Every several man there
was nervously afraid of women and worked feverishly as if under some
great Taskmistress's eye. The result was a superfluity of shear-marks
and deep, muffled profanity. Lady Manorwater ran here and there asking
questions and confusing the workers; while Mr. Stocks, in pursuance of
his democratic sentiments, talked in a stilted fashion to the nearest
clipper, who called him "Sir" and seemed vastly ill at ease.
Lewis restored some cordiality. Under her nephew's influence Lady
Manorwater became natural and pleasing. Jock was ferreted out of some
corner and, together with the reluctant Tam, brought up for
presentation.
"Tam," said his patron, "I'll give you your choice. Whether will you go
to the Sabbath-school treat, or come with us to a real picnic? Jock is
coming, and I promise you better fun and better things to eat."
It was no case for hesitation. Tam executed a doglike gambol on the
turf, and proceeded to course up the burn ahead of the party, a vision
of twinkling bare legs and ill-fitting Sunday clothes. The sedate Jock
rolled down his sleeves, rescued a ragged jacket, and stalked in the
rear.
III
Once on the heathy plateau the party scattered. Mr. Stocks caught the
unwilling Arthur and treated him to a disquisition on the
characteristics of the people whose votes he was soon to solicit.
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