‘We’d rather like to ask someone called Albert Gates, if we may, but he doesn’t shoot, I’m afraid.’
‘Doesn’t shoot? And Walter doesn’t shoot either? I can’t think what all these young men are coming to. What does he do, then?’
‘He studies painting, Uncle Craig.’
‘An artist, is he? Well, well, how did you get to know him, then? As a matter of fact, now I come to think of it, I once knew an artist myself called Leighton – Lord Leighton. Not a bad fellow at all, really quite a decent sort of chap considering. If your friend paints he’ll like being up at Dalloch: the views are really superb, wonderful colour effects, you know.’
‘The old parts of the house are very paintable too,’ said Lady Craigdalloch. ‘Dear Mr Buggins always does some charming water-colour sketches on non-shooting days.’
‘See that youngish man who’s just come in, Sally?’ said her uncle suddenly.
Sally saw a man of unbelievable age creeping towards them, his limbs positively shaking with palsy.
‘That’s Prague, he’s going to be at Dalloch with you. You’d better meet him. Here, Prague! (He’s very deaf so speak up, won’t you?) Prague, this is my niece, Mrs Monteath. She’s going to be at Dalloch.’
Lord Prague gave her a gouty hand and said in a quavering voice:
‘You must be Johnnie’s daughter, I suppose. Now, how is Johnnie?’
‘Not very well,’ screamed Sally. ‘He’s doing a cure at Baden.’
‘I’m very sorry to hear it. A young man like Johnnie should not be doing cures yet. Why, it’s only yesterday he was my fag at Eton. Cure be damned! Little Johnnie. Yes, he was Captain of the Boats – only yesterday! Well, see you in Scotland, I hope. I must go now. They may divide on this. Coming, Craig?’
Walter and Sally, on their return home, found Albert talking to Jane Dacre, Sally’s greatest and, indeed, only woman friend.
‘Jane, dear, how nice to see you! Did you know Albert before? Anyhow, I’m glad to see he gave you a cocktail.’
‘No, we’ve never met before, and in point of fact, I gave him one. He didn’t seem to know where the drinks are kept.’
‘I have been telling Miss Dacre about our party last night,’ said Albert. ‘What have you two been doing this afternoon?’
‘We have been visiting the greatest legislative assembly in the world, namely, the House of Lords, and one of the legislators took such a fancy to us that he has lent us a castle and a grouse moor in Scotland for two months. And this is a perfectly true fact, believe me or not as you like, but please both come and stay and bring your guns.’
Sally explained the circumstances.
‘You must both come and help us with these Pragues and Murgatroyds and people. There’s an admiral with one eye and a man with a lunatic wife, but he’s not bringing her because she’s in a loony bin. So do come, angels, won’t you?’
Albert accepted without any hesitation.
‘I have never been to Scotland,’ he said, ‘which, for an earnest student of the Victorian era, is a very serious admission. I am happy to think that I shall soon see with my own eyes and in such charming company, that scenery of bens and braes which is so impregnated with the nineteenth century. It is also a unique chance, as I am told that no cultured people ever go there now, so much is it démodé.’
‘I’d love to come, too,’ said Jane, ‘if I may let you know for certain in the morning. I shall have to ask the family – but I expect they’ll be delighted. There is something so very respectable about Scotland.’
5
Jane Dacre sat in the restaurant car of the Scotch express about a month later. She had accepted Sally’s invitation with great pleasure and her family’s full consent, and was much looking forward to the visit, partly because she would thus avoid seeing her parents for a whole month, but chiefly because she was devoted to Walter and Sally, and rather in love with Albert.
Jane was a very ordinary sort of girl, but her character, as is so often the case with women, manifested itself by a series of contradictions and was understood by nobody. Thought by some to be exceptionally stupid, and by others brilliantly clever, she was in reality neither. She had certain talents which she was far too lazy to develop, and a sort of feminine astuteness that prevented her from saying silly things. Like many women she had taste without much intellect, her brain was like a mirror, reflecting the thoughts and ideas of her more intelligent friends and the books that she read. Although she was able to perceive originality in others, she was herself completely unoriginal. She had, however, a sense of humour, and except for a certain bitterness with which, for no apparent reason, she regarded her mother and father, the temperament of an angel.
Her attitude towards her parents was, indeed, very curious. She always spoke of them as though they were aged half-wits with criminal tendencies, whose one wish was to render her life miserable. Those of her friends who had met them never could account for this. They were charming, rather cultured people, obviously devoted to their only child, and Jane when she was actually with
