Sportsmen were approaching from all directions, cycles, traps and cars hurrying up and converging at Crump front; small boys playing truant, with shining eyes and sticks much taller than themselves; all classes and kinds and species, from the High Sheriff to half the loafing element of the village, who were only equal to an hour’s good work under pressure, but could pant after hounds all day on a crust of bread and the dregs of a split soda.
The keenest spirit of this last contingent caught Deb up on the narrow track. They had hunted together in the old days, and he was confident of her smiling greeting as he touched the remains of a cap. He had the plans for the day by heart, as well as any amount of private and possibly valuable information, gleaned from keeper, farmer and beck-watcher; and he remained beside her, pouring out eager opinions as to their chance of sport, and the best means of obtaining it.
Hounds were at Crump door, by now. They could see old Brathay sunk in a climbing sea of black and white and tan, and at the reiterated throaty chorus they quickened their steps instinctively and at the same moment. Deb, looking at the ragged figure beside her, half-starved, consumptive, little more than a log any other day, but alive to his finger-tips on this, wondered what could be the real nature of the spell that summoned them both alike. Not merely the lust of death, surely, for hares were scarce and exceedingly cunning, and a kill was rarely in the day’s programme; moreover, she loved every animal, and the little man at her side owned a miserable mongrel who was always fed, even if his master went hungry. Something higher must lie at the back of that eager response to pack-music and winded horn—something born of the smell of the good earth and the soft, spring morning, the clean air and the quick movement—some great wine of joy that Nature keeps for those who have the soil and the chase in their blood. Deborah Lyndesay and the loafer had this heritage in common, and the godlike, unforgettable days it gives. They came to the steps of Crump sporting equals.
Hounds were grouped a little to the right, round Brathay and the young whip, and Deb paused to say good-day and to pick out her favourites, while her ragged escort stood on anxious guard as wheels rolled perilously near.
Close to the house the crowd was thickening, and among the group on the steps she could discern Nettie, lending an inattentive ear to Rishwald, while her eyes strayed eagerly over the press in front. They sought for Dixon of Dockerneuk, in vain.
Savaury of Tasser had come in a brougham and a buttonhole, and was fearfully bored. He kept pulling out his watch and remarking that the best of the day was going, and was positively rude to Mrs. Lyndesay about the hall-clock.
“We must wait for Larrupper,” Christian said soothingly, looking very young and fair in the rough green of the hunt. “He’s late, of course, but then he always is, and we can’t leave him to follow, because he’ll make such a howling nuisance of himself all over the county, asking his way.”
His eye fell suddenly on Deb, and he made his way to her at once, nodding brightly on all sides. The Bracewell girls, who had turned well-cut backs upon Deborah, while endeavouring to collect the wordless doctor for a subscription dance, had the same trap set for the Master, but he evaded it smilingly and passed on. The Honourable tapped him on the shoulder from her majestic landaulette, and inquired if he intended standing for the County Council, but again he escaped; and after skirting several other dangerous dowagers, and a farmer or two bent on shippon repairs, arrived at last at his destination.
“I’m ever so glad you’ve turned out!” he said eagerly, acknowledging her attendant’s anxious salute with a kindly nod. “Callander told me there was just a chance you might. I’ve often wondered if you would care about it, but I knew you’d be there if you did. Lyndesays don’t need invitations from Lyndesays, do they?” he added, smiling, veiling the reason he could not speak.
“Father wanted me to come——” she began, and coloured sharply, for the sympathy in his eyes told her that he was in full possession of the facts.