"Mrs McNab, I'm cold! May I come in and warm myself by your fire?"
The mistress of the inn turned a stonily surprised face from the table,
before which she stood chopping suet with a short-handled knife; she did
not suspend her work, but simply heightened her voice to make it heard
above the harsh, monotonous noise.
"Cold, are ye? Havers! It's a fine June day. There's no call for any
one to feel cold, if they don't sit about idling away their time. Put
on yer cloak, and go a turn down the Glen!"
Margot suppressed a thrill of indignation at that accusation of
idleness. Had she not made two whole beds, and even stooped to pick
stray pins off the carpet? She pushed the door open and walked boldly
forward.
"I'll go out as soon as I'm warm. If I caught a chill, I should give a
lot of trouble, and you have enough to do without fussing over me. I
know you would be a good nurse, Mrs McNab--good housekeepers always
are. I know without being told that you have a cupboard chock full of
medicines and mixtures, and plasters and liniments, and neat little
rolls of lint and oilskins. Is it this one?" She laid her hand on a
closed door, drawing the while nearer and nearer to the fire. "What a
perfectly beautiful oak chest! That's genuine! One can see it at a
glance. The lovely elbow-grease polish can never be imitated. So
different from the faked-up, over-carved things glittering with varnish
that one sees so often nowadays. What a shame to keep it hidden away in
the kitchen!"
Mrs McNab pounded stolidly away at the suet.
"I dinna ken where the shame can be!" she responded drily. "It's my own
chest, and my mither's before me, and it's a pity if I mayna keep it
where it pleases meself. There's no call that I know of to turn out my
things, so that ither folks can have the fun of staring at them!"
Mrs McNab's manner was certainly the reverse of gracious, but,
remembering the momentary softening of the grim face which she had
witnessed the night before, Margot was determined not to be easily
discouraged. Having gone so far, one could not retreat without
irrevocably burning one's boats. Now or never victory must be wrested
from the enemy!
With a charming little air of domesticity she seated herself upon the
polished fender-stool at the side of the open grate, catching up her
skirt so that it should not be caught by the blaze, and smiling across
the room in her most confiding fashion.
"Please let me stay, Mrs McNab! It's such a lovely cosy kitchen, and
my brother is out, and I feel so lost! Couldn't I do something to help?
Are those gooseberries in that basket? Do they need picking? I can't
cook, but I can pick gooseberries with any man living. Do let me! You
said I was idling away my time. Give me a chance to work!"