Part 8

'Not all day,' said the icicle, and as I opened my lips, intending to be firm, but kind, it said in a voice cold as a glacier just before the dawn, 'Don't argue, it's quite settled, Margaret.'

'But,' I objected, assuring myself again that firm kindness was the _only_ way with icicles, 'you've got exactly the same cold, and you're up. Sauce for a goose ought to be sauce for a gander.'

Suddenly a rapid thaw set in and the icicle subsided into a mere puddle on the floor, and my brother answered, 'Sauce _from_ a goose is all I know about,' and there we left it.

*CHAPTER VIII*

It took two days to drown that kitten, but now I'm up again and out, and to-day I went to Tarnley, with the permission of my gracious keeper, 'if I drove both there and back.' As it was sunny, and mercies are strictly rationed just at present, I accepted the offer and went to all the places I had meant to go to first, did a lot of shopping, and finally interviewed one of the house agents.

I was quite clear and definite in my requirements--I wanted to _buy_ an _old_ house; so of course every one he sent me to was _red brick_, _modern_, and _to let_.

I went home and groused to Ross, and announced that the only really satisfactory way to find a suitable dwelling was to walk the length and breadth of England, and when you saw the house you wanted knock at the door and beguile the owner into selling it to you, and that I intended to adopt this plan and to begin my pilgrimage shortly.

Ross, as usual, was rude about it.

'Haven't you discovered all these years, you little ass, that agents are a race apart?' said he; 'their minds are controlled by the law of opposites. Now your heart, Meg, is set on a house, ancient and mellowed with years, with long, low rooms and beams, and an old-world garden full of wallflowers, phlox and herbs and perennials and----'

'But, Ross----'

'Don't interrupt me, Meg; consequently you must tell the agent that you desire a new up-to-date dwelling with a small garden overlooked on either side (since we are cheerful souls and love the company of our fellows). Then they would give you orders to view old houses with little latticed windows and winding stairs. Methinks if you said you _must_ have lincrusta and white enamel you might even get oak panelling.'

After dinner Ross departed upstairs, said he had things to do and then he was going to bed.

To bed? To walk his room all night, with Brown, unbeknown to my brother, pacing up and down the passage.

I sat by my fire and read. At one o'clock, Ross knocked me up. As I went into the corridor Brown barred his door.

'I daren't, ma'am. Please don't ask me. Not after last time, miss.'

'Let her in, Brown,' cried Ross. 'I knocked her up, you ass! Worrying?' he asked me laconically as I went in.

'Yes.'

'Like to make tea then? got such a rotten "go" on, Meg.'

And then he fainted, and I called to Brown. He got his master into bed, while I flew round for brandy.

'Give me some water,' said my reviving brother.

'No, I won't,' said Brown, 'you'll take the brandy, Master Ross, or I'll thrash you like I did that day in Hickley Woods when you fell and cut your knee and sprained your ankle, and tried to prevent me going for the doctor.'

Ross was so dumbfounded that he took the brandy meekly.

'Now these aspirins,' said Brown, 'and I'm going to light the fire. The room is like an ice-house. I'm about fed up.'

When he arose from the fireplace he was once again the suave, impassive servant. 'I should wish to give a month's warning, sir. I don't seem able to give you satisfaction.' And there was a desolating silence. 'Anything more I can do for you to-night, sir?'

'Yes,' said Ross, 'stop playing the goat.'

But Brown's face remained hard and impassive.

'Want me to eat humble pie, I suppose,' said Ross, and surveyed his servant as if he had just suddenly seen him.

'Yes, sir, I think it would be a good thing.'

'Well, then, I've been a devil all the week.'

But Brown still waited.

'Want more pie?' asked my erring brother.

'That's as you feel, sir,' said Brown.

So Ross, with the air of a man who thought it a pity to spoil the ship of repentance for a ha'porth of grace, said 'Sorry.'

'Don't name it, sir,' said Brown, and I so rejoiced over the sinner that repented that I forgot to remind him to say 'punchbowl.'

Just as Brown went through the door, Ross called out, 'Got another place, Sam?'

Sam suddenly came to life again. 'Will you see the doctor in the morning?'

'Oh, have it your own way,' growled Ross.

'Then I've got a place,' said Sam.

'Get us some tea, then,' my brother ordered, 'and come and have a cup yourself.'

'Certainly not, sir, with Miss Meg--Margaret, I mean,' he said, getting deeper into the mire.

'Do you usually call my sister by her Christian name?'

'No, sir, but you worry me so, I don't know half the time what I'm a-saying.'

'Well, I'm a-saying now,' said his autocratic master, 'that it's time the tea was here, and bring three cups. I want to talk about the Hickley Woods. You've got a rotten temper, Sam.'

'Yes, sir, you can't touch pitch,' said Sam, firing the last shot.

So victory is not always to the strong.

'Oh, what a chap,' said Ross.

We spent a warm and pleasant hour talking birds, and fish, and rabbits, and the years slipped away and we were back again in the Hickley Woods--Ross, Miss Meg, and Sam.

After Brown had departed with the tea-cups, Ross said, 'Meg, do you think I'm weak?'

'Well, darling,' I replied, 'you are sure to feel so after fainting, but if you take care, you----'

'But I don't mean my body, Meg.'

'We are all sinners,' I said, 'but if you would like to see a clergyman in the morning, I'll----'

'How can you be so aggravating; I don't mean my soul, either. I want to talk about my Will.'

'I thought you had made it ages ago, but I'll wire for the lawyer in the morning.'

'Oh, Meg, how you do exasperate a chap.'

'Well, what do you mean?' I giggled.

'I mean my will power. Do you think I'm weak?'

'About as weak as Michael,' I replied. 'Why?'

'Because,' said my brother seriously, 'doesn't it seem an awful thing that a chap my size can't manage a chap his.'

'But there's only three inches between you, and he is six months older.'

'Yes, but three inches is three inches, and what's six months, Meg?'

'You say forty minutes is enough when you boss me.'

'Oh, twins are different, but with Brown I get along all right when I take my stand on the King's Regulations. But when he brings in the Hickley Woods I go to water.'

'No, to brandy.'

'Oh, rub it in,' said Ross, and then because he was so quaint and sweet and I loved him, and he had fainted, and because the lion seemed very tame, I forebore to tease him further and was really nice, kissed him once and petted him a little, and then when I got up to go he said,--

'Pity you aren't always as dutiful as that.'

'Dutiful!' I shrieked. 'Oh, what a word,' and so we parted coldly after all.

*CHAPTER IX*

And the doctor's verdict is 'Two days in bed and bromide. First dose now.'

'I'll stay in bed,' said Ross, with the air of a man conferring a great favour, 'I'll not take drugs.'

'I'll get it down,' said Brown to the doctor, as he saw him to the car, 'somehow,' he added grimly.

'Sam,' I inquired, 'how are you going to get it down?'

'Can't imagine, miss. After last night he won't stand much. Well, it was a bit thick.'

'Sam, do you think if your knee gave out and it hurt you to keep standing when you argued, that it might have weight?'

'Can but try, miss.'

So Brown's knee, of course, has given out. They are a happy pair, one in bed and the other with his leg up on a chair, talking woods and shooting, fishing, and birds' eggs, and they're smoking--how they smoke! I think the bromide's swallowed. There's a contented look in Sam's eyes and a 'Oh-well-stretched-a-point-for-once,' in my dear brother's.

So I proceeded to carry out my patent plan of finding houses and had a delightful and exciting morning. It was a lovely day, the hedges were a soft promise of green, and the bright sunshine and some saucy robins made a brave pretence of summer. I rambled down all kinds of little lanes and by-paths, but never a house did I see to suit me, till at last I chanced on Lynford, a little place I fell in love with at first sight and which I am sure is after Michael's own heart.

The village is built on the slope of a hill, with a little church on the summit and charming old world cottages clustered together in picturesque confusion just below.

Alas, the cottages were quite small ones, with only four or five rooms at most, and so not practicable. The last house in the village was a great surprise. It was larger than the others, with quaint little diamond windows and a glorious old red roof, and lots of creepers climbing over, which would make it in the autumn a thing of flaming beauty.

In the flower borders crocuses and snowdrops were already peeping, and the porch was aflame with yellow winter jasmine. The view was superb, for the hill sloped steeply from the house, and at my feet lay beautiful water meadows all in flood after the snow, with the ruins of an old abbey in the near distance.

Without stopping to think of anything but the fact that it was the kind of habitation I was looking for, I boldly walked up to the front door and rang the bell. Here my courage, which I had thought was screwed to the sticking point, began, in the most horrible manner, to trickle out of my boots, but before I could escape an elderly and severe domestic opened the door and glared at me as if I wanted to sell her something.

I inquired if I might see the owner on a matter of business. She hesitated and, after looking me well up and down, most reluctantly said, 'I'll see.'

She departed down the old flagged passage, leaving me on the mat with my last shred of courage in tatters and my knees a jelly. After a minute or two she returned and said, 'The master will see you,' and if ever a woman's sour visage said 'More fool he,' that woman's did.

As the last moments of a drowning man are crammed with the recollections of a lifetime, so all the silly, impulsive things I have done in my life crowded on me as I followed down that stone passage. Why, oh, why did I have an Irish grandmother to lead me into this scrape? What on earth could I say to 'the master' that wouldn't sound the most appalling impertinence?

I entered his presence rather more quickly than I meant to, as I fell down a small step.

I looked across the charming room, and by the bright wood fire was an old gentleman seated at breakfast at eleven o'clock in the morning.

'Good-morning,' I said, 'I'm afraid I'm rather early.'

'Not at all,' said he. 'I'm afraid I'm rather late. Have some breakfast?'

'No, thank you, I haven't come to call.'

'Oh, he replied, 'I thought you had.'

'No,' and my words began to tumble over one another in my agitation, 'that is to say, not in the ordinary sense of the word, but I came--I hope you won't mind--I hope you won't think it awful cheek, but now I am inside your house I feel it is, though outside it seemed the most ordinary thing to do, but the fact is I am looking--oh----' I broke off as the appallingness of the situation came upon me afresh. 'Promise you will not be offended, but that you will take my visit in the spirit in which it is intended.'

'Is this to be an offer of marriage, my dear young lady?'

'Oh, no,' I gasped, 'much worse, it's an offer for your house.'

'Aha, aha,' said he, 'I thought I heard the tenth commandment crack as you fell down the step.'

'Crack,' I exclaimed, 'it's broken into a million pieces.'

'Well, I think that we had better see what we can do to patch it up again, as it's really quite a nice commandment, and breaking it is apt to cause distressing situations. Sit down and have some breakfast and tell me why you are coveting your neighbour's house and if you want my men and maid servants, oxen and she asses, too?'

'Not your maidservant, anyway,' I said, and his eyes twinkled. He was so friendly and kind that I sat down, and over tea and toast, which he insisted I should have, I told him about Michael and of our passion for old houses, and Ross, and the Gidger, and indeed all about everything.

'Ah,' he said, 'so you love old houses. Well, I sympathise, but this one will not be to let until I am carried out feet first.'

'God forbid that I should ever have it, then,' I said, and got up to go, 'and it's dear of you not to have been offended.'

'Offended!' he laughed, as he said good-bye, 'I was never so entertained in all my life.'

When I got home I went up to tell Ross about it, and he remarked as I finished the tale,--

'Well, there's to be no more house-hunting on those lines, Meg; you might have been most frightfully insulted. It's all right as it's happened; Michael would be simply furious with me for letting you do it if he knew.'

'But I told you I was going to,' I expostulated.

'It never occurred to me that you meant it. Of course, I thought you were fooling, you little idiot.'

And Ross did one of his atrocious lightning changes. Instead of a ragging brother one was merely 'fighting' with there was a man whose 'Sorry, darling, but I mean you mustn't do it again' closed the discussion, for all that it was very gently said.

Then he kissed me and said, 'Oh, Meg, you are so sweet and funny when you're "meek."'

As a rule people who bully me are not allowed to kiss me--but--my brother was ill in bed!

*CHAPTER X*

Ross seemed fairly well this morning, and, having announced 'Time's up,' said that _he_ would go to the house agents at Tarnley to-day, and that if I liked I might come too.

I had previously said to Sam,--

'Don't you think another day in bed would do him good?'

'Not a doubt about it, miss,' said Sam, 'but I couldn't work it: thought we should have hardly lasted out the time as it was. We've drove him a bit hard lately. Better not press him too much, miss, he don't take kindly even to the snaffle.'

So we sallied forth to call on Messrs Cardew Thompkins.

My brother was in one of his mad moods and announced that he should pretend we were just married, and that I was to look as shy and modest as my brazen countenance would allow, and to blush at intervals if I could. An elegant young man, with a waist, received us with a bow, begged us to be seated and state our requirements.

'Take a pew, Florrie,' said Ross to me. I took one and hoped I looked shy and modest.

'I want,' said Ross, bursting with newly married pride and importance, 'to rent a small house for myself and my er----'

The agent coughed discreetly and said, 'Quite so.'

My face by this time was perfectly crimson with suppressed laughter. I hope Mr Cardew Thompkins thought it was shy blushes.

'The house must be as small as possible,' continued Ross, 'and quite new, with no garden, as my wife doesn't like slugs, do you, lovey? It must be in a row, or at most, semi-detached, as my er----'

'Quite so,' said the agent again.

'My wife is nervous at nights. We haven't been married very long,' said the incorrigible Ross in a burst of confidence.

'We should like it opposite a railway station, if possible, and we want white paint--enamel, I mean--and fireplaces with tiled hearths, nice cheerful wall-papers, and a dodo in the hall.'

'Dado,' I murmured.

'What, sweetie?' said Ross, 'what did you say, my pet?'

I could have murdered him.

'But it must be quite a new house,' said Ross, as I didn't answer, 'as you don't like beetles, do you, duckie? We don't even mind if it isn't quite finished, because----' Here Ross's powers of invention mercifully failed him.

'Because,' said the agent, 'then you could choose your own decoration. I quite understand.'

I was pulp by this time, and as I was in imminent danger of exploding I retired to the window and made curious noises into my handkerchief, while the house agent looked through a number of small cards in a little box.

'You're in a draught, my pretty,' said Ross, 'come and sit near to hubby, while Mr Cardew Thompkins writes us the order to view.'

I came lest worse should befall me, and Ross tried to hold my hand but didn't succeed.

'There's a little old house out at Crosslanes,' began the agent--Ross nudged me violently.

'Also one at Stoke, which is slightly larger and older.'

'It's beginning to work,' whispered Ross.

'I will give you orders to view both of these.'

'Are they near the railway?'

'I haven't actually seen them myself,' said Mr Cardew Thompkins, 'but I think from the description of your requirements they are just what you need. Good-morning.'

If he had looked out of his office window a moment later he would have seen Ross and me with our handkerchiefs stuffed in our mouths fleeing down the road till we got round the corner out of sight.

'Oh,' sobbed Ross, 'do stop. I told you so, but it's worked better than I thought. Read this:--

'"St JULIANS.--Very desirable gentleman's country residence."'

'Oh, that won't do, Meg.'

'Why not? Sounds rather nice, I think.'

'Is Michael a very desirable gentleman?'

'Oh, I never notice those mistakes, or spelling ones, I wish I did; they're so amusing when you see them.'

'Can't think what they teach in girls' schools,' said Ross gloomily. 'Daddy used to groan about the bills, tons of extras too, and when it's all said and done you don't know the most elementary things.'

'Grammar,' I observed, 'is very difficult; some of the best people can't spell.'

'But geography, your geography's no better. Why, I heard some one tell you the other day that her son was in Dunkirk, and you said that she must be so thankful to have him in Scotland. I could see the woman thought you dotty, only she was too polite to say so.'

'But, Ross, Dunkirk is so difficult, don't you see how Scotch it sounds. It's one of those places that I try to remember by reversing it. There is a system like that. I think of shortbread and then I know it's France.'

'Well, your system doesn't seem to have worked that time. But now I come to think of it, Meg, you're right. There is a system, whatever is the beastly thing called? Mell-gell-Hell-man-ism, I think it is.'

'Ross!'

'What?'

'You're not to put bad words into my mind.'

'I'm not, I said a sentence.'

'But no sentence could possibly begin with "Hell man."'

'Of course it could. I could say heaps.'

'Yes, but not fit for my young ears.'

'Meg, I could say one that a Plymouth Brother wouldn't mind Aunt Amelia hearing.'

'I'll give you a bob if you can while I count twenty.'

So my brother thought hard and said, 'Suppose.'

'But that doesn't begin with the right word,' I said.

'I must tell you the context, child. Suppose a Plymouth Brother were arguing with an atheist.'

'One, two, three,' I counted.

'He might with perfect propriety say.'

'Four, five, six.'

'Hell, man, is _not_ a myth. Aunt Amelia would say he was "one of the right sort," so that's worth 3d. extra. Give me that bob, Meg.'

So I gave him six pennies, six halfpennies, and a threepenny bit, and he said it wasn't a bob. He said it was a shilling, which was different, and he "couldn't be fashed with all that muck in his pockets," so we bought sweets.

Then he exclaimed,--

'Come on, Meg,' as if it had been I who had stopped first.

'But,' I protested, 'what is the hurry, there was such a pretty girl looking at you in that shop.'

'Meg, will you come, there's a man staring at you.'

'But I don't mind the pretty girl staring at you, Ross;' but my brother said,--

'One really couldn't have one's women stared at by a chap like that.'

'Really, Ross,' I said, 'I'm not a harem.'

'You're a jolly sight more trouble to look after.'

'Oh, have you had much experience,' I asked. And then he said I was 'abominable.'

So we walked on.

'No,' said my brother, reverting violently to my education, 'girls' schools are simply rotten. I could run one better than your woman did. Don't even seem to have fed you properly, judging by the size you've grown, or rather not grown. I wonder if it's too late to bring an action for insufficient nourishment considering the price paid. There's one thing you do really well though, and that's arithmetic.'

So I cheered up.

'I never knew anybody, no, not any single person that could add up her wants so accurately and subtract them from her husband's bank balance with such lightning speed.'

'I think, Ross,' I said with dignity, 'it would be better if we went back to St Julian's.'

So he read out:--

'"10 bed and dressing-rooms, 5 reception rooms, 6 acres of pleasure gardens, stabling and coachhouse, usual domestic offices. For sale only."

'Here's another:--

'"Charming country cottage for sale, 5 miles from Whittington station, combines old-world charm with every modern convenience, capable of being added to."

'Oh! Meg, isn't it priceless? Let's get a taxi and go and see them. Mop up your eyes, child, I don't want to look as if I were eloping with an unwilling bride.'

We got to the 'charming country cottage' first. It was miles away from anywhere. It was a bungalow--at least I suppose it was, at any rate the upper storey had disappeared. It seemed to be nearly tumbling down. There was only one large room, with a lovely old bread oven and one or two small cupboard-like apartments leading out of it. I stared at it in amazement.

'Capable of being added to?'

'Of course,' said Ross, 'very true, indeed, about the only thing you could honestly say of it. You could build a new house around it and use the present structure for a coal-hole. Next, please. I feel St Julian's will be the one, Florrie.'

This, however, proved to be a young barrack. If there were eighteen rooms, there were hundreds, I should think. The type of house that a polygamist might fancy. Damp oozed from the walls and most of the paper had peeled off and lay in little mouldering heaps on the floor. Rats scuttled in the wainscoting, and in the bathroom, which was on the ground floor, lay two or three of the largest cockroaches I have ever seen.

'You see,' said Ross, pointing to them with great pride, 'how the charm works. "My wife is afraid of beetles"--you get them--beautiful specimens. You want a house not quite finished--you are sent to one tumbling down. Now, if this could be worked out to its logical conclusion you would, of course, get your ideal home. I must do it on paper and try to get a formula. Let's go back to the agents, Florrie.'

'Not I--never again,' I said. So we returned to Fernfold for lunch. It's so jolly now the Spiders have gone. The Poppet has a nice day nursery and Ross a better bedroom. He says he misses the lumps in his mattress dreadfully, and his bed is now so comfortable that he cannot sleep.

To-night, after I was in 'my byes,' as the Gidger calls it, Ross came to say good-night. He was so quaint.

'Meg, something that you said to-day has rankled horribly.'

'Practically everything you say every day always does with me.'

'No, but Meg, _do_ I ever put bad words into your mind?'

'Oh, Ross,' I said, and giggled hopelessly.

'But, darling, do you know any?'

'Why, yes, I know several: Damn's one, only daddy forbade me to say it once, and somehow I've never got into the way of it, and since the war I say Hell sometimes, not that I mean to swear, only it does seem like Hell.'

'The Germans seem inspired by the devil, if that's what you mean,' said Ross.

'And I say "infernal" sometimes. Daddy told me I might.'

'I bet he didn't, Meg.'

'He did, I tell you, if I always thought of Devonshire when I said it.'

'Daddy is topping,' said my brother, as he remembered the old joke, 'well, go on.'

'I think that's all I know,' I replied.

'Oh, he said, 'how white women are. I wish they were all I knew.'