Big Game - A Story for Girls

The broad, beaming smile, the sly little nod behind Mr Macalister's

back, proclaiming triumph and delighted gratitude--these sent Margot up

to her room heartened and revived in spirits, for there is nothing on

earth so invigorating as to feel that we have helped a fellow-creature.

The sunshine came back to her own heart, even as it was slowly breaking

its way through the clouds overhead. She thrust her head out of the

window, and opening her mouth, drank in great gulps of the fresh damp

air, so sweet and reviving after the mouldy atmosphere of "the parlour."

Over the mountain tops in the direction from which the wind was blowing

the clouds were slowly drifting aside, leaving broader and broader

patches of blue. Blue! After the long grey hours of rain and mist.

The rapture of it was almost beyond belief! A few minutes more, and the

glen would be alight with sunshine. She would put on boots, cap, and

cape, and hurry out to enjoy every moment that remained.

The strong-soled little boots were lifted from their corner behind the

door, and down sat Margot on the floor, school-girl fashion, and began

to thread the laces in and out, and tie them securely into place. Then

the deerstalker cap was pinned on top of the chestnut locks, and the

straps of the grey cape crossed over the white flannel blouse. Now she

was ready, and the sunshine was already calling to her from without,

dancing across the floor, and bringing a delicious warmth into the

atmosphere.

Margot threw open the door and was about to descend the narrow

staircase, when she stopped short, arrested by an unexpected sound.

Some one was singing softly in a room near at hand, repeating the

refrain of the ballad which she had taken last on her list. The deep

bass tones lingered softly on the words-"And the lad who marries me,

Must carry me hame to my North Coun-tree!"

George Elgood was echoing her song in the seclusion of his own room! He

had been indoors all the time, then, listening to her while she sang!

Margot's cheeks grew hot with embarrassment, yet in the repeated strain

there was a suggestion of appreciation, of lingering enjoyment which did

away with the idea of adverse criticism.

"Oh, the Oak and the Ash,"--the strain seemed to swell in volume,

growing ever nearer and nearer. "And the lad who marries me--"

The door flew open, and they stood facing one another, each framed as in

a picture in the lintel of the doorways, divided only by a few yards of

boarded passage. The strain came to an abrupt conclusion, frozen upon

his lips by the shock of surprise and embarrassment. For the third time

in their short acquaintance Margot looked straight into his eyes; for

the third time recognised in their depths something that in mysterious

fashion seemed to respond to a want in her own nature; for the third

time saw the lids drop, heard an unintelligible murmur of apology, and

watched a hasty retreat.