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Anna appeared and seemed to hesitate about asking her in. "Would you mind coming into the dining-room, ma'am?" she said at last; for how might a sitting-room be used for its legitimate purpose with a ramping rebel at large in it? "Certainly," said Miss Kinross. "Is Miss Bibby in?" "Ye-e-es," said Anna, and opened the dining-room door. The little girls were all here.
I'll find plenty for them to do right here on the plantation. You've seen them clearing bush, each of them worth half a dozen of your cannibals." So it was that Joan stood beside Sheldon and sighed as she watched the Martha beating out to sea, old Kinross, brought over from Savo, in command. "Kinross is an old fossil," she said, with a touch of bitterness in her voice.
One of the most beautiful points of view which Britain, or perhaps the world, can afford is, or rather we may say was, the prospect from a spot called the Wicks of Baiglie, being a species of niche at which the traveller arrived, after a long stage from Kinross, through a waste and uninteresting country, and from which, as forming a pass over the summit of a ridgy eminence which he had gradually surmounted, he beheld, stretching beneath him, the valley of the Tay, traversed by its ample and lordly stream; the town of Perth, with its two large meadows, or inches, its steeples, and its towers; the hills of Moncrieff and Kinnoul faintly rising into picturesque rocks, partly clothed with woods; the rich margin of the river, studded with elegant mansions; and the distant view of the huge Grampian mountains, the northern screen of this exquisite landscape.
When Miss Kinross rode briskly up the drive, perhaps an hour later, she had no suspicion that so truly shocking an occurrence had befallen the sunny place.
When Fortune smiled so marvellously on Hugh, one of the first things he did was to go down to the city, and with his own hands take down the strip of painted tin that, in a building of offices, announced "Miss Kinross, Typist."
At any rate, Miss Bibby found herself pouring out all the story of her thwarted life, all the long tragedy of the seven declined novels in the trunk across the road. Miss Kinross gave eager sympathy. That was nothing, nothing; many authors now famous had been declined again and again. "Seven times?" asked Miss Bibby, with gentle mournfulness. "Certainly," said Miss Kinross stoutly.
Hugh Kinross, the author of Liars All, and In the Teeth of the World, and other books, that had thrilled her and set her nerves tingling as if a whip had been applied to her back! No book had ever so agitated her as Liars All.
"Miss Bibby," said Hugh, "I did not come to talk of Pink and White Terraces to you before I removed the dust of my journey. I want to tell you how sorry " "I would rather talk of the Terraces, Mr. Kinross," Miss Bibby said, with a gentle dignity of manner that surprised him. But her soft lip quivered one moment.
But she had paused by the kitchen fire on her way out to superintend the blancmange which Anna was making for the children's tea, and which, they complained bitterly, she always made lumpy. "Larkin is at the door," said Pauline, "and he's got something for you from Mr. Kinross." "Where, where?" said Miss Bibby, fluttering forward. Larkin passed the card to Pauline.
Hugh Kinross had been routed out at six and, his first choler spent, was quite pleased with himself. He discovered a path leading to a gully, and in the gully a pool beneath a fall, and here he had a circumscribed but delightful swim.
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