“Where are you going, my pretty maid?” he demanded, “and—”
“I’m going to the vicarage, sir,” she said promptly, with an accompaniment of old-fashioned curtsey which brought the twinkle into Rob’s eyes.
However solemn he might be, he never could resist a smile at Peggy’s saucy ways, and to-day indeed he did not appear solemn at all, but unusually beaming and radiant.
“Then I’ll go with you, my pretty maid, for I’ve been asked too, in a breathless note from Mellicent, with neither beginning nor ending, nor comma nor full stop. If any one else had written in such a state of agitation, I should have thought something thrilling had occurred, but Mellicent is guaranteed to go off her head on the slightest provocation. Probably it is nothing more exciting than a cake or a teacloth which is to be used for the first time. She said that I must come, whatever happened, for it was dreadfully important, but I have really not thought much about what it could be, for I am accustomed to receiving violent summonses which mean nothing at all. The first time I ran nearly half the way, and arrived with a purple face and such a stitch in my side as nearly finished my mortal career, and she said: ‘Oh, have you come? I didn’t think you would. I want to show you my new hat!’ Another time she was out, and had forgotten that she had asked me at all; but as she has asked you too, that will hardly be the case to-day.”
Peggy threw back her head and regarded Rob with a curious scrutiny. “Methinks I perceive an air of unusual festivity in my venerable friend. It takes a great deal to rouse him to any sign of feeling, so one must needs conclude that some important event had occurred. May one inquire its nature?”
“Peggy may, if she cares to hear it!” returned Rob briefly. “I have had one or two pieces of good luck lately, Mariquita, which have cheered me up. That’s all. I want to earn some money, you know, and not depend entirely on what the father allows me. My books and papers have done well in one sense, though there’s not much money to be made out of scientific writing, but now I believe I see my way to making a good thing out of my plants. I think I told you before that I have sold some of the specimens which I brought home at a very good price, and I have one shrub in particular which is bringing in quite a little income. It’s a species of broom which I discovered in the most accidental fashion. I was on a hunting expedition one day when I was in Africa, and was hiding behind a clump of broom, when I noticed that one bush was different from the rest. They were plain, but it was mottled in two distinct shades of the same colour. It was evidently a freak, a disease of some sort, as such variations generally are, but it was uncommonly pretty all the same. I had never seen anything of the kind before, and, without conceit, I may say that I know a good deal more about plants than the ordinary professional gardener. Well, I examined it, and it occurred to me, Peg, that it would be a much better day’s work to secure that shrub than to go on with my sport. I unloaded my gun, marked the spot, and had a look round, to see if I could find any further specimens, but no, all the rest were the ordinary type. The first bush was the one exception. Luckily it was not very big, and I managed to dig it up and get it home alive, and after that there was no difficulty, for it is healthy enough, and grows almost as well as the common species. I set to work striking cuttings, and, after waiting until I had a good supply on hand, sent specimens of the bloom to several big nurserymen. They took it up at once with the utmost keenness, and I am now able to sell cuttings as fast as I can strike them, and for a very good price into the bargain. Of course this won’t last for ever, because by degrees other people will get their own stock, but luckily the plant is a slow grower, and meantime they are obliged to come to me, and I have the monopoly of the market. So my travels have turned out more of a success in a monetary sense than I expected, and I am beginning to realise that a man who understands botany, and who has also a love for roaming about forbidden lands, may discover unknown treasures, and do well for himself by bringing them home. It is a happy discovery for me, for I have no chance in the beaten lines, and it will be a solution of many difficulties if I can make a little money in this way.”
“You will go away, you mean? You will leave England and go abroad?” queried Peggy, with a feeling that the foundations of the earth were giving way beneath her, and that life itself was a delusion, since, at a moment’s notice, the pillar of strength on which she had depended above all others could calmly announce its own purpose of withdrawal. “Do you mean that you will settle there altogether, and never come home any more?” She was under the impression that she had put the question in a calm and impersonal manner, but in reality there was a wistful tremor in the voice which Rob was quick to catch.
“I shall be able to answer that question better later on, Mariquita,” he said quietly. “It depends on—circumstances! But, so far as I can see, these journeys must form an important part of my life; I must come and go, and as there will necessarily be a certain amount of danger involved, you needn’t speak of it in public at present. It will be time enough to tell the others, when I am about to start, for they will then have so much less time to worry. I tell you now because—because I always did tell you all my plans, I suppose. It’s an old habit.”
“And you know that I am too sensible to worry. I promise to be duly anxious when the time comes, but I really can’t agitate myself about lions’ jaws in an English lane, or feel apprehensive of any more savage assault, than we shall receive at the vicarage if you persist in dawdling along at this rate! It’s very kind of you to make an exception in my favour, but it’s an honour I could have done very well without. It’s a poor thing, I must say, to come home from India, and have old friends begging you to settle down among them, and then immediately turning round and saying, ‘I’m off to Africa!’ as if your presence in the same hemisphere was more than they could bear. You are a champion wet blanket, Rob! Your items of good news are calculated to drive your friend into melancholy madness. I hope Mellicent’s disclosures will be of a more agreeable nature, or I shall be sorry I came out at all.”
“I do love to see you in a temper, Mariquita. You are a capital little spitfire. Go on abusing me, do! You can’t think how I enjoy it!” returned Rob promptly; which request, needless to say, was sufficient to seal Miss Peggy’s lips until the vicarage gate was reached.