"I'm afraid I-- The dell is in no sense my property--No doubt it would
make a capital site for a picnic, but I--I have no right to pose as
host!"
"Rubbish, my boy! You are not going to get out of it so easily as that.
We expect you to act as master of the ceremonies, and show us the
beauties you have kept to yourself so long. Yes, and to catch some
trout for us, too! What do you say to that, Mrs Macalister? How does
freshly grilled trout strike you as an accessory to a picnic? We'll
have two fires, with the kettle on one, and the gridiron on the other,
and Mrs McNab will send up a hamper of good things to complete the
feast. We'll leave George to manage that, as he knows how to get round
her; only do the thing well when you are about it; that's all I have to
say! We shall bring rattling big appetites, shan't we, Miss Vane?"
Margot's glance passed by his to dwell with remorseful commiseration on
the Editor's perturbed face. This was her own doing; a direct
consequence of her appeal of the day before! The expression of the
brown eyes was wonderfully eloquent, and meeting them the Editor
bestirred himself to smile back a grateful recognition. By this time,
however, the murmur had grown into definite speech; Mrs Macalister was
stating at length her life's experience as to picnics, and laying down
the law as to what was necessary for their success; the clergyman and
his son were debating how to reach the dell from the farthest point of
the day's expedition; Mr Macalister was slowly repeating-"Trout! Grilled trout! It's a strange-like idea to have fish at a
picnic!"
It was plainly too late in the day for the Editor to refuse an
invitation which had already been practically accepted! With a better
grace than might have been expected he resigned himself to his fate, and
the smile which he sent round the table was very charming in its shy
cordiality.
"I shall be delighted if you will honour me by coming so far; and no
doubt with Mrs McNab's help I shall be able to provide refreshments.
Shall we say half-past four?"
"Four o'clock would be better. We want plenty of time to linger over
tea, and ramble about afterwards," said the Chieftain firmly; and there
being no dissent from this amendment, the Editor nodded assent, and,
gathering his papers in his hand, hurried out of the room.
Margot followed on the first opportunity. She felt the eyes of the
Chieftain fixed on her face from across the room, and could imagine the
twinkle of humorous meaning with which they would be alight but she felt
too self-conscious and ill at ease to respond. Like a frightened little
rabbit she scuttled upstairs to her own room and remained there, busying
herself with odd pieces of work until the inmates of the inn had taken
themselves off for their morning's excursions, and quiet reigned
throughout the house. Then, and not till then, she opened her door and
peered cautiously at that other door across the landing. It was closely
shut, and taking for granted that within its portals the bewildered
scholar was making the most of his free hours, Margot crept quietly down
the staircase, and turned to the right towards the kitchen. It occurred
to her that she might be able to help Mrs McNab in her preparations for
the afternoon, and by doing so relieve the pangs of her own conscience.
All this work, and worry, and bewilderment, on her account--as a
response to her appeal! She blushed guiltily, hardly knowing whether to
feel more gratified or annoyed with the Chieftain for so speedy a
demonstration of his power; dreading the moment when they should meet
again, and she must perforce brave the mischievous messages of his eyes.