LONDON LOVERS.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLV, Issue 13683, 26 February 1908, Page 11

LONDON LOVERS.

•ptrSMSHED BT SPECIAL /jUffiANOEMEST.

jjy MARGARET BAILLIE-SAUNDERS, Author of "Saints ia Society." COPyKIGHT. / CHAPTER Xl.—(Continued.) Naomi, with singular tact, di*cntang-, • "' led" all this, and by-and-bye pieced■ to- -" -ether several ff:t« showing that a large n( l influential <-tL,le o F her own people .were interested •'.. i Lueason's idea. And, ' •'- in her own instinctive and neatly practical fashion, she set to work to make out I further list of supporters with a view ' to adding others thereon, and drew out, in her tidy band-writing, a sort of little plan of her ideas to be put before Moid ' Lucaeon and her father-in-law. Old Mr. Iteubenssohn teased her a little at first, and offered her many sarcastic ''J- Suggestions, especially as to the costumes of the ladies of the committee. But he ■ did in private things that Naomi'would hardly have heard about but for her busband, Nathan, who reported them to her -in semi-disapproving astonishment. The ' ' '' wages of the people were raised, and in many cases alterations were made in the possible hours of work, limiting even ' " overtime" to a minimum. "Of course," " said Nathan to his wife, "it means loss to its- It's hound in." ". v

Naomi looked though tut. " But you " never lose what you give," she said, wist-. ' ■ tally. "Really, I believe what you give ■ , is planted—it like a. seed grows into a- plant. Only what you throw away ■ '■'■'" oh yourself you lose." .-."...■. -""Well, you shall see how this seed works," said Nathan, not unkindly. He adored his wife, and her lightest word 1 had weight with him, even over a matter of losing money, a hard nut for a clever Israelite to crack: . >! Mr. Reubenssohn did not slop; there. : ;'.'".' He and Mord talked to , other heads of businesses in the same line as their own and put before them suggestions as to a scheme of co-operation with regard to a standard of wages. They were met with less scorn than would have been the case had they not been all of one tribe. For Mrs. Lucason and Naomi had already broken the ground with their women-folk, and with these people women rank high ' as counsellors and advisers. Of course, there was endless difficulty'in procuring even the consent of one firm to do as Reubenssohn had determined to do, but as time went on there did arise a.gradual 'spirit of interest among the various houses, so closely allied already by mar- '' riage, and one or*two very marked changes were made with regard to the condition of the working-people. Cheyne's country estate" was actually finding a kind of'semi-realisation in the city, successful through its very naivete and the lively willingness of its good-humoured promo- ■ ■ ters. Lucason entered, into the whole thing with a kind o/ quiet, steady enthusiasm, '', which seemed new to those who knew him bet, but which was, in reality, only ■'•"<"■■ Ins old business enthusiasm metamorphosed by his object being, so far, an unselfish one. He carried ; out all the - business arrangements of Naomi's club II to Ibe held for the present in a portion of the business premises not used after five o'clock in the afternoon took "the keenest interest in all its practical workings, which were being most laboriously i.nd carefully arranged by himself and .• Mrs. Nathan, with the occasional assistance of that lady's sister, Zilla Cohen. The first evening that the new club was declared open to the starveling workgirls, was the one following the day on which the. death of Leger's uncle had .-''-*. been announced. Mord. had arranged to S finish up his own affairs in Leadeuhall- ;• street in good time in order that he \i. might be present ,with his mother and - Naomi and some of the; Jadies , ,of the ** committee' at its. inauguration. . It was not fully and finally arranged yet in all 1 its dot-ails,. but they were anxious to begin the work of social and physical benefitto the poor girls as soon as • ever ,'they' • found themselves in a position to declare *'■ tile matter settled. The tribe that crept into the large office 'I rooms, now arranged in some sort "as an evening eifcting-room, was a pathetic one : indeed, and Naomi, standing by the door. > and greeting every, new, shy member' in her own inimitable friendlv way, felt many a pang at her heart as the prpcession*of chalky-faced, nobly-built, but sor-rowful-eyed "London, girl-women passed slowly into the warm .and glowing apartment. Ivv Burns stood by to introduce. She i, did it ungracefully but with evident determination to do it with thoroughness; * the name of each entering member was i pronounced loudly by her in an uncom- j promising 'manner, and one , acquaintance j who disliked this too distinguished form of entree into an assembly murmured as j shV passed Ivv, and came to Mrs. Reubensshon's hand-shake, "All right ! Sec 'y if I don't take it out of you later! .j ? : Tea was offered—a splendid tea, tor ■ : which/the indenendeut persons paid a pennv each, and a bright evening ■ follow- ■.'•-' ing, "full of amusements find merry, clutter and music. Awful and. blank nd were I many 'of the ' white faces, such influences i -as Naomi's and Mrs. Lucason'swere not j without their genial potency, combined '-' .with warmth, and food, and music. .;, . When it was oyer, and the tentative ... philanthropists were coming away in a - Vlxidv; laughing and joking in the underground railway, someone said, . Oh, > - -have you seen a paragraph about our little show'in the Highflier? I hear they ve . got hold .of something about us by hook ' or-'bv crook." One prising member of the party %> undertook to jump out at one of ■the /sta- '■■• ."•■■.. tions and procure a copy of the ■ High- -■: flier from the bookstaH. It contained, as he had said, ft little. gossiping hint or two about their charitable venture, ' touched hi perfectly good-natured it patronising terms. 'It 'was passed round the merry group in the tram carriage. It came to Mord last, but he had a dislike for such forms of advertisement and demurred about : reading it, impatiently. But the paper was forced in tohis hand and the paragraph pointed out. | He read perfunctorily with a curled lip. ! His eyes followed to the nest paragraph, thinking that this followed on. It- did not do so, but a name caught his eyes and held them— was the announcement . sent by Lady Sarah, of Winnies engagement to Leger. . He read it twice over ' before he quite grasped it, or before he 'recollected dearly who Leger was. He had forgotten almost the name of the redfaced cub who had danced attendance on Winnie at Hardwinter Abbey, 1 hen hesuddenly remembered the • death of air ■' John Leger ,and some mention of Mr. Harry Leger as the heir, and the two circumstances now completed themselves in his bewildered brain, and he realised the truth. She was engaged. She had given herself, her priceless, sacred self, of whom '- he was not, could never be, remotely worthv, 'to that miserable, slinking, gig- ' gling 'loafer, with his boastful cackle and : ''.', his intolerable insolence! The creature fie ■i had not even reckoned as bis rival be- , .: cause he had thought him too idiotic for any bane woman to take seriously! lo ... this had his ready contempt for the idle '■ and unfit brought him! A little less contemptuous indifference to Leger would have perhaps shown him that the man was •in the same running as himself- . Now he ','-' had in the blindness of his, entire mdif- '•: feience and scorn left the field open for ■ .that bounder, or so lie told himself, and ..-.;. the despised one had simply won at a canter. <,]'}■-- Then Winnie, as even a vague possioil'lv, was no more! They had got out >■; of the train now (Baker-street) and were walking home all together, a merry, chattering party along the park pavements His eyes saw the long string of yellowish l; Wo-, tapering off to a point in the misty ,/'. dark of the silent park' terraces, Iney I'iiSscd at intervals couples of absoroed lovers, standing against the railings ruur- ■ ' 'wiring" incredible and apparently unending things to one another, arid a mounted ■ Policeman rode silently pant-l«ke a tall Wad: ghost of a cloaked horseman loom- . ing "out of-the mist only to disappear ' . >ntc it again. islil|W#|ilii;.'SS ;^ffy:v:;::^'w^

"They bade'good night cheerily, as odd mem •of the group dropped off at their ; own houses—trie Nathan , Reubenseohna at Chester Terrace, and seine others catting out into Albany-street. • Lucason called out to all of these with mechanical cheerfulness till the whole party had dropped off i save Alphonso l Reubenssohn, who still walked; by his friend's side, as his fathers house at St." John's ; Wood could be reached by cab when ho had seen Luleajffln home. ;He talked oil idly about several things, and then said: . Oh, by the bye, did you see in The Highflier that one of i those friends of yours has got engaged?the sister it is— Miss Waring." '"Yes. I eaw," said Mord. j .-'-:■•" That young ■ lady gets very much I talked about," continued Beuberissohn, relighting his cigar, and utterly unconscious of offence. '"Perhaps it's a good thing she's settling clown. In her own set they say,'she's an awful little flirt. Have you .met her?" Lucason was busy trying to control his wrathful voice. " Yes," Tie said sulkily,' and added; "There are a lot of fools about. She no more flirts than I do." "Pretty, isn't she?!' said Aiphonse. "Of course." : '"Well. £ don't see wily she shouldn't flirt if she likes. It's her due." "But she doesn't, I tell you. She is | very serious-minded and intellectual, and : is interested in charity and religion. Her I conversation is really deep—too deep for me sometimes." "Then perhaps it's another girl you mean. ■•:■; The one I mean is a.demon for., bridge, a regular gambler, and lots of other I games too! She's been about in a very.j fast set for a long time—she's what they \ call a bit of a scorcher. Probably the j poor wretch means no harm. The one ] f mean, is Winifred Waring—she's the j man's sister." . i Llicason's "good-night'.' was a growl of! fury which Aiphonse took' for the mere ! boredom of a dull subject felt, by one so intrinsically indifferent to women,- and j called out his own night wishes thinking j that, ■if clever at business,' Lucason was j a bit of a bear. ! But Lucason went in to his house and slammed the door with a sort of glorious sensation of ' shutting out his >, future brother-in-law, ''whom he said to himself he hated at that moment.. Was London" full of these wretched cacklers who con l tinually tore to pieces the fair ; fame of a lovely * woman? He had no right-to de; fend her, or if he had he would have made Reubeiissohii swallow his idle words, and- would have sent him home to St. John's Wood a wiser, if more fragmentary, main. -1. ~ »

j CHAPTER XII. I Away in Wiltshire extensive things were j happening. " The period of his uncle's illness and the l gradual realisation of his expectations hud i been one celebrated by-Harry Leger with : a kind of cynical patience. He had. managed, in the strength of his coming triumph, to put up passably with the depressing surroundings of an old man's death-bed in that grim and musty house in the country, with no one to speak to but ancient and very solemn servants, and yet a more ancient and solemn doctor; but tie bad chafed restlessly, as such a noble spirit would-be expected, to chafe, at the restraint and the gloom and the whispering voices, and the noiseless steps, attendant on such a momentous hour. He was not known, personally by his Wiltshire neighbours, as the dying man had always very persistently disapproved of him, and had never encouraged visits from this, rackety ■ nephew to bis gloomv shrine of snail shells and vegetarianism. Consequently Leger was thrown for society oil the stables, where the antiquity of the stud, and the, endless improvements that would have to be made, proved an interesting topic of conversation between himself and the grooms. Here for Whole, mornings, , very red and,laconic, with a bored and faded «ye, he turned over his plans with his uncle's servants, and, gave out freely his usual exhilarating opinions on the state of his country and its entire uselessness to him. He heard a good deal from the grooms—local gossip, :of course, .but some information that promised to 'be 1 "useful to him. For one thing, he heard statements .about-] dying uncle's money ail's' that' no lawyer *fiad' as yet " made to him; things that .made him whistle a little at his own prospects. There would be very little cash to spend for. years, and so far as appeared probable the stables, which : were oldfashioned and inconvenient,, besides being wretchedly shabby, would have to stay as they were unless he did something smart, himself to obtain a big sum to have them re-built. He wanted a whole new stud, • and'entirely new kennels for the dogs, he had previously decided to keep. A man must have his dogs if he is to bury himself and his talents alive in the country. So reflected Leger, sitting sideways ori a table in the harness-room and swinging one leg drearily, while he stared in a melancholy manner, at the cunning old stud-groom before him, whose own heart also yearned, and had yearned for years, for these delighte, and who intended to get thein if ho could. " London gentlemen, like you, sir," said the stud-groom, whose twinkling halfshut eyes and'genial red countenance gave him an appearance of honest cordiality .that had often served him excellent turns with that class of persons who still believe that all red-faced people tell the ■ truth, because it looks "so English," " London gentlemen wants their amusements. Down in these parts, if you have- ; n't got a really fine stud and kennels you don't count anyway. Why, I've known a gentleman made, sir, by his kennels!" nels!"

Leger, who had been unable to persuade his country to make him was struck at once by the idea of letting his dogs do so. It was a comparatively easy method, —you only wanted the cash. He looked into the little slit eyes of that honestfaced, hearty Briton of a groom and askhis opinion of the amount required to rebuild and re-stock the whole set-out. The ruddy-faced one mentioned a figure that made Leger say fresh things about. life, his country, fate, luck, and things generally, and hold forth on the universally mouldering condition of every institution you could possibly name. ' In such an edifying way these mornings used , to pass in the stables, while up in the big dreary house a poor old man lay in a dark room,, and his sands of time ran out rapidly and surely. They were dreary •days for Leger.* Just at that period he received a note from Mrs. Fanshawe tolling him in a sweet and ingenious manner that she and Joan had taken Rowlands' little country box for a week or two for dear Joan's health, and she had just heard that she was near a neighbour of hisshe had. idea that Leger Park was so close! —and must just write to tell him not to mope in all that sad time. If ever he liked to run over to them he was to do so at any time. Mrs. Rowlands had such a charm- ! ing little model set of kennelscjuite i worth seeing. | The last hint, and a sudden vague reI membrance of Mrs. Pansha-we's money, had the effect of drawing the. gallant, who at once went over to the Fanshawcs, and he continued to go there clay after day, whenever the conversation ,of the candid-faced groom palled on him. He found the Fanshawes far less stiff than they had been in town. They had quite adopted a Hinkstone tone, whioh they said was " taking things easily, in a nice fresh country." There .was something singularly rustic and Arcadian about the way they would have' the blinds drawn at two o'clock in the afternoon and the lights put on— November days were very short and dreary—and proceed to play for quite exciting stakes for as long as Leger allowed the least interest. Mrs. Fanshawe in town had always appeared rather formal and quite prim "and forbidding. Now she was becoming quite a' "good sort" in the eyes of Leger, a rather terrible name to earn had she but known it and all it implied ! While Joan, who had for several years been consistently shocked at Winnie, and had always prided herself on the severity of her own haivdressing, and her highly" chaperoned existence, now said and did little giggling ', lively things with great "gusto—rather vulgar little things, it must be 1 owned, as a person with no sense of humour trying to be arch suddenly : will very ten do. : ,; Now it was during these romantic days that Leger was being rather persecuted by Winnie's; telegrams. Kven Winnie was getting anxious, and though her communications were mainly in a joking vein, she was urgent for replies. His affairs generally being in a state of suspense be did

I not let the matter worry him, but he was ■ I gradually becoming aware of a sort of j sense of uneasiness when -Winnie communi- ' I cated i with '■;• him, an uneasiness which made him irritable, he was not quite [ sire who with. He was .not . a parson to make definite plans } -or the far future, and the fact I that he was engaged. to a penniless girl i at a period when his longed-for inherit!ahce seemed likely to turn out less advantageous than he had thought, did. not deeply trouble his'mind at the moment. . The kennels did, however. _ The FanI shawes listened very attentively to his ,] grievances over these, and came over very j quietly one morning at his invitation and J inspected them, or rather their ancient f ruins; Mrs.. Fanshawe had some most. J clear- and sensible suggestions to make I the worst ■of it was they would cost I money, she said. Mrs. Fanshawe said I she had often thought of taking a country I box herself and going in for something I of the kind, as Joan, dear child, was'so* ■•{ devoted to that sort of thing, and Joan ■I would count a few thousands spent in that j way as nothinga mere bagatelle. Joan j ..loved sport, she said. ; ;■ As the days passed by and Joan's deteri mination to possess a country house and a ! model stud and kennels of her own took 1 definite form, so definite that she procured ' I extensive and fascinating plans and esti- ] mates and continually • asked Leger's ad- | vice on these subjects, he began to occaj sionally kick things when he was alone } and call himself .a , fool. ; '-Many: people j would have agreed willingly to this proI position, arid would even have'joined in I the kicking of thingssome things. I 1 " That's.the."worst of my affairs/' said i I Leger, angrily.■• "They're always getting | j themselves mixed up in this fashion.- How J I was I to know when. I proposed to Win-' j nie what sort of a (!) state the old man's j stables'; were in.? '. A man can't foresee I everything! It's the old story fellow I entangled . by'a.. pretty -face !" ' - : I He putted away, to liiineelf,- feeling -quite. | exalted at this'aspect of-his engagement— i a noble, manly fellow, ill-able to afford it, caught and'entangled by'a pretty woman and suffering for- his chivalry; An I old. story, all the world over; man's chances, spoilt by a woman ! It was a hard case"; he said. He always had all the ill-luck Then he remembered that • Winnie had no ring, and that' she was a flirt, and that nothing definite had been announced. His lock might assist him yet—he called it hick. Of course she was a nice girl, and desperately pretty, and she kept him -unused, and so on, but a man must think a bit about his future. -Nice girls weren't everything after all. The worst of it was he really liked Winnie. She was so .lively and m graceful and so entertaining, and all the other men admired her so. And you were never really quite sure of her—not too ' sure. Altogether it was hard luck. But Joan Fi'inslmwe was not so bad. He ,had rather misjudged the little girl. After all-she was very jolly, with good spirits, jjrtd she knew a horse 1 when she saw one, which lie ' hardly thought' Winnie did. She could be very companionable about that sort 01 thing, and she always seemed -such a good listener when a fellow talked. Winnie had a way of taking a fellow up. and sometimes turning the laugh on to him. But Joan Fanshawe never did that. She made one feel more knowing, more important altogether ; she always applauded tactfully.

(To be continued on Saturday next.)