The Two Miss Carrs

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 83, 29 June 1927, Page 13

The Two Miss Carrs

CHAPTERS I. to XXIV.—Mrs. Fentiman flatters herself that she dt>e» i:oi i;»uk her age. although she t 3 10 years older than Dick Warrender. He knows he has only to say the word and the lady and all her possessions are his. She is trying to get his a post as private secretary to Sir Edwin Shackel. Mrs. Fentiman returns from a visit to her mother and sees Dick Warrender with a young lady companion. She Is handsomely dressed, and holds a Sealyharn by the lea.sh. Later in the day Mrs. Fentiman entertains Dick and taxes him about this young lady, whom Dick owns ne does not know. On their way to tennis Luke Harborough notices that Dick Warrender waves his hat to a radiant-look-ing girl standing bareheaded at a cottage gate. On Monday Dick devot.e9 the day to Mary Carr and on that morning Mrs. Fentiman drives past in her car. She recognises the girl, and greets Dick with a distant bow. In Hyde Park Dick comes across another lady with a btalyham. The dog recognises him, and luck scrapes acquaintance with the girl He brings up the topic of Mary Carr, and his companion asks whether she has vet obtained a situation. Dick 5 s astounded, and asks whether Miss Carr ert her last situation on Saturdav "Yes. last Saturday.” is the reply. Having made up his mind to forget Mary, Dick *? ot tJ L ke her h ome on Sunday, but, o wants a situation, he gets Harborough to call on the girl. SSZ? s f y ® ahe does not mind being a lady ?° es to an home at Lady s and there meets another whom he takes tea. He nnas that there is some connection between the Misses Carr. Dick sees the lady with the Sealyharn go to the house ° r a* T,mot hy Carr, who left €250.000 and jumps to the conclusion that Mary heiress. If that is so. she is eligible for marriage with him. He plans Iv and tells Luke he wants a job, then he calls on Mary. He suggests tnat sheh should accept a position in a newspaper advertisement and later makes fY' I’® 1 ’® jhat Sir Timothy has left his money to Mary. Luke in response to an invitation calls at Virginia Cottages and learns that the two "Marys” are cousins. After another interview with the ladv of the Sealyharn who calls herself "Molly,” Luke has a new interest in life. Following his plan Dick inserts an advertisement for work for himself and tells Marv and Mrs. Fentiman that he intends to get married. During a visit to Molly, Luke learns that Lord Rothnill was a or Mary and that she went to Highstead to make up her mind. Dick calls on Mary and finds that she is just going to town. Later he tells her he loves <md she agrees to become engaged. ITe breaks the news to Mrs. Fentiman and Mrs. Harborough and goes to see Mary again. He finds out that there are two Miss Carrs and that he cannot think of marrying a poor woman. Believing that Mary has not a peny he rushes away from the house. Meanwhile Luke discovers that Molly is the poor girl, and the mistake he had made. Mary, bitterly disappointed, decides • that she will marry Lord Rothnill and Luke calls on Molly to get her sympathy for Warrender. After deciding to emigrate, Dick calls at 4 Quinton Gardens and is met by Molly. He is told that Mary will not see him and he declares he will go abroad. Mary accepts Lord Rorhnill. CHAPTER XXlV.—(Continued). "What a little snob you are, Mary!” "Not at all. But no one can deny that Henry is the—the genuine article. He made me call him Henry. He is going to the duke’s to meet royalty. That’s why he can’t put it off.” As she was speaking, Molly came to her side, putting an arm round her neck. “Dearest,” she whispered, "I hope you’re not making a huge mistake.” "That’s more than anybody can possibly tell,” retorted Mary. "Anyhow, I nearly made one the other day. I only escaped with the skin of my teeth. Marriage is just a toss up. All men are perfect till they take you to church.” In the face of the engagement, Molly thought that she could safely mention Dick Warrender’s visit, not, it is true, without a little Jaesitation, but there had been more than enough of mystery and now it could, surely, make no difference. The moment the words were spoken, however, she began to wish she had kept her own counsel. "How like him,” cried Mary. "Is there another man in the world who would have had the—the cheek? What did he find to say for himself?” “He wanted to say ‘good-bye,’ for one thing.” "Good-bye!” answered Mary. "Where is he going?” "Oh, well, he was a little vague. He said something about the other side of the world—” “Then,” Mary sharply interrupted, “he—he’s not going tc marry Mrs. Fentiman!” “My dear,” said Molly, with a smile, "it isn’t everybody who’s capable of jumping from one to another in a few hours.” Mary did not speak again at once, then her voice was scarcely audible. "I would have liked to wish him—to wish him Godspeed.” “I don’t imagine you will have* the opportunity,” said Molly, thinking it might now be possible to keep him away. Mary sat down, resting her elbow on the edge of the table, her hand supporting her chin. She seemed to be talking to herself rather than to her cousin. “Still,” she said, "he can’t be dreaming of marrying Mrs. Fentiman. His only object in life can’t be money because she has plenty. She would jump at the chance, but he—he hasn’t given her one.” CHAPTER XXV. nin I 'th y a . letter Lord Kothniil the following morning to say that he was arranging with Fletcher and Kokeby, the famous old Bond Street jeweilers, to send a man to meet him at Quinton Gardens at 12 o’clock with some rings for her selection. Molly to his disappointment,, was in the’ drawing-room on his arrival, Mary having insisted that her advice was indispensable. The consequence was that his transports were at least mitigated, and the jeweller arrived a few minutes later.

He took a gorgeous assortment of gems from his attache case, Molly clearing away the bric-a-brac from one of the small tables for their display. She had spoken a few words of congratulation to Lord Rothnill, who stood solemnly looking on while Mary took up one ring after another, appearing in exuberant spirits as she tried them on the third finger of her left hand, finally choosing one of emeralds and diamonds, the fact that it fitted perfectly being accepted as a good omen. After the jeweller’s departure Molly felt embarrassed to stay where she was obviously in the way, but the had given a promise. On the other hand, Mary consented to allow Lord Rothnill to take her out to luncheon, and afterwards to spend the afternoon with his mother. As soon as they had gone, Molly went to the telephone and asked for Luke Harborough’s number. Unfortunately he was not in chambers, but she gave his clerk an urgent message, with the consequence that he reached Quinton Gardens soon after a quarter to six. "I wanted to tell you, before the announcement appears in the papers,” she said. "Mary is going to marry Lord Rothnill. Mr. Warrender was here yesterday. I hope you will prevent him from coming again.” “Are you afraid to trust Miss Carr?” suggested Luke. "To save her wear and tear—that is all,” was the answer. "And you are actually pleased,” he said. "No,” returned Molly. "I hate the

whole thing. I don't believe Mary is quite—quite herself. Mr. Warrender flung her off at a tangent, as it were. She is living in a kind of delirum.”

"It’s to be hoped she may come to her senses before it’s too late,” urged Luke.

"It’s too late already. You have seen Lord Rothnill? Is it possible to conceive his being—jilted? But Mr. Warrender is to leave the country in a day or two ” “I’m not certain,”’ cried Luke, “ile hasn’t booked his passage -yet, anyhow.”

“But he spoke as if the whole thing was settled.” "Oh, yes, he would.” “He came to say good-bye,’” Molly insisted.

“Very likely, but you must try to realise that Miss Carr isn’t the only one who’s off her head. Dick’s in the mood for any ” As he was speaking Mary entered the morning-room, wearing her hat and looking as radiant as Luke had ever seen her. Nor could he detect any sign of effort in her gaiety as she held out her hand. “The first time,” he said, "that I have seen you in your habitat. And I have just been told it’s not to be yours very long. You will allow me to —to congratulate you.’” “Oh, thank you very much,” she cried, adding in the next breath, “When is Dick going abroad?” “He declares that he doesn’t intend to losd a day. His trouble is that he can’t decide between the rival advantages of New Zealand and Canada.” "You speak as if it were a joke,” said Mary reproachfully. "Oh, well, I can assure you that he takes himself seriously enough. He generally does, you remember.” “Perhaps,” retorted Mary, "you feel sceptical about his going.” Luke shrugged his shoulders as he held out his hand, and after dinner the same evening made his way to Birch Tree Row to break the news. On hearing of Mary’s engagement, Dick rose with a muttered oath, and, walking to the window, stood there with his hands thrust deep in his trousers pockets, and his shoulders hunched. Luke had never seen a more expressively melancholy back. For a wonder, Dick had little to say, till, presently, he accompanied Luke to the garden gate.

“Ah, well,” he cried, "one thing’s certain. The sooner I’m out of this bally old country the better.” “You haven’t made up your mind about the new one,” suggested Luke, who would only believe in Dick’s departure when the ship sailed. Perhaps Warrender detected a note of scepticism. “Let’s settle it now,” he said, and thrusting his hand into his pocket, brought out a coin. "Heads, Canada; tails, Canterbury,” he added, spinning the coin in the air and catching it on his palm. Then he walked a few feet to the nearest lamp. “Heads,” he cried. “Canada has it. That’s that. I’ll book my passage in the morning.” He did nothing of the sort, however, nor went beyond the common that day. Although he had intended, as he told Molly to make another attempt to see Mary, her confounded engagement made all the difference. No good to himself or to her could conceivably be the result of an interview. He understood, of course, that she had acted on a sort of mad impulse, as a man might fling his break-

fast out of the -window because it wasn't exactly what he wanted. No one could sym path ire with such a feeling better than Dick at the present moment. But. having gone so far. she would never turn back. Mary had burnt her boats. Nor did Lord Rothnill seem inclined to allow her much breathing-space. There could scarcely have been a more persistent lover. Congratulations kept her in a state of perpetual excitement. People came to the house who would not have entered its doors but for her engagement, and she was astonished by the number of her prospective relatives. Freake was in his element, and while his expression was as impassive as ever, Molly smiled to notice a fresh suggestion of deference towards her cousin. She saw also that Mary had little desire for time to think over what she had let herself in for. She preferred, now things had gone so far, to carry them to the end at fever heat. She was continually talking of her future, of the family jewels, of the shootingbox in Invernesshire, and the two children at Barhampton Court, where they lived in charge of Mrs. Saltaire, their governess—Hilda, a girl of ten, Agnes, of eight. “Lady Rothnill showed me a photograph of the house,” said Mary. “It's Elizabethan, with a moat and peacocks. She. is certain I shall frjl in love with the children. Henry f ints me to make their acquaintance $ fore he goes to the north. I promised to let him drive me down on Tuesday. Have you seen Mr. Harborough since he was here?” she added. “Where else should I be likely to see him?” demanded Molly. “A club is very convenient. Naturally, I am always thinking of you, though you may imagine I’m absorbed by my own affairs. I wish to goodness we could still live together.” “My dear,” said Molly, ‘You're terrified at the prospect of being alone with Lord Rothnill.”

Mary held her head contemplatively on one side.

“N-no," she murmured. I’m gradually becoming used to him. You know, Molly, you don’t understand me one little bit. When, I wonder, will Dick sail?” Molly had no information at the moment, nor when Luke came on Monday afternoon, could he express an opinion. “All I know is that he had decided on Canada,” he said, and Mary looked grave when her cousin passed on the news the same evening. “I daresay,” she remarked, “that most people would say it was the best thing he could do. But Dick is really very clever. His great mistake was not going back to Oxford to take his degree. But he was all to pieces when he was demobbed.” “And he has made that an excuse for idleness ever since!” “It isn’t quite like you to hit a man when he’s down,” said Mary. “Is he?” demanded Molls*. “He didn’t give me that impression when he was here the other day.” “He wouldn’t. He would always wear his panache. Oh, my dear,” cried Mary, “I haven’t forgotten the miserable part he played, but you ought to give even the devil his due, and Dick’s a perfect angel in some ways.” CHAPTER XXVI. When Mary Carr set forth to Barhampton Court at half-past ten on Tuesday morning she appeared in excellent spirits. Lord Rothnill had found her awaiting him in the hall, and she felt surprised to see that the chauffeur was to drive. She would have loved to take his place, and no doubt the sixty miles journey would have ended sooner. But she durst not make the suggestion. She had probably never stood so much in awe of any human being as of Lord Rothnill, and while she could often have laughed at his pomposity it seemed somehow to overwhelm her, to take so much for granted for which she had no aptitude. Lord Rothnill was in a jocular mood this morning. He was obviously dedetermined to devote himself to her entertainment, whereas he joked with difficulty. If only Dick had been in

his place! What a day they would have had together! If wishes were horses!

Half-way to their destination the near wheel went flat with a loud report and Lord Rothnill stood by the wayside looking on while the chauffeur fixed the Stepney. Mary wandered a few yards along the deserted road and stopped at a gate which opened on to a field where a number of sheep and lambs were grazing. Beyond lav a dense wood, and for a moment or two she was half tempted to run across to it and lose herself among the trees. But what w’ould be the use? She was caught in the toils. It was impossible to get away. Of course, she had brought it on herself. There had not been the least compulsion, and she had no fault to find with Henry, of which she had not been cognisant beforehand. Moreover, a word would set her free. She realised that, but also that she could never utter it, nor indeed when they were once more on the way, did she feel certain she wished to do so.

Always wayward, during the last few days she semed to change every hour of the day, and for instance the sight of the Eliabethan house in the sunshine, with the two dark-haired children standing on the bridge that spanned the moat to receive her, their stately governess in the background, for the moment reconciled her.

Accustomed for years to the gratification of every whim, she had always been inclined to envy those who had a dignity and position which money alone could never confer, and love having failed her, she set her heart on other things. There was at least nothing formal about Hilda or Agnes, and when Mary passed an arm round the shoulders of each, they were instantly won, their father looking on with a patronising smile. “What a charming place!” she cried, still on the threshold. “I shall spend months and months here every year.” “We must never forget,” said Lord Rothnill, with his long chin buried in his collar, “that life has its duties as well as its—er—pleasures.” “Oh, yes, but it isn’t , worth living unless one can forget them,” Mary retorted, and saw him glance deprecatingly at the children, for whose ears such a sentiment was entirely unsuitable. When he proposed to show her over

the house, she insisted on their coming. • And then you must let me see your pets,” she suggested. * I*m certain you have lots.” (To be Continued.)