The Two Miss Carrs

Otago Witness, Issue 3774, 13 July 1926, Page 62

The Two Miss Carrs

By

Thomas Cob b.

Author of “Joanna Sets to Work,” “The Late Mr Beverly,” Etc., Etc.

(COMBIGHT.—FOB-THE WITNESS.)

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. CHAPTERS I to IV.—Mrs Fentiman flatters herself that she does not look her age, although she is ten years older than Dick Warrendcr. He knows he has only to say the word and the lady and all her possessions are his. At six on Friday evening he enters her drawing-room. She is trying to get him a post as private secretary to Sir Edwin Shackel and arranges an interview which Dick promises to keep. Mrs Fentiman returns from a visit to her mother on the following Wednesday. She sees Dick Warrender with a young lady companion. She is handsomely dressed and hold a Sealyham by the leash. Later in the day Mrs Fentimau entertains Dick and taxes nim about this young lady, whom Dick owns he does not know. Although angry with him she repeats her invitation to tennis on Saturday. He is to bring his friend, Luke Harborough, with him. On their way to tennis Luke Harborough notices that Dick Warrender waves his hat to a radiant-looking girl, standing bareheaded at a cottage gate. They chat, and Dick introduces his friend to Miss Mary Carr. The following Sunday morning Luke sees the fair vision once again. They discuss Mr Warrender. On Monday Dick devotes the day to Mary Carr. As they terminate their meeting they plan another for Tuesday, and on that morning Mrs Fentiman drives past ix. her car. She recognizes the girl, and greets Dick with a distant bow. Dick gives Mary an account of Mrs Fentiman. On afternoon Dick walks to Virginia Cottage, where Mary Carr is staying, but Mrs Dale says her i'xlger went away yesterday afternoon and is not expected back till Saturday. A little later, in Hyde Park, he comes across another lady with a Sealyham. The dog recognizes him, and Dick scrapes acquaintance with the girl. He brings up the topic of Mary Carr, and his companion asks whether she has yet obtained a situation. Dick is astounded and asks whether Miss Carr left her last aituation on Saturday. . “Yes, last Saturday,” is the reply. CHAITER IV (Continued) to Vl.—Dick Warrender pours into Luke’s ears the latest about Mary Carr. Luke reminds him that he cannot marry a penniless girl. Dick decides to wash his hands of Mary Carr, and to turn his attention to the other lady whose acquaintance he has just made. He meets Mary by accident, and offers to help her to find a situation. After trying to enlist Mrs Fentiman’s sympathy in vain, he goes to Luke s mother. Mrs Harborough promises to help, and, in the afternoon, wend® her way to Virginia Cottage. Her interview with Miss Carr is hardly successful, as Mary does not look her part. Later the same day Luke Harborough betakes himself to a reception. He goes past Virginia Cottage and sees Mary in the garden . She tells him of his mother’s visit, and tries to find out from Luke whether Mr Warrender is going to marry Mrs Fentiman. His replies are not satisfying. He informs her that he is going to Lady Canningbury’s musical At Home, and notices her change of countenance. Proceeding on his way he cannot forget Miss Carr’s sudden consternation on hearing where he was going. CHAPTERS VII to IX—Luke Harborough feels out of it at Lady Canningbury’s. He hears Lord Rothnill say, “ Ah, Miss Carr; good evening." This girl Is not the Mary Carr he knows. He makes his way to her side and opens a conversation. He manages to find her an unoccupied chair. She tells him that she is Miss Mary Carr. She asks him not to mention to anyone her presence there that evening. He hesitates, and asks for an opportunity to see her somewhere else. She makes an appointment for him at the Hypatia Club. Till then he is not to mention her name to any human being. Arrived at the club Luke chats with this Mary Can, who calls herself Molly. He tackles her about the way she had put Dick off the trail with regard to the other Mary. Her opinion of young Warrender is not a high one. Luke assures her that Dick is trying to get Mary Carr & berth. As Bhe equivocates so much Luke says he will see Dick and tell him there are two Mis 3 Carrs. She asks for a few days’ grace, and pledges him to hold his tongue. “ Meanwhile you will write to Virginia Cottage," says Luke. CHAPTER X. Dick Warrender walked to the station, narrowly escaping collision with a motor bus in his preoccupation as he crossed the road. In the train he fell back on his original theory. There was scarcely a doubt that Mary had spotted his half return ticket that Wednesday morning in the park, read the word “ Highstead,” and not unnaturally jumped to the conclusion that he lived in that suburb. He found not the slightest difficulty in believing that she had fallen in love with him. “Whoever loved, that loved not at first sight ? ” She had taken Mrs Dale’s rooms solely in the hope of seeing him in hid manner as he lived. Such a girl, young, extremely attractive, and thanks to the gullibility of the British public, inordinately rich, could scarcely fail to be the prey of adventurers. In these days when so many good men were unable to find anything to do, the bait must be far too tempting to resist. Heaven only knew how many proposals she must have had. One fact stood out plainly. She did not wish anybody at Efighstead to suspect that she was Timothy Carr’s daughter. Yet she had done nothing which could be called misleading till her hand had been forced. She had given her right name, intending, no doubt, simply to lie low, and there would have been no queetion of posing as a “ companion ” out of work, if that little demon had not intervened.

Then, of course, Mary had no alternative. It was impossible to refrain from the tacit admission without giving away the show. There could be no question concerning Dick Warrender’s own course. That, at least, looked beautifully straightforward. She must not be allowed to imagine that he had been put wise. If only he kept his own counsel he had onlv to go in and win—win the most beautiful woman in the world and a fortune that surpassed his most avaricious dreams. He could enter freely into her romantic ideal. He loved her the better for it if that were possible. Her desire was to be asked in marriage while she was believed to be under the painful necessity to earn her own living. Disillusionment would prove, surely, a sore disappointment. In heaven’s name, let her have her own way. Why not? Why fly in her face? What was to be gained by letting her imagine that he knew whq was her father? There appeared no difficulty. Nobody knew. Nobody need ever know. It was not as though anyone had told him the facts of the case, or that her pseudo-em-ployer had the least suspicion he had followed her to Quinton Gardens. The secret was confined entirely to himself. Naturally, it would be necessary to exercise the gieatest caution. He was a man who always found it hard to conjume his own smoke. It was dangerous for any outsider to entrust him with a secret, almost impossible, in the ordinary way, to keep one of his own. This, however, was by no means an ordinary way. Forewarned was forearmed ! Being aware of his personal weakness, he could strenuously guard against it, and if the effort proved troublesome, the reward would be exceedingly great. All he had to do was to go along as he had done since he was so cruelly deceived last Friday—with one delightful exception. There would no longer be the least reason for steering clear of the woman whom he adored. Thank God for that I On leaving the station at Highstead, he at once took advantage of his new liberty, and went out of his wav to pass Mrs Dale’s gate. Slackening his pace, he came almost to a standstill as he gazed longingly at Mary’s sitting-room window, without, however, seeing any sign of her. She had Drobably gone for a walk, and, on the whole, he would not yield to the temptation to ring the bell. His obvious policy he reiterated as he drew near to Birch Tree Row, was to act in every particular as if he still believed all that her co-conspirator had told him. He could not love her more passionately, and though he must behave as if she were actually in search of a job, there would be opportunities to show what alone made life worth living. Dick Warrender’s landlady, a former housemaid* of Mrs Harborough’a had married a gardener, who cleaned windows when he had nothing better to do. They had three children, to whose noisy existence some men might have objected, though Dick was far too good-humoured. Mrs Bunker was what he called a good, rough cook, capable of dealing with eggs and bacon, bloaters, sausages, and other breakfast dishes, but no doubt lacking subtlety. But Dies generally lunched at the golf club, and he could dine out as often as he pleased. Birch Tree Row was a turning out of the road that bordered the common, though at a good distance from Virginia Cottage. Dick’s sitting room was on the ground floor, of limited dimensions, his still smaller bedroom being at the top of the house. With the exception of Luke he had few visitors, his practice being to entertain his friends at some restaurant in town when occasion required. During the last week he had felt disinclined for society, and it happered that he was dining at home this evening. It was not a very tempting meal. His chop looked pallid, and swam in what had originally been gravy, but had become a solid grey mass. But he had a mind above such considerations this evening. He could eat anything or nothing. It did not matter—nothing mattered but Mary Carr. While Mrs Bunker cleared the table he lighted his pipe, and when she left the room he leaned back in the easy chair, which was comfortable enough if one succeeded in dodging the broken spring, and fell into a brown study. He was determined to do the thing thoroughly. He must not only regulate his conduct carefully in Mary’s presence, but during every minute of every day. He must be like an actor who continued to play his part off as well as on the stage, and especially he must be cautious with Luke Harborough. Luke was not a fool. It was a pity that he had been treated quite so frankly, for Dick had insisted that he hod done with Mary Carr, not because he loved her less, but simply for the reason that he could not dream of marrying a penniless girl. Now Dick had to alter all that, and he ought not to be too abrupt. Luke

would hear that lie was putting himself in her way again, and care must be taken to make the change appear natural. Knocking out his pipe Dick Warrender left the house just as he was, without liis hat, and walked to Sycamore Gardens, where he found Mrs Harborough in the drawing room listening-in with a beatific smile on her small, delicate-look-ing face. Taking off the head-phone she held out her hand to Dick. "Do sit down and listen,” she urged. “ The loveliest violin solo ” “ I rather wanted to see Luke,”-said the visitor. “ Ah, and anyone could tell you’ve good news for him,” cried Mrs Harborough, causing Dick to assume a more lugubrious expression. The trouble was that he had to repress the glad tidings which he would fain shout from the housetops. He had to appear melancholy while he had never been in such high spirits. “ You’ll find him in the smoking room,” she added. “ You know the way.” A moment later lie was entering the little room at the back of the hall, where he had never been less welcome. Luke could not feel perfectly at ease. He told himself that lie was keeping back information which might be of vital importance to Warrender’s future. Luke believed that Dick was in earnest this time, and would have done his utmost to persuade Mary Carr to be his wife if only the way had seemed reasonably clear. It would be ridiculous for such a man to dream of marrying cm an income of less than £3OO a year, however, and it really appeared that the proper course had been taken, according to Dick’s point of view. But while Luke did not for a moment imagine that Mary possessed an income of anything approaching £IO,OOO a year, he thought there was reason to believe she had something—enough probably to prevent the case from being hopeless. As it was, however, she must assume that Warrender had turned his back as soon as he heard of her dependent position. That was enough to put any woman off, whereas a word would alter everything, and he had undertaken not to utter it till after he saw Molly again on Sunday. If she still refused to offer ail adequate reason, Luke was determined to give her fair warning, and go his own way; meanwhile he felt profoundly uncomfortable when Dick entered his room this evening, with a carefully dismal expression, dispensing with the formality of shaking hands, and flinging himself on to the sofa. “Look here, old chap,” he cried. “I want you to help me.” “What’s in the wind?” asked Luke, standing with his back to the fireplace. “I’m dp against it. I’ve got to find a job.” “Saul among the prophets,” was the answer. “Oh, you iieedn’t snigger,” continued Dick. “I was never more serious in my life.” “But what sort of job?” suggested Luke. “Any mortal thing so that it brings in a few quid a week. I don’t mind what I do. “What can you do?” “For heaven’s sake don’t throw cold water over a fellow,” was the answer. “I’ve tried to play the game. You’ve no notion what it’s cost me. I haven’t seen Mary since Sunday, and then only a few minutes. Luke, old chap, I can’t stick it any longer. Life’s not worth living without her. If she’s willing to take the plunge, I shan’t hesitate. But if you know what I mean, I want to make things as easy for her as I can.” Luke thrust his hands into his pockets, and blew out his cheeks. “Good Lord,” he said, “you don’t mean that you’re going to take the plunge at once?” “No, I don’t,” returned Dick. “Though my own mind’s made up, I’ve no earthly right to think she’s in the same case. I’m not taking a risk. There’s too much at stake.” “Of course,” cried Luke, “I’ll do what I can, but upon my word there ain’t many jobs going begging.” “I know that,” said Dick soberly. “My eyes are open. I see now. I’ve been playing a mug’s game. Gnat’s all done with, still I want to be able to look a bit farther ahead for her sake. A few quid a week would make all the difference in the world, and if you can help me I shall be grateful as long as I live.” Having shot his bolt, Dick said “goodbye,” leaving Luke to consider how, with the best wishes to be useful, it were possible to do anything. Dick’s change of front, however, brought satisfaction. Granting that he was not going to keep out of Mary Carr’s way in future, the main objection to silence was removed. Let Warrender see as much of Mary as he used to do before he met Molly in Hyde Park, and he would no longer appear to have an eye only on the main' chance. He must be very much in earnest, surely, to think of work! CHAPTER XI. On Friday morning Mrs Harborough set forth as usual at eleven o’clock with a sunshade in one hand and a string bag in the other. Since the war it was impossible to rely on the tradespeople to deliver anything punctually. The only way was to carry home whatever was required for luncheon one’s self. She looked a frail little figure, but bustled along with short quick steps to t)>e Parade, with many a nod and smile to old people who still regretted her husband’s untimely death, to young ones whom he had brought into the world.

thougli whether they ought to feel grateful or not for that, Mrs Harborough really scarcely knew. She read of such dreadful things in the newspaper, and heard so many sa/' stories about people whom she had believed to be happy and contented, that sometimes she could not help wondering whether it was worth while being born or not. These, howewer, were morning thoughts. As the day wore on she grew more optimistic, especially if she found an opportunity to make herself useful. She seemed to know everybody at Highstead. She stopped for a word with Mrs Hyslop, wife of the Vicar of Holv Trinity, and again to speak to Mrs Maybury, of whom she felt more critical, perhaps, than of anyone else in the world Dr Maybury had purchased the practice after Dr Harborough’s death, and his wife was too flighty for her responsible position. Moreover she had been oositively offensive when Mrs Harborough had offered well-meant advice about some of the patients. That did not prevent the two women from stopping to speak this mornin cr however, and as they stood on the kerb, Mrs Harborough became suddenly excited. “Dear me!” she exclaimed, “there is Laura Gretton wheeling Jimmv herself.” Scenting trouble she hastened to meet the perambulator, her face soon growing sympathetic. “That dreadful girl boxed his ears.” Laura explained. “He may have an abscess And she denied it, though Mrs Ramsay saw her. She was quite impudent, and when I asked Eustace to speak to her last night, she flounced out of the room, packed her trunk, and left the house within an hour.” “ Shameful,” said Mrs Harborough. “ I hope you didn’t pay her ” “Unfortunately her money was due the day before,” Laura answered. “We had to have Jimmy in our room, and Eustace scarcely had a moment's sleep. He was so cross this morning. He says he can’t go on in this way, but I’ve just come from the registry office, and there isn’t a single name on their books.” “ I wonder,” suggested Mrs Harborough, seeing tears in Laura’s eyes, “ whether that Miss Carr would oblige you.” “ Who is she ? ” demanded Laura. “ Not that I really care.” “ I’m afraid,” said Mrs Harborough reflectively, “ she hasn’t been much used to children.” “ Still she must be able to take Jimmy out, and have him at night,” urged Laura. “ I positively dread the weekend while Eustace is at home.” ' “ You understand she’s quite a superior young person,” said Mrs Harborough. “She can have her meals in the nursery. I should be so very, very grateful ” “ Well, my dear, I’ll leave my marketing and go to Virginia Cottage at once,” exclaimed Mrs Harborougli. “ I know she has an excellent reference.” “Oh, thank you,” was the answer. “ And would you mind ringing up to say what time I may expect her. I really don’t mind what I pay. Perhaps she could come in time to give Jimmy his bath.” # Mrs Harborough hoped to kill two birds with one stone: to befried Mary Carr, and at the same time render Mrs Gretton a substantial service. So she hastened along the parade and up the hill to the village, presently entering Mrs Dale’s garden gate and ringing the bell. It happened, hoyever, that Dick Warrender had preceded her tnis morning. He had breakfasted well after a sound night’s sleep, and looking back to his interview with Luke congratulated himself upon an excellent beginning. Now he was looking forward to a visit to Virginia Cottage, and realised that he had ingeniously hit on an excuse. Having lighted his first pipe of the day he walked as far as the stationer s, where he bought a copy of The Times, and carried it hack to his sitting room. Unfolding it he spread it out on the table, turning to page 3: DOMESTIC SITUATIONS VACANT. Governesses, Companions, and Nurses. Dick attentively scanned the paragraphs. ... “Nurserv governess required to go abroad That wouldn’t do at any price. He was so intent upon lus rolrthat he almost forgot that there was it chance of any situation actuallv bent; applied for. “Experienced Nursery Go\ eruess wanted at once for boy of five He put a thick pencil line round that * ‘ Companion-help.—Gentlewoman essen tial.' That appeared promising Having cut out a portion of the column, he turned to the front page: Personal, and presently cut out another inch or two. putting this and the first into his waist coat pocket. . He thought it would be judicious to control his impatience till the clock struck eleven, then, losing no more time, he set forth along the edge of the common to Virginia Cottage, enjoying the scent of the pink may trees and telling himself that Mary would be astounded to see him. He had never entered her sitting room before, he had not seen her face since Sunday, and when Mrs Dale opened the door, no doubt Mary assumed that the laudladv was alone. She did not change her position. She was sitting by the round table in the middle of the room, her head resting on her hand, as if she were weary, poor girl. Her face wore a wistful expresisoon, and by her elbow lay a square, grev envelope addressed to: Miss Carr. Virginia Cottage, Highstead. When Mrs Dale announced “Mr Warrender,” she rose impulsively, her cheeks flushing, her eyes shining, he thought, with indigation. He had never imagined that she had a very equable temper. He

had realised that she was quick to excitement. She was not cold-blooded, thank goodness. As he held out his hand, she kept hers behind her. “I wondered what had become of yon,’* she said, quite distantly. “I though that, perhaps, you had gone away.” ‘‘Ah, my dear Miss Carr,” he returned reproachfully, “as if I could go without a word!” You could stay without a word, anyhow,” she cried. ‘‘One can’t always let one’s self follow the line of least resistance,” he urged. “One’s afraid of being led too far to turn back. “But,” added, with a sudden change of tone, “I will tell you the truth. I couldn’t keep away another day, and that’s that.” “You might not have found me here to-morrow,” she said more tranquilly. “When you arrived, I was trying to make up my mind.” “ Good Lord! n he answered, “ you’re not thinking of leaving Ilighstead just yet? ” She sat down again, her eyes being fixed on the large bowl of lilics-of-the-valley on the table. “I was certainly thinking of it,” she murmured. “ I am still. I can’t positively decide till to-morrow afternoon.” “Is it the question of a berth,” asked Dick marvelling now that he could ever have imagined she needed one, “ have you heard of anything that’s likely to suit you ? ” Mary slowly shook her head, and he fancied there was a flicker of a smile on her lips. “ I hope to goodness,” he said, “ you won’t think of turning us up till you’ve found what you want ? ” ‘‘Does anyone ever?” she demanded, flashing a glance at him, so that it became necessary to resist a strong temptation to take her in his arms, only that with such a stake he durst not run the slightest risk. “Ah, well, I alwavs hope for the best,” he insisted. “1 can t help it. That’s my nature. By the bye,” Dick added, “I haven’t told you why I’ve intruded this morning.” Taking the two newspaper cuttings fro his pocket, he flattened them out on the table cloth. “I thought you might like to see these advertisements,” he explained. “I’ve just been cutting them out.” “How extremely kind,” she returned, and he tried to imagine what her feelings must bp. Fow she must laugh in her sleeve! He looked over her shoulder as she read. “I thought the one from the Personal Column seemed the most promising,” he said, and read it aloud : “Educated young lady required to read to invalid gentleman. Eleven to five daily. References. Liberal salary.’’ “Well, what about it?” asked Dick, as she stared at the cutting in silence. “I’m afraid I’m a very poor reader,” she answered, with a quite pathetic sigh. Little Hypocrite! ‘‘Oh, well, you can leave that for the invalid gentleman to discover,” cried Dick, “though I don’t believe for a moment you’re bad at. anything. Upon my word, you might have a shot at it.” At this point, while he was stooning over Mary’s shoulder, Mrs Dale opened the door again, and Mrs Harborough entered the Toom. (To he continued.)