The Obstacle Race, Ethel May Dell [best biographies to read TXT] 📗

in order," he said.
"Yes, yes, I know. A man would say that." Juliet's face was very pitiful. "Let him off sometimes!" she urged gently. "It won't do him any harm."
Green smiled abruptly. "A woman would say that," he commented.
She smiled in answer. "Yes, I think any woman would. Don't be hard on him, Mr. Green! He has been shedding tears over your wrath already."
"He came here in direct defiance of my orders," said Green.
"I know. He told me. Please never give him such orders again!"
"You are awfully kind," Green said again. "But really in this case, there was sufficient reason. Some people--most people--prefer him at a distance."
"I am not one of them," Juliet said.
"I see you are not. But I couldn't risk it. Besides, he was in a towering rage when he started. It isn't fair to inflict him on people--even on anyone as kind as yourself--in that state."
"I should never be afraid of him," Juliet said quietly. "I think I know--partly--what was the matter. Someone made a rather cruel remark about him, and someone else maliciously repeated it. Then he was angry--very angry--and lost his self-control, and I suppose more cruel things were said. And then he came here--he asked me--he actually asked me--if I was sure I didn't mind him!"
A deep light was shining in her eyes as she ended, and an answering gleam came into Green's as he met them.
"I know," he said, in a low voice. "It's infernally hard for him, poor chap! But it doesn't do to let him know we think so. As long as he lives, he's got to bear his burden."
"But it needn't be made heavier than it is," Juliet said. "No, it needn't. But it isn't everyone that sees it in that light. I'm glad you do anyway, and I'm grateful--on Robin's behalf. Good-bye!"
He lifted his hand again in a farewell salute, and turned away.
Juliet watched him go, watched keenly as he approached Robin, saw the boy's quick glance at him as he took him by the arm and led him to the gate. A few seconds later they passed her on the other side of the hedge evidently on their way to the shore, and she heard Robin's voice as they went by.
"I'm--sorry now, Dicky," he said.
She turned her head to catch his brother's answer, for it did not come immediately and she wondered a little at the delay.
Then, as they drew farther away, she heard Green say, "Why do you say that?"
"She told me to," said Robin.
She felt her colour rise and heard Green laugh. They were almost out of earshot before he said, "All right, boy! I'll let you off this time. Don't do it again!"
She leaned back in her chair, and re-opened her book. But she did not read for some time. Somehow she felt glad--quite unreasonably glad again--that Robin had been let off.


CHAPTER VII
THE OFFER

"Well, it ain't none of my business," said Mrs. Rickett, with a sniff. "Nor it ain't yours either. But did you ever know anyone as wore anything the likes of that before?"
She shook out for her husband's inspection a filmy garment that had the look of a baby's robe that had grown up, before spreading it on her kitchen table to iron.
"Ah!" said Rickett, ramming a finger into the bowl of his pipe. "What sort of a thing is that now?"
"What sort of a thing, man? Why, a night-dress--of course! What d'you think?" Mrs. Rickett chuckled at his ignorance. "And that flimsy--why I'm almost afraid to touch it. It's the quality, you see."
"Ah!" said the smith vaguely.
Mrs. Rickett tested the iron near her cheek. "And it's only the quality," she resumed, as she began to use it, "as wears such things as these. Why, I shouldn't wonder but what they came from Paris. They must have cost a mint of money."
"Ah!" said Rickett again.
"She's as nice-spoken a young lady as I've met," resumed his wife. "No pride about her, you know. She's just simple and friendly-like. Yet I'd like to see the man as'd take a liberty with her all the same."
Rickett pulled at his pipe with a grunt. When not at work, it was usually his role to sit and listen to his wife's chatter.
"She ain't been brought up in a convent," continued Mrs. Rickett. "That's plain to see. With all the gentle ways of her, she knows how to hold her own. Young Robin Green, he's gone just plumb moon-crazy over her, and it wouldn't surprise me"--Mrs. Rickett lowered her voice mysteriously--"but what some day Dick himself was to do the same."
"Ah!" said the smith.
"She's so taking, you know," said Mrs. Rickett, as if in extenuation of this outrageous surmise. "And there isn't anyone good enough for him about here. Of course there's the infant teacher--that Jarvis girl--she'd set her cap at him if she dared. But he wouldn't look at her. Young Jack's a deal more likely, if ever he does settle down--which I doubt. But Dick--he's different. He's--why if that ain't Mr. Fielding a-riding up the path! What ever do he want at this time of night? Go and see, George, do!"
George lumbered to his feet obediently. "Happen he's come to call on our young lady," he ventured, with a slow grin.
"Well, don't bring him in here!" commanded his wife. "Take him into the front room, while I put on a clean apron!" She hastened to shut the door upon her husband, then paused, listening intently, as Mr. Fielding's riding-whip rapped smartly on the door.
"Happen it is only the young lady he's after," she said to herself.
It was. In a moment, Mr. Fielding's voice, superior, slightly over bearing, made itself heard. "Good evening, Rickett! I think Miss Moore is lodging here. Is she in?"
"Good evening, sir!" said Rickett, and waited a moment for reflection. "She was in, but I can't say but what she may have gone out again with the dog."
"Well, find out, will you!" said Mr. Fielding. "Wait a minute! You'd better take my card."
Mrs. Rickett returned to her ironing. "What ever he be come for?" she murmured.
The squires' horse stamped on the tiled path. It was eight o'clock, and he wanted to get home to his supper. The squire growled at him inarticulately, and there fell a silence.
The evening light spread golden over the apple-trees in the orchard. Someone was wandering among the falling blossoms. He heard a low voice softly singing. He flung his leg over his horse's back abruptly and dropped to the ground.
The voice stopped immediately. The squire fastened his animal to the porch and turned. The next moment Columbus burst barking through the intervening hedge.
"Columbus! Columbus!" called Juliet's voice. "Come back at once!"
"May I come through?" said Mr. Fielding.
She arrived at the orchard-gate, flushed and apologetic. "Oh, pray do! Please excuse Columbus! He always speaks before he thinks."
She opened the gate with the words, and held out her hand.
She was aware of his eyes looking at her very searchingly as he took it. "I hope you don't mind a visitor at this hour," he said.
She smiled. "No. I am quite at liberty. Come and sit down!"
She led the way to a bench under the apple-trees, and the squire tramped after her with jingling spurs.
"I'm afraid you'll think me very unconventional," he said, speaking with a sort of arrogant humility as she stopped.
"I like unconventional people best," said Juliet.
He dropped down on the seat. "Oh, do you? Then I needn't apologize any further. You've been here about a week, haven't you?"
"Yes," said Juliet.
His look dwelt upon the simple linen dress she wore. "You came from London?"
"Yes," she said again.
He began to frown and to pull restlessly at the lash of his riding-whip. "Do you think me impertinent for asking you questions?" he said.
"Not so far," said Juliet.
He uttered a brief laugh. "You're cautious. Listen, Miss Moore! I don't care a--I mean, it's nothing whatever to me where you've come from or why. What I really came to ask is--do you want a job?"
Juliet stiffened a little involuntarily. "What sort of a job?" she said.
His fingers tugged more and more vigorously at the leather. She realized quite suddenly that he was embarrassed, and at once her own embarrassment passed.
"Have you come to offer me a job?" she said. "How kind of you to think of it!"
"You don't know what it is yet," said Fielding, biting uncomfortably at his black moustache. "It may not appeal to you. Quite probably it won't. You've been a companion before--so Green tells me."
"Oh!" Juliet's straight brows gathered slightly. "Did Mr. Green tell you I was wanting a job?"
"No, he didn't. Green sticks to his own business and nothing will turn him from it." The squire suddenly lashed with his whip at the grass in front of him, causing Columbus to jump violently and turn a resentful eye upon him. "I'll tell you what passed if you want to know."
"Thank you," said Juliet simply.
She leaned forward after a moment and pulled Columbus to her side; fondling his pricked ears reassuringly.
"It was on Sunday," said Fielding. "My wife saw you in church. She took rather a fancy to you. I hope you don't object?"
"Why should I?" said Juliet.
"Exactly. Why should you? Well, after Green's introduction, when you had gone, I asked him if he knew anything about you. He said he had only made your acquaintance the day before, that you had told him that you had held the post of companion to someone, he didn't say who. And I wondered if possibly you might feel inclined to see how you got on with my wife in that capacity. She is not strong. She wants a companion."
Juliet's grey eyes gazed steadily before her as she listened. The evening light shone on her brown head, showing streaks of gold here and there. Her attitude was one of grave attention.
As he ended, she turned towards him, still caressing the dog at her feet.
"Wouldn't it be better," she said, "if Mrs. Fielding knew me before offering me such a post?"
The squire smiled at her abruptly. "No, I don't think so. It wouldn't be worth while unless you mean to consider it."
"Is that her point of view?" asked Juliet.
"No; it's mine. If she gets to know you and sets her heart on having you, and then you go and disappoint her--I shall be the sufferer," explained Fielding, with another cut at the grass in front of him.
It was Juliet's turn to smile. "But I can't--possibly--decide until we have met, can I?" she said.
"Does that mean you'll consider it?" asked the squire.
"I am considering it," said Juliet. "But please give me time! For I have only just begun."
"That's fair," he conceded. "How long will it take you?"
She began to laugh. There was something almost boyishly naive about him, notwithstanding his obvious bad temper. "You haven't told me any details yet," she said.
"Oh, you mean money," he said. "I leave that to you. You can name your own terms."
"Thank you," said Juliet again. "That would naturally appeal to me very much. But as a matter of fact, I was not referring to money at that moment."
He gave her a keen look. "I didn't mean to offend you. Are you offended?"
She met his eyes quite squarely. "On second thoughts--no!"
"Why second thoughts?" he demanded.
Her colour rose faintly. "Because I think second thoughts are--kinder."
Fielding turned suddenly crimson. "So I'm a cad and a bounder, am I?" he said furiously.
Juliet's eyes contemplated him without a hint of