Big Game - A Story for Girls

At sight of Margot the Chieftain first beamed delight, and then screwed

his chubby face into an expression of concern.

"Halloa! What's up? You look pretty middling doleful!" cried he,

casting an eloquent glance towards the inn windows, then lowering his

voice to a stage whisper, "Macalisteritis, eh? Too much stuffy parlour

and domestic reminiscences? Never mind! Pack clouds away, and welcome

day! The sun is shining, and I have a packet of bull's eyes for you in

one pocket and a budget of letters in another. No, you don't! Not one

single one of them to read in the house--come and sit on a stone by the

tarn, and we'll suck peppermints and read 'em together. Wonderful how

much better you'll feel when you've had a good blow of fresh air. I was

prancing mad when I went out this afternoon, but now--a child might play

with me!"

He threw out his short arms with his favourite sweeping gesture, his

coat flapped to and fro in the breeze, he stepped out with such a jaunty

tread on his short broad feet, that at sight of him Margot's depression

vanished like smoke, and she trotted along by his side with willing

footsteps.

"That's better! That's better! Never saw you look melancholy before,

and never want to again... `Shocking disappearance of dimples! A young

lady robbed of her treasures! Thief still at large! Consternation in

the neighbourhood!' Eh! How's that? Young women who have been endowed

with dimples should never indulge in low spirits. It's a criminal

offence against their neighbours. Where's your brother?"

Margot laughed at the suddenness of the question. It was one of the

Chieftain's peculiarities to leap upon one like this, taking one

unawares, and surprising thereby involuntary revelations.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully. "Over the hills and far away,

I suppose--studying them in a new aspect. He loved them yesterday in

the rain; to-day he felt sure that it would clear, and he wanted to see

the mists rise. He does so intensely love studying Nature."

"Humph?"

Margot looked at him sharply, her head involuntarily assuming a

defensive tilt.

"What does `Humph' mean, pray?"

"Just exactly and precisely what it says!"

"It doesn't sound at all flattering or nice."

"Probably not. It wasn't intended to be."

"Mr Elgood, how can you! What can you have to say about Ron that isn't

to his credit? I thought you liked him! I thought you admired him!

You must see--you must--that he is different from other boys of his

age. So much more clever, and thoughtful, and appreciative!"

"That's where the pity comes in! It's pitiful to see a lad like that

mooning away his time, when he ought to be busy at football or cricket,

or playing tricks on his betters. What business has he to appreciate

Nature? Tell me that! At twenty--is it, or only nineteen?--he ought to

be too much engrossed in exercising his muscles, and letting off steam

generally, to bother his head about effects of sun and mist. Sun and

mist, indeed! A good wholesome ordinary English lad doesn't care a toss

about sun or mist, except as they help or hinder his enjoyment of

sport!"