THE CHRISTMAS HOMECOMING.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 9115, 21 December 1907, Page 1

THE CHRISTMAS HOMECOMING.

(By JAMES BABR.) Author of "The Witchery, of th« Ser* pent," "Ujider the Eavea of Night," eto. , [All Rights Reserved.) . "Tre decided to spend Christmao \M the country. " " Guest of a Duko or just a, plaUk J.P.?" , , "Betwixt and between— * baronet 1 * The company laughed. They wer« an interesting collection of humanity these patrons of Rowton House. Hank* mersmith. " Seen better days, glint* ed out of many eyea, "I>own on injj luck," was written in wrinkles acrofli many foreheads. For the RowtdOt House . habitant is usually he who tfl slipping down the sharp slope of adversity, and, is caught for a moment on the brink of that flinty precipice* pauperism. Jack Lawrence spoke: " My\ mind is made up. Loo-long back four years I see that one Chrwfc* mas I spent before the mast off th# Horn living on icicles" and oaths, tne other- three were passed in London. The first I spent in ' chambers in tft» Middle Tempi©, the second in lodging* in Russell Square, and the third iv diggings in Kennington, steps ana stairs downward' as you 'note. To-day Fm< confronted' with a still lower step, Rowton Hotels—4r"- ----" Hold hard ! * Step soft! I'll back our hotel* against , Kennington digjpnga or even frowsy Rue6ell Square.- • Tha Temple I' take my hat off to but-7 Jack Lawrence refused to be drawn into a. discussion as to the merits *<w Rowton and Russell. Square. "I have the sum or 'fifteen shilling! and some odd pence, which, with tJMi assistance of the three Bs will carry .me the distance I intend placing between me and delicious Hammersnutlu I'm off to-morrow.'' s " The threeß'sf 1 ", " Begging, ' borrowing, . bludgeoning. No, I do not intend turning *foo*-paa. The bludgeoning ; refers to the occasional rabbit andT roosting pheasant on* accidentally slays when trying to knock plum puddings off beech trees." The Conservative element, ere* strong in Rowton House, stood aghast at this last ,B. Notwithstanding thd roar of disapproval Lawrence held:^ <c A pheasant cooked on the lee stdd of a hedge is at least equal to a kipper toasted over a Rowton fire. I'm p*»pared to maintain, that in argument. " I know what you' U get if you start out through rural England tne three Bs as a paesporT-y-rthe b>&, scragged, sentenced, skillied.' Lawrence paid no heed to the journal list's growl. He straightened his broad back, clasped masterly muscular hamto round his left knee, shook his jet-black Sikh-like beard free f rota his collar, and hie keen blue eyes danced round the company. Seldom did & Rowton Hww harbour such a grand specimen of yui physical man. " ■<' "I marked the very spot for ai Christmas, wooded ; hollow well back from the highway, a deserted cottage with a\game preserve beginning at th« d«orstep^«md Tunning: over th<* fronting hill. The floor of the cottage is of hardened earth, the roof of thatch judiciously tunnelled by sparrows and mice. A clear wood fire in the centre of ,tha floor, a rabbit Qn a pointed stick grilling. Think of it ye kipper-toaster^ !" "Easy! Go slow! Better a kipper in hand than a poached pheasant in tha bush." . .., -,* "You'll come with me, Bellingham,'* Lawrence said to .the man of exclamations, a queer small man of indefiniW : age and cautious mien^' who had acted , many parts in his lifetime, each with conspicuous undistinction. , "You'll come with me, my mind is made up on I tihat point." - "Step soft! Easy there!" deprecated Bellirigham, holding aloft a cautioning index fingef. let his tones told that the proposal appealed to hjm, as every, change had all through . life.: And next morning a certain interested number of Rowton patrons assembled in King Street; Hammersmith, to see Lawrence and' Bellingham face to th# east and set off on their tramp to Suffolk. : - w The great highway is there to thjs diay ; who cares can follow the 'footsteps of Lawrence and Bellingham. Through! the heart of the city the two adventure ers hied, on past RoinfoTd and Brent* wood, Chelmsford. CJoichesteir, and Ip**' wich; then holding to. the west," atf length they etood on the crown; of a gentle rise and saw down into tide valley wooded and -gracious. Early gloaming was upon the land, the evening was that preceding Christmas JE^ei Lawrence had grown more vivacious as, he trod through Suffolk and proved himself a prince of companions,' but during the last hour of the tramp silence fell upon him. The top of the hill gained he fang 'an eager glance intpjbbe valley to the right of the road. When, ma eye fell upon the thatch roof of. a tiny cottage his spirits bounded into the a?rv "The promised land, Bellingbami'* he exclaimed, gleefully. "You cans call me ' Moses ' if you like| I've led you to it in less fhan forty years.?. "Step light! Steady there! Moseii was not allowed to enter -" ■ "What's this ahead of us ©n : thai roadP" asked Lawrence, glancing keenS: ly through the elf hazel / "A dog cart, and— -^" BeJlingjhan* paused. "As you say, And. The And/a th« thing. A lady, Bellingham ; Miss And» of Suffolk. Suffolk girls are girls, tb* best in the world I'll have you ".know, Bellingham, for I know you don't know". But what's the matter with Miss And? Why is the horse stationary? /Wait* Bhe for you, Bellingham? Gut with it I Have you made an appointment with Miss And in a lovely valley under th« eaves of the > gloaming?" "Step soft! Avast heaving!" cattr. tioned Bellingham. " She sees us. If we stand here gaping she will take us for suspicious characters. Tread light IV The girl whose back was towards th« travellers had looked over her shoulder and espied the two, yet she sat still in the motionless trap. - "I wish she had taken her fctand. elsewhere than immediately in front of my country Christmas cottage. We dare not creep into the castle while that Sybil Jehu remains where she is. We must trudge on and pass Miss And. When she moves we'll turn back and take possession." ' , As the two drew near a broad smile spread over ' Lawrence's features. He knew horses. . / "Beauty is prisoner to yihe> beaatj*he" said lightly. " That horse is a jibber. He's struck. *If I had a donkey and he wouldn't go, d'ye think I'd whack-a-bang . himP' Good evening, Miss And." • .■.•-.:. ■■■■" ■7T.'. : . "Can,, you induce this brute- to movePVcried the girl in tonee of ap» peal and annoyance, Lawrenoe glaocMjlt at the gjkVs' face ; thea JR«ile4 -Jra;

douch hat so far over his eyes that he looked like a stage brigand. ' a ;"** Have you asked it to moveP" he -flueried, running his eye over the jnorse. "Asked itP" repeated the girl, astonished. ? i* Because if it won't oblige a lady *r© have no right to expect.it to pay attention to the requests of utter stranrgers.". /i£>T&ei girl straightened her shoulders. ,W&d a look of mingled annoyance and disdain swept across her aristocratic features. „;?/>i«sf£iam. sorry I asked your assistance. Good evening." '-•"Lawrence paid no attention to his dismissal. He sauntered round the horse muttering, " If I had a quadru- > ped l and he respectfully declined to get on him " Suddenly he •*SkM: C " Have yon tried the whip, Miss r? "My name is not Miss And, and I jbisnre tried the whip." "Well, if you've asked and been refrisedv and whipped and been declined, *f jijon't see that there's much more to ftS'sald. I think we had better all sit { tlOTPl"and wait. This horse is a Quak- ;&. Words and punishment are of no /avail,: only the spirit can move it. "Good evening," said the girl icily . s^ vThe man provoked her worse than the horse. . you going?" asked Lawrence, ■^nnajently. V^-SBfe girl spoke indignantly. % "It is intolerable that you should add to the vexatious position instead of helping me. You know I cannot go, bat I wish you would leave me. "You are the antithesis of this fcorse; It won't stir; you jump oS too iast. You know enough about horses to understand that a jibber will not be forced. Therefore, don't you think the sfeest way out would be for you to make toff on foot to your destination, and fcend a groom to await the horee's royal jpleasure? That's why I asked if you Were going." . Margaret Courage, niece of Sir John g Mirage, of Ravenscourt, whose # land j for miles on every side, hesitated jfco ieave horse and dog-cart. "We can't run away with a jiobmg jjioTse very well, you know, Miss And,' laid Lawrence, divining the reason for the hesitancy. The girl bit her lip; then, laying 'Tmde the reins, stepped down to thß ro:.d. "I am going to Ravenscourt, and 'from there will send a groom. You may **TJMt ox not, as, you please; I have little "interest in the animal now that it has played me this trick." "We'll stand by to the bitter end, fcut where is Ravensoourt?" . " Two miles from here. Thank you, »ad good evening." _ « ' ' The girl set off at a rattling pace, folJowed ■•by the eyes of the two men. -," What ! What ! Spunky girl, don't Wu think, Lawrence?" . Lawrence turned his eyes from the gxi'l to look at the horse. The steed stood in irritated determination, quite prepared to be burned at the stake rajfchor than budge an inch. On a sudden a remembrance came to his mind, an Incident seen in Canada. He whirled ttpon Bellingham. •'. *' Jump into the trap and do what I tell you. If you manage to start this Yeast keep it going till you overtake TkUss And, then resign command and return to me. I 6»w a jibber started this %ay," and he explained. The two set to work. Lawrence stepped to the horse's .bead and tied the blinkers in such a way as to allow the animal only a narrow sight straight ahead. Next the two men kicked up as big a hullabaloo a9 v posBible, shouting, yelling, cracking the -iphipi, kicking the cart, and lashing the florae the only noticeable effect being Itfiat the animal stood, if possible, more Hgid than ever. After the racket had continued for a couple of minutes, on a -sudden the reins were slackened, the ir Ws3p ceased to switch, and silence as of ■•lite grave fell upon the scene. Not a . vfereath. not a word, broke the hollow 'Ifcillttefje. A long time the brute stood -jHAU^then one of its ears began to next a hoof stamped to # challenge attention. No response. Ginger-ly-it kiwung its head to one side and saw .noiiving; to the other side and saw nofffing It kicked the gravel savagely listened. / It heard nothing but a iSgftp! 1 silencei/ It flicked its tail, threw wsffiaixl one ear, stamped witr^its fore jXJft&fs, and strained its neck in an at- - INSe3arpt to catch sight of the cart. At ' length the dread eeriness of the silence '-stftruck upon its eouli it threw both ears forward and seemed to cower, while its i^ifdarters trembled as though stricken with a giant ague. Tlfe moment had arvjtiyedw liawrence. who held a length *ji s bftard in his hand, raised this above his J^gaelj and at a prearranged sig*aj iib^OfUght it down flat upon the horse s '.-firaart^rs. There followed a report like tpe A firing of a young cannon, and this *ras supplemented .by a series of such . unearthly yells as '. those old hills had never heard. The horse poised one fraction of _ a second to taut muscles, then gathering its legs together it shot forward through the air like a dynamite-driven .^projectile. The cart ran the first twenty 'yards on its left wheel, the next twenty boh its right, then continued up the Blope like a bounding kangaroo, while j poor Bellingham hung on- to the seat uke grim death. - Lawrence soratohed his head. •■ ;r^*^r believe we told her that we could run away with her horse and' cart Looks; as if we underestimated our abilities," he said. ■ , Margaret Courage heard a great •poise, and on glancing round saw what Was up. Dashingfor safety she beheld ,tiie spectacle 6weep past. The horse had the bit between its teeth, its eyes jfelled frantically, and its ears were laid flat back upon its, neck, and it ran/only ite ths insane can run. Bellingham, ■frho'liy this time had possessed himself of 1 " the reins, tugged ineffectively. "Can't stop!" he bawled as he bowled past. • 1 J Bellingham's career was brilliant and ghort. Insane in most things the horse itnck to its bump of locality. This . the disaster. Coming to\the Vgnirance to Ravenscourt, and finding ■ tihe gate open, it fiercely swung from the highway to the gravel drive. For one wild moment the dog-cart poised on Ite left wheel, then with tke agility of k Catherine wheel, it turned heels over -head to meet Budden annihilation against the stone gate-post. The horse •dashed up the drive with tattered harness flying like signals of distress, the sight striking consternation to all hearts . inShip hall, quite a dozen rushing off to nuocour Margaret Courage. That disaster had overtaken her no one could dpubt. They found no Margaret, but, Instead, Bellingham. When the horse began its mad swerve Bellingham, who all the time had been rim "his feet, crouched like a bare-back * rid^rj/'and. as the foundations of the 'fcirW seemed to drop from under him W'feaped into the air to be clear of the wreck which he . felt bound must if result. He had no time to speculate upon what might or might not happen> he just let things happen. What did happen was that he alighted on the top of a holly hedge three feet broad, and along this he went bounding like p, chased cat. At length, missing the hedge, he fell with a crash to the frozen ground, and woke up in bed in the servants' quarters of RaVenscoart. That evening a doctor swathed him in bandages until he could witb credit have joined the genial conmunrly of SSyptian mummies in the British useum. ''_■;. When Lawrence finished laughing at :;jthe spectacle of the flying horse and flinging driver he turned and made to the cottage to prepare fire *jind a meal against the home-coming ,<# has companion. It did not cross his '•mind that harm would befall Bellingham, for he looked upon the. horse's endeavour as a spasmodio burst. First, Ziaszwice lighted a small but vicious

fire of wood in the centre of the floor, a fire that was the maximum of heat to the minimum of smoke. This well going he set out, and stealthily made his way into the game < overt, and in less than an hour carried that in his hand which in olden days would have provided him with a free trip to Botany Bay, and even to-day provides much oakum picking. Yet he gaily trudged back to the cottage carrying these two rabbits and three pheasants as though he owned the estate. That evening his taste ran to pheasant broiled over the coals. After smoking a couple of pipes, and wondering what in the world had become of Bellingbam, he placed two great logs on the fire, wrapped his overcoat round him, and with his feet to the loss and back to the wall he slept as only, a strong young man used to roughing it can sleep. Next day Bellingbam, propped up in bed, deceived a visit from Margaret Courage. The girl felt that the queer stranger's misfortunes had come to pass through his attempt to assist her, and her distress was genuine. She feared, too, that she had been instrumental in parting friends, for although search along the highway had been made for Lawrence it proved fruitless. Hearts are tender, at Christmas-tide. Margaret Courage found a cheerful sufferer in Bellingham. " Hold hard ! Not a word I" he said, when she hegan to express her sorrow. " I was never more happy in my life. Not a word.!" The one eye at his disposal sparkled cheerfully, and the bandages round his cheeks buckled to the touch of an attempted smile. The girl took a seat by the bedside. "Can I send word of your whereabouts to anyone anywhere P\ Someone may be expecting you." ' Up went the warning finger. "Whist! Whist! No one expects me. Miss And." The girl started. " Why do you persist in calling m« Mies And? I have said that is not my name." Under the bandages Bellingham blushed. _ _ " Hold hard I It slipped. He named you that. Tread soft V' " But why did he name me that?" " It's his way. No one can tell why Lawrence does anything. Think of what he's doing now — hold hard !" The girl noticed a sudden great conr fusion fall upon the Invalid. ' ."What is he doing now? We have tried to find him, but failed." Bellingham sat silent. He was a man confirmed in confusion and truth. The girl scented a mystery, and mystery converts every woman who is worth her salt into personified inquisitivo- " What is he doing now ?'\ she asked, looking Bellingham steadily in that one eye. " Whist 1 Whist! He is bludgeoning. Not a word 1" \ Margaret started in alarm. Bludgeoning! Were the two men footpada? Had she been in danger last evening in i the hollow P Bellingham read her thoughts, and made haste to reassure her. , "JSaay there! Not men, yon know. Rabbits and pheasants." Then Bellingham made a clean breast of it. He told of his meeting with Lawrence in "Rowton House, of the three Bs, their tramp together, and their intended destination. "Right as rain, he's in.. that cottage in the hollow this very minute," ended Bellingham " Then I must warn him before thegamekeepers catch him. No mercy is shown to poachers on Sir John's estate. I'll cycle over and warn him. There is no danger?" ' , "Him! Jack Lawrence dangerous? He would not hurt a mouse." " Only pheasantsP" "Hold bard! Mind the step!" was Bellingham's only reply. Margaret Courage found some difficulty in getting free of the people at Ravensoourt, and it was not till nearly five o'clock that she reached the lonely cottage. Drawing near she heard singing. Jack Lawrence's mood was nautical ; he sang a sailor's chanty. Margaret coughed a discreet warning and approached the half-open door. Lawrence's back was towards her; he boiled water for tea. The gixl rapped against the door. The man ceased to sing, but neither turned head nor said a word. Margaret knocked a second time. ' " If the door is not open wide enough, shove it wider," said the poacher, with-, out lifting his eyes from the fire. v Were I engaged in cooking poached game I would wish people to stay out* side." , " Bless my heart !" exclaimed Lawrence, leaping to his feet, "I did not know a lady knocked. Come in." Then, when he snvr who called, he added, "That horse of yours jibbed again? Ahl A bicycle this time. Better a puncture than a jib." The place was blue with smoke, making it difficult to see. 'As always, he kept his hat on well over his eyes. He noticed her catch sight of the bludgeoned pheasants. "Splendid birds," he said cheerfully. She shook her head. "Too expensive," she said. ,« " It does cost to rear pheasanfe. for a fact. They came cheap to me, however." " You do not know. You have not paid for them — yet." She spoke quietly. He understood her meaning. "/I think a pheasant is less sacred than a hungry human stomach,'' he said bluntly. "I think so, too, but the law thinksdifferent, and it is the Jaw that is allowed to do the thinking. You and youT friend did me a service^ yesterday* and your friend is suffering for his kindness. I have come here to do you a service and to prevent you suffering. I know how the law is enforced on this estate, and I tremble for you." "I recognise your goodness," he bowed, then added iightly, "I would like to te hospitable. Can you stay and have a bit of dinner with meP It is pheasant to-night." The girl swept to the door. Her face blazed with indignation. t "You deserve disaster. This is the first time that I have condescended to speak to a poacher, and 'it shall be the last. If I had no right to expect gratitude, I 'certainly had a right to re-, spect." " Surely it is not a deadly sin to offer refreshments," he began; but she picked up her bicycle and made off. " The sooner I change now the better," he said to himself; and, taking out of his pocket a pair of folding scissors and a mirror no larger than a five-shilling piece, he cut off his splendid black beard. Then from his knapsack he produced razor, brush and soap, and shaved himself clean. "It is like retrieving five years of the past," he said, "as he examined himself in the glass. " For years I have been somebody else; now I am myself." Margaret Courage had not been gone more than half an hour when Lawrence received other callers. This time the visitors stood on ceremony not at all. They flung open the door and were into the place before Lawrence, could put down hie pannikin of tea, which rested on his knee. He raised his eye and beheld three weafiherbeaten men surveying him. "Do you mind shutting the door? This place is confoundedly draughty." The three glowered at him, then at one another. Presently the head gamekeeper spoke. " You'll soon be where they keep the doo-s tight enough, all right." "That's no reason why I should catch cold now. Shut the door, please." "You're a cool customer, I must say," gasped the keeper. "That's what I'm complaining of," said Lawrence. '•' Take the birds and stamp out the fire," said the head keeper to one of his assistants. "We'll attend to this gent. You'll have to come along^ with, us, my man." ".Wliatiflrefue©?."

" We'll make you." , "Well it's Christmas Eve, bo I'm a man of peace. Perhaps it will save us all trouble if I go along quietly: Where are you taking me to?" " Ravenscourt. Sir John will want to have a squint at you." "Kind of Sir John, < I'm sure. How long have you been in his employ?" "Three years. We came from Derbyshire." "Ah I" On the way Lawrence learned that there was a family reunion for Christmas at Raven&court, and a good many guests besides The keepers were about to take him by a short cut across fields, but Lawrence begged of them to stick to the road, as ho desired a good view of the front of Ravenecourt. The study of the noble faces of English country houses was his particular hobby, he said. They humoureVi him, and soon in the frosty haze of the Christmas Eve there before him shone the broad, honest front of Ravensoourt, its three rows of windows glowing from the warmth and light within. > Lawrence I came to a full stop, gamng at the olace, and stood so long that his cue- , todian. found it necessary to arouse very well, letf s get in," said the poacher, making for the front d °" r Not that way," said the keeper, adding that poachers were not of frontdoor caste. "This one is." , , . . As he spoke Lawrence lunged h» shoulder against one of his attendants, \ at the same time swinging his muscular right leg so that it swept the feet from under the second keeper. Then at a dash he ran the intervening fifty yards reached the door, and seizing the ereat knocker set up such a rat-tat as the Hall had not heard in a hundred years. Retaining hold of the knocker and continuing to rap with all has might he faced the keepers. "Stand back," he barked fiercely. 14 This poacher goes in at the front door every time." . m , The three men hesitated. Whatever damage could be done had already been done, for the whole Hall was alarmed by the savage knocking, and the front door swung slowly. When it atood fuU open it displayed a gr< eat hall with the noble fi~nre of a butler silhouetted against the blaze of light. The poacher promptly stepped in. "Well, James, your shadow has not grown less in five years, that I'll i SW€t£tl* The butler faltered two half-steps backward, his flat jaw dropped, and his arms stiffened 'by his side, the fingers of each hand widely extended. "Don't faint, James," said the poacher. " I'm not a Christmas ghost, I'm in the flesh. Where's Sir JohnP In the library?" He did not wait for an answer, but stroda through the hall and opened the library door. Sir John Courage had •arisen at the unseemly hammering at the front door. Lawrence stepped up | to him, and holding out his hand said : " Father, a merry Christmas." i A tear tipped over from the old man's eye and lodged on his cheek. He took the young man's hand. " The same to you, my son," he said. They who five years before had parted in anger came together frankly and manly. Each heart rejoiced at meeting. _ _ The five years' self-exile had ended, the term "exile" applying equally to the father who had remained at home and to the son who bad angrily stalked out into the world. Sir John Courage felt as if he himself had just arrived from long wandering. "Jack, my son, there's someone somewhere about the house who will rejoice to see you again. After greeting her you have comfortable time to dress for dinner." Dress for dinner? Jack Courage's thoughts flew back to that black forecastle and that drab Row ton, and be found himself obliged to cudgel his mind before remembering what "dress" meant. He hastened off to meet his cousin, Margaret Courage. Word of his homecoming . and the manner of it had reached her, and, womanlike, she cleverly arranged that she should be alone when he came to her. As he advanced across the room the girl sank to the floor in the most graceful of curtseys and as slowly raked herself to her full height. "I — am — honoured, Mr Poacher Lawrence," she said. " The honour is all mine, Miss And " be Teplied, sweeping her a bow that would have' satisfied King Charles. Then Jack stepped t quickly up to his laughing sweetheart, and taking her in his arms kissed her ten times, although there was not so much as one sprig of mistletoe anywhere about the place. "Whist! Whist! Step light 1 Go easy I Avast heaving I" muttered Bellirigham when he heard of the homecoming of Jack Courage, sometime Lawrence, and of the meeting with Miss And.