Big Game Part 26

"I haven't the least idea what you are talking about, but what does it matter? What does anything matter, except that we love each other, and are the happiest creatures on earth? Business, indeed! Why need we trouble ourselves to talk about business? Margot, do you know that you have a dimple in the middle of your cheek? The most beautiful dimple in the world!"

Margot shook her head at him with a pretence of disapproval, smiling the while, so as to show off the dimple to the best advantage.

"You mustn't make me conceited. I am vain enough already to know that you love me, and have taken so much trouble to please me. It _was_ kind of you!"

"What was kind, sweetheart? There is no kindness in loving you. I had no choice in the matter, for I simply could not help myself!"

"Ah, but you know what I mean! You have given me my two greatest desires! I can't tell you how happy I was when I saw it."

He stared at her for a moment, then smiled complacently.

"You mean--my note?"

"No, I didn't mean your note. Not this time. I meant the magazine!"

"Magazine!"

The accent of bewilderment was unmistakably genuine, and Margot hastened to explain still further.

"The new number of the _Loadstar_ with Ron's poem in it!"

"Ron's poem!" The note of bewilderment was accentuated to one of positive incredulity. "A poem by your brother in the _Loadstar_! I did not know that he wrote at all."

Now it was Margot's turn to stare and frown.

"You didn't know! But you _must_ have known. How else could it get in?

You must have given permission."

"My sweetheart, what have I to do with the _Loadstar_, or any other magazine? What has my permission to do with it?"

"Everything in the world! Oh, I know exactly what has happened. Your brother has told you about Ron, and showed you his verses, and you put them in for his sake--_and mine_! Because you knew I should be pleased, and because they are good too, and you were glad to help him. He is longing to come in to thank you himself. We shall both thank you all our lives!"

George Elgood's face of stupefaction was a sight to behold. His forehead was corrugated with lines of bewilderment; he stared at her in blankest dismay.

"What _are_ you talking about, sweetheart? What does it all mean? Your brother has no need to thank me for any success which he has gained. I should have been only too delighted to help him in any way that was in my power, but I have no influence with the _Loadstar Magazine_."

"No influence! How can that be when you are the Editor?"

"I am the _What_?"

"Editor! You have every influence. You _are_ the magazine!"

George Elgood rose to his feet with a gesture of strongest astonishment.

"I the Editor of a magazine! My dearest little girl, what are you dreaming about? There never was a man less suited to the position. I know nothing whatever of magazines--of any sort of literature. I am in corn!"

A corn merchant! Margot's brain reeled. She lay back in her chair, staring at him with wide, stunned eyes, too utterly prostrated by surprise to be capable of speech!

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

AN INTERVIEW WITH THE EDITOR.

Could it be believed that it was the _Chieftain_ who was the Editor, after all! That short, fat, undignified, commonplace little man! "Not in the least the type,"--so Ron had p.r.o.nounced, in his youthful arrogance, "No one would ever suspect _you_ of being literary!" so saucy Margot had declared to his face. She blushed at the remembrance of the words, blushed afresh, as, one after another, a dozen memories rushed through her brain. That afternoon by the tarn, for example, when she had summoned courage to confess her scheme, and he had lain p.r.o.ne on the gra.s.s, helpless and shaken with laughter!

No wonder that he had laughed! but oh, the wickedness, the duplicity of the wretch, to breathe no word of her mistake, but promptly set to work to weave a fresh plot on his own account! This was the reason why he had extracted a promise that George was not to be told of Ron's ambition during his holiday, feigning an anxiety for his brother's peace of mind, which he was in reality doing his best to destroy! This was the explanation of everything that had seemed mysterious and contradictory.

He had been laughing in his sleeve all the time he had pretended to help!

George Elgood listened with a mingling of amaze, amus.e.m.e.nt, and tenderness to the hidden history of the weeks at Glenaire. Being in the frame of mind when everything that Margot did seemed perfect in his eyes, he felt nothing but admiration for her efforts on her brother's behalf.

It was an ingenious, unselfish little scheme, and the manner in which she had laid it bare to the person most concerned was delightfully unsophisticated. He laughed at her tenderly, stroking her soft, pretty hair with his big man's hand, the while he explained that he was a business man pure and simple, and had made no excursions whatever into literature; that the "writing" with which he had been occupied was connected with proposed changes in his firm, and a report of a technical character.

Margot flamed with indignation, but before the angry words had time to form themselves on her lips, the thought occurred that after all the help vouchsafed to her had been no pretence, but a very substantial reality. Ron's foot _had_ been placed on the first rung of the ladder, while as for herself, what greater good could she have found to desire than that which, through the Chieftain's machinations, had already come to pa.s.s? She lifted her face to meet the anxious, adoring gaze bent upon her, and cried hurriedly--

"He--he meant it all the time! He _meant_ it to happen!"

"Meant what, darling?"

"_This_!"

Margot waved her hand with a gesture sufficiently expressive, whereat her lover laughed happily.

"Bless him! of course he did. He has been badgering me for years past to look out for a wife; and when we met you he was clever enough to realise that you were the one woman to fill the post. If he had said as much to me at that stage of affairs, I should have packed up and made off within the hour; if he had said it to you, you would have felt it inc.u.mbent upon you to do the same. Instead, he let you go on in your illusion, while he designed the means of throwing us into each other's society. Good old Geoff! I'm not at all angry with him. Are you?"

Margot considered the point, her head tilted to a thoughtful angle.

"I'm--not--sure! I think I am, just a little bit, for I hate to be taken in. He was laughing at me all the time."

"But after all, he has done what you wished! I envy him for being able to give you such pleasure; but perhaps I may be able to do as much in another way. Geoff tells me that Mr Martin has had financial troubles, and there is nothing I would not do to help any one who belongs to you.

I'm out of my depths in poetry, but in business matters I can count, and in this case I shall not be satisfied until I _do_."

Margot drew a long breath of contentment. "Oh, if Jack is happy, and Ron is successful, and I have--_You_!--there will be nothing left to wish for in all the world. Poor Ron! he is waiting eagerly to come in to thank you for publishing his verse, and wondering why in the world you wanted to see me alone. Don't you think you ought just to read it, to be able to say it is nice?"

"No, I don't! You are all the poetry I can attend to to-night, and for goodness' sake keep him away; I shall have to interview your father later on, but after waiting all these weeks I must have you to myself a little longer."

"Oh, I won't send for him. I don't want him a bit," cried Margot naively, "but he will come!"

And he did!

Waiting downstairs in the study, an hour seemed an absurd length of time, and when no summons came Ron determined to take the law in his own hands and join the conference. The tableau which was revealed to him on opening the drawing-room door struck him dumb with amazement, and the explanations which ensued appeared still more extraordinary.

George Elgood speedily beat a retreat to the study, where Mr Vane listened to his request with quiet resignation. Elderly, grey-haired fathers have a way of seeing more than their children suspect, and Margot's father had recognised certain well-known signs in the manner in which he had been questioned concerning his daughter's progress during those anxious days at Glenaire. His heart sank as he listened to the lover's protestations, but he told himself that he ought to be thankful to know that his little Margot had chosen a man of unblemished character, who was of an age to appreciate his responsibility, possessed an income sufficient to keep her in comfort, and, last but not least, a home within easy distance of his own.

Late that evening, when her lover had taken his departure, Margot stole down to the study and sat silently for a time on her old perch on the arm of her father's chair, with her head resting lovingly against his own. He was thankful to feel her dear presence, and to know that she wished to be near him on this night of all others, but his heart was too full to speak, and it was she who at last spoke the first words.

"I never knew," she said softly, "I never knew that it was possible to be as happy as this. It's so wonderful! One can't realise it all.

Father dear, I've been thinking of you! ... I never realised before what it meant to you when mother died--all that you lost! You have been good, and brave, and unselfish, dear, and we must have tried you sorely many times. We didn't understand, but I understand a little bit now, daddy, and it makes me love you more. You'll remember, won't you, that this is going to draw us closer together, not separate us one little bit? You'll be _sure_ to remember?"