The motor glided up to the Rectory gate at seven o"clock, to the minute.
David saw the flash of the acetylene lamps on his bedroom blind.
He ran down the stairs, filled with a delightful sense of holiday-making, and adventure.
His one clerical suit was carefully brushed, and Sarah had "pressed it,"
a mysterious process from which it emerged with a youthful, unwrinkled air, to which it had for long been a stranger. His linen was immaculate.
He had shaved with extreme care. He felt so festive, that his lack of conventional evening clothes troubled him no longer. He slipped Sarah"s Christmas card into his pocket. He knew Diana would appreciate the pathos and humour of those clasped hands and forget-me-nots.
Then he went down the garden path, and entered the motor. The footman arranged the fur rug over his knees, showed him how to switch off the electric lights if he preferred darkness, shut the door, took his seat beside the motionless chauffeur, and instantly they glided away down the lane, and turned into the high road leading to Riversmead.
It seemed wonderful to David to be flying along in Diana"s sumptuous motor. He had never before been in a powerful noiseless Napier car, and he found it somewhat of an experience. Involuntarily he thought of the time when he had been so deadly weak from African fever, and his people had had somehow to get him to the coast; the rough little cart on wheels they made to hold him and his mattress, and tried to draw him along the apology for a road. But the shaking and b.u.mping had been so absolutely unbearable, that he had eventually had to be slung and carried as far as the river. Even so, there had been the perpetual dread of the agonising jerk if one of his bearers stumbled over a stone, or stepped unexpectedly into a rut. And to all this he was so soon returning. And quite right, too. No man should glide through life on cushioned tyres.
For a woman, it was quite otherwise. Her womanhood const.i.tuted a sufficient handicap, without any roughness or hardship being allowed to come her way. He liked to know that Diana would always--literally and metaphorically--glide through life in a noiseless Napier. This method of progression need be no hindrance to her following of the star.
He looked at his watch. In ten minutes they would reach Riverscourt.
He switched off the lights, and at once the flying trees and hedges became visible in the pale moonlight. He enjoyed watching them as they whirled past. The great car bounded silently along the road, sounding a warning note upon the horn, if the distant light of any cart or carriage came in sight ahead of them; but pa.s.sing it, and speeding on in the snowy darkness, before David had had time to look out and see what manner of vehicle it was.
They rushed through little villages, the cottage windows bright with seasonable festivity. In one of them David caught a glimpse of a Christmas-tree, decked with shining candles, and surrounded by the curly heads of happy little children. It was many years since he had seen a Christmas-tree. It brought wistful thoughts of home and boyhood"s days.
The first Christmas-tree he could remember had yielded to his enraptured hands a wooden popgun, which expelled a cork with great force and a terrifying sound, sufficiently loud to make all grown-up people jump, if it was done exactly behind their heads, when they were unaware of its near vicinity. This effect upon grown-ups, produced by his own popgun, had given him a sense of power which was limitless; until the sudden forcible confiscation of the popgun had set thereto an unexpected limit.
He then mentioned it as a flute, and asked for it back; pointing out that its popgun propensities were a mere accident; its real nature was to be a flute. He received it back as a flute, upon condition that it should not immediately accidentally develop again into a popgun. He spent the remainder of that day blowing blissfully into the eight holes punched in the strip of red wood gummed to the side of the popgun. The resultant sounds were melancholy and fitful to a degree; and it is doubtful which was the greater trial to the nerves of the grown-ups, the sudden explosion of the popgun, or the long drawn out piping of the flute. Anyway when his treasure suddenly and unaccountably disappeared, they a.s.sisted his tearful search in a half-hearted sort of way, and when eventually his unaided efforts discovered it, carefully concealed in one of their own wardrobes, his infantine faith in the sincerity of adult human nature had received its first rude shock.
David lay back in the motor and wondered whether life would ever hold for him a scene so enchanting as that first Christmas-tree, or a gift so priceless as that popgun-flute.
The motor sped through the old-world town of Riversmead, scarcely slacking speed, for the streets were clear; all its inhabitants were indoors, merry-making; and the one policeman they pa.s.sed, saluted.
Diana"s car was well-known and respected.
Then in at great iron gates, standing wide, and up an avenue of stately beeches, coming to sudden pause before the portico of a large stone house, gay with lighted windows.
CHAPTER VI
DAVID MAKES FRIENDS WITH "CHAPPIE"
The door into the great hall opened as David stepped out of the motor. A footman took his overcoat, and he found himself following an elderly butler across the s.p.a.cious hall toward a door, which he flung open, announcing in confidential tones: "The Reverend David Rivers"; then stood aside, that David might enter.
David had already been looking right and left for Chappie; and, even as he walked into the drawing-room, he had a seductive whistle ready in case the poodle came to meet him, before he could reach Diana"s friendly hand.
But neither Diana nor the poodle were in the drawing-room.
Instead, on a large sofa, at right angles with the fireplace, in the midst of heaped up cushions, sat a very plump elderly lady, of haughty mien, clad in claret-coloured velvet, a nodding ornament in her white hair, and much jewellery on her fat neck. She raised a lorgnon, on a long tortoisesh.e.l.l handle, and looked through it at David as he advanced toward her.
There was such awe-inspiring majesty in the action, that David felt certain she must be, at the very least, a d.u.c.h.ess.
He seemed to be hours in reaching the sofa. It was like one of those long walks taken in dreams, covering miles, yet only advancing yards; and as he walked his clerical jacket grew shorter, and his boots more patently _not_ patent leather.
When, at last, he reached the hearthrug--nothing happened. The plump lady had, apparently, no disengaged hand; one held the lorgnon; the other, a large feather fan.
"D"y do?" she said, in a rather husky voice. "I conclude you are Diana"s missionary."
This was an almost impossible remark to answer. David was _not_ Diana"s missionary; yet he was, undoubtedly, the missionary Diana had asked to dinner.
In his embarra.s.sment he held his warm hands to the blaze of the log-fire, and said: "What a beautiful Christmas-day!"
The plump lady ignored the remark. She declined to recognise anything in common between her Christmas-day and David"s.
"Where is your sphere of work?" she demanded, hoa.r.s.ely.
"Central Africa," replied David, in a meek voice, devoutly wishing himself back there.
At that moment the door burst open, by reason of a b.u.mp against it, and a black poodle trotted in, identical with the dog of David"s imagining, excepting that its tufts were tied up with red ribbon.
David whistled joyfully. "Hullo, Chappie!" he said. "Come here, old fellow."
The poodle paused, surprised, and looked at him; one fore-paw uplifted.
The plump lady made an inarticulate sound, and dropped her lorgnon.
But David felt sure of his ground. "Come on, Chappie," he said. "Let"s be friends."
The poodle trotted up and shook hands. David bent down and patted his beautiful coat.
Then Diana herself swept into the room. "A thousand pardons, Cousin David!" she cried. "I should have been down to receive you. But Knox broke all records and did the distance in eighteen minutes!" In a moment her hand was in his; her eyes were dancing with pleasure; her smile enveloped him in an atmosphere of welcoming friendliness.
All David"s shyness left him. He forgot his terror of the majestic person on the sofa. "Oh, that"s all right" he said. "I have been making friends with Chappie."
For a moment even Diana looked nonplussed. Then she laughed gaily. "I ought to have been down to introduce you properly," she said. "Let me do so now. Cousin David, this is Mrs. Marmaduke Vane. Chappie dear, may I present to you my cousin, David Rivers?"
David never knew why the floor did not open and swallow him up! He looked helplessly at Diana, and hopelessly at the plump lady on the sofa, whose wrathful glance withered him.
Diana flew to the rescue. "Now, Chappie dear," she said, "the motor is at the door, and Marie has your fur cloak in the hall. Remember me to the Brackenburys, and don"t feel obliged to come away early if you are enjoying the games after dinner. The brougham will call for you at eleven; but James can put up, and come round when you send for him. If I have gone up when you return, we shall meet at breakfast." She helped the plump lady to her feet, and took her to the door. "Good-bye, dear; and have a good time."
She closed the door, and came back to David, standing petrified on the hearthrug.
"Mrs. Vane is my chaperon," she explained. "That is why I call her "Chappie." But--tell me, Cousin David; do you always call elderly ladies by their rather private pet-names, in the first moments of making their acquaintance?"
"Heaven help me!" said poor David, ruefully, "I thought "Chappie" was the poodle."
Diana"s peals of laughter must have reached the irate lady in the hall.
She sank on to the sofa, and buried her golden head in the cushions.
"Oh, Cousin David!" she said. "I always knew you were unlike anybody else. Did you see the concentrated fury in Chappie"s eye? And shall we improve matters by explaining that you thought she was the poodle? Oh, talk of something else, or I shall suffocate!"
"But you said: "There will only be myself and Chappie; and Chappie doesn"t count,"" explained David. "If that was "Chappie," she counts a lot. She looked me up and down, until I felt positively cheap; and she asked me whether I was your missionary. I made sure she was a d.u.c.h.ess, at the very least."
"That only shows how very little experience you have had of d.u.c.h.esses, Cousin David. If Chappie had really been a d.u.c.h.ess, she would have made you feel at home in a moment, and I should have found you seated beside her on the sofa talking as happily as if you had known her for years.
Chappie has a presence, I admit; and a ducal air; which is partly why I keep her on as chaperon. But she says: "D"y do," and looks down her nose at you in that critical manner, because her father was only a doctor in a small provincial town."