The Eagles Shadow | Page 9

benefited no one else, it was not Margaret's fault. She had a high
sense of her responsibilities, and therefore, at various times,
endeavoured to further the spread of philanthropy and literature and
theosophy and art and temperance and education and other laudable
causes. Mr. Kennaston, in his laughing manner, was wont to jest at her
varied enterprises and term her Lady Bountiful; but, then, Mr.
Kennaston had no real conception of the proper uses of money. In fact,
he never thought of money. He admitted this to Margaret with a
whimsical sigh.
Margaret grew very fond of Mr. Kennaston because he was not
mercenary.
Mr. Kennaston was much at Selwoode. Many people came there
now--masculine women and muscleless men, for the most part. They
had, every one of them, some scheme for bettering the universe; and if
among them Margaret seemed somewhat out of place--a butterfly
among earnest-minded ants--her heart was in every plan they advocated,
and they found her purse-strings infinitely elastic. The girl was pitiably
anxious to be of some use in the world.
So at Selwoode they gossiped of great causes and furthered the
millenium. And above them the Eagle brooded in silence.
And Billy? All this time Billy was junketing abroad, where every year
he painted masterpieces for the Salon, which--on account of a nefarious
conspiracy among certain artists, jealous of his superior merits--were
invariably refused.
Now Billy is back again in America, and the Colonel has insisted that
he come to Selwoode, and Margaret is waiting for him in the dog-cart.
The glow of her eyes is very, very bright. Her father's careless words
this morning, coupled with certain speeches of Mr. Kennaston's last
night, have given her food for reflection.
"He wouldn't dare," says Margaret, to no one in particular. "Oh, no, he

wouldn't dare after what happened four years ago."
And, Margaret-like, she has quite forgotten that what happened four
years ago was all caused by her having flirted outrageously with Teddy
Anstruther, in order to see what Billy would do.

IV
The twelve forty-five, for a wonder, was on time; and there descended
from it a big, blond young man, who did not look in the least like a
fortune-hunter.
Miss Hugonin resented this. Manifestly, he looked clean and honest for
the deliberate purpose of deceiving her. Very well! She'd show him!
He was quite unembarrassed. He shook hands cordially; then he shook
hands with the groom, who, you may believe it, was grinning in a most
unprofessional manner because Master Billy was back again at
Selwoode. Subsequently, in his old decisive way, he announced they
would walk to the house, as his legs needed stretching.
The insolence of it!--quite as if he had something to say to Margaret in
private and couldn't wait a minute. Beyond doubt, this was a young
man who must be taken down a peg or two, and that at once. Of course,
she wasn't going to walk back with him!--a pretty figure they'd cut
strolling through the fields, like a house-girl and the milkman on a
Sunday afternoon! She would simply say she was too tired to walk, and
that would end the matter.
So she said she thought the exercise would do them both good.
They came presently with desultory chat to a meadow bravely decked
in all the gauds of Spring. About them the day was clear, the air bland.
Spring had revamped her ageless fripperies of tender leaves and
bird-cries and sweet, warm odours for the adornment of this meadow;
above it she had set a turkis sky splashed here and there with little
clouds that were like whipped cream; and upon it she had scattered

largesse, a Danaë's shower of buttercups. Altogether, she had made of it
a particularly dangerous meadow for a man and a maid to frequent.
Yet there Mr. Woods paused under a burgeoning maple--paused
resolutely, with the lures of Spring thick about him, compassed with
every snare of scent and sound and colour that the witch is mistress of.
Margaret hoped he had a pleasant passage over. Her father, thank you,
was in the pink of condition. Oh, yes, she was quite well. She hoped Mr.
Woods would not find America--
"Well, Peggy," said Mr. Woods, "then, we'll have it out right here."
His insolence was so surprising that--in order to recover
herself--Margaret actually sat down under the maple-tree. Peggy,
indeed! Why, she hadn't been called Peggy for--no, not for four whole
years!
"Because I intend to be friends, you know," said Mr. Woods.
And about them the maple-leaves made a little island of sombre green,
around which more vivid grasses rippled and dimpled under the fitful
spring breezes. And everywhere leaves lisped to one another, and birds
shrilled insistently. It was a perilous locality.
I fancy Billy Woods