"It is no affair of mine," she said, "but it would be too bad to let him get away, though what happens to stray stags one doesn't exactly know."As she said it she caught sight of someone, a man in leggings and shabby clothes and with a gun over his shoulder, evidently an under keeper.He was a big, rather rough-looking fellow, but as he lurched out into the open from a wood Betty saw that she could reach him if she passed through a narrow gate a few yards away and walked quickly.
He was slouching along, his head drooping and his broad shoulders expressing the definite antipodes of good spirits.
Betty studied his back as she strode after him, her conclusion being that he was perhaps not a good-humoured man to approach at any time, and that this was by ill luck one of his less fortunate hours.
"Wait a moment, if you please," her clear, mellow voice flung out after him when she was within hearing distance."Iwant to speak to you, keeper."
He turned with an air of far from pleased surprise.The afternoon sun was in his eyes and made him scowl.For a moment he did not see distinctly who was approaching him, but he had at once recognised a certain cool tone of command in the voice whose suddenness had roused him from a black mood.A few steps brought them to close quarters, and when he found himself looking into the eyes of his pursuer he made a movement as if to lift his cap, then checking himself, touched it, keeper fashion.
"Oh!" he said shortly."Miss Vanderpoel! Beg pardon."Bettina stood still a second.She had her surprise also.Here was the unexpected again.The under keeper was the red- haired second-class passenger of the Meridiana.
He did not look pleased to see her, and the suddenness of his appearance excluded the possibility of her realising that upon the whole she was at least not displeased to see him.
"How do you do?" she said, feeling the remark fantastically conventional, but not being inspired by any alternative.
"I came to tell you that one of the stags has got through a gap in the fence.""Damn!" she heard him say under his breath.Aloud he said, "Thank you.""He is a splendid creature," she said."I did not know what to do.I was glad to see a keeper coming.""Thank you," he said again, and strode towards the place where the stag still stood gazing up the road, as if reflecting as to whether it allured him or not.
Betty walked back more slowly, watching him with interest.
She wondered what he would find it necessary to do.She heard him begin a low, flute-like whistling, and then saw the antlered head turn towards him.The woodland creature moved, but it was in his direction.It had without doubt answered his call before and knew its meaning to be friendly.
It went towards him, stretching out a tender sniffing nose, and he put his hand in the pocket of his rough coat and gave it something to eat.Afterwards he went to the gap in the fence and drew the wires together, fastening them with other wire, which he also took out of the coat pocket.
"He is not afraid of making himself useful," thought Betty.
"And the animals know him.He is not as bad as he looks."She lingered a moment watching him, and then walked towards the gate through which she had entered.He glanced up as she neared him.
"I don't see your carriage," he said."Your man is probably round the trees.""I walked," answered Betty."I had heard of this place and wanted to see it."He stood up, putting his wire back into his pocket.
"There is not much to be seen from the road," he said.
"Would you like to see more of it?"
His manner was civil enough, but not the correct one for a servant.He did not say "miss" or touch his cap in making the suggestion.Betty hesitated a moment.
"Is the family at home?" she inquired.
"There is no family but--his lordship.He is off the place.""Does he object to trespassers?"
"Not if they are respectable and take no liberties.""I am respectable, and I shall not take liberties," said Miss Vanderpoel, with a touch of hauteur.The truth was that she had spent a sufficient number of years on the Continent to have become familiar with conventions which led her not to approve wholly of his bearing.Perhaps he had lived long enough in America to forget such conventions and to lack something which centuries of custom had decided should belong to his class.A certain suggestion of rough force in the man rather attracted her, and her slight distaste for his manner arose from the realisation that a gentleman's servant who did not address his superiors as was required by custom was not doing his work in a finished way.In his place she knew her own demeanour would have been finished.
"If you are sure that Lord Mount Dunstan would not object to my walking about, I should like very much to see the gardens and the house," she said."If you show them to me, shall I be interfering with your duties?""No," he answered, and then for the first time rather glumly added, "miss.""I am interested," she said, as they crossed the grass together, "because places like this are quite new to me.I have never been in England before.""There are not many places like this," he answered, "not many as old and fine, and not many as nearly gone to ruin.
Even Stornham is not quite as far gone."
"It is far gone," said Miss Vanderpoel."I am staying there--with my sister, Lady Anstruthers.""Beg pardon--miss," he said.This time he touched his cap in apology.
