an it please you, in bonnet and kilt, and
my foot is on my native heather!"
He tilted his cap on one side, and threw a swagger into his walk,
cleverly remindful of the swirl of tartan skirts, then turning upon
Margot, queried quickly-"Why do you laugh? It's rude to laugh! Is it so impossible to think of
me in the character?"
"I laugh because I'm pleased," Margot answered, truthfully enough. "I
do love to pretend! Let's bury London and our lives there, and pretend
that we are all Highlanders! We will be your guests up in your
mountain fastness, and you will take us about, and show us the scenes of
your historic feuds with neighbouring clans, and we will swear to help
you, if any new trouble should arise!"
"Right oh!" cried Mr Elgood, laughing. "I shall be only too proud.
I'm a sociable beggar--during holiday time--and want to do nothing but
smoke and talk. To talk nonsense, of course. Nothing dull or
improving." He cast a sudden, suspicious look at the girl's face. "You
are not clever by any chance, are you? I can't stand cleverness in the
country."
Margot laughed gaily.
"I think I am--rather!" she declared audaciously. "I couldn't confess
to being stupid, even to please a Highland chief, but it's in a very
feminine way. I don't know anything about politics or science, and I've
forgotten almost all that I learnt at school, but I take an interest in
things, and understand people pretty well. I am generally clever enough
to get my own way!"
She laughed again, remembering the purpose of the moment, and its close
connection with this newly-made acquaintance. Instinctively she turned
towards Ron, and the two pairs of brown eyes met, and flashed a message
of mischief, affection, and secret understanding--a glance which made
the watcher sigh with a sudden realisation of his own lost youth, his
bald head, and increasing bulk. They were only a pair of children,
these newcomers; kindly, affectionate, light-hearted children, whose
companionship would be a tonic to a lonely, tired man. The broad
cherubic countenance showed a passing shadow of wistfulness, as he
slacked his pace and said in hesitating tones-"I am afraid I have tacked myself on to you, without waiting for an
invitation. I will say good evening now, unless I can act as guide, or
help you in any way. Have you any special object in your walk?"