The Eldest Son Part 22

"I'm glad you didn't shoot too many," said Nancy. "They're such pretty things, and I like to see them get away."

"So do I, in theory," said Sir Herbert. "In practice, no. Do you think it is the l.u.s.t for killing, as some people say?"

"Oh no," said Nancy. "I have thought about that. If it were, I shouldn't want to come out. It is the skill."

"I think you're right, Nancy. That, and what remains of the primitive instinct of the chase. You had to kill your food, and you kept your health by doing so. You killed two birds with one stone."

"And now you don't even kill one bird with two barrels," said Nancy, with a side-glance at his eye.

He met her mischievous gaze. "Nancy," he said, "if you had said that on the bench they would have put it in the papers--with headlines; as it is, I've a good mind to commit you for contempt of court."

The divided groups began to congregate. The Squire came round the corner very well pleased with himself. In spite of his preoccupation he had shot quite up to his form. And his good-humour was confirmed at the discovery that Hammond-Watt could be cla.s.sed as a doubtful no longer, for he had killed more birds than anybody, and killed them clean, and that Bobby Trench had also given a fair account of himself.

The day had begun well, and the fact that Sir Herbert had only shot two pheasants, one of which had got away, and George Senhouse had shot none, although, as is the unaccountable way of driven birds, they had come over him more thickly than over any one else, did not avail to dash his satisfaction. He led the way to the next stand, down a woodland ride, in high good-humour, walking with great strides, which Lady Birkett, who accompanied him, found some difficulty in keeping up with. "I hope Herbert will pick up," he said, laughing good-humoredly at his brother-in-law's misfortune. "Now I'm never very much away from my form, either above or below. Funny thing--form! Even when I'm worried to death about things it don't seem to make much difference to my eye."

But when the next drive was over, and he had only shot two pheasants, neither of them clean, and a rabbit, he said, "It's all this infernal worry. No man on earth, I don't care who he is, can shoot straight if he's got something weighing on his mind."

Lady Birkett was consolatory. "My dear Edward, don't think about it,"

she said. "It will all come right."

"I wish I thought so," said the Squire. "I think if I had that woman here I'd put a charge of shot into her."

During the course of the morning the twins came together to compare notes. "Humphrey is shooting quite well," said Joan, "but, all the same, if he had fallen in with my suggestion we should have scooped twenty-four shillings. I reckon it up after every drive and tell him the result. I am hoping that he will be so pleased with himself that he will offer to settle up at the end of the day of his own accord."

"Don't make it too much," advised Nancy. "Ten shillings in our pockets are better than twenty in his."

"Bobby Trench offered to take over the arrangement," said Joan.

Nancy threw back her fair hair. "It's a pity to waste an opportunity,"

she said, "but of course you can't accept a tip from him."

"My dear, as if I would!" exclaimed Joan. "But he's very pushing.

It's difficult to keep him at a distance. I think I shall go and stand with Mr. Wilkinson. He's a dear old thing, and I think he'd be flattered."

"Oh, don't forsake Humphrey, for goodness' sake, if he's in a good temper," advised Nancy.

"Well, Bobby Trench is such a nuisance. He comes over and talks to us while we're waiting."

"If you stick on till lunch-time I'll change with you after. Uncle Herbert is shooting very badly, but he's full of conversation. And I didn't tell you--he asked after the camera fund. I don't know who can have told him--d.i.c.k, I suppose. Dear old d.i.c.k; I wish he was here!"

"So do I," said Joan. "Did Uncle Herbert show any signs of contributing?"

"I expect he will. But I didn't want to appear too mercenary; I skilfully changed the subject."

"That ought to do the trick," observed Joan. "I don't mind a bit taking it from relations. They ought to be encouraged to do their duty."

"All old people ought to tip all young ones," said Nancy largely. "You might convey that truth delicately to Mr. Wilkinson."

"I might, but I'm not going to."

"Or Colonel Stacey. Why not try him? He's old enough."

"You can do your own dirty work," said Joan, preparing to leave her.

"Colonel Stacey is very poor. He lives in a tiny little house. I shall sit next to him at luncheon, and see that he gets a jolly good one."

The Squire shot worse and worse as the morning went on, and through over-anxiety and confused instructions the birds were not driven properly out of High Beech Wood, which ought to have afforded the best drive of the day. They streamed away to the right of where the Squire was standing, where there was neither a gun nor a stop, or went back over the heads of the keepers. Humphrey had suggested placing a gun where those that were got out of the wood eventually came over, and because he had pooh-poohed the suggestion the Squire was furious with him. d.i.c.k would have put a gun there without asking him. But Humphrey now could do nothing right. After this fiasco he suggested sending to the keeper's cottage, where luncheon was to be served, to tell them to set the tables outside. There was a warm grove of beeches at the back of it, where they sometimes did lunch earlier in the season, and to-day it was fine and sunny enough to have made it more pleasant to sit in the open than in a crowded room in a cottage. But the Squire said, "For G.o.d's sake, don't be altering arrangements now, and throwing everything out," so Humphrey had retired and told Bobby Trench that his governor was like a bear with a sore head.

"I thought he seemed rather pa.s.sionate," said Bobby Trench pleasantly.

"Not pulling 'em down, I suppose. It does put you out, you know."

"He'd better manage for himself," said Humphrey sulkily. "If he likes to make a mess of it, let him."

Joan, who was with them, grew red at this discussion. "Father has had a lot of worries," she said. "I think you ought to help him all you can, Humphrey."

Humphrey stared at her, and Bobby Trench said, "Bravo, Miss Joan, you stick up for your own."

"I'm going to," said Joan, and turned back to join Beatrice Senhouse, who was just behind them. At the next stand, the last of the morning, she went up to her father and said, "I'm going to count your birds, daddy, and I'll give you a kiss for every one you let off."

The Squire's worried face brightened. "I thought you'd forsaken your poor old father," he said. "Well, I'm letting plenty of them off, but we'll see what we can do this time."

Whether encouraged or not by his prospective reward, he acquitted himself well during the ensuing drive, in the course of which he got two high birds with a right and left, and another one going away with a quick change of guns; and when the drive was over he handed his gun to his loader, and put his hand on Joan's shoulder to walk towards the cottage, with a face all smiles.

Mrs. Clinton, with Lady Aldeburgh and her daughter, met them at the garden gate. "I have told them to put the table outside," she said, as they came up, and the Squire said, "Capital idea, Nina, capital idea!"

and turning to Lady Aldeburgh twitted her on her late appearance.

"You've missed some good sport," he said. "But we'll see what we can show you this afternoon."

Lady Aldeburgh, in a costume of Lincoln green with a short skirt bound in brown leather, looked younger than her own daughter, and felt no older than a child. "Oh, do let me stand by you, Mr. Clinton, and see you shoot," she said, clasping her hands appealingly. "I'll promise not to chatter."

"That woman's a fool," said Joan, who had withdrawn from the group to join Nancy.

She sat next to Colonel Stacey at luncheon, as she had undertaken to do, and was a.s.siduous in attending to his bodily wants. He was of the skeleton-like, big-moustached order of retired warrior, and looked very much as if he suffered from a lack of nutriment, although as a matter of fact he was accustomed to "do himself" remarkably well, shirking nothing in the way of food and drink that other men of his age were apt to look askance at. He made an extremely good meal, and Joan took credit to herself for his doing so, although he did not repay her attentions with much notice, being well able to forage for himself.

Mr. Wilkinson, who sat on her other side, was far more communicative and friendly, in a sort of pleasant, grandfatherly way; and as the three of them were standing together when luncheon was over, he took half a sovereign out of his pocket and said, "Now if I know anything of young women of your age, and I ought to by this time, I dare say you and Nancy will find some use for that."

Joan accepted it with grat.i.tude. Her mind was at ease; she had not worked for it in any way. It was a most acceptable windfall. "Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Wilkinson," she said. "Now we shall be able to buy our camera. We have been saving up for it for a long time."

"That's capital," said old Mr. Wilkinson, patting her on the shoulder and moving off.

Colonel Stacey, now that he had satisfied the claims of appet.i.te, had some attention to spare for his late neighbour, who was really a very nice-mannered child, and not greedy as most children are, but well-behaved towards her elders. He in his turn pulled out a well-worn leather purse and extracted half a sovereign from it. Joan, seeing what was coming, had a moment of panic, and turned quickly away. But he stopped her and said, "There, take that; that makes one for each of you."

Joan's face was scarlet. "Oh, thanks most awfully," she said hurriedly. "But we've got quite enough now," and then she fairly ran away, leaving Colonel Stacey, surprised at the curious ways of young girls, to put his half-sovereign philosophically back into his purse.

Lady Aldeburgh accompanied the Squire during most of the afternoon, and by a judicious use of flattery and girlish charm kept him in so good a humour with himself that he shot much better than in the morning, and fussed considerably less over details of arrangement than he would otherwise have done.

He could not have told how it came to pa.s.s, although Lady Aldeburgh might have been able to enlighten him, that as they were walking together down a muddy country lane, with the rest of the party straggling after them, he poured into her sympathetic ear the story of what he was now accustomed to call d.i.c.k's entanglement.

Lady Aldeburgh bounded mentally over five-and-twenty or thirty years and became matronly, even maternal.

"I have heard something about it, dear Mr. Clinton," she said, "and have been longing to tell you how much I sympathised with you. But I hardly liked to until you had spoken first. Of course one's children do give one trouble in many ways, and an old married woman like myself who has had a long experience can often help, with sympathy if not with advice. So I am very glad you have told me."