But Orris suddenly retreated into herself; for she did not know whether he was speaking in earnest or in mockery. And then the library door burst open, and Pippa came dancing in.
"Aunt Ollie! You must come out in the garden. There's a lovely daff come out under the nursery window. It did it in the night. It was only a green stalk yesterday."
Then she saw Jock and made a dash for the window.
He immediately made a feint of alarm, and crashed into the shrubbery near. Pippa hurled herself out of the low window and flew after him. Her joyous cries and shouts, as she chased the elusive Jock, resounded over the old garden.
Orris smiled, then resumed her work. By and by Pippa came in rosy and breathless.
"He's gone, but I catched him at last; and he says he'll wait for us to-morrow at four o'clock outside the big gate, and will show us the way to the Manor. We're going there to tea. Won't it be fun?"
"But, my darling, we haven't been asked to tea."
"Oh, yes; he says Mr. Dunscombe will 'love' us to come. Dan told me he's a very nice genpleum. He used to come and dine here with the old lady, and he used to give Dan half-crowns."
Orris laughed.
"Mr. Jock Muir goes too fast for me. Run away, my pet! I mustn't be disturbed till luncheon."
Pippa disappeared, and Orris had no more interruptions.
CHAPTER IV
LILAC FARM
IN spite of Orris's reluctance, Pippa had won the day. And at four o'clock the next day, she and her aunt were standing outside the gate. They were not kept waiting, for Jock Muir was punctual. He took off his cap with a flourish when he saw them.
"I never meant to come," said Orris smiling, "but pertinacity and importunity have been too much for me."
"Of course we've comed," cried Pippa joyously; "we simply love going out to tea. And when I telled Snuffy, she said—"
"Pippa, what did I tell you? 'Mrs. Snow.'"
"Oh, Aunt Ollie, when I'm with Master Jock, I talk like he does. But she said she was s'prised at our goings on. And Master Jock was a 'never do well.'"
"So he is," laughed Jock, "but he's going to be good to-day. No climbing in at windows! We're going in at the front door."
Pippa danced along the lanes in the highest spirits.
Jock enlightened Orris as to the different landlords in the place. He talked away, and Orris was the listener; she began to wonder soon whether there was not something solid under his apparent superficiality.
His passion seemed to be farming; the earth to him was a precious inheritance. He knew every field by name; he discoursed to her on the rotation of crops, the breeding of cattle, and the different species of seed and grain. Then he laughed at his enthusiasm.
"You're a topping listener, but I'm boring you stiff. I know I am. My hobby is farming, yours is books. Now you talk to me and cultivate my agricultural mind."
"No, I can't do that. We're in the open, and I love the country. I never knew how much, till I was in it again. I have lived in town for so long, that I forgot the joys of spring, and the scent of the earth and buds."
It was a delicious spring day, and when they turned in at a green wooden gate from the lane, and walked up a drive bordered by green banks covered with sheets of golden daffodils, Orris stood still to enjoy it.
"I think freshness is the most beautiful thing in the world," she said; "young new life is so fascinating. And it is so unconscious of its charms. The flowers, the lambs, children, I adore them all!"
Pippa danced on in front, singing as she went:
"Daffy-down-dilly
Came up in the cold
Through the brown mould."
"So little by little
She brought her leaves out,
All clustered about;
And then her bright flowers
Began to unfold,
Till Daffy stood robed
In her spring green and gold."
And then, as the drive gave a twist, and an old weather-worn stone house with mullion windows came in view, she stood still and regarded it with breathless interest. Pippa had a wonderful way of investing inanimate things with life, and houses of all sorts held her entranced.
"Now, Aunt Ollie, what is this house thinking about?" she asked, turning round to the two grown-ups following her. "One of its little top windows seems winking at me, but it's a grave old thing, isn't it?"
"But it's better than it looks," said Jock quickly. "It has been a kind old house to me. I never have to climb up into a window. The door loves to be open. There! It's open now."
And so it was, and the afternoon sunshine streamed in upon a black oak floor, with some rather shabby rugs and a tiger skin spread upon it. Jock led them gaily along this hall, and threw open a door into the study without ceremony.
"Hullo, Dunscombe—you there? Here am I with my newly-created family. They belong to my old home, 'ergo' they belong to me! This is Miss Coventry, who is tearing her hair over Persian books and manuscripts. You'll be able to help her."
A tall slenderly-built man with stooping shoulders, and a finely cut artist's face, got up from his chair behind a big writing-table. He had dark deeply-sunken eyes, and very bushy eyebrows.
"It is kind of you to waive ceremony and come to see me," he said. "Jock told me of your labours in the Muirs' Library—you are brave to tackle it, but I've always heard it's a very rare and valuable one. It seems a pity to sell it, but it will enrich many book lovers."
He drew a chair for her up to a big open fireplace, in which blazing logs of wood were crackling merrily. Orris felt at ease at once, and in a few minutes, she and he were talking about books with the greatest zest and animation. She discovered that she had read one of his first books long ago. It was a collection of essays—one of which had made a great impression upon her.
"I don't write essays now," he said, with a slight deprecating shrug of his shoulders. "They're always the work of an egoist, you know; and I'm not so sure of myself and my opinions as I used to be."
Orris thought this over.
"What do you write about now?"
"Chiefly tribal life in distant lands. It's immensely interesting to me to trace connection between apparently very distant races. I have been travelling for the last five years, and ran across Jock on my last voyage home."
Orris looked across at Jock. He was entirely absorbed with Pippa, and was showing her the contents of a drawer full of curios.
"It's very hard lines on him," she said in a low voice.
Mr. Dunscombe looked at her with some amusement in his dark eyes.
"How much do you know, I wonder!" he said.
Orris looked questioningly at him, but he would not pursue the subject.
"There's sterling worth in Jock," he said, "and his aunt was a fool not to find it out. But you'll never make a bookworm of Jock. He takes after his first parent, and, up to now, he's been a good farmer spoiled. Do you think Mrs. Calthrop would object to my walking over one day and having a look at the library? It would be to her advantage if she wishes to sell it, for I mean to be at the sale. And I think I might help you over the Persian and Indian section."
"I am sure she would not mind, and I should be delighted. Do you know her well?"
"No, but I have met her. I knew old Mr. Muir best, but he was funny over his books. Would never let any guest browse amongst them. I think I must have met your father once when I was a youngster. Didn't he live in Surrey?"
"Yes; he would never move very far from London, because he loved the British Museum so. He was always going up to it."
"It was there I first met him, and he insisted that I should go down and dine with him. I remember that we got into his library, and got so keen over his books, that we ignored the summons to dinner, and were a good hour late in taking our places at the table. He was alone then, with a housekeeper."
"That was after my mother's death, I expect."
They talked away till a big gong sounded in the hall for tea. And then they all went into the dining-room where a round table had been placed in a deep window recess. The window faced a wide expanse of wooded country.
Pippa's eyes were on the table. There were enough cakes and hot scones to satisfy her. Then she turned suddenly to her host:
"I'm so glad to know you," she said, "because you've got our Mary's cousin with you. I think he's what you call a handyman. What's the difference between a handman and a footman? But he got a glass eye in the war, and I'm simply 'longing' to see it!"
"That must be Peter. You shall see him after tea."
Mr. Dunscombe took her seriously, and when grown-up people did that, Pippa's head was raised several inches higher.
There was no lack of conversation during tea, and afterwards Jock insisted upon walking Orris off to Lilac Farm.
"It's only three fields away. Peter with his glass eye will occupy Pippa till we come back. Come with us, Dunscombe?"
Their host shook his head.
"I must have a couple of hours' writing before dinner."
Orris demurred at leaving Pippa in a strange house, but she was already in the kitchen garden busy hoeing up a plot of ground with Peter. So, after bidding her be very good and not leave the garden till she returned, Orris walked across the fields with Jock.
"You'll find Dunscombe an awfully good fellow," said Jock. "Most writers have a bit of swank about them. He has none. And his work is brilliant. I'm quoting the English 'Review' and 'Spectator.'"
"Has he always lived alone?" asked Orris.
"Ever since I've known him. He did have a love affair once, I believe, but the girl wanted him to throw over his writing and go on the Stock Exchange. And he quietly chucked her, and has had nothing to do with women since. Won't have a lady housekeeper; his fat cook runs the house, and does it uncommonly well. And I can't tell you what a lot of good he does on the quiet. Anyone in trouble has only to write to him, and he either promptly helps them, or hands them over to some one who is better able to do it than himself. He wants me to take up my quarters in his house, but Preston has offered me a room at the farm; and as I shall be an agricultural labourer, farm quarters will suit me best. There now, lean over this hedge, and be ready to fall on your knees and worship a typical country farm."
Orris looked over the hedge, and lost her heart at once to Lilac Farm.
It was bordered on one side by a snowy apple orchard; on the other by groups of trees, chiefly lilacs and laburnums. The house had a long thatched roof with gables, rather large casement windows, and an old-fashioned creeper-covered porch. Great chimneys rose above it. In front were box-edged beds of spring flowers and curious birds cut out of yew. Towards the back of it were substantial farm buildings. Sloping green hills partly covered with pines, and rich meadows now full of sheep and cattle surrounded it.
"The outside is topping," said Jock, "but nothing compared to the inside. Now come along."
When Orris, along with Jock, reached the porch door, they found a tall grey-haired man leaning against it smoking his pipe. His eyes were lit up with a welcome when he saw Jock.
"I've brought a lady to see you. Is Mrs. Preston busy?"
"Never too busy to see you, my lad. Wife, ye're wanted. Come in and sit down, ma'am."
He led the way into a charming hall furnished simply but in very good taste. Oak-panelled walls and dark oak floor and stairs were brightened by coloured sporting prints, and comfortable rugs under foot. On a round table were newspapers and books. A fire was burning in a wide-open hearth. Orris sat down on an old oak settle, and then Mrs. Preston appeared. She was stout and smiling, and genuinely pleased to see Orris.
"Of course we've heard about you," she said. "And if I may repeat it, I did say that I thought it was a lonesome life for any young lady to be shut up with books only as company. Now will you come this way with me, and we'll leave Tom and Mr. Muir to smoke together?"
She opened a door at the farther end of the hall, and Orris found herself in a most comfortable sitting-room. The deep window-sills were full of pink and white hyacinths in bloom. There was a big table with a red cloth on which reposed Mrs. Preston's work-basket. Her armchair was drawn up to it. Oil portraits of the family's ancestors graced the walls, and there were two big glass bookcases. Orris saw at once that the Prestons were one of the good old yeomen families, who had always loved and tilled the soil. She was put into an easy-chair by the blazing fire, and very soon she and Mrs. Preston were talking away like old friends.
"'Tis no wonder," the good woman said, "my husband likes a talk with Jock. We've known him since he was a little lad of five years old, and having no son or daughter of our own, we always made him welcome. I can't understand the rights of this will business. I can't believe Mrs. Muir would cut off her favourite nephew, so to speak, with a shilling. Why should he lose his inheritance for a far-away cousin? Between ourselves, miss, I doubt if they've got hold of the right will. I saw Miss Muir a week before she died, and she said to me: 'If Jock isn't back before I go, Mrs. Preston, tell him he was in my thoughts to the last.' And she smiled quite sweetly and easily as she spoke. Now, would she have done that if she had cut him out of her will?"
Orris shook her head.
"I'm a stranger," she said, "so I can offer no opinion, but it doesn't seem kind of her, or natural."
Then, not wishing to discuss Jock Muir's affairs, Orris began admiring the old room with its oak beams across the ceiling.
"Yes, this is our sitting-room," Mrs. Preston replied. "I'm old-fashioned, and like one room free of smoke. Tom's friends sit and smoke in the hall, and I join them sometimes. We've no drawing-room; I don't see the use of a room for show. I'd like to show you my kitchen."
She got up, and led the way through a small lobby into the big kitchen. The copper pans shone in the firelight. Great hams hung from the rafters, and the old dresser, which extended nearly one side of the room, was filled with real valuable old china.
Baking was going on. Mrs. Preston introduced her old servant, Mary Bush, to Orris.
"Mary has been with me seventeen years. She and I are always busy together in the mornings. I don't know what I should do without her."
Mary, a smiling dark-haired woman, looked up at Orris.
"You'll be in Master Jock's house, miss? Does Mrs. Snow make you comfortable?"
"Oh, yes—quite."
Mary gave a little sniff of disapproval.
"She's a sour-tempered soul. Many's the time Master Jock as a boy would creep into the kitchen on my baking days. 'Mary,' he'd say, 'give me one of your buns. I'm always hungry; and Snuffy never makes buns for me, because she and auntie haven't any sweet tooth between them.' Dear soul! I can hear his little voice now!"
"Ah, well," said Mrs. Preston, "he'll get plenty of buns now, Mary, for his room is ready for him, and he'll be in the house with us next week."
Then they went back to the sitting-room.
"It's a great joy to us," said Mrs. Preston on the way, "having Jock take hold here to help on the farm. Tom isn't what he was. I don't say this to everybody, Miss Coventry, but he has had heart attacks, and our doctor has warned me he may go off suddenly. We're living on the edge of eternity, Tom and me. I always pray I mayn't be kept here long after him. But I keep cheerful. 'Twould be bad for him to see me anxious. I often tell him I may go first."
Orris did not wonder at Jock's liking for this worthy couple. There was something essentially homely in the atmosphere. She felt she would like to stay with them herself.
"Well," questioned Jock, looking up at her with his sunny smile, "have you been stealing Mrs. Preston's heart, or has she been stealing yours?"
Orris laughed.
"I shan't have any qualms about you now," she said. "I did feel a kind of pity for your homeless condition, but then I had not been introduced to Lilac Farm."
She sat down and talked to Mr. Preston for a little time longer, and then she and Jock took their leave. But before she had left, she had been invited to bring Pippa to tea in the following week.
"I congratulate you on your friends," she said to Jock, as they walked across the fields together.
"Yes, they're worth knowing. Now here's somebody coming whom I do not like. It's our Rector's wife."
They could not elude her, as she was coming across the fieldpath towards them. Just before she met them, she paused and put up a lorgnette to her eyes. Then she advanced with a rather stiff smile.
Jock took off his hat with a little flourish.
"Then it is you," the lady said, addressing him; "I heard you were in the neighbourhood, and wondered—" She hesitated.
Jock smiled frankly at her.
"Yes, all the neighbourhood is wondering, I dare say, but it is really myself in the flesh; and, moreover, I mean to stay. May I introduce Miss Coventry—but perhaps you have already called upon her?"
"Mrs. Snow assures me," said Orris, with her dimpling smile, "that I am not in a position to be called upon."
Mrs. Villars looked at her with grave aloofness.
"My husband calls on all his parishioners," she said; "I expect he has already done so on you."
"Yes; he was most kind. But I do not need calls in a social way. I am too busy for that." Then feeling that this was slightly inconsistent with her afternoon's dissipation, Orris added, "I have been taking time off this afternoon, for Mr. Muir has insisted upon making me acquainted with some of his friends. We have just been over to Lilac Farm."
Mrs. Villars seemed about to say something, but stopped herself. She looked worried, then in another moment she blurted out:
"I want lodgings at once. I am on my way to ask Mrs. Preston to take two ladies in—very distressful circumstances."
"I doubt if she'll be able to do that," said Jock, "for I'm about to occupy her only spare room."
"Oh, but she must! I really know of no other person who could make Lady Violet Archer comfortable. It is most unfortunate. She and her daughter—old friends of mine—have just come to live at Ivy Towers, and foolish village gossip has driven away all the servants she brought with her. They have not a soul in the house. We unfortunately are full up, friends from town who will not be leaving us till next week. Lady Violet is not strong, and this has upset her. Her nerves have always been shaky."
"Then," said Jock, and, to Orris's surprise, his voice sounded quite stern, "why on earth did you let them come to the Towers? You know its reputation."
"I am above such superstition, and so is my husband." Mrs. Villars gave them a stiff little bow and passed on.
Orris looked after her with interest.
"A handsome woman, but she showed in her face her disapproval of me. Now, Mr. Muir, what is the story about this unfortunate house? Even Pippa has regaled me with gossip about it. Is it haunted?"
Jock nodded rather shortly.
"You'll laugh at us in these enlightened times. It is not haunted with visible ghosts, but misfortune seems to descend on all tenants who try to live there. I must say I wonder at Mrs. Villars recommending her friends to take it."
"I believe they're old friends. I expect she wanted them over here. She doesn't think much of any of us."
They had come to the Manor. Orris called for her small niece, and returned home with her. Her thoughts dwelt upon the Towers. She felt sorry for the servantless lady and daughter there, but she had little idea of how soon and how much they would affect her.
CHAPTER V
A HARD BLOW
TWO or three days after the visit to the Manor, Pippa came to her aunt in the afternoon with an air of delighted mystery upon her small face.
"Aunt Ollie, I've had a real letter without a stamp broughted by the butcher's boy. Now, who 'do' you think it's from?"
Orris looked up from her books.
"Do you want me to read it for you?"
"Please. It's from a grown-up person, because they can't write plain."
Orris took the note from the child's hand. It ran as follows—
"If the Little Elf would like to have a surprise and unearth buried
treasure, let her go into the big bedroom at the top of the staircase,
and press a little knob in the wall under a picture of a curly-haired
dog.
"N.B.*—Lie low, and beware of Snuffy."
* N.B.—nota bene
"Oh, it's my dear Master Jock!" exclaimed Pippa excitedly, beginning to dance up and down on her toes. "I'll go immechately. It's a secret room, Aunt Ollie."
"I think I'd better come with you."
"I think no. I'd like to aventure it myself."
"Well, run along, and if you're too long away, I shall come after you."
Orris was feeling a little worried that day. Pippa's mother was arriving in two days' time, and she felt that she would be rather a discordant element in the house. Mrs. Snow was not very obliging, and though the food was good and they were comfortably lodged, yet the attendance was not what it ought to have been, and Venetia was a most exacting and inconsiderate person. When Orris told Mrs. Snow that she would be arriving, she seemed very discomposed.
"I've had a call from Mrs. Villars this morning; there is letters passing between her and Mrs. Calthrop. I shall be very glad when people who belong here are in their own again. It is altogether too much for me. Such plans and changes are most upsetting."
"What is upsetting you?" asked Orris good-humouredly.
"The least said soonest mended," said Mrs. Snow darkly; "you'll hear soon enough; and maybe this new lady belonging to you had best not hurry to get here."
Orris could get nothing more out of her. But she felt uneasy and anxious. And when Pippa had left her, she leant her elbows on her writing-table and, forgetting her books, gave herself up to meditation.
She was not long left in peace. Peals of childish laughter and flying feet spoke of the coming of Pippa. She dashed in at the door like a whirlwind.
"Oh, Aunt Ollie! I'm laughing right through me; my heart is laughing even—I hear it bump. I found the knob, and it's the lovely, lovely powder-room; and it has china pictures all round it and above to the ceiling, and they all come out of the Bible, and the people are quite ridic'lous, they make me 'roar' with laughing and when I opened the door there was a hijeous old woman with a tall black hat and kind of hairy and beardy all over her face, and she was sitting at a table with a big heap of chocs in front of her to sell. And she winked at me, and said, 'Two chocs for a kiss!' And I thought she might be a fairy witch, so I gave her a tiny kiss on the tip of her chin, and I got two chocs. And then she said, 'Two more if you come and sit on my lap!' And I thought about it, and then I saw a ring on her finger, and it was Master Jock's, so I knowed; and I jumped on his knee, and he squeezed and tickled me; and we screamed, and then we heard somebody coming, and Master Jock put me outside the door quick, and said, 'Don't tell Snuffy'; and there she was, and so I ran away. But isn't he a darling to give me such surprises?"
"I think Mr. Muir is foolish to come here so much," said Orris, with a frown. "Where is he now?"
"In the powder-room. Come and see it, Aunt Ollie."
Orris was tugged to her feet, but she went willingly enough to the powder-room, of which she had heard but not seen. She found Jock there rolling up his disguise. He laughed when he saw her.
"The Elf and I like a bit of fun," he said apologetically. "I promised to show her this room one day, and I had an hour to spare. Do you see these old Dutch tiles? Aren't they quaint? I used to spend part of my Sundays here when I was a youngster. It was considered part of my scriptural education, but did you ever see such comic illustrations? The artist must have had a high sense of humour."
Orris looked at the tiles with interest and admiration. The walls were lined with them from floor to ceiling, but her thoughts took a turn away from them.
"Tea will be in directly," she said; "come downstairs and have some before you go. I want to know about Lady Violet Archer and her daughter."
"They're at Lilac Farm. Came two days ago, but only till they find other quarters."
"They could find lodgings here," said Orris; "there are so many unused bedrooms. How I wish the house was mine! But Mrs. Snow is the drawback. Pippa, darling, run to the nursery. It is your tea-time."
"I'll tell Anita all about this beautiful little room," said Pippa, dancing away.
Then, as they descended the stairs together, Orris said:
"My sister-in-law is joining me here. I am afraid Mrs. Snow does not like it, but Mrs. Calthrop gave me leave to have her."
Jock looked at her queerly.
"I rather wish your sister-in-law would keep away. I like you best alone."
"Mr. Muir!"
"Don't, I beseech you; don't do the 'aughty to me, as Snuffy used to say. Here she is! Oh, dash her! She always catches me."
"Mr. Muir is going to have tea with me, Mrs. Snow," said Orris, with great dignity of manner.
Mrs. Snow stood before them in the hall with folded arms.
"I never let Mr. Muir in this afternoon," she said with icy coldness.
"No, Snuffy: but you can't keep me out of my old home. I'm part and parcel of it, and whoever is here will be haunted by me, so I give you fair warning."
"I shall have to write to Mrs. Calthrop and tell her I can't do my duty to her," said Mrs. Snow, and she retreated.
Orris felt no compunction in giving Jock a cup of tea.
"I can write to Mrs. Calthrop too," she said. "I know she will not object to my asking friends to tea. She said I was to look upon it as a temporary home."
Jock stood on the hearthrug looking round the library with rather dreamy eyes.
"I wish I were a book-lover," he said, "but I learn all my lessons from Nature."
"I think I learn a good deal from books," said Orris gravely, "but I hope I shan't imbibe too much philosophy from some of these dear old men. I don't want to get stony and unimpressed by my surroundings, and, personally, my heart warms to an unconventional impulsive person. That is why Pippa charms me."
"And do include me. I am told that I'm too unconventional for society."
Orris laughed.
"I think you are very audacious to steal in and out of this house as you do. I don't wonder that Mrs. Snow disapproves. How did you get in this afternoon?"
"Through one of the open windows. I am not audacious. I have a right here."
He snapped his lips together like steel. Orris was startled to see the hardness and determination in his face. Then he looked at her and smiled.
"If they shut you and the Elf up in jail, I should get to you," he said.
"We were strangers a week or two ago," Orris remarked quietly.
"We're fast, firm friends now," he said, with a little laugh; "and when once I make friends, I keep them."
Silence fell upon them for a moment.
Jock suddenly broke it.
"Let's pretend, like the children. This is your house and mine. I have come in rather tired after an afternoon's work in the fields. And you're waiting to give me my tea."
"How could we share a house?" said Orris, laughing. "What nonsense you talk!"
"How? By walking into church one day, and coming out man and wife. Nothing easier."
"Oh, Mr. Muir!"
Orris was reduced to speechlessness.
Jock looked at her with a funny shy repentant look.
"There now! See how you precipitate me into speech! But that will happen to us one day, you know. Only, of course, I never do take the proper course, and go slowly. And—don't speak! You'll say we haven't known each other long enough, and a lot of stuff like that! You bowled me over that day when you stood looking at me with a mixture of shocked disapproval and amusement. And you're simply adorable, as you sit there with the sunlight in your hair and your dimples, which will appear in spite of your stern resolve to keep them under."
"I shall go away and leave you if you go on talking like this." Orris spoke very gravely. Her head was raised rather haughtily.
"I'm sorry. Forget my rash speech. I'm desperately in love with you, and if I can't marry you, I shall be a bachelor for the rest of my days. There! That's off my chest. Now we'll talk of other things. I'm not even going to ask you your opinion of me, for fear of hearing something nasty! I've a message from Dunscombe for you. He would like to come up to-morrow morning and give you some help over your Persian MSS."
"I shall be very glad to see him."
Conversation rather languished, but Jock soon took his leave.
"Am I forgiven?" he asked as he took her hand in his.
"Oh, yes," said Orris. "I can see you are not like anyone else. Your time in the Colonies has made you very un-English."
She felt perturbed and breathless, and longed to be alone. When he had gone, she drew her chair to the open window. As a girl in the secluded life with her scholar father she had met very few young men of her own age. Her father's friends were hers. They were all scholars, and had very little interest in women. After his death, her cousin Dugald had come into her life. But beyond a friendly liking for him, she could not go. He proposed to her at various intervals, and after repeated refusals, he had to be content with her cousinly friendship. She had met other men, but none had appealed to her; she had come to think that she was destined for a single life. Sometimes she wondered if her ideals were too high, or her opinion of herself and her requirements too great. She almost laughed now at the thought of this gay, light-hearted, irresponsible young stranger daring to lay siege to her heart.
"Preposterous and absurd!" she muttered to herself. "He was making game of me. I hope he did not think that I took it seriously. But I do dislike his bringing such a subject forward. He could not have been in earnest. I must not see so much of him, and I must keep Pippa away from him. Really, I am rather thankful that Venetia is coming to-morrow. Now, if he were to take a fancy to her, what a charming stepfather he would make to my darling Pippa! I am afraid Venetia would not look at him: farming would be abhorrent to her."
The next afternoon Venetia arrived. She seemed a little distrait and cross, but made a great fuss over Pippa. The child was an affectionate little soul, but was not very demonstrative, and Orris listened rather impatiently to her sister-in-law's talk.
"Haven't you missed me, my pet? Have you forgotten your mummy? Your poor mummy, who has nobody left to love her except her little girl. Come and kiss me again! Tell me you love me. If I thought that Auntie Ollie was stealing your heart from me, I would take you right away!"
"Oh, Venetia, how can you talk so!" Orris said.
"I mean every word. People are unkind, cruel to those who have no money, and are down in their luck. I've been proving the truth of that, visiting round. No one is anxious to receive an impecunious widow, especially if she is at all good-looking. Who have we near us here in the shape of neighbours?"
Orris tried to tell her. Venetia was interested at once in Jock, and told Pippa that she must take her to see him. Then she said:
"Come upstairs, my darling, and I will show you what a sweet silk frock I've bought you. White silk with little roses round neck and sleeves."
"Oh, Venetia! She has so many frocks," expostulated Orris.
Venetia nodded at her, laughing as she left the room with her child. Putting her head in at the door, she said:
"And the bill is coming in to you, Orris. I got it at Gorringe's."
Venetia brought a different atmosphere into the old house at once. She made her presence felt, and she and Mrs. Snow had a good many passages of arms together before many days passed.
A small trap and pony were discovered in the village, and with some little persuasion, Orris had it placed at her sister-in-law's disposal. Dan drove her about in it, and Pippa accompanied her. They were soon friendly with both Jock and Mr. Dunscombe.
The latter came over and gave Orris a good deal of help with her catalogue. Jock did not come to the house so much. He was working on the farm, and it was at his work that Pippa introduced her mother to him. Orris was relieved that he stayed away.
And then, about ten days after Venetia arrived, the thunderbolt fell.
The postman brought a letter to Orris from Mrs. Calthrop.
She read it at breakfast, and she read and re-read it, and did some deep thinking before she spoke to Venetia about it.
It was a lovely sunny morning. Pippa was sitting up, with eager anticipation in her shining face.
"Let's talk plans, mummy. I've thoughted of a lovely one. We'll take the trap and make the pony take us to the sea somewhere, and we'll take our dinner with us. Sangwiches and eggs and sponge cakes, with 'plenty' of jam in the middle. 'And' gingybeer, 'and' mushrooms and cheese!"
Her mother laughed.
"To be taken, and then well shaken, Pips! And then the sea! You ridiculous child, we're nowhere near the sea."
"No, but we can get there, mummy. We've only to go far enough. Because, you know, England is an island, and the sea comes all round it. Did you know that, mummy? Anita told me yesterday."
"Ask your auntie what she's looking so dismal about?" said Venetia languidly.
Orris gave a start and looked up from her letter.
"Have you finished breakfast, Pippa? Could you run out into the garden and pick some flowers for my vase in the library? You were going to do it yesterday, were you not? But it rained."
"So I will," said Pippa cheerfully and unsuspectingly. She danced out of the room, and Orris drew a long breath.
"I want to speak to you, Venetia. I know you haven't been very satisfied with this old house, nor with the attendance you get in it, so perhaps you will not mind. But—we shall have to flit."
"What on earth do you mean?"
Venetia sat up, all attention at once.
"There's a long rigmarole from Mrs. Calthrop saying how heavy her expenses are abroad, and that Mrs. Villars, our Rector's wife, has asked her if she could possibly let the house to some old friends of hers, who will pay very handsomely for it. They are the people I told you about who are now lodging at Lilac Farm. They took a house with an unfortunate history could get no servants to stay with them."
"Oh, I remember. Lady Violet Archer is the woman's name. I met her once in town. Mrs. Calthrop can't turn us out."
"I'm afraid she can. She has offered, of course, to add to my salary in lieu of board and lodging. She says Mrs. Snow could not manage for all of us, and I quite see that she could not. They want to come at once, for Lady Violet is not in good health, and there is not room at the farm for her maid."
"I never heard of such proceedings," said Venetia angrily. "We can't be turned out into the street like dogs. You had better throw up your work and come back to town, Orris. Pippa has recovered her health in a wonderful way. She is fat and rosy, and perfectly untiring in her energy! And I honestly tell you this country will bore me to death. We have no neighbours. Mr. Muir is amusing, but he's a farmer, or wants to make himself into one. And Mr. Dunscombe is a dull bookworm. But Mrs. Calthrop has broken her contract with you. I should make her pay for doing it. You 'must!'"
Orris was silent; she was conning over in her mind the different houses in the village. It would be comparatively easy to find lodgings for herself and Pippa, but Venetia was a different matter. Mrs. Calthrop had suggested lodgings in a farm or cottage, so that she could come to her work daily. Orris felt that this easy happy life of hers had very soon taken wings and flown away.
But she had not much time for thinking, for breakfast was hardly over before Mrs. Snow came in announcing that a lady was in the drawing-room and wished to see her.
"Who is it?" Orris asked.
"Miss Archer," said Mrs. Snow shortly.
In another moment, Orris was shaking hands with a very young pretty girl. She was dressed in rough Harris tweed, with a grey felt hat pulled over her soft brown hair, but everything about her was dainty and fresh, and her complexion like that of a blush rose.
"I have come on 'such' a disagreeable errand," she said; "and I feel you will dislike us very much when you know that Mrs. Calthrop has let this house to mother for some months. But, believe me, it was only this morning that we realized that you were going to be turned out for us. And mother said that I had better come round and explain that it was not our doing. Mrs. Villars has arranged everything with Mrs. Calthrop, and we knew nothing about you until yesterday evening, and then we were talking with Mrs. Preston and she told us."
"My dear Miss Archer, please don't feel uncomfortable about it. This is only a temporary job, and I did not expect to settle down here for good and all. I have felt very sorry for you. I heard about your troubles."
"I wish that we had never come to this part," said the girl ruefully. "It was such a surprising and uncomfortable experience at the Towers. Are you superstitious? Of course, Mrs. Villars laughs at it all, but I wish she would sleep there a few nights, as we did."
"Tell me about it," said Orris sympathetically.
Reyne Archer responded instantly to her interest. She did not seem to have much definite complaint of the Towers beyond queer noises, but she declared the whole atmosphere of the house was eerie and melancholy. And from the unfortunate house, she went on impulsively to confide in Orris a good many of her difficulties in her home life. Orris had a way of inspiring confidence with total strangers. She learnt that Reyne had been dragged about in attendance on an invalid mother from the time she had been fifteen. Lady Violet always spent her winters on the Riviera, and divided her time at home between London and Brighton, and occasional visits to Scotland. Reyne had never been to school; she had a haphazard, desultory education, attending classes at intervals, and having governesses and masters for a few months at a time, and for the last four years had been going out with her mother to the different social functions that came in their way.
"I am so tired of it all," she said, heaving a sigh; "and now the doctors say mother must have rest and quiet in the country. It is so unfortunate that our first venture should prove so disastrous. I don't believe she will be here very long, but she has promised her doctor she will stay quiet in the country all this summer."
"What are your hobbies?" Orris asked. "You must have some."
"Oh," said the girl, with heightened colour, "I want to be of some use in the world. It's all so empty and unsatisfying, going to dances and theatres and at-homes; always seeing the same people, and talking the same kind of talk. I've had it since I was quite a little girl. Mother always took me with her everywhere. I had no proper childhood. And two years ago, in the town, I heard a sermon, and it has altered my whole life. May I tell you about it? You won't laugh?"
"No," said Orris softly; "I shall like to hear."
"It was an unknown preacher in an unknown church. At least, it wasn't a church where many of our sort go—I drifted into it one wet evening. And the text was: 'Where art thou?' He told us of places where we might be, and asked us to catalogue ourselves in one of them. I don't remember all the places. 'In the far country,' was one, 'lost on the mountain,' 'hiding behind fig leaves,' 'standing idle in the market-place,' and then he suggested a change of life and scene to 'in the fold,' 'on the highway of holiness,' and 'in the Lord's hand.'
"I can't tell you how eloquent he was. I came away and went to my room and hunted about till I found a little old Bible that I had given me as a child, and then I prayed, and, oh, I can't explain, but though my outward circumstances haven't altered, my heart has."
She paused, then added hurriedly:
"You will think me quite mad, talking to you like this the first time I see you. I don't know what has made me do it. But you're leading a useful life and your face tells me you understand these things. May I—will you be friendly with me and let me pour out to you sometimes?"
"Certainly I will," said Orris with warmth that surprised herself. She was about to say more, but they were interrupted by Mrs. Snow in the usual way. And after discussing business with that worthy person, Reyne Archer took a hurried leave. But as she was going, she said to Orris:
"May I suggest that if you do want comfortable rooms that you should come to Lilac Farm? Mrs. Preston is such a dear, and she has half-suggested it herself."
"There's nothing I should like better," said Orris, "but we're too large a party. Four in number. She hasn't the rooms. Besides, Mr. Muir is going to occupy her spare room."
"Well, come over and talk to her about it. Do, and I shall see you again."
CHAPTER VI
IN NEW QUARTERS
ORRIS did not delay in making her plans. She started at once for the village, but on the way she met Jock Muir striding along as if he were in a walking race.
"Ah!" he cried, when he saw her. "Good morning. I'm coming to make a rumpus. What is this about your turning out of Pinestones? You shan't do it. I won't have it."
Orris laughed.
"You really are a most amusing man," she said. "I am not being turned out of my job. That is the only thing that I should mind; and I don't think you must try to arrange our affairs for us. I shall be quite happy if I can get rooms somewhere. Mrs. Snow is difficult, and we shall all be relieved if we get away from her."
"Where are you going? To the village? I will walk with you. Now tell me all about it."
Orris complied in her easy happy way. He grew calmer after a bit, and when she mentioned Lilac Farm, his face brightened.
"I believe Mrs. Preston will take you in if anyone will. If she sees the Elf, she'll do it. She adores children. She has several empty attics, you know. We won't go to the village. Come straight off to her."
"I would rather not, just now," said Orris slowly. "We shall be turning you out."
"Oh, that's nothing at all. Dunscombe wants to put me up; and I shall be in and out of the farm all day. I have my midday meal there. We'll all be such a happy family; and you'll be able to look out of your window in the early morning and see me working in the fields!"
Orris laughed, and he joined her.
"It's a first-rate plan," he said eagerly. "You'll be well rid of Snuffy, and it's quite a short walk across the fields. The places join each other. I insist upon your coming to Lilac Farm at once."
"I must speak to my sister-in-law first. Yes, I mean it. You mustn't try to manage me."
"But don't you see that Mrs. Preston may not be able to take you in, and then you would be going on a wrong tack? I won't try to manage you—I don't believe I ever could—but I will try to persuade you. Just come along and talk it over with her. Don't be unreasonable—it's so narrow; and if you're anything, you're open to reason and common sense."
Of course, in the end he got his way, and Orris was led off to Lilac Farm instead of to the village. When Jock had seen her in close confabulation with Mrs. Preston, he tactfully slipped away to his work.
And Mrs. Preston was more accommodating than Orris had dared to hope.
"If Mrs. Coventry and the little girl would share the big spare bedroom, I have a smaller one that I could give you. I know I could make it comfortable for you, and I could get an attic ready for the maid. It's the attendance I'm doubtful about, but if she would wait upon you, I could do it easily. I'm always busy in the kitchen every morning, so my sitting-room would be at Mrs. Coventry's disposal. She could have it to herself."
"Oh," said Orris, with a sigh of relief, "that would do beautifully. My sister-in-law always retires to her bedroom between lunch and tea, if she is not out-of-doors. I shall be all day at work, and my little niece is happy anywhere."
They went on talking. Mrs. Preston suggested them coming into the kitchen for the dinner in the middle of the day, but having their breakfast and tea in her sitting-room, and joining them at supper again. To Orris, this was perfectly satisfactory, but she knew that the real difficulty would be with Venetia. And she returned home as quickly as she could to talk it over with her.
At first, as she feared, Venetia declared that she could not and would not live in a farmhouse. Then, when the alternative seemed to be cottage rooms in the village, she hesitated. Finally she said, with a very ill grace, that they could give it a trial. And Orris settled the matter as soon as possible before she had time to change her mind.
In three days' time, Lady Violet had taken over Pinestones, and Orris and her small family were established at Lilac Farm.
She saw Reyne Archer several times, but neither of them got an opportunity of any quiet talk together. They were both very busy. Pippa was enchanted with the move, though she told Jock that she was very sorry to leave the "darling little secret powder-room," as she called it.
"But I'll climb in at the windows like you did," she said gleefully, "and hide when I hear Snuffy coming."
"No, no!" said Orris, overhearing this remark. "Once away, you must keep away."
"But, Aunt Ollie, I may come and see you sometimes, just in at the window. I can climb over ever so easy!"
Orris shook her head.
"You'll have such delightful things to see and do at the farm that you won't want to leave it," she prophesied; "and when I am at work, I don't want to be disturbed."
"You wait till haymaking comes," said Jock; "you'll have the time of your life then."
Pippa insisted upon being told all details of haymaking; and Orris had little fear that she would venture far-away from the farm.
For herself, the atmosphere of the farm was very peaceful and happy. The only lurking doubt in her heart was the close proximity of Jock. He was always there to early dinner, and was in and out of the farm all day. But she had little time or opportunity of speaking to him alone. Venetia entirely monopolized him at meal times. She told Orris that he was the only person of their own class for her to speak to.
"And though he's a rough diamond," she said, "and nearly penniless, there's something rather attractive about him. He can make you laugh, which is something in this dismal desolate country."
One day Orris took an afternoon off.
Reyne Archer begged her to come a drive with her. Her mother had just had her car down from town, but was laid up with an attack of neuralgia, and so Reyne was free to use it.
"I want you to myself," Reyne informed her, "but I've promised to go to tea with the Misses Dashwood, and I'm going to take you. They said they wanted to see more of you. Don't you like the eldest one? I do."
"Yes; I think she's delightful. But I haven't time to pay many visits, and since my sister-in-law has arrived, I feel that my spare time ought to be devoted to her."
"Well, I want you this afternoon. Don't disappoint me."
Orris yielded. The weather was getting warmer; spring was turning into early summer; and sometimes the many hours in the old library tired and depressed her. She felt that a change and rest would do her good. When she told Venetia of the invitation, she did not meet with much sympathy.
"Oh, I suppose I must accustom myself to do without you. When you're not working, you're amusing yourself; it's quite natural, but rather dull for me."
"What did you want to do this afternoon?" Orris asked.
They were standing in the porch after the early dinner at the farm, Venetia with the inevitable cigarette in her mouth. Pippa had had a swing put up in the orchard, and Jock Muir was tossing her through the air before he went off to his work again.
Venetia shrugged her shoulders.
"We might have driven into the town. It's simply deadly, living here day after day."
"Shall we go in after tea? I can be back at half-past five."
"Oh, I don't know, but I want some books. I shall go and rest now."
She disappeared up the stairs.
Orris gazed rather wistfully after her. She felt it was dull for Venetia, but did not know how to remedy matters.
And then Jock came up to get his hat, and seeing the expression on her face, stopped short.
"What's worrying you?"
Orris laughed.
"Nothing. I'm sorry for my sister-in-law."
Jock screwed up his lips rather enigmatically.
"I shouldn't be. She's going to have a visitor this afternoon."
"Who? What do you mean?"
"I came across a man at the 'Golden Bells' this morning. I had to take one of the horses to be shod next door—that's a parenthesis to let you know I wasn't tippling—and he asked the way to Lilac Farm. One of these Bond Street chaps, I should say, from the cut of his clothes. I was quite nervous lest he should have come down to see you, but it was Mrs. Coventry, not Miss Coventry, whom he wanted, so my mind is relieved. And he's coming over here after his lunch is over. He was surprised that he couldn't have fried sole and spaghetti at the inn. On my honour he was!"
"I know nobody of that description," said Orris. "I am expecting a cousin down this week or next, but it is not he."
She beat a rapid retreat up the stairs, resenting Jock's interest in her visitors.
"That will show him that I am not going to shut myself up entirely to his society," said Orris to herself.
A short time after, she and Reyne Archer were gliding smoothly along the roads in the open car.
"I want to take you to the top of Churt's Hill," Reyne said. "Have you been there?"
"No; it is beyond my walking powers. How much ease and enjoyment you have, if you own a car!"
"Yes, but, like everything else, you don't value it when you are accustomed to it. I'm afraid I'm a discontented soul at present."
"Are you? I wonder why?" said Orris cheerfully. "Don't spoil a pleasant bit of life by hankering after the impossible. If you're tired of town, surely this must refresh you?"
"Oh," said Reyne impulsively, "isn't it a waste of life? There's so much to be done, so few doing anything but just getting through life as comfortably as they can."
"Isn't your mother rather delicate? If you are her only daughter, you could not leave her."
"No," said Reyne, a little bitterly; "she has already told me that. If I leave her, she stops my allowance. She is determined to keep me entirely dependent on her. And penniless workers are at a disadvantage. I have asked about various hostels, and you must contribute something towards your keep, naturally. Of course, I could join communities where they would take me for nothing, but my pride stands in the way."
"I wouldn't be in a hurry about leaving your mother," said Orris gently. "I was tempted sorely, some years ago, to leave my father. I did not seem to be of much use to him; he was a scholar and absorbed in his books. Yet before he died, he thanked me for sticking to him, and I have always been glad I did.'
"But you weren't in the treadmill of smart society," said Reyne.
"No, not in your set. But I thought I was stagnating, burying my talents in the earth. And now, looking back, I see that it was all training."
"For what you are doing now?"
"Partly. I'm able to support myself and my belongings by the knowledge that I got with my father, but I did not mean that side. Miss Dashwood will tell you what I mean. She, after all, is only going through the same phase as yourself, looking after, and keeping happy, her nearest and dearest. It makes for character, calls forth the best of one's powers, when we're in the smallest corners."
Orris spoke gravely, but ended her sentence with her happy smile, and Reyne took hold of her hand caressingly.
"Talk away. I love being preached to. Nobody does it. Tell me charity begins at home, that instead of going abroad to tell the heathen what has been done for them, I ought to be influencing my mother! But you know that's quite an impossibility. It ought to be the other way about—a daughter can't influence a mother, especially such a mother as I have—a mother with a masterful spirit and an iron will."
Orris was silent.
"Love and prayer will work miracles," she said at last. "You know the early Christian women were told to be 'keepers at home.' Of course, people laugh at that in these days, but don't be in a hurry to rush ahead before the door is opened. Don't make up your mind as to what you must, or must not, do. Let God do it for you."
"It is so difficult to stay still knowing that my best years are being given over to what is really condemned in the Bible. You must say it is. 'Lovers of pleasures more than of God,' isn't that rightly quoted?"
"Yes," said Orris, "but the beginning of that quotation is: 'Disobedient to parents, unthankful, without natural affection.'"
Reyne sighed.
"Why don't you help a little in the parish?" Orris suggested. "I am told that Miss Villars is overburdened with it. Mrs. Villars leaves it all to her, and this is a big parish, they say. Couldn't you take a Sunday class whilst you are here? I should personally love to do it. I had one always in London, but I feel here that Pippa needs me on Sunday afternoons. She and I always have a class together."
"I might do that," said Reyne, visibly brightening. "You don't know how good it is to talk with anyone who cares and understands."
They reached Churt's Hill, and got out from the car, walking to the summit, where a few stunted pines were grouped together. But the view was a magnificent one overlooking several counties, rivers like threads of silver wound up and down the valleys, wooded slopes, rich verdant meadows lay before them, little villages nestling close to their churches, and in the far distance a line of blue sea. Orris gazed with a full heart, and Reyne drew a long breath.
"Isn't it inspiring!" she said. "We might be on the top of the Delectable Mountains. We're so far removed up here from petty troubles and vexations. I'm sure space and freedom are necessary to our well-being. Nobody ought to have nerves who lives in such surroundings as these."
"No," said Orris thoughtfully, "but I suppose every one needs a different environment. If Venetia were here with us, she would not enjoy it. Many only stagnate in the country; they live in town."
Reyne gave another sigh. Then she said:
"We're going to have visitors next week. I believe you know them. Now I come to think of it, aren't they connexions of yours? Major Dugald McTavert and Mrs. Laing, his sister."
"They're cousins," said Orris, smiling. "How strange! I only heard from Dugald the other day, saying he would be in these parts soon, for he would be staying with friends in the neighbourhood. Does he know you are in the Muirs' house?"
"No, he wrote to the house of ill-omen, as we now call it. I wonder who the next tenants will be! It is so attractively advertised that it never remains empty long, I believe."
"I wish it could be burnt," said Orris uneasily.
"You are very superstitious about it. I felt, when I was in it, that I was as safe there as anywhere. But it is not a happy house."
"No," said Orris. "I think I must tell you what happened the other day. Pippa persuaded Mr. Muir to take her over it. She had heard a good deal about it from the postman, who is a great friend of hers. When she came back, I asked her about it. She had run away from Mr. Muir for a few minutes, it seems, had thought she would hide from him, and then she said suddenly:
"'I'm 'fraid Master Jock swears wicked words sometimes. I heard drefful words one after the other behind the door. He says he didn't, but who could it be, Aunt Ollie?'
"I asked Mr. Muir, and he vows he never uttered a word, but says Pippa was in the room where most of the tragedies have taken place."
"That's queer. Oh, I'm thankful we're out of it! Will you come over to dinner with us one night, when your cousins are with us? And your sister-in-law too? Do; I know mother means to ask you."
"I think we shall be very glad to do so when the invitation arrives," said Orris, laughing.
Then they walked back to the car, and found their way to the Misses Dashwood's cottage. They met Miss Villars there, who seemed very pleased to see them. Orris had not yet spoken to her, though she had seen her in church and in the distance. She was a thin, harassed-looking girl, but when Orris began to talk to her, she brightened up wonderfully.
"I have so wanted to know you," she said; "you look so happy, and you have that darling little niece who always talks to everybody she meets."
"Yes, she's a sociable little soul, but a little too forward with her tongue," said Orris in her cheerful way. "You must be fond of children. I see you surrounded by them in church."
"Yes, I enjoy the Sunday school. My sister-in-law does not care for children. I love them. Fancy! We have been here fourteen years this month, and I've seen some of my little scholars grow up and marry. It makes me feel so old! Have you heard our news? My brother is giving up the living. He has been offered one in London, and my sister-in-law wants to go. It is at Hampstead."
"Will you be sorry to leave?" Orris asked, wishing she could honestly regret the Rector's departure, but he was a poor preacher, and had not much personality or influence amongst his parishioners.
"I shall be very sorry. I know every one here. It is so hard to begin all over again."
"You are happy in having such work," said Orris; "now Miss Archer, who is with me, is bemoaning her lack of occupation."
"Oh, is she going to stay here? Would she visit a few of the old people? We know the man who is coming, but he is unmarried and rather young. I believe his mother, who lives with him, is old and infirm. I wondered who would look after every one when I went. I could tell her all about the ones who most appreciate being visited."
"I rather fancy she will be here only for the summer, but I know she would be very glad to give all the help she can."
Then Orris introduced the girls and began to talk to the Misses Dashwood.
When they left, Reyne was a different person. She was delighted at the opening that seemed in front of her.
"Of course, the new Rector may not want me interfering, but if he has no wife, he may be glad of some help," she said. "I've heard that Miss Villars has done more in the parish than her brother."
"Yes, all the villagers turn to her. Mrs. Villars does nothing. It is not her line, she says."
Orris was dropped at Lilac Farm on the way back. She felt that the afternoon's drive had refreshed and rested her. She found Venetia sitting in the orchard reading a novel, and Pippa was playing near her.
"I've had a visitor," she said, as Orris approached her.
"I wonder who?"
"You don't know him. A man I met in Italy. He is partly Italian—at least, his mother was of that nationality. He is going to stay at Churt's Grange. Do you know the people there?"
"My dear Venetia, I know no one."
"Mr. Muir will tell us. There he is, crossing the farmyard. Run and tell him I want him, Pippa."
Away flew Pippa, coming back perched on Jock's broad shoulders.
He smiled when he heard Venetia's query.
"Churt's Grange lies the other side of Churt's Hill. Very worthy people—very rich. Made their money in Glasgow. Only been there ten years. Do you want to know them?"
"Mr. Riley is going to bring Mrs. Potter to call. I told him we did not even possess a sitting-room of our own. It is so absurdly rustic and unconventional here."
"Mrs. Potter won't mind. She'll gush over it all. The country to her is a kind of stage for her amusement."
"You will be quite gay," said Orris. "An invitation to dine with the Archers is coming to us. Dugald and Marie are actually coming to stay at Pinestones."
"I wonder who Dugald is?" said Jock, in his usual audacious manner.
Venetia looked up quickly.
"The man who I hope is going to marry Orris," she said. "He has been waiting for her for years."
Orris's brows contracted. A pink flush rose to her cheeks.
"Please do not talk nonsense, Venetia," she said in a vexed tone.
Jock looked as black as thunder. And then Pippa, who had been taking it all in, suddenly threw her word in.
"Oh, but the man I want Aunt Ollie to marry is Master Jock," she said. "I simply would love him to be my—my stone-father."
It was impossible to help laughing.
"Stepfather, you mean," corrected her mother. "He couldn't be your stepfather unless he married me. Run away child, and don't interfere in grown-up people's conversation."
"Pippa is wiser than the whole lot of us put together," said Jock, as he went off to the farmyard again, where he was helping Mr. Preston with a sick cow.
Pippa darted off with him.
"I'm very fond of Cousin Dugald," she confided in him, "but I don't think he ever climbed up into a window in his life. And I simply ''dore' you for doing it!"