Wych Hazel Part 20

'I brought it up, sir, in the hope and persuasion that it would undertake the clothing of all the poor people at Crocus, and give Rosy time to read philosophy.'

'Why papa,' said Rosy, 'it will do fifteen hundred st.i.tches a minute!'

'You don't want to do more than that in a day, do you, my dear?' said the doctor, with an expression of such innocent amazement, not without some dismay, that they all burst out laughing; and Dr. Maryland but half enlightened, went off to his study.

Much before Primrose wished it, the horses came to the door.

Rollo had had his own saddle put upon Vixen, and the grey cob stood charged with the paraphernalia which should accompany the mistress of Chickaree. She had gone up to prepare for her ride, and now came to the front in habit and gauntlets and whip, the rose branch at her b.u.t.ton-hole.

'O,' she said in tones so like a bird that the groom might have been pardoned for looking up into the maple boughs over his head to find her; 'you have made a mistake! The other horse is the one I ride. Will you change the saddles, please?-- I am sorry to give you the trouble!'

The groom would have been in great bewilderment, but that luckily his master stood there too. The man's look of appeal was comical, going from one to another. Rollo was looking at girths and buckles, and did not seem to hear. Wych Hazel waited--a slight growing doubt on the subject of his deafness not increasing the pliability of her mood. Then he came towards her, and asked if she was ready?

'I am--but my horse is not.'

'What is the matter with him?'

'I am very sorry to make any delay, Mr. Rollo, but the saddles will have to be changed. I can't ride that grey horse!' And she slipped her hat back and sat down on the doorstep, to await the process.

'There is no mistake,' said Rollo. 'The horses were saddled by my order. I told him to give you the grey. You will forgive me, I hope!'

'Without asking me!' she said, giving him a rather wide-open look of her eyes, and then in a tone as cool as his own--

'I shall ride Vixen, Mr. Rollo, if I ride at all.'

'I hope you will reconsider that.'

'Mr. Rollo,' she said in her gravest manner, 'you and I seem fated to see something of each other--so it will save trouble for you to know at once, that when I say a thing seriously, I mean it.'

He lifted his hat with the old stately air. But then he smiled at her.

'Allow me to believe that you have said nothing seriously this morning?'

Now if Wych Hazel's mood was not pliable, his was the sort of look to make it so. A calmly good-humoured brow, with a clear keen eye, and in both all that character of firm strength to which a woman's temper is apt to give way. If it had been a question of temper in the ordinary sense. But the lady of Chickaree had nothing of the sort belonging to her that was not as sweet as a rose.

'Allow me!' she said, just a little bit mockingly. 'Well--it's not true, if you do believe it. I shall ride Vixen, or walk.'

'That would be very serious,' said Rollo, 'for it is going to be very hot. What is the matter with the grey cob?'

'I don't like him--and I do like Vixen.'

'Have you ever ridden him?'

'No. And nothing in his appearance predicts that I ever shall.'

'I do not think that Vixen is fit for you to mount. I am going to find out. If she is you shall have her.'

'You can study her as much as you please, with me on her. Why, what nonsense!--as if I didn't ride her all yesterday afternoon!'

'And gave us, if you recollect, afterwards,' said Rollo, looking amused, 'the synopsis of her character.'

'And now you think I am giving you the synopsis of mine,' said Wych Hazel. 'Well, Mr. Rollo, of course your groom will not mind me--will you order the saddles changed? or must I walk?'

'I shall not order the saddles changed. I am afraid. That is no reason why you should be. Fear may be commendable in a man, when it is not desirable in a woman.'

'But I cannot be bothered with anybody's fear but my own!'

He faced her with the same bright, grave face he had worn all along. 'I owe it to Mr. Falkirk to carry you back safe and sound.'

She laughed--her pretty mouth in a curl of fun.

'Ah,' she said, 'before you deal extensively with self-willed women, you need to study the subject! I see the case is hopeless. If you had presented it right end first, Mr. Rollo, I cannot tell what I might have said, but as it is, I can only walk.'

She turned quick about towards Primrose, pulling her hat back into its place; which hat, being ill disposed, first caught on her comb, and then, disengaged, carried the comb with it, and down came Miss Hazel's hair about her shoulders. Not in 'wavy tresses,' or 'rippling ma.s.ses,' but in good, honest, wayward curls, and plenty of them, and all her own. The hat had to come off now, and gloves as well, for both hands had as much as they could manage. Rollo took the gloves, and held the hat, and waited upon her with grave punctiliousness, while Primrose looked anxious and annoyed. When hair and hat were in order again and he had delivered the gloves, Rollo requested to be told by the peremptory little owner of them, 'what was the matter with the right end of the subject, now she had got it?'

'I have not got it. The subject has only been gradually turning round as I pushed, like a turnstile. Mr. Rollo, I think it would do you a great deal of good to be thoroughly thwarted and vexed two or three times--then you would learn how to do things.'

'But, dear Miss Kennedy,' said Primrose's distressed voice, 'you are not going to try to walk through this heat?'

Wych Hazel turned and wrapped her arms about Primrose. 'Yes, I am--but I don't think it's hot. And please don't call me "Miss Kennedy"--your father does not.'

'But it's four or five miles.'

'I've walked more than that, often. Good-bye--will you let--'

Primrose kissed her for answer, but then gave her a troubled whisper: 'I wish you wouldn't walk. Duke is so sure to be right about the horses.'

'Sure to be right, is he?' said Miss Kennedy. 'Well, I am at least as sure to be wrong. Good-bye!'

Primrose stood looking, doubtful and uncomfortable, and afraid to say any more. Rollo smiled at her as he was leaving the house, looked himself the reverse of uncomfortable, ordered Byron to lead the horses, and set out by the side of Wych Hazel. He was not just in the genial mood of last night and the morning, but cool and gay, as it was his fas.h.i.+on to be; though gravely and punctiliously attentive to his charge.

Cool, that is to say, as the day permitted; for the sun was fervent, and pouring down his beams with an overwhelming lavishness of bestowment.

On her part Wych Hazel went quietly on, not with the undue energy which shows some hidden excitement but with a steady step and thoughts most abstractedly busy. She made no sort of remark, unless in answer to her companion, and then with very quiet look and voice. Her changeful face had settled into a depth of soberness. Perhaps it was because of noticing this that his manner grew more gently careful of her; in trifles shown, to be sure, but the touch of a hand and the tone of a word will tell all that as well as much greater things.

Evidently he read her and was not angry with her; not even though the way was long and hot, happily it was not dusty--the shower had laid the dust. With undimmed faces and unsoiled foot-gear they paced on, rood after rood, and Vixen, drooping her head, followed at their heels. The groom had been sent back with the cob, and Rollo walked with the bridle of Vixen in his hands. Chickaree was reached at last.

'What do you expect to find here?' said he, as they entered the gate and were going up the ascent.

'Mr. Falkirk.'

'There is much more awaiting you, then, than you expect. Take care of that acacia branch! See, you must send Dingee, or somebody--who is your factotum?--down here with pruning tools.

If I didn't know what to expect, I would try hard for a saw and do it myself this morning. You have scratched your hand!'

'Never mind--yes, I should have kept on gloves, but it was so warm. What do you expect, Mr. Rollo, besides luncheon? You will stay for that, won't you?' she said shyly, yet with a pretty enacting of the hostess. The touch of her own ground made her feel better.

'I should have to stay for so many other things,' he said, looking on the ground as he walked. She glanced at him, not quite sure whether his words covered a negative, and not choosing to ask.

'All this while you don't know that there is company at Chickaree.'

'Company?--how do you know?'