Читать книгу Paddy-The-Next-Best-Thing - Gertrude Page - Страница 8

Meanwhile in a very ruffled frame of mind, not only because Jack had kept her waiting half an hour, but also because she knew he had gone off quite contentedly up the mountain to look for Eileen, when he found he was in disgrace with her, Paddy trimmed her sail and sped across the Loch to Rostrevor. There was a fairly strong breeze, and the management of the boat kept her busy, but when she landed at Rostrevor alone, she had time to further anathematise Jack in her heart, and was in two minds about going up to the Hendersons at all. They had arranged to come over for tennis, but somehow Paddy did not think she wanted to play. She felt as if she wanted to work off her ill-humour by doing something daring, that would take her out of herself. So it happened that she stood on the quay irresolute and looked out to sea. Her quick eye was taking note of the wind and the tide, while her brain considered the advisability of taking a little trip toward Greenore. One half of her, the wise half, said, “Don’t go; the wind is too choppy.” The other half said coolly, “All the more fun! At the worst it would only mean a ducking, as you can keep near enough to the land to swim ashore.” Then, however, came the thought that Jack would certainly find out she had given up the tennis because of him, and feel ever so pleased with himself. That, of course, would never do. Whatever she had to put up with in the way of tennis was better than giving Jack such a triumph after his behaviour.

“I guess I’ll do both,” she said, “and I’ll tell Jack it was the finest tennis I ever had in my life.”

Consequently she made fast the painter, reached her racquet, and made her way briskly to the Hendersons, meaning to play one set and then get back to the boat and have her sail.

Directly she appeared, she was hailed with a chorus of delight, and was instantly claimed for a partner by four or five different players, from whom she calmly made her choice like a young queen.

“I’m not going to play with you, Harry Armstrong,” she said, “because you poach too much. Nor with you, Dick, because you’re so slow—you always reach the ball a second too late, and it’s bad for my nerves. And Basil Whitehead won’t be serious enough. I guess I’ll play with you, Bob,” and she nodded to a shock-headed schoolboy of about fourteen, all arms and legs, and feet.

“How just jolly, thundering fine!” he exclaimed excitedly. “You are a brick, Paddy; we’ll knock them into a cocked hat, won’t we!”

“You know the other girls here are such awful sillies,” he remarked to her confidentially, as they walked toward a vacant court. “A fellow can’t have half a good time with a set like this. They’re no better than a pack of schoolgirls,” and he turned up his snub nose contemptuously.

“Oh, well, of course! when a ‘man-about-town’ like you comes along,” said Paddy, “we all feel horribly countrified and shy and awkward. It’s only natural, living away out here among the mountains.”

“I suppose so,” said Bob, hesitatingly, not quite sure whether she was laughing at him or not. “Still,” brightening up, “they might be more like you if they tried. You know I think you’re just an awfully jolly girl,” he finished with great condescension.

Paddy made him a mock bow. “I’m sure I feel highly honoured,” she said, “but you mustn’t tell the other girls, or they’d be frightfully jealous, and hate me like anything.”

“Well, you needn’t mind that,” he replied stoutly. “I’ll look after you, and settle them pretty quick if they’re cheeky.”

“That’s all right, then. Let’s set to work and win this set, because I have an important engagement directly after tea.”

Bob’s face fell a little at this, but he quickly decided to make the best of the prevailing good, and not worry about what came next.

But Paddy did not get away quite so quickly as she had intended, as Kitty Irvine came and pulled her on one side to tell her an important piece of news in confidence.

“Have you seen him?” she exclaimed in an eager undertone. “Isn’t he perfectly scrumptious?”

“Seen who!” asked Paddy in bewilderment—“Who’s perfectly scrumptious?”

“Why, Colonel Masterman’s nephew, of course. You must have heard about him?”

“The Mastermans at Carlingford?” still unenlightened.

“Yes, Colonel Masterman has a nephew come to stay with them, from London. Fancy you not knowing!”

“Well, I think I did hear Jack say something about it; but I had quite forgotten. When did he come?”

“Only yesterday, but he was in Newry this morning, and bought a picture post-card at the same time that I did.”

“Ump!” expressively. “I loathe picture post-cards. He must be a nincompoop, if he actually buys them.”

“Not at all,” asserted Kitty. “He’s probably going to send them home. He’s not exactly handsome, but he has got the loveliest smile, and such a nice voice.”

“Rubbish!” exclaimed Paddy, whose ill-humour was still not very far-off. “A man with a lovely smile and a sweet voice is always a silly ass. I expect he curls his hair, and wears patent-leather boots, and lavender kid gloves.”

“You’re very cross,” from Kitty in an aggrieved tone; “I thought you’d be pleased to hear there was likely to be some one fresh at the tennis parties, to talk to.”

“So I should be if they were jolly, but I’m sure this man isn’t. He sounds just awful. I loathe him already.”

Kitty was silent for a moment, then she asked suddenly, “Where’s Jack?”

“I don’t know,” with a fine air of indifference. “He was so long getting ready, that I just came across without him. I must go back now, as I’m alone, and if the wind gets up, I mightn’t be able to manage the boat. Say good-by to Mrs. Henderson for me—she’s just in the middle of a set,” and without waiting for more, she slipped away unobserved, and hurried down to the water’s edge.

Loosening her boat quickly, she sprang in and pushed off, the light of an adventure glowing in her eyes.

“Now to ‘breast the waves,’ as Eileen puts it in her poetry,” she said gleefully, and headed for the open sea.

For about half an hour everything went well, in spite of the continued freshening of the breeze. Paddy trimmed her sail in a masterly fashion, and felt so elated that she quite forgot her grievance of the afternoon, and sang little “coon” songs to herself from joyousness.

Two or three times she met some old skipper who knew her well by sight, and shouted a word of warning, about the breeze being very stiff out beyond the bay—but she only called back a friendly good-day, and held on her way.

As she neared Greenore she met another boat, not much bigger than her own, which a young man was sailing, like herself, single-handed, and as they passed he watched her with no small wonder. He had himself started off at mid-day in spite of various warnings concerning the choppiness of the wind, but being a first-rate yachtsman he had no fear, and had even gone out into the open sea beyond Greenore. When, however, he met this other small skiff, handled only by a mere girl, he could hardly believe his own eyes, and could not help staring hard to make sure he was right.

“Upon my word!” he ejaculated mentally—“these Irish girls have some pluck,”—but he instinctively loosened his sail, and let it flap idly, while he turned with a half-anxious expression to watch her movements.

Paddy, already intoxicated with excitement, and what she had already achieved, was becoming more and more rash; and when a sudden strong gust caught her sail and nearly capsized her, the occupant of the other boat gave a muttered exclamation, and prepared at once to turn round, with a vague idea of hanging about in her vicinity.

He had scarcely got his bow toward her, when a second gust, a still stronger one, caught her before she had quite recovered from the last, and in less time than one can write, her boat was upside down, and she herself struggling in the water.

“Hold on to the boat,” shouted a voice near at hand; “I’ll be with you in a few seconds.”

Paddy’s first idea had been to swim for the shore, but at the sound of the voice, she was glad enough to turn and cling to her capsized boat, though with no small wonderment that anyone should be so near.

Then she recognised the little yacht bearing down on her, and saw that the occupant must have turned some minutes before, and probably been watching her. A moment later he was helping her up the side, and she stood before him, like a half-drowned rat—with the water pouring off her in all directions.

For one moment they looked at each other silently, not quite sure how to proceed, and then the humour of the situation became too much for Paddy, and she burst out laughing, he immediately following suit, quite unable to help himself.

“What in the name of wonder do I look like?” she said, glancing down at her dripping skirt, and the streams of water all round.

“A little damp!” he suggested, and they laughed again. “But you must be awfully plucky and awfully rash,” he added, not without admiration.

“Oh, yes! I’m all that,” asserted Paddy; “but I’ve got a charmed life, so it doesn’t matter. I must look perfectly awful, though,” and she laughed again.

“Not at all,” gallantly; “but I’m afraid you’ll take cold. Do you live near?”

“Only at Omeath, but we shall have to tack, so it will take rather a long time.”

“I should think so,” impressively. “We’ll go into Carlingford, and I’ll take you to my aunt’s to get some dry clothes.”

“Who is your aunt?” asked Paddy, inwardly admiring the skill with which he managed his boat; and not a little also his broad shoulders and frank, pleasant face.

“Mrs. Masterman, at Dunluce.”

“Goodness!” she exclaimed in surprise, without stopping to think. “Are you Colonel Masterman’s nephew who came yesterday?”

“Yes, why?” looking up curiously.

Paddy found herself in a fix, and she flushed crimson, feeling ready to bite her tongue out for being so hasty.

“Why?” he asked again, in a way that made her feel she must answer.

“Only that I heard something about you this afternoon,” she stammered.

“And what did you hear?”

His grey eyes had an amused twinkle in them now, and there was something so disarming about his smile; that with an answering twinkle in her own, Paddy looked at him slyly and said:

“Oh! nothing much—only that you bought picture post-cards.”