HERITAGE

Taranaki Daily News, 15 September 1934, Page 23 (Supplement)

HERITAGE

BY

HEDLEY RICHARDS

Going to a cupboard he took out some | broad elastic, then a needle -and cotton with which he stitched the elastic firmly to the case, then he slipped it round his neck, concealing the case in his garments. . . “Two thousand pounds hung round my neck," he muttered with a grin. A week later David entered the village one evening, it was only forty miles from London, but it was so rural' it might have been a hundred. “Don’t alter a bit," he muttered as he passed slowly down the. main street pushing his grinding machine in front of him, but not trying to attract customers. Presently he turned into a side street lined with cottages with garden in front, and. after S°mS some way he stopped facing one of the cottages. The garden gate was shut but the door stood open, and leaving his knife grinding machine at the gate he went leisurely up the path and stepped into the house. A woman, who was rocking gently backwards and forwards, looked round. “Why, it’s David,” she said as she got up and went towards him. “Yes, I’m on my rounds again, and I thought I’d look in,” he said. “Look in you’ll stay the night, it isn’t a mansion but I’ve always room for my only brother,” she said as she kissed him. “Yes, you always were partial to me, Alice, even when you were a little lass and I was a grown man. Now, surely that’s not Ellen,” glancing at a girl who had risen from a stool where she was sitting and looking smilingly at him. , “Yes, it’s Ellen right enough, she s home from her place. I suppose you’ve got your grinding machine, so just bring it right in, then I’ll get you something to eat. Mike’s doing a bit of work at an old lady’s garden; wages isn’t big, and he’s always glad to make a bit, though it’s easier now that two of the lads are working, but Ellen’s out of a place, and there’s four little ones, bless their hearts, and altogether there’s eight mouths to fill if there are three work©rs* 1 * David McClean went outside and brought, his machine into the house then he placed it in the scullery. “See, Alice, I brought over these bits of things,” he said as he unfastened a parcel which was tied to it. She untied the string and then exclaimed: “Oh. David, you shouldpt have spent all this money,” and she held up a big, piece of bacon, a great lump of. cheese, and a lot of chops, then a pound of tea. “Don’t I always bring you something, but having had a bit of luck I thoughtI’d launch out a trifle.” . “What sort of luck?” asked his niece. “Well, that’s a good thing,” said his sister as she began to fry him a couple of chops while Ellen laid the table. “This tea smells real good,” she said, as she brewed a pot, then sitting, down at the table opposite her brother she told Ellen to bring her chair up and have a cup of tea. ■ “Where are you in place, lass. he asked after he’d plied his knife and dork a hit. „ , . « “I’m not in place at all, I was sent off last week at a minute’s notice, but she did pay me a month’s wages; still it was shameful of her.” “Were you living about here? “No, I was at Biford, a little village in Warwickshire.” ' “Biford—l seem to have heard that name before somewhere,” he said. “It’s only a country place. I Jived with a Mrs. Barnes at Elm House.” Barnes and Biford —where had. .he heard the names? They were familiar, but he didn’t say anything and Ellen went on. “She is a widow, and there was me and cook and a man for the garden and pony, then there was a cousin of hers nearly as old as the missis. Well, one day early last week a gentleman came; the missis expected him,. I think, anyway she was talking to him in her sitting room, when a young lady called, and as the missis had said 1 wasn’t to interrupt her while the gentleman was there I didn’t tell her, thinking when I let him out I’d tell her about the young lady. After a bit there was an awful hubbub, the young lady had slipped out at the window, they said she’d stolen a ring. Well, instead of sending for the police the gentleman and me drove about the lanes to find her, you see I’d seen her and he hadn’t, but he didn’t find her, and he went away, late in the afternoon. A bit afterwards the missis rang for me, and she gave me a month’s wages and told me I was to go in the morning for letting strangers into the house. She wouldn’t listen to anything I had to say, but told me to go and pack my things. As I shut the door I heard her cousin say: ‘You are very foolish; the girl will suspect something, then Mr. Dalrymple will be vexed.’ ” “Thunder and lightning!” exclaimed David as he brought his fist down on the table making the pots clatter and 3U “What’s the matter?” exclaimed his sister. “I’ve got a corn, and It gave an awful twinge,” he answered. CHAPTER 12. AT THE ABBEY. The train was slowing down, in another minute they would be in Iveson station, which was only a mile from Easingwold Abbey and Dalrymple Court, and Mary’s heart beat quickly as she thought that she would soon see her father’s home. There had been a bit of a tussle with Mr. Carey, he had at first objected to her going near the Court until her for its ownership was established, but she had begged him to let her go to the Abbey, promising to do nothing rash and keep out of the Dalrymples’ way if either of the sons happened to be at the Court. Mr. Price had also done his utmost to get the lawyer’s consent to her visit, and as he did not wish to tell him the truth he could not find a satisfactory reason for refusing, and he did not wish to offend such a good client. So in the end it was arranged that a week after \ Mr. Price and his sister had established themselves at the Abbey, Mary should join them. “Iveson, Iveson,” shouted the porter in a sing-song tone, and as Mary opened the carriage door Mr. Price came up. “Glad to see you, Miss Drury, you’re | as welcome as spring flowers,” he said I as they shook hands. “Now, come along, the motor is waiting and my man willj get your luggage and bring it up m 1 the cart.” | As they passed out of the station Mary noticed that her host was regarded as a man of importance, as both station master and porter were very, deferential. . “This is your old friend that was the means of introducing us, said Mr. Price as he touched the side of the car., “Yes, I think I must christen her ‘The I Rescuer’; it would have been awful to ' have spent the night in that ditch, 4h e fl she looked out of the window, noticing how pretty the country was, as they went along the narrow winding lanes.

(Author of “The Telegraph Call," “The Deputy Avenger," etc.)

CHAPTER 11 (continued)

“Where is the village? I, didn’t see any houses near the station. ’ “No, it’s nearly a mile away See, this is the beginning. That’s Iveson House, a Mrs. Delamere Hicks lives there, and there s the church and the vicarage." They flew past, and then she saw rows of pretty cottages with gardens gay with spring flowers. “What a pretty village,” she said. “Yes, it belongs mostly to the Dalrymples, and I suppose they like to see well kept gardens and cottages close to their gates. That’s the entrance to Dalrymple Court.” Mary looked eagerly out of the window, and as the motor glided swiftly past, she caught a glimpse of a pair of massive stone gate posts that were surmounted with a lion couchant, and a pair of iron gates that were shut. A few minues later they turned into a park; the gates stood wide open, and on one side there was a pretty oldfashioned lodge. Up the winding drive, overshadowed with trees just buddmg into leaf, they went, and presently Mary saw a long, low ivy-covered house. It was very ancient and the door at which they stopped was of oak, studded with brass nails. “Welcome to the Abbey,” said Mr. Price as he helped her out of the car. They entered a large hall that was low overhead and rather dark. Pictures hung on the walls, antlers heads, old armour and weapons; altogether it was a strange medley. The oak floor was polished and slippery, but here and there expensive rugs were laid. “The hall is a dark old shanty, but we get sunlight in most of the rooms, and as Mr. Price spoke he opened a door and Mary entered into a room that was certainly sunshiny. It faced west, and through the window she could see a well timbered park, and close to the house a garden bright with early flowers. In a chair near the window sat a tall, gaunt woman dressed in black silk, a dress very plainly made, and there was nothing to soften the rather hard face, from which the grey hair was tightly drawn and arranged in a sort of knoh at the back. “Janet, this is Miss Drury,” he said. She rose and looked at Mary, a timid yet searching glance, then she held out her hand saying: “I’m glad to see you. It wasn’t a very enthusiastic greeting, but somehow Mary fglt-the words were sincere. Just then a footman entered with tea, rather awkwardly Miss Price took her place at the table. , “What sort of journey did you have? asked her host.

“A pleasant one, the country was very pretty. Do you like living here?” she asked, turning to Miss Price. She gave a sudden start and dropped the sugar tongs, then with a half frightened air she said: “I beg your pai'don, I was thinking of something else. Yes, it’s very nice here, but I’d like anywhere if Daniel was there." “My sister and I were great chums when we were young,” he said. “Yes, those were happy days never to be forgotten,” and she sighed, then she looked nervously over her shoulder as though she expected to see something there.

(To be continued).