The Two Miss Carrs

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 87, 4 July 1927, Page 7

The Two Miss Carrs

By

Thomas Cobb,

CHAPTERS I. to XXIX.—Mrs. Fentiman flatters herself that she does not look her age, although she is 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 Sealyham by the leash. Later in the day Mrs. Fentiman entertains Dick and taxes him about this young lady, whom Dick owns he 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 devotes 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 Sealyham. The dog recognises him, and Dick scrapes acquaintance with the girl. He brings up the topic of Mary Carr, mid his companion asks whether she has yet obtained a situation. Dick Is astounded, and asks whether Miss Carr eft her last situation on Saturday “Yes. last Saturday,” is the reply. Having made up his mind to forget Mary, Dick does not take her home on Sunday, but, believing she wants a situation, he gets a Mrs. Harborough to call on the girl. Mary says she does not mind being a lady help. Luke goes to an at home at Lady Canningbury’s and there meets another Carr with whom he takes tea. He finds that there Is some connection between the Misses Carr. Dick sees the lady with the Sealyham go to the house of Sir Timothy Carr, who left £250.000. and jumps to the conclusion that Mary is the heiress. If that is so, she is eligible for marriage with him. He plans accordingly and tells Luke he wants a job, then he calls on Mary. He suggests that sheh should accept a position in a newspaper advertisement and later makes sure that Sir Timothy has left his money to “Mary.” Luke In response to an invitation calls at Virginia Cottage and learns that the two “Marys” are cousins. After another interview with the lady of the Sealyham who calls herself “Molly,” Luke has a new interest in life. Following his plan Dick inserts an advertisement for work for himself and tells Mary and Mrs. Fentiman that he intends to get married. During a visit to Mollv, Luke learns that Lord Rotlinill was a suitor for 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 her and she agrees to become engaged. He 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. and goes to view her future home, Barhampton Court. As her future husband Is called away to visit an “H.R.H.” Mary joyfully accepts a holiday and Invites Luke to dine at the Ritz. Dick meets Luke at the station when he returns, and later gioes to Mary and pours his tale into her ears. Overcome by his bleading Mary agrees to marry Dick in two days’ time and slip up Lord Rothnill. CHAPTER XXlX.—(Continued). Henry was safely out of the way till Monday. He would suspect nothing till he heard of the accomplished fact. By that time she would be at a safe distance, and though he would naturally be disgustc ’ with her, she had little doubt that before many Canningbury. Mary’s chief fear was of her cousin. It seemed, however, unlikely that she would hear of Dick’s visit. Freake would scarcely mention it, and provided Molly did not learn that he had been at Quinton Gardens, there could be nothing to make her suspect the impending departure. At luncheon Mary was reproached for spending such a glorious morning indoors —as though anybody could imagine how glorious it had been! “What in the world is the matter with you?" demanded Molly, in the rr rning-room afterwards. “You look as if there were visions about. If you were a poet I should say you had been visited by inspiration.” "Anyhow, I’m going for a prosaic walk,” cried Mary, though it was nothing of the kind since it led to Saint Ninian’s, which she had never entered before. The door, however, was ever open, the solitary occupant being an elderly charwoman. Entering one of the front pews, Mary tried to visualise herself by Dick’s side at the altar within the next forty-eight hours, then she walked soberly back to Quinton Gardens. In the circumstances it was impossible, unfortunately, to make desirable preparations for a journey, to say nothing of a honeymoon, though Mary took the precaution of putting a few things in a separate drawer, so that they might be quickly transferred to a suit-case after return from the church on Saturday. Friday morning brought a letter addressed in Lord Rothnill’s cramped handwriting. He had had the honour of a long conversation with the Duke of Stockton’s royal guest, who was not quite so well as might be wished. There had been some foundation for the rumour after all. Though Moily suggested that she had better answer the letter at once, that was the last thing Mary intended to do, and in the afternoon she went out alone, taking a taxi from Knightsbridge to Trafalgar Square, and entering the National Portrait Gallery. On going to the Stuart Room, she saw Dick’s back as he stood gazing at the portrait of Samuel Pepys. He was not likely to be unpunctual between to-day and tomorrow.

Author of ** Joanna Seta to “The Late Mr. Beverly," &c. p &c

He began at once to explain that he had been in a rush ever since he left Mary yesterday. "In the first place,” he said. "I had to see my bank manager ” "Oh, but, Dick ” she began, but was silenced by a lordly wave of his hand. "This morning,” he continued. "I went to Doctor’s Commons, and from there to Saint Niniun's. to get the address of the curate. A decent sort of boy in a cassock. He's going to do the job at 12 sharp to-morrow. And there's another thing we ought to settle,” said Dick. “My notion is that we shall lunch at your place, say at half past one, and get off as soon as possible afterwards. A sort of anticlimax, you know, when once the shock of the announcement's over. AVe might run down to Folkestone in your car, cross the channel on Monday, put in a few days in Paris, then make up our minds where to go next—what?” Mary had no objection to offer. Her chief desire was to get the next twenty-four hours over. She felt afraid that Molly might not see the matter from her own point of view, and quite agreed with Dick that the sooner they set forth on the honeymoon the better. “I’ll wire for rooms at the hotel this afternoon,” said Dick, "and wouldnt it be a bit of a joke to ask old Luke to luncheon to-morrow?” “I don’t want to do a single thing to make Molly even curious,” was the answer. "Don’t tell her,” he urged. "Why should you? Write to Luke at his chambers—Number 3, Pope’s Court, you know. Ask him to turn up at a-quarter past one. He can manage that as it’ll be Saturday. He and your cousin will be worked up to a proper pitch of wonder and—enter the bride and bridegroom. Tableau.” Now, everything seemed to be in train. There remained nothing else that could be said in a public place, but on leaving the gallery, Dick insisted that he must be permitted to go a part of the way to Quinton Gardens in her taxi. "Mary,” he said, with unwanted solemnity, when she urged him to leave her, before they were half-way home, "this is our last parting. Tomorrow you’ll become mine for all time. Dearest,” he added, leaning toward her, "I want you to start hopefully. I know I’ve led a fool of a life, but I lacked my complement. You shall never regret to-morrow morning’s work. Never as long as you live, so help me God.” She did not speak, but. bowed her head, turning away so that he should not see her eyes. A minute later he stopped the cab and, after pressing her hand in silence, got out. Mary was not driven as far as the house, but dismissing the cabman at the corner, walked the few vards to the garage. With what the chauffeur considered a curious constraint, she explained that she should want the car at twenty minutes to twelve on Saturday morning, and again at halfpast two, when he was to bring enough petrol for a drive of seventy miles into the country. CH ' PTER XXX. Saturday proved a memorable day for Molly Carr. She will never forget it as long as she lives. Mary was tne first down to breakfast, and when her cousin entered she was standing by th window reading a long letter—from Lord Rothnill, she explained. "Did you write to him yesterday?” ached Molly. "Do y. imagine I should forget?” Mary prevaricated. Sitting down at the table, she began the meal in silence till she was asked what she was going to do during the morning. "I am going to the bank first,” she answered. "And I have ordered the car for twenty to twelve.” It was an unwritten law ‘hat neither should ask the other where she was going, but this morning, perhaps on acount of something unusual in Mary’s manner, Molly could not resist a mild feeding of curiosity. She noticed, also, that on ncr cousin’s return from the bank, where she had, as a matter *f fact, been procuring some letters of credit, Mary spent a considerable time in her own room, an exceptional thing in the middle of the morning. Moreover she came downstairs just before the car stopped at the door, wearing a dress as nearly white as possible, and a wide-brimmed straw hat, trimmed with white llowers. Taking Molly's arm, she led her to the hall, where Freake, dignified as ever, held open the door. Half-way down the steps, Mary stopped, hesitated for a moment, then running swiftly back to the threshhold, impulsively kissed her cousin’s lips. There seemed something unusual afoot. Molly felt so deeply preoccupied that she did not take Bunch for his outing this morning, and going to the dining-room a little later, she saw Freake, superintending the footman as he laid the table for luncheon. "Miss Carr did not tell me visitors were expected,” cried Molly. "Two gentlemen,” was the answer, and instantly she jumped to the conclusion that a further celebration during Lord Rothnlll’s absence had been planned, that the intention was to take her by surprise. "Do you know who they are?” demanded Molly, noticing that there were three bottles of champagne on the sideboard. But the butler could give no information. On the whole, Molly thought she W'ould change her frock, and on leaving her room at one o’clock was astonished to find that Mary had not returned to receive her mysterious guests. She went to the drawing-room

still wondering as to their identity, but convinced that Luke could scarcely have been invited again so soon, when at a few minutes past the hour, the butler opened the door. "Mr. Harborough.” "Didn’t you expect me?” asked Luke, her surprise being quite unmistakable. "I oughnt to have let you see that I didn't, anyhow.” she returned. "And. of course. I’m very pleased.” "I don’t think I can have made a mistake.” he said. "I feel certain thait Miss Carr said a quarter past one today. I only had her letter this morning.” • I give it up." cried Molly. "She [went out at about a quarter to twelve I and hasn't come back.” "Perhaps." he suggested with a smile, she was kind enough to arrange a tete-a-tete " Molly shook her he^d. "The table is laid for four.” she [ said, "though I had no idea that anyj body was expected.” As she ceasfvl speaking, the car was ! heard at the door. "There she is.” Molly continued. "She may have brough: the other visitor home with her.” At this critical moment Freake'* long and exalted experience stood him in excellent stead. Though, of course, he knew that Miss Carr was engaged to be married to Lord Rothnill. an arrangement of which he cordially approved, his face was imperturbable. There was neither the flicker of an eyelid, a sndle, nor a frown as he conscientiously did his duty, and obeyed the instructions which Mary herself had bestowed in the hall. "Mr. and Mrs. Richard War render,” he announced. There was nothing to be done—nothing but to make a virtue of necessity. Whatever might be thought of the I wisdom or even the decency of the morning’s work, the thing was accomplished. It was nobody's business but Mary’s and Dick's, except perhaps Lord Rothnill’s. Molly was the last person to cry over spilt milk. After a momentary pause, a palpable, embarrassment, she took Mary in '.vor arms and kissed her cheek, while Luke’s I hand was quite painfully crushed in Dick's. "I’m afraid, don’t you know,” cried the bridegroom, the first to speak, "there isn't a great deal of time to spare. We’re motoring down to Folkestone this afternon. Didn’t you order the car for half-past two, Mary ?” "Ye—es. half-past two,” she murmured, inclined to wish they had gone direct from Saint Ninian's, and announced the marriage by letter. But it was not long before Freake put an end to the awakward situation. "Luncheon is served.” They went at once to the dining room, but even after they were seated, an oppressive silence prevailed. Freake, wise in his generation, was, however, already filling the wineglasses. "A stunning day!” said Dick. "Happy is the bride the sun shines on, you know.” "Can’t somebody say something more original?” cried Mary, with a laugh. "Where were you married?” asked Molly. “It’s really quite all right,” said Dick. "At Saint Xinian’3?” suggested Luke. "Why was he canonised?” The footman who had left the room, after the fish was served, now reentered empty-handed, Freake observing with an annoyance which he knew better than to show at present, that there was a self-conscious grin on his subordinate’s not very intelligent face. As if that were not disgraceful enough, he came to the butler’s side and deliberately nudged him. Lest worse should befall. Freake stooped to listen, standing at once at his full height again, behind Mrs. Warrender’s chair. Raising his large hand to his lips, he coughed—very faintly, then stepped to her side, bending forward over her shoulder. "Lord Rothnill, madame,” he said in a loud whisper. (To be continued)