CHAPTER VIII
The Warren
Mavis and Merle went to Miss Crompton's class on Friday afternoon intheir dainty best dresses, silk stockings, and dancing sandals. Theirappearance was certainly very different from what it had been last weekin their brown jerseys and school shoes. They noticed Gwen Williams lookthem up and down, but she did not speak to them or give them any sign ofrecognition. Beyond an occasional word with Opal, Iva, or the Careys,she would not be expansive with any of the girls at The Moorings,holding aloof in a rather obtrusive fashion, and giving them tounderstand that though she might attend their French and dancing classesshe must not be regarded as a member of the school. Babbie, who was of amuch more sociable disposition, would often try to linger to talk withcompanions of her own age, but Gwen invariably interfered, and would puta stop to the incipient friendships, giving her younger sister glancesof very plain reproof.
"Why are those Williams girls so dreadfully conceited?" Merle asked herpartner, as they practised a two-step. "I can't see that they'redifferent from other people, but Gwen behaves as if she were a princess,and it was hardly etiquette for the rest of us to speak to her. It'sperfectly absurd!"
"Well, you see, the Glyn Williamses think themselves 'county' and won'tvisit with anybody else. They've a beautiful place at Chagmouth, TheWarren."
"I know. I've seen it. But does it really belong to them? I somehowthought it didn't."
"Well, you're right, and I believe it's rather a sore point. The GlynWilliams only rent The Warren. They've plenty of money and they'd liketo buy it, but General Talland, to whom it belongs, won't sell it at anyprice. It has been in his family for hundreds of years."
"Why doesn't he live at it himself, then?"
"He hasn't been home for years and years. He's governor of a placecalled San Benito in the West Indies. He left England after his only sondied, and he has never been back since. I should think Chagmouth peoplehave almost forgotten him. The Glyn Williams are everything there now,or think they are at any rate."
"That I can very easily believe," said Merle, with a glance at Gwen,who, apportioned by Miss Crompton to dance with Aubrey, was circlinground without deigning to bestow a single word upon her unwelcomepartner.
To Mavis and Merle, Chagmouth, where so far they had only spent asingle day, had become the very hub of the universe. They wanted to seeits quaint streets again, and to revisit the beach and to explore thewoods. More than anything they wished to renew their brief acquaintancewith Bevis. His personality had attracted them, and his romantic storyappealed to their imaginations. They ventured to say something about himto Uncle David.
"Bevis? Oh, he's a fine lad!" replied Dr. Tremayne. "He's rather out ofhis element on the farm, but there seems nothing else open to him atpresent. I wish I could see him doing something better. He'd make asplendid doctor. The way he has picked up dispensing is simplywonderful. I can trust him to make up prescriptions now, and it's thegreatest help. He loves pottering about the surgery. It's far more inhis line than hedging or ploughing. But he doesn't spare himself on theland; I'll say that for the lad. By the by, are you two coming with meto Chagmouth to-morrow? I believe the sea air did Mavis good. She'slosing that transparent look, and getting a tinge of colour in hercheeks."
"I haven't had a cold since I came to Durracombe," boasted Mavis.
"Touch wood or you'll be catching one to-morrow," put in Merle hastily."Uncle David, we'd go to Chagmouth every day if you'd take us."
"Oh, I dare say! And what would happen to your lessons, Miss Lazybones?"twinkled the doctor. "One holiday a week is quite enough for you."
The girls were growing to love Uncle David. He was so kind, and genial,and pleasant, and had always some little joke or funny story for them.Half of the pleasure of the day at Chagmouth would be the drive thereand back in his company. There was a broad restfulness about him thatwas like a mental tonic. It was as if he had learnt the secret ofoutliving all unnecessary cares and worries, and could radiate hispeaceful atmosphere into the auras of others. Perhaps it was thisquality of unconscious healing that gave him such skill and favour as aphysician. Certainly patients would begin to brighten up when he merelystepped into the sickroom. "The dear old doctor", as he was generallycalled, was a figure in the country-side, and a source of moral as wellas physical good in his practice.
It was with absolutely beaming faces that the girls set out with him inthe little yellow Deemster car the following Saturday morning. Theystarted earlier than the week before, for there were several visits tobe paid at farms or cottages on the way, all of which took considerabletime, but by exceeding the speed limit on level stretches of road thedoctor reached Chagmouth at noon, to find the usual crowd of patientswaiting at his rooms. Judging that he would be boxed up in the surgeryfor more than an hour, and that they would therefore have ample leisurefor a stroll before lunch, the Ramsays decided to explore some of thefields that lay round Grimbal's Farm, and selected a path that seemed tolead in the direction of the cliffs and the sea. They looked about forBevis in the stackyard, but he was nowhere to be seen. Probably he wasworking on the land, or possibly he might even be at sea, for Mr.Penruddock was part owner of a trawler, and as much fisherman as farmer.
They walked across two meadows, went through a little spinney wherehazel catkins were opening fast, and actually a few primroses werepeeping through the carpet of dead leaves; then came to a stile whichled down into a deep lane. Mavis went first, and was in the very act ofstepping cautiously over, when suddenly through a hole in the oppositehedge dashed a fox terrier and seized her by the skirt. It was justenough to destroy her balance, and she fell forward on to her hands andknees. Merle, hurrying after her, attacked the dog with a stick she wascarrying, and for about three moments there was a wild scrimmage, Mavisshrieking with fright, the fox terrier yapping and yelping, and Merlelaying on blows. They had imagined themselves alone, but thecountry-side is more full of ears than we generally know, and at thesame instant two people came running from opposite directions, one fromthe lane and the other from the fields. The first, a tall boy carrying agun, was evidently the owner of the dog, for he called it angrily away,and after a final snarl it ran towards him, helped in its progress by ahearty kick from Bevis, who had jumped over the opposite hedge. Mavispicked herself up, and the four young people stood together in the deeplane. It was Merle, of course, who spoke first.
"Look what your brute's done!" she said indignantly, turning to thedog's owner, and pointing to a rent in Mavis's skirt. "You ought to beashamed of yourself to let him attack people like this. Why don't youmuzzle him?"
The boy regarded Mavis and the damage to her apparel rather coolly.
"You must have done something to make him fly at you," he replied. "Ofcourse he'll go for people if they throw stones at him."
"I didn't throw stones." Mavis's voice quivered with injured annoyance.
"Well, you're not much hurt anyway! If you'd keep to the roads insteadof wandering about people's fields you wouldn't get into trouble."
"She's a perfect right in our fields," broke in Bevis hotly. "If shewants to go there why shouldn't she? It's no business of yours."
The boy lifted his eyebrows as if amazed at the outburst.
"Oh, certainly not! None at all!" he replied in supercilious tones."Have anybody you like in your own fields. It doesn't concern me. What afuss about nothing."
And, shouldering his gun, he turned back up the lane with the foxterrier at his heels.
"You might at least apologize," Merle shouted after him, but he took notthe slightest notice and did not look behind. In another moment thehedge had hidden him from their view.
"What an absolute bounder!" fumed Merle. "He ought to have said he wassorry instead of walking off like that. Who is he?"
Bevis was standing staring up the lane with a frown on his dark face.
"It's young Williams from The Warren," he replied. "He thinks himselfcock-of-the-walk in Chagmouth, but he'd better not try on any of hisairs w
ith me. He might own the place by the way he behaves. If I catchhim with that gun rabbitting in any of our fields I'll let him know."
"Does he go into your fields?"
"He goes anywhere he likes about Chagmouth, and I've heard many peoplegrumble. He may take his own advice and keep to his own property.They've all the shooting on the moors above, and that ought to be enoughfor him! I've no patience with young sparks like he is."
Mavis was not really hurt by her adventure, but she had been frightened,and was still feeling upset and disinclined to continue their walk. WithBevis for protection the girls turned back towards the farm, where Mrs.Penruddock, who was loud in her indignation and sympathy, took out herthread-basket and hastily caught together the rent in Mavis's skirt.
"That'll keep for this afternoon, and Jessop can darn it properly whenyou get home," she declared. "Folks ought to pay for the damage theirdogs do. And clothes at such a price now! It was a mercy you weren'tbitten I'm sure. I'd have had something to say to young Williams if I'dbeen there. I wouldn't have let him walk away as if it was nothing!He'll have to be taught a lesson some day, if I'm not mistaken. Andserve him right too, with all his airs and his impudence."
In the short interval that remained before lunch the girls made a tourof the stackyard and farm buildings. They wanted to see the waterwheelagain, and it was fun to climb up ladders and peep into lofts, toexplore the dim recesses of barns, or inspect the poultry runs, wherefussy hens, shut up inside coops, were clucking to adventurous littlefamilies of downy chicks or ducklings. But the crowning place of all wasthe shed where Bevis kept his carpenter's bench. The boy was very nattyand clever at joinering, wood-carving, and mechanics. He had severalmodel boats and a toy engine, which he had constructed himself, to showthem, and he volunteered to make them a little grindstone upon whichthey could sharpen their penknives.
"How topping! We'll come and watch you while you do it," declared Merle.
"If you don't mind our looking on," added Mavis.
But alack! shortly after lunch a most untoward thing happened. Dr.Tremayne had brought the car round from the yard into the road oppositethe front door of the farm, preparatory to paying his usual weekly visitto the Sanatorium. He was pottering about inspecting various valves andnuts, in the manner of motorists, and Mavis and Merle, who hadconstituted themselves assistant chauffeurs, were armed with dusters andwere trying to clean the splashboards, which had been much spatteredwith mud on the journey from Durracombe that morning. Uncle David pridedhimself upon a spick-and-span car, and liked to turn up at theSanatorium with the little Deemster looking its best. Both girls wereworking away energetically, when round the corner from the village theresuddenly appeared the whole of the Glyn Williams family, headingstraight up the road towards Grimbal's Farm. Merle spied them first. Shewas on the side of the car nearest the house, and, with a presence ofmind that amounted almost to instinct, she bolted inside the door like arabbit into its burrow. Mavis, whose back was towards the village, wasquite unaware that anyone was near till she heard Dr. Tremayne'sgreeting, and, turning round, found herself face to face with Gwen,Babbie, their mother, their brother, and the fox terrier. If she could,with any decency, have fled after Merle she would have done so, butthere was no possibility of escape. She was already in their midst, andUncle David--dear, tiresome man--was saying: "You know my niece?"
Mrs. Glyn Williams, a portly, rosy-faced lady, with a kind but ratherpatronizing manner, held out a white-gloved hand.
"Of course! You go to school at The Moorings, don't you? How nice foryou to motor over to Chagmouth with your uncle on Saturdays. Are yougoing with him to the Sanatorium? What is it, Babbie, dear?" (for heryounger daughter was whispering eagerly in her ear) "Oh yes, myprecious! Doctor, won't you leave your niece on your way, and we'll showher round The Warren and keep her for tea? You can pick her up as youdrive back."
There are some invitations which it is utterly impossible to refuse.Mrs. Glyn Williams had, to use a sporting term, "caught her birdsitting". Mavis glanced at Uncle David with mute appeal in her blueeyes, but he quite mistook her dismay, and instantly accepted on herbehalf.
"We're going straight home now, through the woods, so come as soon asyou can," urged Babbie, following the family as they turned up the road.
Could anything have been more utterly and entirely aggravating?
"Oh, Uncle David! How _could_ you?" exclaimed Mavis reproachfully. "I'mnot dressed to go to tea at The Warren. I only came in my school skirtand jersey. We meant to scramble about the farm this afternoon."
Dr. Tremayne focused his eyeglasses on his niece's attire. Such anaspect of the visit had never occurred to his innocent masculine mind.
"Bless my life! You look very nice, both of you," he decided.
"Both of us? _I'm_ not asked, thank goodness," declared Merle, who hadoverheard the interview and emerged from the sanctuary of the doorwaynow the coast was clear.
"It wouldn't matter, child. I'm sure Mrs. Glyn Williams would bepleased to see you. It was stupid of me not to mention you were heretoo."
"I'm so _thankful_ you didn't."
"Am _I_ to be the solitary victim?" asked Mavis's plaintive voice in itsmost injured tone.
"Go with your sister, Merle," urged Dr. Tremayne, who felt rather in aquandary.
"No, Uncle David, dear," replied Merle firmly. "If I wasn't invited Iwasn't, and it wouldn't be manners to turn up. I'll go with you to theSanatorium if you'll take me," and she added privately to Mavis:
"If one of us had to be asked to tea at The Warren I'm glad it's you.Gwen can't bear me, and it was I who said the nasty things to that boyin the lane. What's his name? Tudor! He deserved them, of course, but itwould make me shy to meet him again. You always get on much morepleasantly with people than I do."
"We shall have to tell Bevis we're off in the car," said Mavisdisconsolately.
They found Bevis already at his bench in the tool-shed and evidentlyexpecting them. His face fell at their news, and, though they both didtheir very best to explain the situation, he remained glum, and seemedto think they wished to avoid his company.
"Oh, it's quite all right!" he remarked, and that was all they couldget out of him. He took up his mallet, and commenced to hammer sovigorously that they fled from the noise.
"He says it doesn't matter, but he's fearfully huffy and offended,"whispered Merle.
"Well, we can't help it. Everything has gone wrong to-day," sighedMavis.
There was no time to put things right with Bevis, for Dr. Tremayne washooting for them to start at once. He set Mavis down at the great gateof The Warren, and took Merle on with him to the Sanatorium. Maviswalked very solemnly up the laurel-bordered drive. She seldom wentanywhere without her sister, and hated paying this stately visit alone.She rang the bell, feeling shy and frightened, and painfully consciousof the conspicuously darned rent in her skirt. She wondered if Tudorwould have explained its origin.
The butler admitted her into a lovely conservatory, then through a largehall into the drawing-room. Certainly it was a beautiful house, andMavis might have enjoyed herself if only Merle had been with her. Hergreeting by the young people was far pleasanter than she hadanticipated. Babbie was frankly cordial, Gwen unwontedly courteous, andTudor went so far as to accompany his sisters when they took their guestfor a stroll round the grounds. He walked a little behind, and made noattempt at conversation, but she could see him eyeing the darn in herskirt. Later on, while Gwen and Babbie were speaking to a gardener, andfor the moment he was alone with Mavis, he mentioned their meeting inthe lane.
"I say, you know," he began, "I'd no idea you were Dr. Tremayne's niecewhen I saw you this morning. Did Jim scare you? He's rather a youngdog!"
It was exactly the same excuse that Gwen had urged in defence of therude reception she had given them in the garden. Mavis wonderedprivately whether the Williamses only kept their good manners for theirfriends, and meted out less civil treatment to strangers. But aloud sheanswered:
"He did r
ather frighten me, but I wasn't hurt."
"He bolted out of the hedge before I'd time to stop him. I say, youknow, I'm sorry if he scared you. He's only a young dog and means noharm."
His tardy apology was evidently mainly due to the fact that she was Dr.Tremayne's niece, but Mavis had the grace to accept it politely, afterwhich the atmosphere seemed to thaw, and Tudor exerted himself toentertain the visitor, offering to take her to the stables and show herthe horses. Gwen expanded at this, being very proud of her own littlecob, Taffy, and delighted to exhibit him to anybody who would appreciatehim.
"Do you hunt?" she asked airily. "I'd live on horseback if I could. Carsare all very well in their way, and get you over the ground, butmotoring's nothing to riding. Taffy nips over fences like a bird. I'dride him to Durracombe when I come for the French class if it weren'tfor Babbie. It's too far for her pony, so we have to go in the car."
Gentle Mavis invariably made friends, and before her visit at TheWarren was over she was on quite pleasant terms with Tudor, Gwen, andBabbie.
"You must come again sometime," said Gwen graciously, accompanying herto the door, when Dr Tremayne called for her with the car.
Merle, who had been temporarily left at the bottom of the drive, waswaiting for them, and took her place for the homeward journey.
"Well?" she asked eloquently.
"Better than I expected. Babbie's really rather sweet. Gwen showed meher horse, and Tudor actually apologized. I don't dislike him _quite_ asmuch as I did this morning. He goes to Eton, but he's at home this termbecause he has been ill. He taught me to play bagatelle after tea, andwas wonderfully decent--but, oh no! of course not _nearly_ so nice asBevis."
"And Bevis, to judge from the way he banged with that mallet, is in athoroughly bad temper."
"Oh, surely he's got over it by this time?"
"I don't know. I'm afraid he thought us a couple of utter sneaks,"grunted Merle.