Big Game - A Story for Girls

The kitchen door was closely shut. Mrs McNab was too capable a

housewife to allow the noise and odour of culinary preparations to

invade the rest of the house; but by this time Margot was sure of her

welcome, for scarcely a day had passed by that she had not offered her

services, and been condescendingly permitted to shell peas, stone fruit,

or whip up snowy masses of cream. Mrs McNab always accorded permission

with the air of an empress conferring an order upon some humble

suppliant, but none the less Margot felt assured that she appreciated

the help, and would have missed it, had it not been forthcoming.

This morning she tapped on the door, opened it, and thrust her head

round the corner, to behold a tableau which remained fixed irrevocably

in heart and memory. In the middle of the floor stood the mistress of

the inn, arms akimbo, engaged in laying down the law in characteristic,

downright fashion to some one who sat perched upon the dresser with

hands thrust deep into knickerbocker pockets, and feet in rough climbing

boots swinging nonchalantly to and fro; some one with a bright, almost

boyish face alight with fun, laughter, and defiance.

For the second time Margot beheld the real George Elgood denuded of his

mask of shyness and reserve, and thrilled at the recognition. This

sunny, stone-flagged kitchen seemed fated to be the scene of unexpected

meetings! She would have retreated in haste, but at the sound of her

entrance Mr Elgood jumped hastily to the floor, and Mrs McNab

authoritatively waved her forward.

"Here she is to speak for herself! Come yer ways, Miss Vane. I was

saying to Mr Elgood that maybe he'd listen to your advice, as he willna

tak' mine. You're a leddy, and ken how such things should be done, and

if there's any call to waste the morning, and run into daft-like

expense, when everything a reasonable body need want is lying ready to

hand--"

Margot looked from one to the other in bewilderment, her spirits rising

with the discovery that for the first time in their short acquaintance

the Editor met her glance with an expression of relief rather than of

dread. He was smiling still, and the boyish look lingered on his face,

making him appear an absolutely different creature from the grave,

formidable hermit to whom she was accustomed.

Margot's eyes danced, and she answered as naturally as if she had been

speaking to Ron himself.

"I don't know in the least what I am giving an opinion about--but I am

not a `reasonable body,' and as a rule the result of `daft-like expense'

is very nice! I'm afraid that isn't what you wanted me to say, Mrs

McNab, but I must be honest. Perhaps I may feel differently when I know

what I am talking about."