Madeleine went down to the water’s edge, where she discoursed volubly for about five minutes. The minister sat watching; he wondered why French people speak so fast, and whether Wiggins understood. He evidently did, for he answered derisively, and sat down suddenly in the water. Then he came out, and grinning at the minister, remarked gleefully as he took his dripping way homeward:
“That’s the third pair to-day, soon shan’t have any left to wear. What a rux!”
“So that’s a London child!” mused the minister. “He’s a fine frank lad; I must call upon his mother.”
But the days went on, and the minister did not call. He was a sociable fellow, much beloved by his fisher folk, and by such summer visitors as knew him. Elgo was his first “charge.” Had he been small, instead of six-foot-three, he would doubtless long ago have been dubbed “The Little Minister,” after Mr. Barrie’s immortal hero, for he was young as a minister can be.
He did not call on Mrs. Burton because he had conceived for her an extravagant admiration, or rather adoration. He met her constantly on the beach and in the village street, and on these occasions gravely lifted his hat. Had he followed his impulse, he would have gone down on his knees and begged leave to kiss her feet. We do not follow our impulses in these matters nowadays, and Mary Burton never wondered why he did not call, for she thought about him not at all.
She did not go to church that first Sunday, but played with Wiggins on the beach all the morning. Mrs. Urquhart was scandalized and suggested the Episcopalian church at Pittenweem; but Mary only put her arms round her old nurse and laughingly promised to come and sit in her pew next Sunday.
The minister progressed in his friendship with Wiggins; while Mary was scouring the country on her bicycle, Wiggins and his new friend played on the beach or fished for poddlies from the rocks.
Madeleine with the inevitable crochet sat on the beach and beamed at them.
“You’re a Presbyterian, aren’t you?” asked Wiggins abruptly of the minister one afternoon.
“Oh, you’re Free Kirk, and Madeleine’s a Roman Catholic, and mother and me is Pagans!”
“Pagans?” echoed the minister in astonished tones.
“Well, mother says so. It means that you love the sun, and the sea, and bare feet and meringues and music-halls and things!”