The Obstacle Race. Ethel M. Dell
"I am afraid I haven't been very fortunate in my choice to-day either," she said somewhat ruefully, as she descended.
He laughed. "We all trespass in these woods. It's a time-honoured custom, isn't it, Mr. Fielding? The pheasants are quite used to it."
Juliet did not glance in the squire's direction. She felt that she had done all that was necessary in that quarter, and that any further overture would but meet with a churlish response.
But to her astonishment he took the initiative. "I am afraid I wasn't too hospitable just now," he said. "It's this fellow's fault. Dick, it's up to you to apologize on my behalf."
Juliet looked at him then in amazement, and saw that the dour visage was actually smiling at her—such a smile as transformed it completely.
"If Miss Moore will permit me," said Mr. Green, with a bow, "I will introduce you to her. You will then be en rapport and in a position to apologize for yourself."
"Pedagogue!" said the squire.
And Juliet laughed for the first time. "If anyone apologizes it should be me," she said.
"I!" murmured Green. "With more apologies!"
The squire turned on him. "Green, I'll punch your head for you directly, you unspeakable pedant! What should you take him for, Miss Moore? A very high priest or a very low comedian?"
Juliet felt her breath somewhat taken away by this sudden admission to intimacy. She looked at Green whose dark eyes laughed straight back at her, and found it impossible to stand upon ceremony.
"I really don't know," she said. "I haven't had time to place him yet. But it's a little difficult to be quite impartial as he saved my life last night."
"What?" said the squire. "That sounds romantic. What made him do that?"
"Allow me!" interposed Green, pulling the bath-towel from his neck, and rapidly winding it into a noose. "It happened yesterday evening. I was having a quiet smoke in a favourite corner of mine on a ledge about twenty feet down High Shale Cliff where it begins to get steep, when Miss Moore, attracted by the scent of my cigarette—that's right, isn't it?"—he flung her an audacious challenge with uplifted brows—"when Miss Moore attracted as I say, by the alluring scent of my cigarette, fell over the edge and joined me. My gallantry consisted in detaining her there, after this somewhat abrupt introduction, that's all. Oh yes, and in bullying her afterwards to climb up again when she didn't want to. I was an awful brute last night, wasn't I? Really, I think it's uncommonly generous of you to have anything at all to say to me this morning, Miss Moore."
"So do I," said Mr. Fielding. "If it were possible to treat such a buffoon as you seriously, she wouldn't. I hope you are none the worse for the adventure, Miss Moore."
"No, really I am not," said Juliet. "And I am still feeling very grateful." She smiled at the squire. "Good-bye! I must be getting back to Mrs. Rickett's or the dumplings will be cold."
She whistled Columbus to her and departed, still wondering at the transformation which Green had wrought in the squire. It had not occurred to her that there could be anything really pleasant hidden behind that grim exterior. It was evident that the younger man knew how to hold his own. And again she was glad, quite unreasonably glad, that he had stuck to his refusal to lunch at the Court.
CHAPTER VI
THE VISITOR
"May I come and see you?" said Robin.
Juliet, seated under an apple-tree in the tiny orchard that ran beside the road, looked up from her book and saw his thin face peering at her through the hedge. She smiled at him very kindly from under her flower-decked shelter.
"Of course!" she said. "Come in by all means!"
She expected him to go round to the gate, but he surprised her by going down on all fours and crawling through a gap in the privet. He looked like a monstrous baboon shuffling towards her. When through, he stood up again, a shaggy lock of hair falling across his forehead, and looked at her with eyes that seemed to burn in their deep hollows like distant lamps at night.
He stopped, several paces from her. "Sure you don't mind me?" he said.
"Quite sure," said Juliet, with quiet sincerity. "I am very pleased to see you. Wait while I fetch another chair!"
She would have risen with the words, but he stopped her with a gesture almost violent. "No—no—no!" He nearly shouted the words. "Don't get up! Don't go! I don't want a chair."
Juliet remained seated. "Just as you like," she said, smiling at him.
"But I don't think the grass is dry enough to sit on."
He looked contemptuous. "It won't hurt me. I hate chairs. I'll do as I like."
But he still stood, glowering at her uncertainly near the hedge.
"Come along then!" said Juliet kindly. "Come and sit down near me! Why not?"
He came slowly, and let himself down with awkward, lumbering movements by her side. His face was darkly sullen. "I don't see any harm in it," he grumbled, "if you don't mind."
"Of course I don't mind!" she said. "I am pleased. As you see, I have no other visitors."
He lifted his heavy eyes to hers. "You'd pack me off fast enough if you had."
"No, I shouldn't. Don't be silly, Robin!" She smiled down upon him. "You are going to stay and have tea with me, aren't you?"
He smiled rather doubtfully in answer. "I'd like to. I don't know if I can though."
"Why shouldn't you?" she questioned.
He folded his long arms about his knees, and murmured something unintelligible.
Juliet looked at her watch. "Mrs. Rickett has promised to bring it in another quarter-of-an-hour, and we will ask her to bring out Freddy too, shall we? You'll like that."
The boy's face brightened a little. He did not speak for a moment or two; then he reached forth a claw-like hand and tentatively fingered her dress. "I don't want Freddy—when I've got you," he muttered.
"Oh, don't you? How kind!" said Juliet.
Again his dark eyes lifted. "It's you that's kind," he said. "I've never seen anyone like you before." His brow clouded again as he looked at her. "You're quite as much a lady as Mrs. Fielding," he said. "But you don't call me a 'hideous abortion'."
"I should think not!" Juliet moved impulsively and laid her hand upon his humped shoulder. "Don't listen to such things, Robin! Put them out of your head! They are not true."
He rested his chin upon her hand, looking up at her dumbly. Her heart stirred within her. The pathos of those eyes was more than she could meet unmoved. Their protest made her think of an animal in pain.
"It doesn't do to take things too seriously, Robin," she said gently. "There are people in the world who will say unkind things of anybody. It's just because they are thoughtless generally. It doesn't do to listen."
"No one ever said anything unkind about you," he said.
"Oh, didn't they?" Juliet smiled. "Do you know, Robin, I shouldn't wonder if there are plenty of them saying unkind things about me this very moment—that is, if they are thinking about me at all."
He glanced around him savagely. "Where? I'd like to hear 'em! I'd kill 'em!"
"No—no!" said Juliet, restraining him. "And it's no one here either. But you've got to realize that it doesn't really matter what people say. They'll always talk, you know. Everyone does. It's the way of the world, and we can't get away from it."
Robin