Big Game - A Story for Girls

"But, my dear boy--remember September! September is coming, and if you

don't bestir yourself to take advantage of this last chance, you will be

bemoaning your hard fate, and calling out that your life is ruined! Do,

for goodness' sake, descend from the clouds and be practical for once!

I'd help you if I could, but how can I, when the man refuses even to

look at me?"

Margot's voice took a plaintive tone as she uttered those last words.

She was so unaccustomed to be ignored, that the editor's avoidance

rankled in her mind. She found her thoughts persistently returning to

him in every period of leisure; when he was near, she was acutely

conscious of his presence; when he was absent, her mind followed after

him, wondering where he was, what he was doing, and of what he was

thinking. Having once seen a glimpse of the real man when, in the

character of Elspeth, she had looked into his face, sparkling with

youth, kindliness, and humour, she understood that the abstracted figure

which sat at the table at meal-times was but the shell of the real

George Elgood, and that, if the barriers of shyness and reserve could

once be overcome, he would prove an even more fascinating companion than

his brother. The desire to know him grew daily in intensity, while,

unconsciously to herself, the personal element slowly predominated the

thought of Ron and Ron's future.

Now, as the brother and sister argued together, they were hurrying along

by the edge of the tarn on their way to service at the kirk, for this

was Sunday morning, the fifth day after their arrival at the Glen.

Ron, as usual, had been late in starting, and before the village was

reached his watch showed that it was already five minutes past the time

when service began. They had been sternly directed by Mrs McNab to go

to the kirk at the far end of the village, and inquire for the inn pew,

but as it would take several minutes longer to traverse the length of

the straggling street, Margot suggested that it would be wise to attend

the nearer of the two churches.

"There can be no difference. They are both Presbyterian," quoth she, in

her ignorance; so in they went, to be met in the doorway by an elder in

his Sabbath "blacks," his solemn face surrounded by a fringe of sandy

whisker. The pews were very narrow and very high, shut in a box-like

seclusion by wooden doors; the minister, in his pulpit, was just giving

out the number of the psalm, and the precentor, after tapping his

tuning-fork and holding it to his ear, burst forth into wailing notes of

surprising strength and volume. Margot rose automatically to her feet,

to subside in confusion, as the seated congregation gazed at her in

stolid rebuke. In this kirk it was the custom to sit while singing, and

stand during prayers--a seemly and decorous habit which benighted

Southerners had difficulty in understanding.