“And yon you were saying about Mr. Johnson?” said the gamekeeper, turning to Eddy when the bargain was made.—“Wha’s that chapping at the door?” he added impatiently. “Some gangrel body with an e’e to the dogues, and muckle Roy out there just a senseless beast that bids a’ body welcome, and hasna a bark in him. Janet, woman! wha’s that chappin’ at the door?”
“It’s I,” said a voice that made Eddy start “It’s a friend—of your master’s, my good man.”
“My maister’s!” said Rankin, “Wha’s that, I would like to ken? Janet, just shut the door upon his nose, the uncivil person. My maister’s! It will be some English towerist body that kens no better,” he added condescendingly with a wave of his hand. “You may let him come in.”
“Why, Rankin,” cried Eddy, “you are in luck! This is the very gentleman—of St Chad’s, Cambridge. Johnson, come in—you’re in luck too, I can tell you. Here’s the champion that holds another view. You’re on the Welsh side, aren’t you?—here’s the great authority, Ros-beg, that takes the other view.”
“What?” said Johnson, coming in a little blinded from the winterly sunshine outside into the comparative gloom of the cottage, where the window was half covered with the drawn blind to keep out the sun. Mrs. Rankin had a notion, shared by many simple housekeepers, that the sun puts out the fire. “Eh—ah, who are you? I’ll swear that’s Eddy Saumarez’s voice.”
Rosamond rose up from her place by the gamekeeper’s bedside, and put back the puppy. The very sound of this man’s voice offended her. To be sure it was the usual thing for everybody to say Eddy Saumarez. She had seen him discussed by that name in the sporting papers, the horrible crumpled things which he left about—there was nothing surprising in it; but there was something exasperating in the sound of his voice.
“Oh, Miss Saumarez,” he said, stepping back a little. Her presence startled him as much as his appearance exasperated her.
“I think,” she said, “as you’ve found your friend, I’ll go back by myself, Eddy. And good-bye, Mr. Rankin. I will pay the greatest attention to your instructions when you send me the dogs.”
Then without taking any notice of the intruder, except by the slightest of bows, Rosamond turned and walked away. She waved her hand to Janet, but Janet was accustomed to scant ceremony, and was not offended. Rosamond was vaguely uneasy about this man and his frequent re-appearance, and Eddy’s intention of having him asked to Rosmore. Of course Mrs. Rowland would do it, if she were asked. Rosamond was not aware of the impression he had already made on Evelyn’s mind. Nor had she any doubts as to the truth of Eddy’s description. Everything, she was aware, had changed at the University as at other places. There were no tests, and anybody might become a don. Of course, if he was a don, there was no reason why he should not be given an invitation for any entertainment. But only she, Rosamond, would not countenance him. She would neither dance with him nor talk with him. His appearance meant no good to Eddy if he were a hundred times a don. Eddy was a boy whom it was impossible to keep out of mischief, whatever happened. If anything went wrong, she felt sure her father would hold her responsible, which would be extremely unjust, for what could she do? Thus she reasoned with herself as she walked very quickly through the woods, hurrying home. Home! is was not home. In about ten days or so, this visit would be over, and if Eddy played any tricks, probably Mrs. Rowland would never ask them again. And Eddy was almost certain to play tricks of one kind or another. His flirtation with Marion must come to some end. And what did father mean by sending him there? Was it intended that he should marry Marion? was Marion rich enough to make father wish that Eddy should marry her? These questions became disagreeably present with Rosamond as she walked back to the house, and gave her a great feeling of insecurity and discomfort of every kind. It really was not safe to go anywhere with Eddy: he was sure to get himself into scrapes and have disreputable acquaintances appearing after him. A curve of annoyance came over Rosamond’s smooth brow. It did not occur to her, however, as a thing possible, that any blame in any other way could turn upon herself.