An Interview with the Editor

Could it be believed that it was the Chieftain who was the Editor,
after all! That short, fat, undignified, commonplace little man! "Not
in the least the type,"--so Ron had pronounced, in his youthful
arrogance, "No one would ever suspect you of being literary!" so saucy
Margot had declared to his face. She blushed at the remembrance of the
words, blushed afresh, as, one after another, a dozen memories rushed
through her brain. That afternoon by the tarn, for example, when she
had summoned courage to confess her scheme, and he had lain prone on the
grass, helpless and shaken with laughter!

No wonder that he had laughed! but oh, the wickedness, the duplicity of
the wretch, to breathe no word of her mistake, but promptly set to work
to weave a fresh plot on his own account! This was the reason why he
had extracted a promise that George was not to be told of Ron's ambition
during his holiday, feigning an anxiety for his brother's peace of mind,
which he was in reality doing his best to destroy! This was the
explanation of everything that had seemed mysterious and contradictory.
He had been laughing in his sleeve all the time he had pretended to
help!

George Elgood listened with a mingling of amaze, amusement, and
tenderness to the hidden history of the weeks at Glenaire. Being in the
frame of mind when everything that Margot did seemed perfect in his
eyes, he felt nothing but admiration for her efforts on her brother's
behalf.