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Authors: Sara Seale

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You wouldn

t do that!


Not unless you make it necessary.

Mark relaxed and leant back in his chair, thrusting his hands into his pockets.

Why do you behave in this unintelligent fashion, Clancy? It

s so ridiculous to be obliged to treat you like some little prep-school scallywag. Why can

t you try to remember you are seventeen and a girl, and act accordingly?

Her thin face held a sudden bleakness.


What

s the use of being a girl?

she said.

Mark regarded her thoughtfully. It was a pity, he thought, that Kevin had given the girl such a foolish complex about her sex. It could be responsible for so much which seemed retarded and difficult in her nature.


Clancy,

he said,

because your father wanted sons, there

s no good reason why you should grow up without grace.

Her eyes were startled.


I don

t know what you mean.


I mean that trying to be a son to your father isn

t going to win him over. I think you

re not without charm when you like, even now. You

re seventeen—in a year or so you

ll be a young woman, and you

ll feel differently about many things. In the meantime, don

t resent your sex. One day it will be your strongest weapon.

She stared at him, the faint colour coming and going in her face, and all at once she had a vulnerableness that left her defenceless.


No one

s ever talked like this to me before,

she said slowly.


No? Well, I think that

s a pity.


Even Conn treats me like a boy. He always says Brian should have been the girl.

Mark got up and walked round the table.


Try to grow up a little,

he said, and rested his hands on her shoulders for a moment.

And what about trying to make friends with me instead of continually fighting me? You have the makings of quite a good mind, I think, if you

d only let yourself learn. I can help you quite a bit.

She did not jerk away from him as she would have done had he touched her before, and he gave her shoulder an encouraging pat and walked to the door.


You

d better get tidy for lunch,

he said.

I

ll go and call Brian.

After that, things were easier for Mark. Clancy could hardly be said to go out of her way to be friendly, but she was civil and she ceased giving trouble in the schoolroom.

Mark was a good teacher, and once she had made up her mind to learn, Clancy enjoyed his classes. She still asked questions, many of them, for she had an inquiring mind, but for the most part they were intelligent and soon showed a quick grasp of her subject.

In July the weather turned suddenly hot and Clodagh came to stay. She arrived one afternoon, heralded only by a brief telegram, and Mark, accompanied by Clancy and Brian, drove Kevin

s Ford into Duneen to meet the Dublin train.

He watched with amusement as they raced down the platform to greet their cousin, flinging themselves upon her and knocking her smart little hat over one eye.


This is Clodagh,

they said with simple pride.

Isn

t she pretty?

She was very pretty. Her face was round and soft with none of the bone structure of Clancy

s, and her eyes were round, too, with the wide innocent stare of a kitten. She was rather like a kitten altogether, Mark thought, as he shook hands with her, smiling, as she said in a soft little voice:


I simply
had
to
come and see the English tutor for myself. Clancy, darling, you didn

t do him justice in your letter—you didn

t do him justice at
all
.”

Miss Clodagh Desmond had a very nice sense of flattery. They piled the luggage on the front seat beside Mark, and all three squeezed into the back of the car. Eager questions flew backwards and forwards and Brian announced:


Mr. Cromwell says we can have a holiday tomorrow as the weather

s so hot.


And Conn

s arranged a picnic for Kinross Sands, like we used to do,

Clancy said.

Aren

t you longing to see Conn again?


Oh, Conn!

Clodagh

s voice was amused and slightly scoffing.

Is he still trying to scratch a living out of that poor little farm?


He does very well,

Clancy said, in quick defence.

He had bad luck this year with the grey mare blemishing herself just when he had a good price for her, but Sunrise has foaled—a filly, too. Conn has a flair for horses. One day he

ll make his fortune.

They bickered amicably until they reached Kilmallin, when they immediately sat down to an enormous tea and ate until the plates were cleared.

That very first evening, Clodagh announced that she was not going to call Mark Mr. Cromwell.


I think I shall call you Mark,

she said, with her head on one side.

After all, you

re quite young really, and you don

t have to teach me. Do you mind?


Not at all,

said Mark, amused.


You

re a baggage, always were,

said Kevin, with mock severity.

What are you trying to do, pussycat? Undermine the poor man

s influence with his pupils?


I

m sure I could never do that, could I,—Mark?

She wrinkled her nose at him.

Clancy listened with faint scorn. Clodagh evidently liked Mark and proposed to flirt with him. She looked at Mark, seeing him in perspective for perhaps the first time. She supposed he wasn

t really very old, and he looked quite human, smiling across at Clodagh.


I think it

s all very silly,

she remarked coldly.

“What’s s
illy, my pet?

asked Clodagh
innocently.

“Calling
our
tutor by
his
Christian name.


As far as I know,

said Mark slyly,

you don

t address me by any name at all.


Because it

s Cromwell!

Clodagh laughed.

Haven

t you grown out of all that stuff Com taught you yet, Clancy?


No,

said Clancy childishly,

and I don

t suppose I ever will.

The next day was still fine and hot, and before they started for the picnic, Mark had a brief passage of arms with Agnes, who decreed that Brian was not to be allowed to bathe.


Oh, I think that

s nonsense,

Mark said, smiling.

The water will be quite warm. It

ll do the boy good.


It will not, then!

Agnes

s eyes flashed.

That boy takes cold easily and I

ll not have him brought back to me with a fever on him.

Mark

s eyes were cold.


I have already spoken to Mr. O

Shane,

he said curtly.

He entirely agrees with me, so will you kindly leave such matters in my hands and don

t interfere.


Good for you,

said Clodagh, popping out of her bedroom as the nursery door closed on Agnes

s angry back.

She

s an awful old so-and-so and used to rule us with a rod of iron. Come on, let

s make a start.

Conn was already waiting for them at Kinross Sands. His and Clodagh

s greetings to one another had an offhand air, but soon they were all talking and laughing with the old familiarity of childhood in common. Brian, thought Mark, would have been too young to have shared much m those early days, but the other three, growing up together, still retained the old easy ways of childhood.


Clancy, unpack the baskets like a good child. I want to show Clodagh some shells, if she isn

t too grand to get her feet wet,

said Conn. Brian had already gone off on his own to explore a cave.


You come, too, Mark, and stop Conn from putting wet seaweed down my neck,

said Clodagh.


I

ll stay and give Clancy a hand,

Mark replied, and began to undo one of the baskets.


In that case, I don

t think
—”
began Clodagh, pouting
charmingly, but Conn seized her by the hand and ran her off along the sands.


I wish,

said Clancy, looking distressed,

Clodagh would be nicer to Conn. I don

t think she

s ever liked him very much.

Mark looked at her kindly.


I shouldn

t let superficialities worry you,

he said;

Clodagh

s approach and yours wouldn

t be at all the same, you know.


Well, if I like a person, I can

t help showing it, if that

s what you mean,

she said.


And equally when you don

t like them.

She smiled unwillingly.


I suppose I was very rude to you,

she said.


Well, I wouldn

t have called you exactly cordial. Your cousin would have dissembled a lot better.


Clodagh likes you, that

s why she

s nice.


And if she didn

t like me, she

d still be nice. That

s the whole point.

C
lancy pushed the hair out of her eyes, leaving a sandy streak across her broad forehead.


I don

t think I quite understand you,

she said.

She
is
pretty, isn

t she?


Oh, yes, though I prefer bone-structure to mere prettiness, myself.

She felt her own well-defined bones.


How queer,

she said.

Conn and Clodagh were walking back along the shore, their red heads gleaming in the sunlight. They both looked a little cross. Conn flung himself down on the rug beside Clancy and brushed the sand off her forehead with a careless gesture.


After lunch,

he said,

I

ll take you to see shells, my child. You aren

t afraid of salt water on your frock.

Clancy looked absurdly happy.


I never have the sort of frocks that matter,

she said.

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