Out of sympathy and respect for Mr and Mrs Macalister, nothing more
was said about the next picnic party for several days after their tragic
departure from the Glen, but the intervening time was, to Margot at
least, full of interest and excitement. One morning, for instance, as
she strolled from the breakfast-room to the road, as was the easy custom
of the hour, a hurried step followed in the same direction, and George
Elgood, staring hard in an opposite direction, advanced an opinion that
one lesson in fishing was mere waste of time, whereas two, or perhaps
three, might possibly convey some real knowledge of the art. Er--did
Miss Vane feel inclined to pay another visit to the river?
Miss Vane, poking the gravel with the points of her shoes, was--er--yes!
quite inclined, if Mr Elgood was sure she would not interrupt his sport
Mr Elgood, with equal eagerness and incoherence, assured Miss Vane that
she would do nothing of the kind, and hurried back to the inn, murmuring
vaguely concerning eleven o'clock.
In the quiet of the riverside, however, he regained his self-possession,
and once more proved himself to be the most interesting of companions,
the most patient of instructors. Margot thought fishing a delightful
and absorbing pursuit, which was the more remarkable as she was rather
stupid than otherwise in mastering the initial movements. Mr Elgood
encouraged her, however, by saying that some of the cleverest "rods" of
his acquaintance had been the slowest in picking up the knack. The
great thing was to have plenty of practice! She ought to come up every
morning for as much time as she could spare; meantime, as she had been
standing so long, would she not like to sit down, and rest awhile before
walking home?
Then they sat down side by side on the grassy bank, and talked together
as a man and a maid love to talk in the summer of their youth,
exchanging innocent confidences, comparing thoughts and opinions,
marvelling that they are so much alike.
Margot faithfully observed her promise to make no references to her
ambitions on her brother's behalf, and, truth to tell, her silence
involved little effort, for she was guiltily conscious of being so much
engrossed in her own affairs that even Ron's ambitions had faded into
the background. As for the lad himself, he was happy enough, wandering
about by himself studying "effects" to transcribe to paper, or scouring
the countryside with the Chieftain, whom he frankly adored, despite the
many exceedingly plain-spoken criticisms and exhortations received from
his lips.
"Your sister has been telling me about that rhyming craze of yours," the
little man said suddenly one day. "Likewise about her own very pretty
little scheme for the subjugation of my brother. Told you that she'd
told me, eh? Expect she did! She is pleased to believe she is a
designing little adventuress, whereas as a matter of fact she's as clear
as crystal, and any one with half an eye could see through her schemes.
Well! I laid down the law that neither she nor you are to worry my
brother about business matters during his holiday, for, to tell you the
truth, he has had his full share of worry of late. But what about me?
I'm a plain, common-sense, steady-going old fellow, who might perhaps be
able to give you a word or two of advice! What's all this nonsense
about throwing aside a post that's waiting for you, and which means an
income for life, in order to live in an attic, and scribble verses for
magazines? If you knew the world, young man, you would understand that
you are blessedly well off, to have your way made smooth, and would not
be in such a hurry to meet disappointments half way. They will come
soon enough! At the best of it, you will have a hard row to hoe. Why
make it worse?"