Changing Winds. St. John G. Ervine

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      "Awf'lly nice," he continued and broke off lamely.

      They could see the train coming into Coly station, and a sense of despair seized Henry when he thought that it would soon come into Whitcombe station and then go back again to the junction, carrying Ninian and him with it. He could feel his nervousness mounting up his legs until it began to gallop through his body.... He felt frightfully dry, and when he tried to speak, he could not do anything but cough. The train had started now from Coly station. He could see the white smoke rising from the engine's funnel almost in a straight line, so little wind was there in the valley.... "Oh, Lord!" he said to himself....

      "What age are you?" he suddenly demanded of her.

      "Fourteen," she replied.

      "I'm sixteen ... nearly!" he continued.

      "Ninian's over sixteen," Mary said, and added, "I wish I were sixteen!"

      "Why!"

      "Oh, I don't know. I just wish I were. When I'm sixteen, you'll be eighteen ... nearly!"

      "So I shall. I say, Mary!..."

      "Yes, Quinny?"

      He could hear the rattle of the train on the railway lines, and, turning towards the other end of the platform, he saw that Ninian, having settled about the luggage and finished listening to the story of the fox hunt, was approaching them. "Come on," he said, catching hold of Mary's arm and drawing her to the other end of the platform.

      "But that's the wrong end," she protested.

      "I say, Mary!..."

      "Yes, Quinny?"

      "Oh, I say, Mary!..."

      "Yes?..."

      "I'd like to marry you awf'lly, if you don't mind!"

      It was out ... oh, Lord, it was out!...

      "Oh, I should love it, Quinny," said Mary, looking up at him and smiling.

      "Would you really!"

      "Yes. Of course, I would. Let's tell Ninian and Widger!..."

      Her suggestion alarmed him. Ninian would be sure to chaff him about it.... "Oh, not yet!..." he began, but he was too late. Ninian had come up to them, grumbling, "I thought you two'd started to leg it to Rumpell's...."

      Mary seized his arm and pressed it tightly. "Quinny and me are going to get married," she said.

      "Silly asses," said Ninian. "Come on, here's the train in!"

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      They climbed into their carriage a few seconds before the train steamed out of the station again, and jammed themselves in the window to look out. Ninian was full of instructions to Widger about his terrier and his ferrets and a blind mouse that was supposed to recognise him with miraculous ease. There was also some point about the fox-hunt which required explanation....

      "Good-bye, Mary!" Henry said, taking hold of her hand and pressing it. "I suppose," he whispered, "I ought to give you a ring or something. Chaps always do that!..."

      Mary shook her head. "I don't think mother would like that," she replied.

      "Well, anyhow, we're engaged, aren't we?"

      "Oh, of course, Quinny!"

      "It's most awf'lly nice of you to have me, Mary!"

      "But I like you!"

      "Do you really?"

      The guard blew his whistle and waved his flag and the train began to move out of the station. He stood at the window looking back at Mary standing on the platform, waving her hands to him, until he could see her no longer.

      "What are you looking at?" Ninian asked, taking down the basket of fish which Jim Rattenbury had given him and preparing to open it.

      "I'm looking at Mary," he answered.

      "Sloppy ass!" said Ninian, and then he added excitedly, "Oh, I say, plaice and dabs and a lobster ... a whopping big lobster! It's berried, too!" He pointed to the red seeds in the lobster's body. "My Heavenly Father, Quinny!" he exclaimed, "what a tuck-in we'll have to-night!"

      "Eh?" Henry replied vaguely.

THE FOURTH CHAPTER

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      Gilbert summoned Roger and Henry and Ninian to a solemn council. "Look here," he said, "I've made up my mind about myself!"

      "Oh!" they exclaimed.

      "Yes. I'm going to be a dramatist and write plays!"

      "Why?" Ninian asked.

      "I dunno! I went to see a play in the hols, and I thought I'd like to write one, too. It seems easy enough. You just make up a lot of talk, and then you get some actors to say it...."

      "I see," said Ninian.

      "And when I was a kid," Gilbert continued, "I used to make up plays for parties. Jolly good, they were ... at least I thought so!"

      Gilbert, having settled what his own career was to be, was eager that his friends should settle what their careers were to be. "Roger, of course," he said, "has made up his mind to be a barrister, so that's him, but what about you, Ninian, and what about Quinny?"

      Ninian said that he did not know what he should do. Mrs. Graham was anxious that he should become a member of parliament and lead the life of a country gentleman who takes an intelligent interest in his estate and his country. His Uncle George, the Dean of Exebury, oscillated between two opinions: one that Ninian should become a parson....

      Gilbert suddenly proposed a resolution, sternly forbidding their young friend, Ninian Graham, to become a parson on any conditions whatever. The resolution was seconded by Henry Quinn, and passed unanimously.

      ... and the other that he should enter the Diplomatic Service. The Dean had talked largely to Ninian on the subject of his career. On the whole he had inclined towards the Diplomatic Service. He had stood in front of the fire, his hands thrust through the belt of his apron and talked magnificently of the glories of diplomacy. "How splendid it would be, Ninian," he said in that rich, flowing voice which caused ladies to admire his sermons so much, "if you were to become an ambassador!" Ninian, feeling that he ought to say something, had murmured that he supposed it would be rather jolly. "An ambassador!" the Dean continued. "His Britannic Majesty's Ambassador to the Imperial Court of ... of Vienna!" He liked the sound of the title so much that he repeated it: "His Britannic Majesty's Ambassador!..."

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