Pearl of Pearl Island | Page 2

as regular as the milkman for a month past----"
"Oh, come now!--Only once a day. I've an idea milkie comes twice, and besides----"
"And what did ye come for, my lad?" with an emphatic nod and a menacing shake of the frail white hand, pricelessly jewelled above, comfortably black-silk-mittened below. "Tell me that now! What did ye come for?"
"To see the dearest old lady in England--Britain, I mean. And--"
"Yes?--And?--" and she watched him, with her head a little on one side and her eyes shining brightly, like an expectant motherly robin hopping on treasure trove.
He smiled back at her and said nothing. He knew she knew without his telling.
"And so I was only second fiddle--" she began, with an assumption of scornful irascibility which became her less than her very oldest cap.
"Oh, dear me, no! Leader of the orchestra!--Proprietor of the house!--Sole director and manager and--"
"Tuts! It was Margaret Brandt you came to see," and the twinkling brown eyes held the merry gray ones with a steady challenge.
"Partly,--and I was just about to say so when you interrupted me--"
"Ay! Were you now? Ye can out with things quick enough at times, my laddie!"
"Well, you see, there are some things one does not speak about until one feels one has an absolute right to."
"You'd have told your mother, Jock."
"Perhaps, I'm not sure,--not yet--not, at all events, until--"
"And wasn't I to take her place when she left you all alone?"
"And so you have. You're just the dearest and sweetest old--"
"Second fiddle! Come away and we'll talk of Margaret, since that's all you come for."
"And isn't she worth coming for? Did you ever in all your life see anything more wonderful than Margaret Brandt?"
And she looked at him for half a minute with a twinkle in the shrewd old eyes, which had surely seen many strange and wonderful things since the first wonders passed and gave place to the common things of life. Beautiful eyes they were still,--of a very tender brown, and shining always with kindly feeling and deepest interest in the person she was talking to.
I do not know how it may be with you, but, personally, I detest people whose eyes and thoughts go wandering away over your left shoulder while you are talking with them. It may be, of course, that you are not much of a talker and are simply boring them, but, all the same, mental squinters are not to my liking.
But Lady Elspeth was never bored--visibly, at all events, and while you talked with her you were the one person in the world in whom she was interested.
Margaret's eyes had something of the same in them, but they were very deep blue, and there was in them just that touch of maidenly reserve which best becomes a maiden's eyes, until, to one at all events, she may lay it aside and let her heart shine through.
Lady Elspeth looked at him, then, for half a minute, with a starry twinkle, and then said, with a finality of conviction that made her dearer to him than ever--
"Never!" and he kissed her hand with fervour,--and not ungracefully, since the action, though foreign to him, was absolutely spontaneous.
"But--!" she said firmly. And he sat up.
"But me no buts," he said. "And why?"
"Well, you see, Margaret is by way of being an heiress--and you are not."
"I'm sorry. But, you see, I couldn't very well be if I tried. Still I'm not absolutely penniless, and--"
"Tuts, boy! What you have is just about enough to pay Jeremiah Pixley's servants' wages."
"D-hang Jeremiah Pixley!"
"D-hang is not a nice expression to use before a lady, let me tell you. What you have, as, I was saying, is just enough to make or mar you--"
"It's going to make me. I can live on it till things begin to come my way."
"Everyone writes nowadays," she said, with a dubious shake of the head. "Who reads all the books passes my comprehension. I suppose you have all just to buy one another's to make a bit of a living out of it."
"Like those washing people! But it's not quite as bad as all that. There are still some intelligent people who buy books--good books, of course, I mean."
"Not many, I'm afraid. They read reviews and chatter as though they'd read the books. And if they really want to read them they get them out of a library. You don't see bought books lying on the tables, as you used to do when I was a girl, and they were scarcer and dearer. How is this last one going?"
"I have reason to believe my publishers are not absolutely broken-hearted over it, which leads me to think that they have probably done pretty well out of it. They are not what you might call a gushing race, you know, but they have given