CHAPTER XVIII
Greek meets Greek
On the last Saturday in March, by special invitation from Mrs. GlynWilliams, the Ramsays spent the day at The Warren. They went in theirbest dresses and took their tennis rackets with them. They were not atall sure whether they wished to go, but it was one of those coercivevisits which society demands, and which there is no evading, so they setforth, Mavis in one of her quiet moods, and Merle, with an awkwardremembrance of past skirmishes, on her very best behaviour. There is nobetter fence than good manners, and it is really impossible to squabblewith a person who preserves a studied politeness. To-day, however, theGlyn Williams did not wish for quarrels. They might have their faults,but they could be pleasant enough hosts and hostesses when they liked,and they really made an effort to entertain their guests. When theirshyness thawed, Mavis and Merle began to enjoy themselves. The cindercourt was in excellent order, and it was rather delightful to have agame of tennis. Tudor and Merle played Gwen and Mavis, and beat them intwo sets, a score which caused them much triumph.
"I say, you know, you're a jolly good player," said Tudor to hispartner. "Those swift serves of yours are A1!"
"We had cinder courts at school in Whinburn," replied Merle. "It makes adifference if you're used to them."
She might have added that she had been one of the champions, and hadhelped to win a tournament, but she was not given to boasting. It ispleasant, though, to be congratulated on present prowess, even if youfeel too modest to mention your past successes. She began to relent alittle towards Tudor. He was so obviously doing his best to give her agood time. According to his own lights he tried to be amusing.
"The cinder court is my last stronghold," he assured her. "Just when weget the grass courts into decent order in the summer the Mater alwaysinsists on having half Chagmouth up to trample over them--wheezy oldwomen who drink tea till you think they'll never stop, and awfulchildren who stuff themselves with buns, and run races for bags ofsweets. You don't know what I suffer. And the Mater says: '_Do_ come andspeak to them'! Speak to them! What the Dickens am I to say? I'm longingto tell them that I wish the whole lot of them were at Jericho ratherthan messing about our garden. Why can't they drink tea and run racesdown in the town? The Mater says we _must_ know our neighbours, but Isay bother our neighbours. If she likes to do the Lady Bountifulbusiness I wish she'd leave me out of it."
"Chagmouth is a lovely place," ventured Merle.
"Oh yes, but they're a cantankerous set of people. Never satisfiedwhatever you do for them. The shooting here isn't really up to mucheither, nor the fishing. I stayed with a friend of mine once inHerefordshire. His father has a splendid place there. I can tell you wehad some sport. The woods here haven't been half preserved. Every Dick,Tom, and Harry from Chagmouth thinks he may go into them, and the sameon the headland. They pretend there's a right of way along the cliffs,and it's nothing on earth but an excuse for poaching. They go rabbitingup there. I've found lots of traps, and flung them over the cliffs intothe sea. Beastly cheek, setting traps on our land. I tell Dad he oughtto put up a fence and dispute that right of way along the headland. Ibelieve he's going to too. You must stand up for your rights with thesepeople, or they'll take advantage of you at every end and give you nothanks either."
After lunch, Tudor, a large part of whose interests centred round thestables, offered to show the horses, and all the young people went toadmire and pet beautiful "Armorelle", Gwen's pretty cob "Taffy", andBabbie's little pony "Nixie". Merle would have liked to beg to mountArmorelle, but good manners prevailed, and she only stroked the softnose instead.
"Do you ride?" asked Gwen rather grandly.
"A little," said Merle, not liking to confess that her equestrianexperiences were mostly confined to donkeys on the beach at thesea-side.
"Brought your habit with you?"
"No," answered Merle, who did not possess a riding-habit at all.
"What a pity! But of course your uncle has sold all his horses. Healways goes about in that little yellow car now, doesn't he? Motoring'swell enough--one must have a car naturally--but give me a horse."
"Yes, give me a horse, too, for choice," echoed Tudor. "I simplycouldn't live without horses."
On the whole the Ramsays spent a pleasant day at The Warren. Gwen andTudor might be rather patronizing, and too fond of showing off theirpossessions, and "talking large", but these were their obvious failings,the direct result of their early training and upbringing, and they werenot without pleasanter traits. Everybody is a mixture of perfect andimperfect, in greater or lesser degree. The young Glyn Williamses mighthave false standards of life, and would perhaps have to suffer many hardknocks before they learnt to revise them, yet in their own way theycertainly meant to be kind. Gwen gave Mavis several foreign stamps, andwas liberal in handing round chocolates. Little Babbie waxed reallyaffectionate. She had liked the Ramsays from the first, and had beggedher mother to invite them. In the drawing-room, after tea, she askedthem to repeat the dialogue which they had given at The Moorings on thewet afternoon when the day girls waited for the storm to clear.
"I've never forgotten how you two acted," she urged. "It was splendid!Just like going to the theatre. _Please_ do it again! _Please!_ Motherand Tudor haven't heard it."
"We want two other characters," objected Merle.
"Oh, never mind! We'll imagine the other two, and you can say theirparts for them. Give the funny piece where the aunt says what she thinksabout the modern girl. You did it so well."
"May we dress up a little?" asked Mavis.
"As much as you like. Come upstairs and take what you want."
So after a time the visitors returned duly costumed for the piece, Merleas an elderly spinster with white cotton-wool hair and a black veil tiedover a toque, and Mavis in a sporting coat and rakish hat belonging toGwen. They played up to the best of their ability, and delivered theamusing little sketch with much vigour. Merle, as the maiden aunt, wasinimitable, and quiet Mavis astounded everybody in her pose of theup-to-date damsel. Tudor stared as if he had not suspected she had somuch in her. The audience of four clapped tremendously at the close ofthe performance.
"It's really very clever. You're quite actresses," commented Mrs. GlynWilliams. "Have you ever performed in public? No! Why, when you leaveschool I should think you'll be tremendously in request for dramaticperformances in aid of charities."
"We ought to get up something here in the Institute," said Tudor. "Itwould be topping fun, and astonish the natives no end. I should thinkeverybody's sick to death of their eternal concerts. It's always thesame old business--part song by the choir, timid warble by villagesoprano about spring or roses, seafaring song roared by the bass,ambitious operatic air attempted by tenor, who makes a hash of it,strains on a violin badly out of tune, temperance speech by the Vicar,who, of course, wants to butt in with a word on 'Prohibition', actionsong by kids from the school, then votes of thanks till everybody hasthanked everybody else all round, and said how clever they all are. Then'God Save the King', and thank goodness one may go home."
"Tudor's a naughty boy," laughed Mrs. Glyn Williams. "I never _can_ gethim to take an interest in Chagmouth."
"Well, I hate being trotted out to these functions," declared her son.
When Mavis and Merle, brushing their hair as they went to bed thatnight, compared notes on their experiences at The Warren, both decidedthey had had a very enjoyable time there. Merle had revised her firstopinion of Tudor.
"He's quite jolly in his own way," she admitted. "I rather like him."
"But of course he's nothing to Bevis."
"They're in a different running altogether."
The two boys were certainly an utter contrast, in circumstances,disposition, and attainments. Tudor was fond of sport, but not at allintellectual. From various hints the girls had gathered that his schoolcareer was not unchequered; indeed they strongly suspected, from afoolish remark of Babbie's, that ill-health was not the sole reason forhis passing this term at hom
e, and that for some episode, carefullyhushed up, he had been temporarily suspended by the authorities. Tudor'saccomplishments all seemed to stand on a foundation of wealth. Take awayhis horses, his gun, his woods, his visits to town to see theatres, andhe would have no resources left. His pleasures were inseparable from thespending of money, and though they were well enough in their way, andkept him amused, they were not cultivating the highest part of him. Thecitizen side, which seeks to be of some use to the community, wasconspicuously absent. He posed, indeed, as deliberately scorning themasses, and laughed at his mother for her well-meant efforts at tryingto entertain her neighbours. Human souls are surely at different stagesof evolution, and his was an undeveloped one that had not yet progressedbeyond the period of self-serving. Sometimes a rough lesson is needed toclear the soul's vision, and teach it what things are really worthwhile; and Fate, who jolts us about much to our own indignation, had herspecial plan for his education, which in the fulness of her time shemeant to bring about.
Bevis, reared up from babyhood at Grimbal's Farm, had learnt to shootand to ride as well as Tudor, though he had not so good a gun nor sofine a mount. He was a splendid swimmer, and he had brought back manymedals from school gained at athletic sports. He could almost do a man'swork in the fields now, and while he hated farm labour it had made himphysically very fit. He rejoiced in his young strength, with somethingof the pure gladness of the old Greeks merged with the Christian ideal.Mavis, looking at him as his muscular arms chopped with an axe in thespinney, or his long legs came jumping over a fence, always thought ofsome lines that she had copied for her "pet quotation" in the HighSchool calendar at Whinburn.
"God who created me Nimble and light of limb, In three elements free To run, ride, or swim. Not when the sense is dim, But now from the heart of joy I would remember Him-- Take the thanks of a boy."
Bevis's brain capacity fully balanced his bodily strength. He liked toread the newspapers, and think out all the problems of the times, andthe country's needs. He relished a mental tussle with the same keen zestas he enjoyed a football match or a vaulting contest. Whoever his fatherand mother might have been the boy was innately refined, and at schoolhad caught up all the culture that his foster parents--kind homelypeople--unfortunately lacked.
It was a matter of amazement to Mrs. Glyn Williams that Mavis and Merlewere allowed to go for walks with Bevis, and she blamed the Doctor forslackness in the care of his nieces, but Dr. Tremayne knew the boythoroughly, and was perfectly satisfied that he was a fit companion forthem.
The girls themselves thought him a most delightful comrade. He was sowell versed in all country lore, and he could make so many things, andhe was so jolly and humorous and full of fun and jokes. They lookedforward to their weekly excursions, and felt they could not haveexplored Chagmouth half so thoroughly without Bevis as guide. Saturdayat the beginning of April saw the three once more setting off forBlackthorn Bower. It was a showery day, but they had their mackintoshes,and did not mind the light rain. Mavis was so wonderfully better thatshe could now do with impunity what before might have been risky. Shehad grown, and seemed altogether stronger, though she still looked moreethereal than Merle. That, however, was partly a matter of temperament.The months in Durracombe had been an immense delight to both girls.After the severe winters of Whinburn they had seemed like perpetualspring, and they called Devon "the Garden of Eden". To-day, as they wentup the lanes towards the headland, there were many excitements. Bevis,who seemed to have a kind of second-sight for discovering birds' nests,found a hedge-sparrow's, a robin's, and a thrush's, full of eggs, andshowed them where a tit-lark was beginning to build. Then they actuallysaw the first swallow, an early arrival which had come before thecuckoo, but whirled past with unmistakable forked tail and white breast.The primroses were a dream, and Mavis gathered a bunch of wild hyacinthsand some purple ground ivy, and Merle thought she saw a snake, but wasnot perfectly sure about the matter. They were following a footpathwhich led through the field where the tumulus lay, on to the headland.When they reached the usual point where they had always passed through agap in the hedge to get down to the tiny quarry they found their waybarred. A strong fence had been erected, with prickly gorse placed uponthe top of it. The girls halted in much dismay.
"Who's been stopping the path?" asked Merle blankly.
"Some of those keepers, I expect," answered Bevis. "They've no right todo it. It's been a public way for years and years. People come acrossthe hill, and go along the headland, and down to the beach. They alwayshave done, and they always will. There was a bother once before about aright of way through the woods, and Mr. Glyn Williams went to law aboutit, but he lost his case."
"What are we going to do now?"
"Take down the fence, that's all. It's easily done."
Bevis set calmly to work, and pulled away first the gorse, and thenenough of the fence to enable his companions to scramble across. Helaughed as he handed them over.
"Those keepers will be jolly vexed when they find their work spoilt,but it serves them right. They shouldn't try to stop a public footpath."
The girls had an uneasy remembrance that last Saturday Tudor had spokenof this very matter of a right of way along the headland, and had saidthat he had urged his father to dispute it. They had not mentioned toTudor that they knew the spot, though they had guessed where it was fromhis description. They did not care for him to know about BlackthornBower, or the cups of rough pottery, and their picnics and talks aboutthe prehistoric people. They felt instinctively that he would notunderstand or sympathize in the least, and would only sneer at it all asnonsense. They did not say anything about Tudor to Bevis now, becausethe subject always seemed a sore one, and their friend was in such aparticularly jolly mood that they did not want to bring the cloud thatsometimes settled over his face. They took his word for it that theywere not trespassing but pursuing a perfectly legitimate path, andclimbed down the bank to the little quarry.
Here a horrible surprise awaited them. Their beautiful bower, put upwith so much skill and trouble, had been completely pulled to pieces.The staves of its roof were stacked in a pile, and the sods had beenthrown down the cliff. For a ghastly moment they stared as if hardlyable to believe the evidence of their own eyes. Then their indignationfound vent.
"What an abominable shame!" exploded Merle.
"Oh, it's _too_ bad! Our _lovely_ hut!" quavered Mavis, practically intears.
Bevis said nothing. He gazed round the ruin, then stooped and pickedsomething up from the ground. It was a fragment of the blue pottery cupsmashed to atoms. He looked at it with somewhat the same consternationwith which a hedge-sparrow might regard her torn and robbed nest andbroken eggs.
"I'll make somebody pay for this!" he muttered.
The girls were still exclaiming in much wrath and annoyance. At firstthey were so busy bemoaning the hut that they never heard sounds on thebank behind, then becoming aware of voices they walked out from thequarry to find Tudor, and two of the keepers standing by the fence.
"Hello!" cried Tudor, springing down and greeting them joyously.
But at that moment Bevis stepped from the ruins of Blackthorn Bower andfaced him.
"Is this your doing?" he asked abruptly.
The two boys glared at one another with looks that suggested clashing ofsteel.
"Certainly it's by my orders," returned Tudor in his most lofty andinsolent tone. "What business had you building a hut on my property? Aregular squatter! I won't have you fellows from the village comingpoaching up here. I'll throw every rabbit trap I find down the cliffs,so I give you warning. I could prosecute you for breaking down thatfence."
"Oh, Tudor! Bevis _doesn't_ poach," interposed Merle.
"He built the hut for _us_," put in Mavis.
Unfortunately the girls' remarks only made matters worse.
"A nice fellow you are to take young ladies about!" continued Tudortauntingly. "I wonder they'll condescend to walk with you. A nobody likeyou, w
ho doesn't know where he comes from! You may fancy yourself noend----"
But here Bevis, whose dark face held a "Hast thou found me, O mineenemy" expression, sprang at him in an anger too deep and furious forwords.
Both the boys were wrestlers. For one wild minute they held each other,and swayed to and fro as they struggled, while the girls shrieked inalarm, and the keepers, standing by the fence, gaped too utterly amazedto interfere. Then Bevis, by far the fitter and stronger of the two,gained the mastery, and seizing Tudor, flung him violently away. Hefell, and rolled over and over nearly twenty feet down the side of thecliff. Then the keepers recovered from their frozen paralysis, andrushed to the rescue of their young employer.
Fortunately Tudor had landed upon a platform of rock, but he lay therequite quiet and still, and did not stir when the men carried him up. Hiseyes were closed, and his head hung loosely as they laid him down besidethe ruined bower. One of them fetched water in a hat and bathed histemples, and the other rubbed his hands. The girls looked on in pitifuldistress. Bevis was still standing on the patch of grass that was thescene of their combat. He stared at Tudor's prostrate form with wild,horror-stricken eyes.
"I've murdered him," he gasped to Mavis and Merle. "It's murder! Yes,that's what it is! I'm going away, and you'll never see me any more! I'mnot fit to say good-bye to you!"
And without another look he turned and began scrambling recklessly downthe cliff, not following a path, but dropping anyhow over the rocks asif he did not care what happened to him. For a moment or two he wasvisible, and then he vanished.
After more water and vigorous rubbing Tudor at last revived and openedhis eyes. He was stiff and much shaken, but there seemed no bonesbroken, and with the help of the two keepers he was able to walk home.Mavis and Merle fled back to Grimbal's Farm with the disastrous news.They poured out the story to Mrs. Penruddock as she was feeding thefowls. She dropped her pan of Indian corn on to the ground.
"There now! I always said it would come to that," she bemoaned. "Bevisflown at young Williams and run away. What will his father say? Thelad's so hasty, and he flares up when he's roused. Don't you cry! Yousay there's not much harm done after all, and I dare say Bevis will comecreeping back at dark when things are quiet. It's not the first timehe's run off, and turned up again when he felt hungry."
"He said we'd never see him any more," sobbed Mavis, much upset by thewhole affair.
"He'd say anything, but he doesn't mean it. I'm sorry it's happenedbecause it will make fine trouble with The Warren, and we've troubleenough as it is, goodness knows! But I'm not afraid for Bevis. He'dnever go off without fetching some of his things at any rate. He loseshis temper and there's a flash, and then it's all over. I know Bevis!He'll come back all right, don't you fear!"