Adders on the Heath

HAMISH RIDES AGAIN

Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might

Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height,

Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke

The years to bring the inevitable yoke,

Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife?'

William Wordsworth

Laura was surprised and pleased when she took the telephone call at half-past ten on the following morning. It was only by chance that she had stayed in the hotel, for the young men had invited her to accompany them to Christchurch and she had debated with herself as to whether she should go. Dame Beatrice had urged it and this had released Laura's natural fund of obstinacy. When the post arrived, however, she felt that she had done well. A letter from her son Hamish clinched the matter and reinforced her decision.

'Coming down for the week-end,' wrote Hamish. 'I thought I was to ride a New Forest pony, but you have said no more about it, so I am going to gate-crash you. Daddy took me out on Rotten Row. It is rotten all right and I saw lots of ladies. None of them could really ride.'

Laura passed the letter over to Dame Beatrice, who chuckled over it and remarked that Hamish was a braw wee laddie. Laura winced, and proffered the dictum that braw wee laddies were the curse of the universe.

'I am awful at Latin,' Dame Beatrice read aloud, 'and the vicar says I am terrible at Greek, so I shall study Russian when I go to school next autumn, also Chinese and American, with an eye to my future, so I am sure to be all right except for an unlucky atomic bomb or two. You will be dead by then, so there is no need for you to worry. Love, Hamish. P.S. School will be good. Shall exterminate the masters.'

'Good Lord!' said Laura. 'Why did I have to bear and rear such a monster?'

'Hamish shows a fund of common sense well beyond his years,' said Dame Beatrice. 'The child has put the present-day problem in a nutshell. We shall survive or we shall not. It is just as simple as that. When do you expect him to arrive?'

'Goodness knows! Anyway, he's quite capable of finding his way to this hotel, whether Gavin is with him or not. What really interests me is not Hamish but these girls who've telephoned me.'

'Yes?'

They think they've been attacked. They say that Campden-Towne's car tried to run them down. It could be possible, I suppose. Of course, they had been got at to take the place of Colnbrook and Bunt and had turned the issue down. So much I gathered from the talk I had with them when I met them on the common. There is something beyond the actual theft of those ponies, you know.'

'I know it well, child, but, so far, we do not know what it is. Have you any ideas on the subject?'

'So far, no,' said Laura regretfully.

'Well, we await the arrival of your son. I must say that I enjoy the company of Hamish. He is a most refreshing child.'

'He gives me cold feet,' said Laura. 'I hate the sight of him.'

That this was not altogether a misjudged view of the situation was apparent when Hamish, lugging a medium-sized suitcase, appeared at the hotel on the following morning.

'I've come,' he announced at the office window, 'because my mother needs help. Have I a bedroom or something?'

'What name?' asked the office, a trifle suspicious of the youthful, would-be guest.

'Gavin, of course. You've a Mrs Gavin staying here, haven't you?'

'Yes, we have. Are you her son?'

'What else? My key, please.' The office dangled the key, but did not hand it over. 'And another thing,' said Hamish, 'I don't want early morning tea. It vitiates the membranes. I bet you didn't know that, did you?'

'No, indeed. Thank you for the information,' said the office, inwardly amused.

'Oh, somebody has to take the mickey out of someone, so you've done it out of me,' said Hamish, tolerantly, 'but I believe in my own beliefs. Somebody has to stand up for these angry young men, you know. They can hardly be expected to stand up for themselves, can they? For one thing, you have to know how to do Judo, or, even better, to have all those Commando tactics. Personally, I always find it better to jump on a person's feet and then uppercut him, if he tries any funny business. Did you ever try that?'

'Your key,' said the office, defeated. Hamish accepted the key in an attitude of doubt, and then foiled the intention of the porter to carry his bag upstairs.

'I don't tip,' he said, 'so I can't expect you to worry.'

'Part of my duties, sir,' said Barney.

'You shouldn't have to wait on children, anyway.'

'I assure you it's a pleasure, sir, but just as you wish.'

'All right. I'll carry it upstairs myself. You see, I shall be an Independent when I'm an M.P.'

'The Independents are a small body, speaking numerically, sir.'

'Little snow, big snow. Big snow, little snow,' said Hamish. 'I think that's a North American Indian proverb, but, whether it is or is not, it contains a beautiful and fundamental truth.'