CHAPTER IV

LILAC FARM

IN spite of Orris's reluctance, Pippa had won the day. And at four o'clock the next day, she and her aunt were standing outside the gate. They were not kept waiting, for Jock Muir was punctual. He took off his cap with a flourish when he saw them.

"I never meant to come," said Orris smiling, "but pertinacity and importunity have been too much for me."

"Of course we've comed," cried Pippa joyously; "we simply love going out to tea. And when I telled Snuffy, she said—"

"Pippa, what did I tell you? 'Mrs. Snow.'"

"Oh, Aunt Ollie, when I'm with Master Jock, I talk like he does. But she said she was s'prised at our goings on. And Master Jock was a 'never do well.'"

"So he is," laughed Jock, "but he's going to be good to-day. No climbing in at windows! We're going in at the front door."

Pippa danced along the lanes in the highest spirits.

Jock enlightened Orris as to the different landlords in the place. He talked away, and Orris was the listener; she began to wonder soon whether there was not something solid under his apparent superficiality.

His passion seemed to be farming; the earth to him was a precious inheritance. He knew every field by name; he discoursed to her on the rotation of crops, the breeding of cattle, and the different species of seed and grain. Then he laughed at his enthusiasm.

"You're a topping listener, but I'm boring you stiff. I know I am. My hobby is farming, yours is books. Now you talk to me and cultivate my agricultural mind."

"No, I can't do that. We're in the open, and I love the country. I never knew how much, till I was in it again. I have lived in town for so long, that I forgot the joys of spring, and the scent of the earth and buds."

It was a delicious spring day, and when they turned in at a green wooden gate from the lane, and walked up a drive bordered by green banks covered with sheets of golden daffodils, Orris stood still to enjoy it.

"I think freshness is the most beautiful thing in the world," she said; "young new life is so fascinating. And it is so unconscious of its charms. The flowers, the lambs, children, I adore them all!"

Pippa danced on in front, singing as she went:

"Daffy-down-dilly Came up in the cold Through the brown mould."

"So little by little She brought her leaves out, All clustered about; And then her bright flowers Began to unfold, Till Daffy stood robed In her spring green and gold."

And then, as the drive gave a twist, and an old weather-worn stone house with mullion windows came in view, she stood still and regarded it with breathless interest. Pippa had a wonderful way of investing inanimate things with life, and houses of all sorts held her entranced.

"Now, Aunt Ollie, what is this house thinking about?" she asked, turning round to the two grown-ups following her. "One of its little top windows seems winking at me, but it's a grave old thing, isn't it?"

"But it's better than it looks," said Jock quickly. "It has been a kind old house to me. I never have to climb up into a window. The door loves to be open. There! It's open now."

And so it was, and the afternoon sunshine streamed in upon a black oak floor, with some rather shabby rugs and a tiger skin spread upon it. Jock led them gaily along this hall, and threw open a door into the study without ceremony.

"Hullo, Dunscombe—you there? Here am I with my newly-created family. They belong to my old home, 'ergo' they belong to me! This is Miss Coventry, who is tearing her hair over Persian books and manuscripts. You'll be able to help her."

A tall slenderly-built man with stooping shoulders, and a finely cut artist's face, got up from his chair behind a big writing-table. He had dark deeply-sunken eyes, and very bushy eyebrows.

"It is kind of you to waive ceremony and come to see me," he said. "Jock told me of your labours in the Muirs' Library—you are brave to tackle it, but I've always heard it's a very rare and valuable one. It seems a pity to sell it, but it will enrich many book lovers."

He drew a chair for her up to a big open fireplace, in which blazing logs of wood were crackling merrily. Orris felt at ease at once, and in a few minutes, she and he were talking about books with the greatest zest and animation. She discovered that she had read one of his first books long ago. It was a collection of essays—one of which had made a great impression upon her.

"I don't write essays now," he said, with a slight deprecating shrug of his shoulders. "They're always the work of an egoist, you know; and I'm not so sure of myself and my opinions as I used to be."

Orris thought this over.

"What do you write about now?"

"Chiefly tribal life in distant lands. It's immensely interesting to me to trace connection between apparently very distant races. I have been travelling for the last five years, and ran across Jock on my last voyage home."

Orris looked across at Jock. He was entirely absorbed with Pippa, and was showing her the contents of a drawer full of curios.

"It's very hard lines on him," she said in a low voice.

Mr. Dunscombe looked at her with some amusement in his dark eyes.

"How much do you know, I wonder!" he said.

Orris looked questioningly at him, but he would not pursue the subject.

"There's sterling worth in Jock," he said, "and his aunt was a fool not to find it out. But you'll never make a bookworm of Jock. He takes after his first parent, and, up to now, he's been a good farmer spoiled. Do you think Mrs. Calthrop would object to my walking over one day and having a look at the library? It would be to her advantage if she wishes to sell it, for I mean to be at the sale. And I think I might help you over the Persian and Indian section."

"I am sure she would not mind, and I should be delighted. Do you know her well?"

"No, but I have met her. I knew old Mr. Muir best, but he was funny over his books. Would never let any guest browse amongst them. I think I must have met your father once when I was a youngster. Didn't he live in Surrey?"

"Yes; he would never move very far from London, because he loved the British Museum so. He was always going up to it."

"It was there I first met him, and he insisted that I should go down and dine with him. I remember that we got into his library, and got so keen over his books, that we ignored the summons to dinner, and were a good hour late in taking our places at the table. He was alone then, with a housekeeper."

"That was after my mother's death, I expect."

They talked away till a big gong sounded in the hall for tea. And then they all went into the dining-room where a round table had been placed in a deep window recess. The window faced a wide expanse of wooded country.

Pippa's eyes were on the table. There were enough cakes and hot scones to satisfy her. Then she turned suddenly to her host:

"I'm so glad to know you," she said, "because you've got our Mary's cousin with you. I think he's what you call a handyman. What's the difference between a handman and a footman? But he got a glass eye in the war, and I'm simply 'longing' to see it!"

"That must be Peter. You shall see him after tea."

Mr. Dunscombe took her seriously, and when grown-up people did that, Pippa's head was raised several inches higher.

There was no lack of conversation during tea, and afterwards Jock insisted upon walking Orris off to Lilac Farm.

"It's only three fields away. Peter with his glass eye will occupy Pippa till we come back. Come with us, Dunscombe?"

Their host shook his head.

"I must have a couple of hours' writing before dinner."

Orris demurred at leaving Pippa in a strange house, but she was already in the kitchen garden busy hoeing up a plot of ground with Peter. So, after bidding her be very good and not leave the garden till she returned, Orris walked across the fields with Jock.

"You'll find Dunscombe an awfully good fellow," said Jock. "Most writers have a bit of swank about them. He has none. And his work is brilliant. I'm quoting the English 'Review' and 'Spectator.'"

"Has he always lived alone?" asked Orris.

"Ever since I've known him. He did have a love affair once, I believe, but the girl wanted him to throw over his writing and go on the Stock Exchange. And he quietly chucked her, and has had nothing to do with women since. Won't have a lady housekeeper; his fat cook runs the house, and does it uncommonly well. And I can't tell you what a lot of good he does on the quiet. Anyone in trouble has only to write to him, and he either promptly helps them, or hands them over to some one who is better able to do it than himself. He wants me to take up my quarters in his house, but Preston has offered me a room at the farm; and as I shall be an agricultural labourer, farm quarters will suit me best. There now, lean over this hedge, and be ready to fall on your knees and worship a typical country farm."

Orris looked over the hedge, and lost her heart at once to Lilac Farm.

It was bordered on one side by a snowy apple orchard; on the other by groups of trees, chiefly lilacs and laburnums. The house had a long thatched roof with gables, rather large casement windows, and an old-fashioned creeper-covered porch. Great chimneys rose above it. In front were box-edged beds of spring flowers and curious birds cut out of yew. Towards the back of it were substantial farm buildings. Sloping green hills partly covered with pines, and rich meadows now full of sheep and cattle surrounded it.

"The outside is topping," said Jock, "but nothing compared to the inside. Now come along."

When Orris, along with Jock, reached the porch door, they found a tall grey-haired man leaning against it smoking his pipe. His eyes were lit up with a welcome when he saw Jock.

"I've brought a lady to see you. Is Mrs. Preston busy?"

"Never too busy to see you, my lad. Wife, ye're wanted. Come in and sit down, ma'am."

He led the way into a charming hall furnished simply but in very good taste. Oak-panelled walls and dark oak floor and stairs were brightened by coloured sporting prints, and comfortable rugs under foot. On a round table were newspapers and books. A fire was burning in a wide-open hearth. Orris sat down on an old oak settle, and then Mrs. Preston appeared. She was stout and smiling, and genuinely pleased to see Orris.

"Of course we've heard about you," she said. "And if I may repeat it, I did say that I thought it was a lonesome life for any young lady to be shut up with books only as company. Now will you come this way with me, and we'll leave Tom and Mr. Muir to smoke together?"

She opened a door at the farther end of the hall, and Orris found herself in a most comfortable sitting-room. The deep window-sills were full of pink and white hyacinths in bloom. There was a big table with a red cloth on which reposed Mrs. Preston's work-basket. Her armchair was drawn up to it. Oil portraits of the family's ancestors graced the walls, and there were two big glass bookcases. Orris saw at once that the Prestons were one of the good old yeomen families, who had always loved and tilled the soil. She was put into an easy-chair by the blazing fire, and very soon she and Mrs. Preston were talking away like old friends.

"'Tis no wonder," the good woman said, "my husband likes a talk with Jock. We've known him since he was a little lad of five years old, and having no son or daughter of our own, we always made him welcome. I can't understand the rights of this will business. I can't believe Mrs. Muir would cut off her favourite nephew, so to speak, with a shilling. Why should he lose his inheritance for a far-away cousin? Between ourselves, miss, I doubt if they've got hold of the right will. I saw Miss Muir a week before she died, and she said to me: 'If Jock isn't back before I go, Mrs. Preston, tell him he was in my thoughts to the last.' And she smiled quite sweetly and easily as she spoke. Now, would she have done that if she had cut him out of her will?"

Orris shook her head.

"I'm a stranger," she said, "so I can offer no opinion, but it doesn't seem kind of her, or natural."

Then, not wishing to discuss Jock Muir's affairs, Orris began admiring the old room with its oak beams across the ceiling.

"Yes, this is our sitting-room," Mrs. Preston replied. "I'm old-fashioned, and like one room free of smoke. Tom's friends sit and smoke in the hall, and I join them sometimes. We've no drawing-room; I don't see the use of a room for show. I'd like to show you my kitchen."

She got up, and led the way through a small lobby into the big kitchen. The copper pans shone in the firelight. Great hams hung from the rafters, and the old dresser, which extended nearly one side of the room, was filled with real valuable old china.

Baking was going on. Mrs. Preston introduced her old servant, Mary Bush, to Orris.

"Mary has been with me seventeen years. She and I are always busy together in the mornings. I don't know what I should do without her."

Mary, a smiling dark-haired woman, looked up at Orris.

"You'll be in Master Jock's house, miss? Does Mrs. Snow make you comfortable?"

"Oh, yes—quite."

Mary gave a little sniff of disapproval.

"She's a sour-tempered soul. Many's the time Master Jock as a boy would creep into the kitchen on my baking days. 'Mary,' he'd say, 'give me one of your buns. I'm always hungry; and Snuffy never makes buns for me, because she and auntie haven't any sweet tooth between them.' Dear soul! I can hear his little voice now!"

"Ah, well," said Mrs. Preston, "he'll get plenty of buns now, Mary, for his room is ready for him, and he'll be in the house with us next week."

Then they went back to the sitting-room.

"It's a great joy to us," said Mrs. Preston on the way, "having Jock take hold here to help on the farm. Tom isn't what he was. I don't say this to everybody, Miss Coventry, but he has had heart attacks, and our doctor has warned me he may go off suddenly. We're living on the edge of eternity, Tom and me. I always pray I mayn't be kept here long after him. But I keep cheerful. 'Twould be bad for him to see me anxious. I often tell him I may go first."

Orris did not wonder at Jock's liking for this worthy couple. There was something essentially homely in the atmosphere. She felt she would like to stay with them herself.

"Well," questioned Jock, looking up at her with his sunny smile, "have you been stealing Mrs. Preston's heart, or has she been stealing yours?"

Orris laughed.

"I shan't have any qualms about you now," she said. "I did feel a kind of pity for your homeless condition, but then I had not been introduced to Lilac Farm."

She sat down and talked to Mr. Preston for a little time longer, and then she and Jock took their leave. But before she had left, she had been invited to bring Pippa to tea in the following week.

"I congratulate you on your friends," she said to Jock, as they walked across the fields together.

"Yes, they're worth knowing. Now here's somebody coming whom I do not like. It's our Rector's wife."

They could not elude her, as she was coming across the fieldpath towards them. Just before she met them, she paused and put up a lorgnette to her eyes. Then she advanced with a rather stiff smile.

Jock took off his hat with a little flourish.

"Then it is you," the lady said, addressing him; "I heard you were in the neighbourhood, and wondered—" She hesitated.

Jock smiled frankly at her.

"Yes, all the neighbourhood is wondering, I dare say, but it is really myself in the flesh; and, moreover, I mean to stay. May I introduce Miss Coventry—but perhaps you have already called upon her?"

"Mrs. Snow assures me," said Orris, with her dimpling smile, "that I am not in a position to be called upon."

Mrs. Villars looked at her with grave aloofness.

"My husband calls on all his parishioners," she said; "I expect he has already done so on you."

"Yes; he was most kind. But I do not need calls in a social way. I am too busy for that." Then feeling that this was slightly inconsistent with her afternoon's dissipation, Orris added, "I have been taking time off this afternoon, for Mr. Muir has insisted upon making me acquainted with some of his friends. We have just been over to Lilac Farm."

Mrs. Villars seemed about to say something, but stopped herself. She looked worried, then in another moment she blurted out:

"I want lodgings at once. I am on my way to ask Mrs. Preston to take two ladies in—very distressful circumstances."

"I doubt if she'll be able to do that," said Jock, "for I'm about to occupy her only spare room."

"Oh, but she must! I really know of no other person who could make Lady Violet Archer comfortable. It is most unfortunate. She and her daughter—old friends of mine—have just come to live at Ivy Towers, and foolish village gossip has driven away all the servants she brought with her. They have not a soul in the house. We unfortunately are full up, friends from town who will not be leaving us till next week. Lady Violet is not strong, and this has upset her. Her nerves have always been shaky."

"Then," said Jock, and, to Orris's surprise, his voice sounded quite stern, "why on earth did you let them come to the Towers? You know its reputation."

"I am above such superstition, and so is my husband." Mrs. Villars gave them a stiff little bow and passed on.

Orris looked after her with interest.

"A handsome woman, but she showed in her face her disapproval of me. Now, Mr. Muir, what is the story about this unfortunate house? Even Pippa has regaled me with gossip about it. Is it haunted?"

Jock nodded rather shortly.

"You'll laugh at us in these enlightened times. It is not haunted with visible ghosts, but misfortune seems to descend on all tenants who try to live there. I must say I wonder at Mrs. Villars recommending her friends to take it."

"I believe they're old friends. I expect she wanted them over here. She doesn't think much of any of us."

They had come to the Manor. Orris called for her small niece, and returned home with her. Her thoughts dwelt upon the Towers. She felt sorry for the servantless lady and daughter there, but she had little idea of how soon and how much they would affect her.