Mary insisted on setting out early; she wished everyone to see that she was going to attend the meeting. And hardly had they left the house—they were going round by the end of the quay—when Fred Stanley said in an undertone to his neighbour Meredyth—
"I don't know what's going to happen; but if they try on any games, I've got a little friend in my pocket here that can bark—and bite."
Mary overheard, and turned on him at once.
"What is that?" said she. "Your revolver? Let me see it."
He looked round: there was no one by.
"Oh, it is an elegant little companion to have with you," he said, bringing forth the silver-mounted weapon from his pocket, and regarding it quite affectionately.
She took it from him—he thinking that she merely wished to look at it—and, without more ado, she pitched it over the low sea-wall: there was a splash in the clear green water, and a bubble or two of air.
"Things of that sort are not fit for children," she said—and she took no heed of the angry flush that at once rose to his forehead: anger more probably caused by the reference to his youth than to the loss of his revolver. However, he said nothing; and so they went on again; and eventually arrived at the church.
When they entered the little building and modestly took their places in the nearest of the pews, there ensued a rather awkward moment; for they had come early; and, on looking round, they found that the only other persons present were they who had summoned the meeting; so that the hostile camps had a good opportunity of contemplating each other. The pulpit (like the body of the church) was empty; but in the precentor's box was a serious-visaged, brown-bearded man, who was no doubt Mr. Fraser, of the Stratherrick Branch of the Highland Land League; while underneath him, in the square space partitioned off for the pews of the elders, sate the three persons who were to address the meeting. They were all gravely silent, as was fit and proper; but their eyes were alert; and it was as clear as daylight to Mary's friends that the strangers had recognised in her the lady of Lochgarra House, whom they had come to impeach as the representative in these parts of the iniquitous landlord interest. It was indeed an awkward moment; and Mr. Ogden's glances of scrutiny were furtive, until he turned away altogether; but the thin and feverish-faced Mlle. Ernestine took more confident survey; and her bold black eyes went from one to the other of the group, but were most frequently fixed on Mary Stanley. The lady from Connecticut, also, was obviously curious: most probably she had never beheld before any of those people whose malevolent turpitude had brought the Highlands to such a pass.
The time went slowly by, in this constrained silence. The vice-president of the Stratherrick Branch, from his seat in the precentor's box, began to look rather anxiously towards the door. Mr. Ogden glanced at his watch. Frank Meredyth did likewise—it was ten minutes after one. And yet there had been no sign of any human being—except for a small boy who had thrust his shock head in for a second, and gazed wonderingly around the empty church, and then withdrawn with a scared face. At length the chairman leaned over the edge of the precentor's box, and in an audible whisper said—