Short Story

Lake County Press, Issue 2789, 12 June 1919, Page 7

Short Story

By E. F. BENSON.

[PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT."

THE TERRACE.

"The Terrace" known to postmen and other aliens as A'-lesbury Terrace, was a notable exception to the ordinary unsociable London sree in he general district known as the "West End.'' In the West End, nobody excent by the merest chance has the smallest idea of who "his neighbours are, and even if he knew who they were he would no more think of calling on them, and of initiating an acquaintance by reason of local propinquitv, than he would attempt to call on the man in the moon. But "The Terrace" thought .differently about such matters; it was a cul-de-sac to begin with, and in front of each house was a' small space of warden. This probably, in the beginning of things had led neighbours to be neighbourly. If you liver in number 25, which was the end house but one, and your name was Mrs. Jones, it was impossible not to be aware that the lady from number 28, •which was absolutely the end house in the cul-de-sac looked to see how your daffodils were getting on, when vou, Mrs. Jones, were admiring them in your littlefront garden, clay after day, at the precise moment when Mrs. Smith in number 28, was doing exactly the same thing. Horticulture in fact, probably induced the neighbourly spirit, but whether it was horticulture or not that led to that very desirable result, there was no doubt that at the date of this present chronicle of "The Terrace," everybody living in that delightful little street knew everybody ele. When a new--comer settled in "The Terrace" the other inhabitant always called on him or her, and behaved, in fact, as if they were all living in those much more sociable districts —the East End, for instance—where every inhabitant knew all other inhabitants of the street, or in the country, where neighbours are rarer, and so must be plucked and enjoyed like nosegays. More than half of the householders in "The Terrace" were for the moment celibate. That is to_ ay, they consisted chiefly of widows and bachelors, who met with great frequency, but not With any design on each other. It was reserved for the minority of I married folk to make designs for etoeir less fortunate neighbours. Sometimes thev succeeded, in which case two tenants left a house vacacnt, and lived together in one, and thus there was a house "To Let" in "The Terrace." But it was never "To Let" for long for rents, somehow, in this de-lio-fitful backwater were low, and the vacant premises were soon occupied. Such an event had only recently taken place at the time whes this story opens, and in consequence there had been a good deal of curiosity to see who would become the fortunate occupier of No. 27 which was exactly opposite No. 28, for the houses ran in odds and evens down the stseet. This proved to be a widowMrs. Bruton, and in a very short time she was a sort of uncrowned queen of "The Terrace." Her bereavement—rather a fortunate one, so the Terrace understood — was of sufficiently ancicent a date to allow her to take part in at first and very soon after to lead the gentle gaities of "The Terrace," and under her inspiring example it blossomed out into extravagances .hitherto undreamed of. L'P till the time of her advent lunch or tea, or occasionally a rubber of bridge in the evening, had been the quality of the social exchanges, but Mrs. Bruton at once started giving the most charming little dinners for four or six people. When there were four there was usually bridge afterwards; when ther were six, there was often a very amusinp- game called poker. It was an extremelv easy and entertaining affair, and, at the points played, you could ] sometimes go home with as much f as ten shillings unearned inere- J k merit in your pocket. In fact, i 5 "The Terrace" underwent a mild sort of revolution. Hitherto it had . chieflv blossomed bv day; now it j began to bloom bv night, like the • gentle unfolding of the evening j primrose. I It took "The Terrace" a very' short time to discover that Mrs. j Bruton was intended to marry; Mr. Hollingsley. who lived next? door, and when his sister. Lady! Lewiston came to spend her usual' couple of months with him before Easter, it took her no time at all to acquiesce in and endorse the verdict of "The Terrace." For rears she had tried to find a rcallv suitable wife for her brother, but the moment she saw Mrs. Bruton, and observed her gaietv, her charm, and withal her wise maturity, she felt she had found the partner who would lead poor darling Frederick out of the miserable prosoe t of a perennial bachelorhood. There was not

j much time to lose; already he war j forty and already he seemed tc like his old prints, and his old silver, and his wonderfully wellordered house too w r ell to contemplate any change from that > which, at forty, appeared so agreeable. And the ideal partner for him, whom she now saw inhabiting the very next house, had not much time to lose either. She was thirty-five, and truthfully acknowledged her possession of that charming age. She had married once, unhappily; now she must marry again with better fortune. Lady Lewiston had had the same sort of career; she had married for the krst time a wholly unsuitable person j and for the second time a most marvellously suitable one, who adored her. His adoration did not go so far as to induce him to live in London, or, if he could ever avoid it. set foot in that j grim and grimy place. It was for this reason that she stayed with her brother for two months before Easter, when the country seemed so intolerable to her. She had been here now for a week, and several signs on the part of her brother had caused her to think that his mind was moving in the same direction as hers. Tonight they were dining alone, for an engagement for him to dine out had been cancelled at the last moment, owing to influenza on the part of the hostess, and they still lingered over an impromptu and excellent dinner. Outside the rain was flung against the windows in squalls of south-west wind, which added to his serien of comfort. “Upon my word, Madge,” he said. “I don’t know how you manage it at all. If I had been alone I should have had to go and dine at the club. I couldn’t have risked offending Spicer by saying I should dine at home, after I had told her I should gc out.” “I know dear. If you had, she would have -hen you a raw chop and some strongly soasted cheese by way of protest. I never came across such wonderfully good servants as you have got, of servants so severe on their master. As loim as you do as they tell you, you will always live in perfect comfort. Bachelors are always more comfortable than other neople, if they are quite obedient. And as long as they don’t find that at all degrading, I’m sure everybody is pleased!” He understood from long experience the moral attached to those remarks, and anticipated the sequel. , “Now, if you don’t take care, Madge,” he said, “I shall marry some detestable woman, and when you come up to town like this, you will be sorry you badgered me.” Lady Lewiston always had a sparkle in her eves, and to-night that was more than usually- scintillating. It seemed as if she was enjoying some private and excellent joke. “But, my dear, I don’t badger you,” she said. “Certainly. I wish you had married ten years ago, but now I see clearly that it is too late. After all. you have vour prints and your china and your silver, and since you are so content withe them, why should vou change your whole mode of life at this time of day?” She knew him well enough to be aware that this was the very sort of thing to make him become an advocate, for the purposes of argument, of matrimony. “Forty. I’m only forty,” said lie, “and that’s no age at all in these days when only grandparents marry. You speak as if I had one if not two feet in the orave.” She waited with eves downcast Lo hide the sparkle that lurked like an inaudible laught within them, while he pushed back his t chair. She guessed what was; coming. i “To tell you the truth and just to show you how wrong you are,” f re said, “the fact is that I have jeen thinking about getting married.” He spoke as if he had told her that he was thinking of getting the Victoria Cross for some deed uf unprecedented valour. “My dear, how interesting.” die said. “You thrill me.” He continued outlining the proposed feat. “Well. I am,” he said. “And it’s Mrs. Bruton. I think she likes me; I know I like her immensely. IVhv should two people live alone when they might so comfortably live together? As you so feelingly: remind me, lam getting in ( vears, and so is she. I don t pretend there will be much romance about it, but I thoroughly like i and admire her. She’s delightful, 1 quite delightful. She has all the qualities which make a woman charming.” - Suddenly the sparkle died out of his sister’s eyes. It was completely extinguished by this terribly sensible statement of the reasons for getting married. ‘‘But surely, if you only feel like that, you’re not going to ask her to marry you?” she said. ‘T certainly am. She’s very sensible, and will easily see mv point of view. Besides. Ido like her very much. And, as a matter of fact. I’m going to trot across now and ask her. I telephoned just before dinner lo know if I could come in for a minute or

two. I've wound myself up for it and I'm not fointr to stop now —l'm going to strike." Lady Lewiston jumped up ii great dismay. "But you don't know what you're doin<V she cried. "You will spoil it all if vou approach her like that. No woman of nirit would listen to vou-" He laughed. "Oh. I know her better than j. ; ou,'' he said. "I'm going now." "But listen to me a moment," .ihe began. "I will listen to vou afterwards," said he. "I'll be back presently." That was certainh- true. Ten minutes had scarceb- elapsed before she, still waiting in the din-ing-room, heard the front door again open and shut, and in another moment he entered. lie looked rather nuzzled, rather scared. " don't understand," he said, "I— _" "What has happened?" she asked. "I asked her to marry me. And —and she said I was insulting her, though she added that she saw that I didn't mean to. She said. 'You are not askink me to be your wife; pou are only looking out for a companion. Go to an agency instead.' " "Ah! if you had only stayed here and listened to me," said me. "Was she angry?" "Yes. But just as I left the , oom I heard her laiudi. 1 don't understand." Lacb- Lewiston could have round it in her heart to shake him for his stupiditv "Come upstairs Frederick," she observed. "I shall devote the rest of this evening to making you understand. Dear me! Is it as bad as that to be 40 and a bachelor?"

Frederick Hollinfsley was always punctual at the office in Whitehall of a morning' for he had highly developed that middle-aged virtues, and he was scarcely out of the house before Lady Lewiston was out of it also. Her neighbour was confidently expecting her; had she not flown like a cork out of a bottle from her front gate the moment her brother had vanished down the street. Mrs. Bruton would have flown like a cork out of hers. As it was she opened the door to her without waiting for the ascension of the parlourmaid from below.

“Mv dear Nellie,” said Lady Lewiston the moment the drawing room door was shut. “I despair of Frederick; 1 positively despair.” Mrs. Bruton smiled at her from her great grey Irish eyes. Instead of wrinkling them up when she smiled, as is the dimpling way of some of her sex, she opened them wider. “1 don’t,” she said.

“But he is a lunatic, idiotic,” said his sister, “and just when he was getting on so nicely. I fully believe, as 1 told you yesterday. that he is in love with vou, onlv he doesn’t know it yet. It’s—its like suppressed measles: vou mav have measles but it doesn’t come out. However, when supnressed measles do come out, thev are the forse for having been suppressed, that’s one comfort. Oh, I gave it to him so hot when he came back last night, and you gave it him cold, I gather. And to think that he should behave like that, when he had planned everything so beautifully! What are vou going to do?”

“I? Why, marrv him of course. He’s a darling, ; s that Frederick of yours, and do vou think I’m going to give him up for a little mistake like that?”

“But suppose that you’ve fricditened him oif altogether,” asked his sister. “Not I. But he’s got to want me properly before lie gets me. He told you what I said, maybe?” Despite her annoyance Lady Lewiston laughed. “He did,” she said. “And, oh dear me, it was so funny—he told me that he knew you better than I did. It never occurred to him that you and I when we met a week ago for the first time that we had known each other all our lives. We both felt that. And j just as little does he know that j we made plans for him and you j at once. Now let’s be practical, j What are we goum to do?” I “Well, I’ve written him a little » note and if I called it a clever \ little note I should not he deceiving vou. 1 said that we would meet again just precisely as we met before, and he just as good j friends as ever. That’s all my « little note said, and, now I come to think of it, the clever part was what I left out.” “And what was that?” t (To be Continued.) ,