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Three Boys; or, the Chiefs of the Clan Mackhai, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 13. An Uncomfortable Breakfast |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTEEN. AN UNCOMFORTABLE BREAKFAST That same night Max fell fast asleep as soon as he was in bed, for never in his career had he used his muscles so much in one day. His rest was dreamless, but he awoke as the turret clock struck six, and lay thinking. It was a glorious morning, for his window was illumined by the sunshine, and he felt warm and comfortable, but all the same he shivered. For a troublesome thought had come to him, and he lay quite sleepless now, listening for Kenneth's step, feeling quite certain that before many minutes had passed the lad would be hammering at his door, and summoning him to come down and bathe. He shuddered at the idea, for the thought of what he had passed through--the climb down to the cavern with its crystal cold water, the weed-hung rocks, and the plunge, and the way in which he had been given his first lesson in swimming--brought out the perspiration in a cold dew upon his brow. "I will not go again," he said to himself. "One ought to be half a fish to live in a place like this." The banging of a door and footsteps were heard. "Here he comes!" muttered Max, and by an involuntary action he caught hold of the bedclothes and drew them tightly up to his chin. No Kenneth. The sun shone brightly, and he could picture the dazzling sheen of the waves as they rippled and flashed. He could picture, too, the golden-brown seaweed and the creamy-drab barnacles on the rocks which had felt so rough and strange to his bare feet. Then a reaction set in. It was so cowardly to refuse to go, and Kenneth and Scood would laugh at him, while to his sensitive nature the jeering would be more painful than the venturing into the water. "But," he argued to himself, "there is no danger in being laughed at, and, on the other hand, they might get me out--they are so reckless--and drown me." He shuddered, and then he felt ashamed. He wanted to be as brave as the other lads, and he felt that he must seem to them a miserable coward. "I'm down here, and with the chance of learning all these out-door sports, and I shall try. I will not be so cowardly, and when Kenneth comes I'll go down and bathe, and try to master all this horrid fright." As soon as he had bravely come to this determination he felt better, though all of a tremor the while, and his agitation increased as from time to time he heard a sound which his excited imagination told him was the coming of Kenneth. But he did not spring out of bed and begin to dress, so as to be ready when Kenneth came, but lay feeling now uncomfortably hot as he recalled his previous experience in the water, and his terrible--as he termed it--adventure over the fishing, and his being hooked out by Tavish, but all the time he could not help a half suspicion taking root, that, had he been a quick, active lad, accustomed to such things, he would not have been swept off the rock, and, even if he had been, he would have struggled to some shallow place and recovered himself. "I will try!" he said aloud. "I'll show him that if I am a coward, I am going to master it, and then perhaps they will not tease me and laugh at me so much." Kenneth did not come, and, in spite of his determination, the boy could not help feeling relieved, as he lay thinking of what a long time it seemed since he came down there, and what adventures he had gone through. Then there were footsteps, and a bang outside the door. Kenneth at last! No; the steps were not like his, and they were going away. It was some one who had brought his boots. Max lay and thought again about the people he had met,--about The Mackhai, and his haughty, distant manner. He did not seem to like his visitor, and yet he was very polite. "Perhaps he doesn't like my father," thought Max sadly. "Perhaps--" Perhaps it was being more at ease after his determination to master his cowardice: Perhaps it was from the feeling of relief at the non-appearance of Kenneth: Perhaps it was from having undergone so much exertion on the previous day: Perhaps it was from the bed being so warm and comfortable: Be all this as it may, Max Blande, instead of getting up, dropped off fast asleep. "Max! I say, Max, do you know what time it is?" Max started up in bed, and had hard work to collect his thoughts, as his name was called again, and there was a loud knocking at the door. "Yes, yes; coming!" cried the boy, leaping out of bed, and hurrying on his dressing-gown. "Open the door." "Yes; I'm coming!" Max opened the door, and Kenneth rushed in. "Come, old lazy-bones!" he cried; "look sharp! It's a quarter to nine, and the dad will look dirks and daggers if we keep him waiting." "I--I'm very sorry," said Max. "I--I dropped off to sleep again. I thought you would come and call me to bathe." "What was the use? See what a fuss you made yesterday!" "But I meant to come." "Well, don't talk, old chap. Look sharp, and dress." "Yes; but are you going to stay?" "Of course, to help you." Max felt disposed to rebel, and thought it objectionable. Kenneth saw his looks, and spoke out. "Look here!" he said; "I'll wait for you in the passage, and look out of the window." "Oh, thank you!" cried Max, and the next moment he was alone. In a few minutes Max's bell rang. Kenneth went off on tip-toe, and met Grant, who was coming up-stairs looking rather sulky. Kenneth said something to the butler, who nodded and went down again, while Kenneth went softly back grinning, and stood looking out of the passage window, giving one leg a kick of delight as he heard Max's bell ring again. Then there was a pause, and at last the bell rang once more. "Ten minutes to nine," said Kenneth to himself, with a look of suppressed glee. Then Max's door opened. "Ready?" cried Kenneth. "No. I'm very sorry, but I've rung three times, and no one has come." "P'r'aps Grant is busy with father. What do you want--hot water?" "No," said Max. "The fact is, I got two pairs of trousers very wet yesterday, and I sent them down to be dried. They haven't been brought up." "Oh, is that all?" cried Kenneth. "I'll run and fetch them." "Oh, thank you!" Kenneth ran off, and came back at the end of a few minutes, but without the trousers. "Thank you," said Max hastily. "I'm ashamed to have let--Why, you haven't got them!" "No," said Kenneth. "Are you sure you sent them down? Grant says he hasn't seen them." "I gave them to one of the maids." "It's very strange. No one has seen them. Never mind. Jump into another pair. The guv'nor will be furious if you are late." "But I've lost the key of my portmanteau, and I can't put on black this morning." "Oh no, that would never do!" cried Kenneth. "Pop on your knickerbockers." "I haven't any." "No knicks! Oh, I say! what will you do? That blessed gong will be going directly." "Yes. Shall I put on my dress things?" "No, no, no! You'd make the pater laugh horribly. Here, I tell you what! you and I are about the same size--shall I lend you some of my duds?" "Oh, if you would!" cried Max. "All right!" Kenneth dashed off to his own room, and came back in a minute. "Here you are!" he cried. "Slip on those socks." "But I've got socks." "But they won't do. On with these." "But--" "On with them. The gong will go directly." Horribly scared at the idea of keeping The Mackhai waiting again, Max obeyed, hardly knowing what he did, and then he made a protest as Kenneth held out a garment for him to put on next. "Oh," he exclaimed, "I couldn't put on that!" "But you must. You haven't a moment to spare; and it's my best one." Max shrank, and then yielded, for all at once boom! boom! boom! sounded the gong; and, half frantic with haste and his want of moral courage, the poor boy submitted to the domination of his tormentor, with the result that, five minutes after the gong had ceased, and still hesitating as to whether he had not better stay away, Max followed Kenneth down-stairs, that young gentleman having preceded him two minutes. "The Mackhai is beginning breakfast, sir," said Grant, as Max came down; and he drew back with a tray full of hot viands, his sour, stony face relaxing into a grin as the shrinking figure of the young guest passed him. "Good morning, Mr Blande!" said The Mackhai sternly; and then his severe face underwent a change. He was about to burst out laughing, but he bit his lip, frowned, and then in a changed tone of voice said, "Thank you for the compliment, Mr Blande." "It--it was not meant for a compliment, sir," faltered Max. "Indeed! I thought you had donned our tartan out of compliment to your host." "It is an accident, sir," stammered Max, with his face scarlet. "I have lost my clothes, and Kenneth has been kind enough to lend me a suit." "Oh, I see!" said The Mackhai, as the dogs, which for a treat had been admitted, came sniffing round the shivering lad, who looked pitiably thin and miserable in the kilt, with the sporran hanging down far lower than it should. "It is a very comfortable dress," said The Mackhai, recovering himself, though, to Kenneth's delight and Max's misery, he could not repress a smile. "There, pray, sit down, the breakfast is growing cold." Max went to his place shrinkingly, for Bruce, the great deerhound, was following close behind him, apparently examining him thoughtfully. "Lie down, Bruce!" said Kenneth, and the dog dropped into a couching attitude. "You look fizzing, Max," he said, in a low voice, as his father walked to the window and peered out. Max gave him a piteous look, and gladly seated himself, seeming glad of the shelter of the hanging tablecloth, for, after examining him wonderingly, Sneeshing suddenly set up his tail very stiffly and uttered a sharp bark, while Dirk shook his frill out about his neck and uttered a menacing growl, which to poor Max's ears sounded like, "You miserable impostor, get out of those things!" Just then Grant entered with the portion of the breakfast kept back till Max came down, The Mackhai seated himself, and the breakfast began. As at previous meals, the host was very much abstracted: when he was not partaking of his breakfast, he was reading his letters or referring to the newspaper, leaving the task of entertaining the guest to his son. "How do you feel now?" said Kenneth. "Not very comfortable," whispered Max. "May I ask Grant to have a good search made for my things?" "Oh no, don't ask him now. It puts him out. You'll be all right, and forget all about them soon." "I--I don't think I shall," said Max, as he made a very poor breakfast. "Oh yes, you will. I say, if I were you, I'd write up to my tailor to send you down two rigs-out like that. You'll find 'em splendid for shooting and fishing." Max shook his head. "Never mind. Have some of this kipper, it's--" "Ow!" ejaculated Max, dropping his coffee-cup on the table, so that it upset, and the brown fluid began to spread, as the lad sprang back from the table. "What's the matter?" cried The Mackhai. "Nothing, sir;--I--that is--that dog--" Kenneth was seized with a violent fit of laughing and choking, which necessitated his getting up from the table and being thumped on the back by Grant; while Dirk, who had been the cause of all the trouble, marched slowly out from under the table, and stood upon the hearthrug uttering a low growl, and looking from one to the other of the boys, as if he felt that they were insulting him. "Look here, Kenneth, if you cannot behave yourself at table," cried The Mackhai angrily, "you had better have your meals by yourself." "I--I--oh dear!--oh, oh, oh! I beg your pardon, father, I--oh, I say, Max, don't look like that, or you'll kill me!" cried Kenneth, laughing and choking more than ever. "I beg your pardon, sir," said Max piteously. "I'm afraid it was all my fault;" and he looked at the stained cloth. "There is no need for any apology, Mr Blande. Here, Grant, lay a doubled napkin over this place, and bring another cup. Pray sit down, sir." Max turned shrinkingly toward the table, but glanced nervously from one dog to the other, and just at that moment, Bruce, who was behind, smelt his legs. "Oh!" cried Max, making a rush, as he felt the touch of the dog's cold nose. "Here, Kenneth, I've said before that I will not have those dogs in the dining-room!" cried The Mackhai angrily. "Turn them out." Kenneth hastily obeyed, the dogs marching out through the French window, and then sitting down outside and looking patiently in, as dogs gaze who are waiting for bones. "What was the matter, Max?" asked Kenneth, as soon as they were re-seated, and the breakfast once more in progress. "That dog took hold of my leg." "What, Sneeshing?" "No, no. The one you call Dirk." "He must have thought it was a sheep's leg." "Kenneth!" "Yes, father?" "Go on with your breakfast. I hope you are not hurt, Mr Blande?" "No, sir, not hurt, but it felt very wet and uncomfortable." "The dog's play," said The Mackhai quietly. "I don't think he would bite." "No, sir, I hope not," faltered Max, as he tried to go on with his breakfast; "but it felt as if he was going to, and it was startling." "Yes, of course!" said The Mackhai absently, as he took up his paper, and the breakfast went on to the end, but to Max it was anything but a pleasant meal. _ |
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