Chapter XV: An Old Acquaintance

“There,” said Margot, breathlessly, “Stella said that you’d drive me down towards the station; the way you’ve just come, you know---- Can I get into the trap?”

She stood hatless and excited, looking up into the face of the rector’s garden-boy, who was standing at the pony’s head. He stared down at her sheepishly enough, and with the most evident surprise at such an unexpected proposal.

“But, Miss Stella, she said I wor to wait for her,” he volunteered at last. “Them wor my orders--to wait for Miss Stella.”

“But I can’t help _that_, I’m afraid,” urged Margot. “I’ve got to go; so do you mind getting in, and we’ll start.”

But the lad still stared on, and made no movement of any kind. Margot stamped her foot with annoyance.

“But Stella said---- Well, go and ask her if you like. She’s over there.” She pointed vaguely in the direction of the hockey-field as she spoke, and the boy turned his head.

“Well, if Miss Stella gives me the orders herself!”

“Go and ask her, I said,” enjoined Margot. “I’ll look after the pony. I know him quite well. Oh, do hurry, there’s the most tremendously important thing to do!”

Much overawed by Margot’s assurance of manner, the boy, with a parting “Whoa there, now!” to the pony, delivered up the reins and departed on his errand.

“If Miss Stella wor to say----” were his last words.

“Of course she will,” insisted Margot. “Oh, do hurry!”

But evidently such a verb was unknown in the vocabulary of the rector’s Jim; for five minutes Margot stood at the pony’s head in a fever and ferment of excitement; then her powers of endurance gave out.

“Oh, how _slow_ they are in England!” she lamented, “and that boy, I declare he’s----!” A sudden idea flashed into her mind before even she had finished the sentence. “I’ll just not wait for him,” she said; “I’ll _go_! Stella’ll guess when she finds the trap gone; I’m _sure_ I can drive quicker than _he_ would, too; and who knows where Sybil mayn’t be by this time?”

Without losing another moment she hopped up into the trap, shut the little door with an incisive click and, with a professional shake to the reins, was off and away down the road in the direction of the “Little House.”

If it hadn’t been for the nature of her errand Margot would have been in the seventh heaven of delight. Behind her was the Cliff School, with its rules and regulations; even its delights--her friends and the hockey match--were forgotten for a time; before her was the long winding road with the moors on either hand, and there was no sound to be heard but the thud-thud of the pony’s feet. She felt almost as though the old days were back again; that she was as free as the air, and as wild as the gulls that were circling round the cliffs. “Almost” she felt like this, but not quite, for deep down in her heart the strongest feeling of all was fear lest Sybil, having ventured forth to the “Little House” in a state of pique against her sister and her cousin, might come to harm if she were not turned back in time.

“For it _is_ partly my fault,” Margot found herself reiterating in time to the pony’s trotting feet; “and I _have_ been rather a beast to her lately; and if she gets frightened at the gipsies, or anything----”

Margot touched the pony lightly with the whip at the prompting of the thought, and urged him onwards, only half-conscious that in her heart was being born a new kind of affection for the aggravating little cousin who was so “frightfully babyish.”

“Of course, _I’ve_ been in Australia, and she hasn’t; and _I’ve_ had mother----; and I’m a perfect beast to think her always so silly, when it isn’t her fault hardly at all.” This was the final summing-up of Margot’s thoughts, and perhaps it was just as well that she had finished her recriminations, for at that very minute the rector’s pony, having traversed about half of the way to the station, thought well to fall down suddenly on his two front knees!

The truth was that he wasn’t used to being driven so furiously, on account of the fact that the rector had picked him up cheap at a sale because of a previous accident that had left him with two broken knees. The experienced Margot should have _known_ that, she told herself furiously.

“If I’d had the sense to look at his knees before I started I’d have known they’d been broken before,” she announced in contrition and annoyance, as she stood in the middle of the road surveying the victim, who, plainly sorry for himself, had scrambled up again with his driver’s help, and now presented a desolate spectacle.

“_What_ would dad think of me?” continued the aforesaid driver. “He _would_ say I was an ass. Yes, I’m sorry enough for you,” here she addressed the martyred beast, “for you can’t be driven a single mile farther; but what _am_ I to do about Sybil! I can’t leave you here.”

Her monologue might have lasted longer, for there certainly seemed no way out of the difficulty, had not the sudden appearance of a strange man, far away round a corner of the road, given Margot a clue to the best mode of procedure.

“I’ll ask whoever this is,” she thought to herself, “to take the pony back to the rectory for me and explain, and apologize most fearfully. Then I can cut over the moors to the ‘Little House’; it can’t be more than a mile away! It’s a good thing I know the way that Stella showed me.” She sat down on a milestone to contemplate the results of her reckless driving, and to wait till the stranger should turn the next corner and come into view again.

“Coo-ee!” she shouted presently, as soon as he appeared within hailing distance, standing up and waving her hand.

“Coo-ee!” responded the stranger in an equally practised manner.

“If it doesn’t feel just exactly like being back in Australia!” laughed Margot to herself as she advanced to meet the new friend, whip in hand. “Why, it looks something like----! But it just couldn’t be----! _Long Jake_--why, it _is_ you!”

“Seems like it, doesn’t it!” said a tremendously tall and broad-shouldered individual, clad in tweeds, who, with a very wide smile, came striding towards the amazed girl. “I recognized your ‘Coo-ee!’”

“But how on earth did you get here?” Margot’s eyes opened their widest; her surprise was so great that at first she did not realize how delighted she was at this most unexpected appearance.

“Well, how did _you_ get here, yourself?” inquired Long Jake. “I made up my mind to pay a call on a young lady in a fashionable boarding-school, and instead of finding her sitting primly in the parlour at work on her sampler, as I expected, I discover her in the middle of the road doctoring a broken-kneed pony, with signs of furious driving strewn around for all to see!”

“Well, anyway,” said Margot, disregarding his last remarks, “I’m perfectly thankful you’ve come. There’s not a single sampler at our school--I expect the boys’ schools have used them all up--but there really is an adventure for you to help in, if you’ll only listen.” She proceeded animatedly to lay the facts of the case before him, and the new-comer listened with amusement in his face, that changed to interest as the tale continued.

When she had finished he went to the head of the pony, that stood rather miserably cropping the grass at the side of the road. “Seems to me you’ve been breaking rules, Miss Margot,” he remarked, “and I expect your mother will have arrived at the school by this time, and will most likely be wondering pretty forcibly where you are. But if you ask for my opinion I think, as we’re so far on the way to that ‘Little House’ of yours, that we can’t do better than go straight on. I’ll doctor up this chap’s knees a bit though, first, and then tether him so that he’ll be safe for a time; and, as you say that little cousin of yours is likely to have gone on rather a risky errand, we’ll make tracks straight away in her direction and bring her back.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you think so,” breathed Margot in relief. “I was so afraid you might want me to go back to school, and I know I’ve broken rules, but I don’t see how I could have helped it. Gretta will tell mother, and she’ll know I’m safe; and Sybil may be so frightened.”

“Well, that settles it; for it’s very likely, I should think,” said Long Jake rather gravely, “if the description of the old man that you give is a pretty correct one, that it would be best to bring her back without delay. Look here, Margot, we’ll lose as little time as possible. We’ll go straight over the moors in the direction of the hole in the cliff, where you say the place is, and we’ll cut off an easy mile that way. Can you step out, or shall I leave you here to look after the trap?”

“Rather!” declared his companion. “And, besides, Sybil knows me, you see.” And accordingly “step out” the pair did, while the crippled pony forgot his woes for a while and watched them wistfully till they disappeared from his view.

“So that’s the place, is it?” inquired Long Jake, after they had walked for a while. “Rum little spot, isn’t it? There’s been no sign of the child, though. Would she have been likely to try to get inside?”

“Well, if she’s doing it for the bravery prize, of course,” suggested Margot, “perhaps she might; but she’s not likely to _want_ to, all alone; and if he’s mad and queer, like Stella says, he might frighten her awfully, you know.”

“I think we’ll just get there as quick as we can, and investigate when we arrive, instead of thinking of horrors. It’s most likely that the child’s gone back.”

“But we should have passed her on the road, you see,” said Margot.

Five minutes more brought the pair to the “Little House”; by this time the little girl was panting hard with her exertions and efforts to keep up with the stride of her companion; she looked apprehensively towards the windowless little place, then, as they drew up outside, she pressed her ear to the wooden door.

“There _are_ voices!” she whispered in horror.

Long Jake nodded gravely; then, without a moment’s hesitation, he raised his hand and knocked a loud rat-tat.