THE COTTAGE OF CONTENTION

Hawera Star, Volume XLVII, 10 September 1927, Page 7

THE COTTAGE OF CONTENTION

Why on earth Greai-aunt Hannah should have elected to bequeath to her god-daiugnter Aline her pokey hovel in cue t ©unary, when Ann? was fuli .y provided tor m her father's home, and had, moreover, already received four oners of marriage, was a conundrum quite boyond that young huly’s-sisters, hut to -Anne' herself it seemed good. At long last -she was to have the

chance of evolving her own personality in her very own home, uueneumli!*icd hv the addition of a, husband. So Anne joyously kissed her astounded and protesting family, collected Iter belongings, and set- off to live in the cottage left to her by Great-aunt Hannah, whom she had nevur seen, in the village o f Great- Windy well-cm-the-Avon, whore she had never been. In order to reach G reat-AY indy-well-on-the-Avon one goes, 'first of all, by express train; then one changes into a slower train; next into slower —much slower; after that there is a few miles in an alleged motor-bus; and the faist stag,! of the journey is accomplished in a; carrier’s, cart. Unfortunately, as tne (lay Ann© wave] led chanced neither to be a Wednesday nor a. Saturday, there was no carrier's cart, so she was obliged to feaviei Iter luggage to be called for, and, taking only a small .dressing-bag, walk the rest of the way. True, there, wan a taxi in the little town, but on’y one, and it had developed engine trouble. Bv the time she had got so far sk,e was dog tired. She rehearsed the wording of* the will lor consolation against the fatigues of the road. "“To my great-niece. Anne Carrington,” it said. “1 leave my cottage, with all its contents at Great-WindywcLl-on-che-Avon, because she is the. only one of my relatives who h as; refrained from pestering, the life out of m,e. Also, J lib? her letters and what T have heard of her.” There had been a further bequest, m anotirer cottage .in the same village to “Richard Starr, who lias been consistently kind and courteous to an. old woman whom he thought to bp very pool, and who. moreover, writes some of the few readable novels published in this age-of sloppy phychology,” but Anne was oiilv ieebly interested in Richard Starr' or in her great-aunt's literary tastes. Her urgent need was to find the cottage, and to that end -he trudged on valiantly until at length she arrived at the' gate of her iierTtagi, with its clipped yew hedges and its grotesque yew birds, with then huge, tails and crooked heads. She pushed open the gate and staggered ■ wearilv up the flagged pathway. At tin? .same instant the front door was opened .and clear-cut against the rosylight within, stood forth the form of a young man. Anne slopped abruptly. “Don’t teli me I’ve mad,© .a mistake, she pleaded. “Isn’t this the cottage which used to belong to Miss Hannah

Carrington?” “Good Lord, she really has cornel was the unexpected exclamation of the young man. “I've been looking otit ftn von ever since we came three clays ago.' i tak ■it that you are mv greatnXece. Anne Carrington ” “I’m nothing of the sent.'' -Amne •ducked up energy to assure him. “I nevpr set eyes on von lielorc in' all my life.” . “Sorry. I was merely quoting. It it comes to that. I don't think you ever set eyes on old Miss Hannah. Do come in. Miss Carrington.” “If this is flic cottage my greataunt left me. what are you doing in it?” she demanded. The veiling man fuff led his lair hair distractedly. “A reasonable enough question, but not an easy one to answer in two words. T wish you would (oiric in and rest; vou must he frightfully tired after that long journey. Supper is just ready. Then we can discuss this business at our ease.” “I fail to see what, there is to discuss.’' .said Anne, coldly. “I understand from' vou that this is the cottage in which Miss Hannah Carrington ,ived? It has been bequeathed to me. 1 have the key here. So wlvat are you . Oh! Oh! 1 must have dropped the key when J was paying that villainous ’busman.’'

“Well, what does it matter,” observed the young man “considering 1 opened the house last Monday with mi ne ? ’ ’ “Yours?” “My key.” . “Biit—but —but—l thought you said that this was the cottage that had been left to me?” “Well, it’s like this. You read the w ill, 1 supjxrse ? Dicl you notice that a cottage was left to one, Hit-hard s.tarr? I am Dick Starr, and the trouble is that I can only find this one cottage which belonged to Miss Hannah. Therefore, incredible as it may sound, 1 am forced to the belier that the dear old lady willed the same cottage to two distinct people.” - Anne gasped. This was something 100 uteriy ranastic; hilt, if it were true, she was certainly going to make an effort to hold on to her -legacy.

“In tliat case, f suppose 1 shall have to fight you for it,” she stated, tier knee.s shaking under her from sheer fatigue as she realised the dreadful need of going on yet further in search of a night’s lodging. “Rather. We’ll have a - frabjious light,” Mr Starr agreed cordially. “There’s nothing i enjoy like a. jolly good scrap. But a truce lor this evening. Miss Carrington. If you will ac- , ept tier hospitality, my old nurse lives just opposite. She was Miss Hannah’s maid latterly (which was how ! came to know Miss llannnw). She will lie deightecl to put you for as long as our <on diet shall wage. Pansy! L say. Pansy, come here! Site comes across the road every day and ‘does for me;’ luckilv she is still here.”

There was a clatter which sounded iis it Pansy had upset a tea tray, and an elderly woman, immaculately neat, and wearing; a shiny starched cap ot linen appeared on the scene. It must lie admitted that she resembled no pansy, hut rather the gnarled branch of an appletree. She was heat and bony ; her face was long and bony, and her finger joints were swollen, so that they looked the boniest of all. Anne noticed, however, that her eyes were brown and tender, like a kind dog s, and the corners of her month had an unmistakably humorous twist, as she stepped out on the t lagged pathway and stood regarding her master. “Good evening miss,’’ she began, civilly. “Won’t you come in? There never was no manner ot sense in argybaigiing when a person’s dead beat. Supper’s all ready to disli up, and after that you shall come across home with me and sleep as happy and cosy Mb a queen.”

Anne held out no longer. 'fired, cross, and bewildered as sue was, she was \et conscious of a sense ol underlying well-being. The air was charged witu intoxicating facents, ana the comfort of the cottage wrapped her round with ecstasy, done up by the long walk at the' encl of the tedious journey she let Dick. Starr take her hat and coat, and seat her in the big easy chair. Then he disappeared into the kitchen, and proceeded to dance olu Pansy round tne tabic, while he whispered rapturously — "My hat. Pansy, isn’t she a princess y Jiid you ever see anyone so lovely?” For which nefarious behaviour lie got his ears boxed, and was sternly ordered to return to his guest. Anne lay back restfully Iter lovliness accentuated by the severe setting of the oak-furnished room. Dreamily as a sleepy child, she ate what was set before her, and later followed the oid servant across the road to a delightful old-fashioned bedroom, in which a wood fire crackled a warm welcome There she fell asleep, lulled by soft winds and the perfume of Juno roses.

It should be a simple enough matter to quarrel. Hundreds of fork accomplish it every day without the least difficulty, anil any obliging Irish terrier would be delighted to give a practical demonstration to beginners at any moment. Yet, in spite oi his boast of truculence, Dick Starr found it as impossible to quarrel with Anne as she discovered it to lie preposterous to quarrel with him. Anne adored Yew Cottage, and honestly believed it to be hers; but she could not bring hersed to stab Dick Starr with a hatpin, or put deadly nightshade in his soup. Dick wanted Yew Cottage desperately, and honestly (relieved it his; yet he hesitated to take Anne by the hail and bang her head against the wall. Thus, their conclusive battle was put- ©lt indefinitely, and each day the cottage grew dearer, and • the coming light more unthinkable. “ \Ve can’t go on like this," said Anne at last. These iew days had been so jolly under the kindly ministrations of Pansy. She had seen very much of Dick, who was in the throes o; a nor el, but their imormal eiiats nad been—not unpleasant. “The more 1- see of this dear cottage tiie more J want to be assured it is my very ■own.”

•f feel precisely the same.” Dick leaned through the window to gaze admiringly at Anne on the lawn, against a background of lilacs and roses and snowy syrmgats. "it s absolutely the place for me. When f awake in the green, go.den, glorious mornings ideas lor stories simply 11 v in and wining nn on the nut. i must stay here; 1 positively must I'd do a heap tor you, Miss Carrington but l cannot give up my cottage.”

“My cottage, Mr. Starr!” “1 beg your pardon—mine.” •‘Aunt Hannah ieit- it to me.” “To be quite trank, .1 tear you arc labouring under a misunderstanding. I’ll is- is my cottage.” “1 tell you, your cottage must be somewhere else. Why don't you go and look for it?” “Not on your life. I got here first.” “Tlqi.t only proves tour nasty disposition” Put Anne s smile robbed the words of tneir tartness. - “Not at all. it proves my energy aild resolution. Another point : You .said you had a key, but you could not j trod uce it.” “Oh, how can you lie so hateful! ! can prove i bud it. Smith and Dodd sent it to me.”

“‘They sent mine. too. But i don’t think they knew anything about the cottage The key was tied to a label addressed in Miss Hannah’s handwriting. You know she died in a nursing home, and sent the keys by post to her solicitors, with her will. If she i e rove red they would have had the cottage reopened and made ready for her, but she did not expect to get through that operation.” Anne was silent, thinking of the old lady whom she had never seen, hue who must have thought much of her. Presently Dick returned to the attack. “You know, you absolutely cannot get away from the fact that your great-aunt- left me this cottage, because my novels ——’’ “Oh. bother your novels,” retorted Anne stoutiy. As a matter of fact, she loved his novels, and was aching to discuss them with him; but after all she must fight for her own cottage. “1 shall have to go home and set mother’s lawyer on to the job, ’ she added, more in sorrow than anger. “Don’t you do nothing of the sort, dearie. Lawyers is kittle cattle, Pansy intervened as she stepped on to the iawn “Master Dick, darlin’ if the young lady feels so dreadfully about this, why don’t us go back to London and leave her the cottage?’’ Anne should have greeted Pansy’s words with acclamation, but instead a nasty tremor assailed her —the queerest feeling! She retired to the chintz drawingroom, which opeitecl out on to a rose walk, and was full of delicious fragrance. Samplers ancl misty watercolours adorned the grey walls; antique china Idled a corner cupboard; the atmosphere was one of old-world charm. As she stood In the wide open window gazing at the riot of homely flowers and the friendly green of lawn and- shrubs Anne fed her breath catch in a sob. With all the force of her being she longed to take possession of this paradise, yet she had, somehow, entirely lost her iirst stern resolve to eject Mr. if i chard Starr.

After worrying over these conflicting emotions until next morning, she came at length to the conclusion that only one course was open to her. She must make the great sacrifice. Somehow, somewhere, she would find another place, and there she would live out her lonelv life, dreaming of dear Yew Cottage inhabited by this stubborn scribbler. At about the same time the said scribbler bad arrived at the decision that the onlv decent thing for a, fellow to do would* be to get out- and leave Anne in undisputed possession. When the two encountered one another just before lunch on a morning of surpassing glory, each was burning with the ardour of renunciation. “.Miss Carrington, I’ve something frightfully important to tell you. I’ve been a cad to stick out so long. Please forgive me. Here and now T give up mv claim to Yew C’ottagc? in your favour.”

“I won’t hear of your doing anything of the sort,” the girl interrupted him .” “ft ia I who ought to relinquish

mv claim, and I was just going to tell you that 1 will. I am going tomorrow.”

“You’ll do no such thing. You are going to live here happy ever after. The place was left to you.” “Nonsense. It was left you! L shall often picture you writing those lovely novels of yours in the oak parlour.” “Fiddlesticks!’’ •‘W hat did you sav?” “Well —don’t talk nonsense!” The* would-be matyns glared at one another, and were nearer a really 'successful quarrel than at any time in their previous acquaintance. At this electrical moment Pansy brought them to earth by announcing solemnly: “Mrs. Harper-Smith.” “Gracious!” exclaimed Anno in a stage whisper. “My mother’s dearestfriend and an awful gossip! What's she blown in here for?” Mrs. Harper-Smith entered gushingly She was staying with dear Lady Mildred, she explained, not too far away, and as Anne’s mother was so anxious to he assured that dearest Anne was well and comfy, she had come to see how Anne was getting along in her quaint new home. So far she had got, lie fore she took in the signiiicance of Dick’s presence; a hundred details proclaimed to her inquisitive eyes that he was n«> mere visitor. Mrs. Harper-Smith stiffened suddenly. Plainly indicated on her foxy little face were written the darkest of suspicions. For the first time it began to dawn on simple-minded Anne what construction her mother’s friend might put upon her perfectly innocent action in remaining to fight for her cottage. Dick, who also read the sinister omens, 'cursed silently, and racked his brain for the right thing to say. But Anne was game to the marrow. Not by the slightest sign did she allow the visitor to know what fury and humiliation that outspoken accusation had raised in her. “It is exceedingly considerate of you to cail, Airs. Harper-Smith,’’ she said, in her mother’s best style. “You will stay to lunch, of course? Yes. thank you, I am absolutely fit and comfy. * May I introduce Mr. Starr to you? He writes books.” Mrs. Harper'-Smith’s eyebrows (became exaggerated question marks. It was old Pansy who brought the answer to them. She had no intention of having complications interposed into the guileless comradeship of these two. “Ytou will excuse me interrupting, miss,” she began respectfully to Anne, “but the builder’s young man has been round to say that they can’t start work here —not before next week.” Anne, who had had no dealings with any builder, goggled blankly, but returned Pansy’s lead without a quaver. “How very tiresome” she murmured still copying her mother’s tones. “What shall we do about it. Pansy?” “I’d write him a sharp letter, miss. Say you’ll give the order to the chap in the next village if he don’t came and do the job immediate.” Pansy turned affably to the visitor. “You will understand, ma’am, I’m sure, how awkward it is for Mi.ss Carrington with them plagitev men dawdling so. when she is naturally wanting the partitions between these cottages put in at once, so she can move in.”

The partitions between the cottages! Anne, again goggling, met lock s eyes, whim protruded in .sLunned amazement.

Mrs. Harper-Smith did -not notice them. “There are two cottages here, then. she inquired eondecenuingly. “Yes, ma’am. One of them was willed to Miss Carrington, ana the other to Mr Starr what i used to span —to nurse as a child. Old Miss Hannah Carrington had two cottages knocked into one, and, when Miss l arringtou arrived, sue coudu’t make it out at all. Neither couldn’t Master—Mr Starr. If you’d seen them a-puzzling of it out, you’d a laugher fit to split, ma’am,” continued Pansy garrulously. Mrs Harper-.‘smith, rather flurried, fell back on—“ Quite.” “But the old bakerman soon told us the right of it, indeed d’rectly I set eyes on it it remembered me oi me poor old mother’is cottage where .1 lived as a gin, which was one of a pair like. But these builders are a snare and an illusion, ma’am! Miss Carrington, I have laid the lunch, and lTh just going to dish up.”

Anne took her guest across to Pansy’s quaint and immaculate parlour, where a dainty lunch was ser\ed, tinder the influence of which Alts Har-per-Smith became almost fulsome, and finally departed in state, having, so to speak, drawn the Y'ew Cottage covert blank.

“Pansy!” called Anne, as. soon as Airs Hianper-Smith’s car wajs safely out of sight. “Pansy, you gem ! Y'ou angel! I want to hug you!” Dick came out of the oak parlour and glowed enviously. “J thought we were absolutely in the soup that time. I say, Pansy, what a top-hole liar you are!” “Lies, indeed, Master Dick, 1 would scorn such. I never named no pertikler builder. If I had that would have been a wicked story. But it was a fabuiarious builder —so it was all a I‘aii‘y tale, and fairy tales ain’t wicked.”

Anno refrained from discussing this code of ethics. “Was the baker’s yarn of this being two cottages another l'airy tale?” she asked eagerly. “tor, no/ miss. That’s as true as gospel, and, if I was you, Aliss Anne, with folk like Airs. Harper-Smith like to jiay calls on you, I’d make them partitions as true as gospel, too.” “But if that is so, that does away entirely with our difficulties. We can restore* the partitions and live next door to each other.” “Yes, miss. And l could quite well look after the two ’ouses, if so be as you’d like me to.” Beaming, Dick held out his hand to Anne.

“Neither of us need go away after all. We’ll get these doors bunged up and run a fence down the garden. Are you glad that we can both stay here, Anne?”

Girls who ha.ve such lovely eyes as had Anne Carrington, and who, besides, are thinking very private thoughts, ought to he extremely careful. Anne rashly smiled at Dick and allowed her eyes to meet his fully. It is true they dropped away at once, and her cheeks became crimson, but it was too late. The impulsive Mr. Stanhad her'in his arms. “Blow the partitions!” said Air. Starr.