"Oh, I don"t know; I"ll make one up." The boy took a bit of chalk from his pocket, and marked off the table into various sections, with a circle in each corner, and crosses here and there.
"Now," he explained, as he offered each player a coin, "this isn"t money, you know. They"re merely counters, for the time being. But when the game is over you must all give them back to me, because they"ll be money again then."
"But what do we do with them?" asked Patty, who was greatly interested in any game.
"I"ll show you. These places are homes, and these are wilderness. If you"re in the wilderness you may be captured, but if you"re at home, you can"t be."
The game was really a mix-up of parcheesi, halma, and some others; to which were added some original rules out of Sinclair"s own head. Patty and Bob were partners against the other two, and soon the quartette were deeply absorbed in the game.
"You are the cleverest boy, to make this up!" cried Patty, as her side won, and they prepared to begin over again.
"Oh, he often makes up games," said Mabel. "We all do, only Sinclair"s are always the best."
"Mine are very good, though," observed Bob, modestly.
"Good enough, yes," said Sinclair; "only usually they"re so difficult that n.o.body can win but yourself."
Bob made a profound bow at this compliment, and then the game went on. It seemed impossible that they had been about five hours on the train, when it was time to get out. They had reached Leicester, and from there were to drive to Cromarty Manor.
Two vehicles met them at the station.
Into one of these, a comfortable victoria, Sinclair a.s.sisted the four ladies, and in the other, the boys rode up with the luggage. The drive was beautiful, and Patty warmly expressed her grat.i.tude to Mrs. Hartley, for inviting her to this delightful experience of English country life.
"It is beautiful," said Mrs. Hartley, looking about her. "I"m always glad to get back from London to the restful quiet of these great trees and the far-away, peaceful hills."
Mabel"s mood had changed. She no longer laughed and jested, and though sweet and gentle as ever, the hint of sadness had again crept into her face, and her speech was slow and quiet. Patty adapted her mood to the other"s, and it was almost in silence they drove along the country roads.
It was a long ride, and it was nearly dusk when at last they arrived at Cromarty Manor.
An old servant came out from the Porter"s Lodge to open the high iron gates for them.
He gave them a warm greeting, which seemed a heart-felt welcome, and not merely the speech of a paid dependant, and then they drove on toward the house.
The whole effect was so beautiful that it almost took Patty"s breath away. It was not a bit like Herenden Hall, it was more like an old feudal castle. The picturesque house was of gray stone, with towers and turrets almost entirely covered with ivy. From the ivy the birds flew in and out, and the darkness of the surrounding trees and tall shrubbery gave the place a weird and fairly mysterious appearance.
"You feel the charm of it, don"t you?" said Mrs. Hartley, kindly, as she looked at Patty"s rapt face and serious eyes.
"Yes, indeed," said Patty, softly; "I can"t explain it, but it casts a spell over me. Oh, I don"t wonder you love it!"
But the darkness of the outer world was soon dispelled by a broad gleam of light, as the great front doors were thrown open. An old, gray-haired butler stood on the threshold, and greeted them with rather pompous respect and punctilious deference. The interior was quite in keeping with the outside view of the house. But though the old carved rafters and wainscoting were dark and heavy, cheerful lamps were in abundance, and in the halls and drawing-rooms, wax candles were lighted also.
At the first view on entering there seemed to be an interminable vista of rooms, that opened one from another; this was partly the effect of the elaborate old architecture, and partly because of many long mirrors in various positions.
The furniture, tapestries and ornaments were all of an epoch two centuries back, and the whole picture fascinated Patty beyond all words.
"It"s a wonderful place," she said at last; "and after a week or two, I"m going to examine it in detail. But at first I shall be satisfied just to bask in its atmosphere."
"You"ll do!" cried Bob, who had just arrived. "If you hadn"t appreciated Cromarty, we were going to pack you straight back to London; but you"ve acquitted yourself n.o.bly. n.o.body could make a better speech than you did, and I"ll wager you didn"t learn it beforehand either."
"I couldn"t," said Patty, "because I didn"t know what the place was like.
What few remarks you made about it seem like nothing, now that I"ve begun to see it for myself."
"Yes, and you"ve only begun," said Sinclair. "To-morrow, when you get further into the heart of it, you"ll surrender to its charm as we all do."
"I"m sure I shall," agreed Patty, "and, indeed, I think I have already done so."
CHAPTER XIII
CROMARTY MANOR
Life at Cromarty Manor was very pleasant indeed.
Although Patty had not definitely realised it, she was thoroughly tired out by her London gaieties, and the peaceful quiet of the country brought her a rest that she truly needed.
Also, the Hartleys were a delightful family to visit. There is quite as much hospitality in knowing when to leave guests to themselves as there is in continually entertaining them.
And while the Hartleys planned many pleasures for Patty, yet there were also hours in the morning or early afternoon, when she was free to follow her own sweet will.
Sometimes she would roam around the historic old house, pausing here and there in some of the silent, unused rooms, to imagine romances of days gone by.
Sometimes she would stroll out-of-doors, through the orchards and woods, by ravines and brooks, always discovering some new and beautiful vista or bit of scenery.
And often she would spend a morning, lying in a hammock beneath the old trees, reading a book, or merely day-dreaming, as she watched the sunlight play hide-and-seek among the leaves above her head.
One morning, after she had been at Cromarty Manor for about a week, Patty betook herself to her favourite hammock, carrying with her a book of Fairy Tales, for which she had never outgrown her childish fondness.
But the book remained unopened, for Patty"s mind was full of busy thoughts.
She looked around at the beautiful landscape which, as far as the eye could reach included only the land belonging to the Cromarty estate.
There were more than a thousand acres in all, much of which was cultivated ground, and the rest woodland or rolling meadows. Patty looked at the dark woods in the distance; the orchards nearer by; and, in her immediate vicinity, the beautiful gardens and terraces.
The latter, of which there were two, known as the Upper and Lower Terrace, were two hundred feet long and were separated by a sloping bank of green lawn, dotted with round flower beds.
[Ill.u.s.tration: "Often she would spend a morning lying in a hammock beneath the old trees"]
Above the terraces rose the old house itself. The Manor was built of a grayish stone, and was of Elizabethan architecture.
More than two hundred years old, it had been remodelled and added to by its various successive owners, but much of its fine old, original plan was left.
Ivy clung to its walls, and birds fluttered in and out continually.
There was a tower on either side the great entrance, and Patty loved to fancy that awful and mysterious deeds had been committed within those frowning walls.
But there was no legend or tradition attached to the mansion, and all its history seemed to be peaceful and pleasant.