Short Story HALF-MAST

Auckland Star, Volume LXIX, Issue 111, 13 May 1938, Page 15

Short Story HALF-MAST

By L. C. DOUTHWAITE

TRANSFERRED from a London ■*■ East End curacy to the outlying living of Scorsely-by-Chell, the Rev. William Raines, thirtyish, fair-haired and broad-shouldered, discovered himself translated to the eighteen 'fifties.

"Not like it u*Ut ho."' complained Mrs. Jarrack, enlisted to restore the rectory to something approaching order. "In Six Charles' time we was you might call looked after. But when 'e died everything wont. Miss Ursula too poor, an' parson too okl to bother, T reckon." Hnving derived his own impression of his predecessor. Raines was not inclined to discuss that recently deceased oetogenarinn.

"Miss Ursula?" he questioned, and the crone's features showed animation

"Still lives at 1 Manor, - ' she explained. "(Jrntf daughter to Sir Charles. 'Kr father—"o<i inViited the title nil' nothin , else, died inebhe three years ago. Great 1 > I ir tumbledown barracks of a place ....'' Raines agreed. He had passed that house of wine-red Tudor more than once, and had been impressed by ks general air of forlornnes-i. "But Miss Callender doesn't live there alone?" he inquired, and she nodded a gaunt head. "Except for a girl who 'elps look after the chickens," she explained. And so, when his own house was in some sort of order, he made the manor his first call. The drive was overgrown and weedridden, the fine .fabric of the house beginning to crumble. All about the [ili.ee not suffering from that simie lack : of attention, indeed, was the girl who gave him tea in a drawing-room that, however decayed as to carpet and hangings, had both beauty and dignity. With her sky-blue eyes and copper-beech hair she was as trim as she was lovely.

"Just lately. I've had quite a stroke of luck.' , she confided as ho was leaving. "And that is?" he asked. "I'm letting the manor to a Canadian," she said. He's coming here from lodgings at a farm on Lord Olney's estate."

"A good, chap?" he inquired, and it was a moment before f-he replied. "I should fliink so." she said at last. "Good-natured, anyway. Due having spent his working life on the Yukon, where he made ft strike at last, just a little —untutored." "So long as he takes an interest in the parish, I don't care if he doesn't know his alphabet," Raines confided. She nodded understandingly. "Now, we've a rector who's not quan-f-ino- for the longevity record." she naid. "perhaps we'll be able to give the village something of what it needs. Having no bus service we never go anywhere or see anything." When, strangely exhilarated, he left her, it was with the confirmation of his own impression that his flock had been •flowed to relapse into the primitive. , However, there was a fair muster in church for his first Sunday, and because his sermons were as homely as the i service was simple, attendance tended to increase. And always he brought home the necessity for brotherhood? "Gettins-together." he called it. "The trouble about that." commented Ursula when he called at her rooms over the post office, "is that there's no place to get together at. Except, of course, tlie bar parlour at the 'Wait for the Wagon.' All right for the men. of course —but what about the women?" "What you hnve in mind." Raines suggested, "is a village hull where we meet on an equal footing." Her nod was emphatic. "And you're not going to do an awful lot of good here until we have one." "Has that Canadian of yours reported for duty?"' he asked, and she rea.lisc.l the connection. To build a hall would cost money, and there was very little

in Scorscly. "Ho came yesterday," she toM him. The two drew up a rough plan of what was required, and Raines took it to Tom Curtis, the architect in the neighbouring town, a red-faced man. rather horsy-looking, who regarded both Raines and his plans with no very marked enthusiasm. "How much money have you?" he demanded uneompromisingly. It happened that Raines had savings, but since the day he first met Ursula Callcnder. these had been ear-marked for a very special purpose. "Five hundred pounds." he replied on the spur of the moment, for apart from shares that was the sum on deposit at his bonkers. f 'urtis rolled the plans into their ordinal cylinder. "That might pay for one room," ho said curtly, "though T doubt it." To Raines, something in the nature of a knock-out punch this. An attempt, to collect any sum of moment from Seorselv would he about as successful as trying to extract gold from sea water. Nevertheless, he hadn't boxed middle-weight for . Cambridge for nothing, and it was with the same subconscious prompting that had come to him a moment ago that he said: •Then I'll build the place myself," ajid walked out of the office.

The impulse was burning a little low, lowever, when he palled on Ursula the iext morning. He knew so little about my part of the job —or of what sup)ort he would find. But when, having riven his report, lie saw her firmly noil Id eel chin as salient as his own had >een when confronting Curtis, his heart

'"Seth Mallows'll let us have a plot | from that iield next the churchyard, 1 shouldn't wonder," she said practically. "You mean he'll let you have it, , ' Raines amended, and she laughed. Seth Mallows did. and Raines wrote his own cheque for the. title deeds. When he went to call at the manor, he observed amusedly that, topping the battlements above the rejuvenated entrance porch, was a Hag-staff, from whose pole Moated the Red Ensign with the combined arms of Canada. Merrilees answered the ring in person —leathern faced, heavy shouldered and taciturn.

"Come right in," he said, and Raines followed into what had been Ursula's sitting-room. '"Haven't got no staff , yet," the Canadian said jerkily. "Used to livin' alone, though. Have a drink'. , " and diplomatically Raines accepted the whisky he didn't want. If conversation was hard going, at least there was no constraint. Actually, Raines took to the man, his bluntiiess and obvious sincerity. he got up to leave he noticed that, in rising, his host winced. "Pain there," the Canadian explained in response to Raine# of inquiry, and pressed his hand to his -waistline. "Xothin' to worry about, anyway," he added self-assuredly. "Want any money for that parish of yours? I'll bet that's what you're after!" > Raines grinned appreciatively. Untutored he might be, but this was nobody's fool. "I want to build a village hall," he said, and went into details. The result was staggering. "Go ahead," Mcrilees said abruptly at last. "Collect what money you can. because the more folk see in a proposition o' that sort, the better for the cornmoon ity. Then, at the end, I'll foot the bill." Raines stared. Meeting his visitor's pye. the Canadian nodded. * "Surest thinjr you know," he said definitely. "I've more money than I c'n spend, anyway." He paused, something of enthusiasm in his eye. "Where I came from two-three weeks ago, I saw just how a village should be run. Bit feudal, maybe. Lord Olney, but if feudalism means, looking after other folks same as if they was your own. then I'm all for it. An' as I guess I'm kinder Lord of the Manor here . . ." "It's going to cost anything up to £3000." Raines warned him. "That won't worry me any," Merrilees said shortly —and the next moment, his face tense, was pressing hand to middle again. "If it wasn't for this.pain I'd come an' give you a hand with the work." "You should see a doctor," Raines suggested on leaving. "When I'm good an'ready." the Canadian returned shortly, and looking into that rugged wind-and-weather-hardened face, Raines read fear. Raines put it up to his flock. By this. they were beginning to know, and like, ■hirri. so that he gained good support. The builder gave a couple of thousand bricks and a load of sand; three men each promised six hours' work a week; the carpenter donated wood; a farmer lent horses to draw the loads . . . Subscriptions, bazaars, sales of work provided certain funds, and when these were exhausted, capital was supplied by Raines from his deposit account. From time to time Merrilee* came down to inspect the work —obviously a sick man. When these calls ceased, on the principle of Mahomet and the mountain. Raines took to calling periodically at the Manor where, at daybreak, the Canadian flag was broken from the staff. . to be taken in with due formality at , sundown. "To let folks know I'm in residence. Merrilees explained gratuitously from his bed in the room that overlooked a now carefully tended terrace and park. "Same as Lord Olney does." "When are you going to see a doctor?" Raines demanded uncompromisingly, and observed that Merrilees did not meet his eye. "Xext week, maybe." the Canadian said hastily. Then, obviously to change the subject: "Say, how're you headin' with that hall?" "It'll be ready for you to open on Friday of next week." Raines told him, but in view of that grey, strained face, with a strong inward doubt. "I'll be there." the Canadian promised, though there was doubt in his tone. "Have accounts made up. an' I'll hand you a cheque in full view of the audience." "That will be fine." Raines said, and meant it, for previously Merrilees had referred only casually to his original promise. "And T don't mind tolling you," he said feelingly to Ursula, "that he took quite a load off my mind. With an overdraft running into four figures, if Merrilees doesn't pay up I'm sunk."

And as he wae ehaving at his window the next morning he saw the blackclad figure of Xoakess, Merrilees , butler-

factotum, appear through the trapdoor that led to the tower; watched him stoop, then, straightening, pull on the flagstaff halliards. A patch of gay colour broke to the morning breeze; climbed, fluttered halfwav to the mast.

And as there, drooping, it remained, Raines' world crashed about his ears.

A flag at halfmact could have but one meaning. And almost to his certain knowledge, the Canadian had made no provision to meet his promise in the event of death. . . .

Because he had promised 1> officiate at a wedding in a neighbouring village, it was after the noon hour before he was able to call on Ursula. Curiously, she had heard nothing of the calamity.

Face suddenly white, she turned to him quickly. "And that means?" ehe demanded, and he made no attempt to beg the

question. "I shall be sold up, lock, stock and barrel."' he *aid uncompromisingly. "And even then I'll be left heavily in debt." She did not speak for a moment — only continued to look fearlessly into his eyes. "l*n fortunate—but not necessarily without possible compensation," ehe said (juicily, and the ue*t moment wae in his arms.

"And now we'd better go down to the manor," she said after an interval. "With only servants there —and newlyengaged ones at that —there may be rwinpthiii" we can do."

When they turned on to the terrace the Half-masted ilag above the porch drooped languidly; when Raines rang the bell the silence was broken by the sound of heavy footetepe. The door swung open. "Well, well, well!" Merrilees cried heartily. "Come right in an , have cawfee or somethin'." Heart racing, Eainee stood staring. Eyes bright, and without the lurking fear that previously had shadowed them, actually it wae the Canadian who broke the silence.

"Wowie!" he exclaimed, "but I'm feeling good!" He etood aside, beaming, "but c'm on in. . . . Siddown," and waited until they were seated. Then: "That ding-busted pain," he explained. "The one I've bin thinkin'—an' dreadin' —was a growth —eearin' myself ycller over." "Well?" Rainee said faintly into the impressive pause that followed. '•Well," the Canadian continued triumphantly, "after ehinnanikin , all these weeks, this mornm' I felt that, one, way or the other I just had to know. So before I could chanpe my mind, I jumped into my automobile an' drove to si guy in Harley Street. . . . An' would you believe that when I told him l'<l a growth, ho just laffed himself out <.f shape— said the pain was only dyspepsia, an' gave me a box or two of ■ .ills

Raines looked at Ursula —who took a | long, deep breath. ! "And we were thinking the worst had happened, ,, she exclaimed faintly at last, and now it was Merrilees' turn to stare. "But for the land's sake, why?" he protested. "Why is your flag at half-mast?" Raines demanded, before the girl could reply, and the Canadian's brows climbed high. "But how else would I have it?" he demanded reasonably. "When I'm at home it flies from the masthead all clay. don't it? An' when I'm away it don't fly at all?" Raines nodded. "Of course," he said. "So, this mornin , , when I knew I'd be away for the half day. I told 'em to fly it at half-mast,"' said Merrilees! (THE END.)