A Country House Party.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 17231, 24 December 1923, Page 3

A Country House Party.

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT

(By

DAVID LYALL).

[.COPYRIGHT.J Suddenly Thomson took a tren. dous resolution. Glancing over the “Times” advertisements one morning near Christinas, hi i imagination was stirred by a number of attractions offered for Christmas at the seaside and in the country. They were as varied as they were numerous. Some boldly offered “ the homo from home ” which wise travellers avoid , come tabulated the creature comforts, laying special stress on the cuisine while others marshalled with prtdo the cr-toi taimnmit to Ik* provided for tho Cl.i stir.as guests—tho dancing floor, tho fancy dress ball, young und congenial company. It was the last sentence that did it. Thomson needed congenial company, because ho was a lonely man. Tho Manor of Hillington, Berks, invited him, for a consideration, to become a Christmas guest. That was tho house which offered young and congenial society. That very dov lie wrote asking accommodation, describing himsilf as a city man who required rest and change. He heard from the Manor of Hillington by return of post, and another letter fixed up the transaction and registered him as a guest for whom accomp odation wns reserved Going to Gotland for Christmas this year, eh, Thomson?” inquired old Mr Tarland, tho head of the firm, meeting him on the stairs one afternoon as he passed from one department to another.

“ No, sir, only into the country. Berkshire, a country house visit,” answered Thomson airily. “ Very good, too, hope you’ll enjoy it. No place like the country when you get there, and happen to like it. Town’s good enough for me.” Thomas left Paddington with a wellpacked suit-case, a new overcoat, and a smart suit of country clothes. It was a fifty minutes’ run, and he arrived at Hillington Magna station in lovely, clear starlight, which contrasted favourably with the muggy and very un-Christmas atmosphere he had left in London. He looked round anxiously at the station for other country house guests, but the only one was a woman, quite young, wearing a long fur coat and a coquettish hat. She was superintending the extraction of a large dress trunk from the luggage van as Thomson passed. When he heard her say “ Manor of Hillington ” he felt a thrill down his spine. He quickened his steps to the outside, hoping to find some vehicle waiting, but there was none.

“ No, sir, nothing come from the Manor. They ain’t got anything to come, sir,” he explained. ‘ It’s a fly from the village mostly, the Cock and Hoop, you know, but theyso all out this afternoon, I know.”

“ Ob,” said Thomson, “is it far to walk ?”

“Matter o’ two miles, &ir; only a mile by the woods, but you mite get lost by .takin* the wrong turnin’ in the dark. I’d advise you to wait till old Joe Baggies comes up for the seventen.”

“ What! Nothing from Hillington Manor? How unutterably disgusting, ” cried a fresh, clear, young voice. “ They knew I was coming? Isn’t there anything to bo got to take me up?”

At that Thomson, with considerable inward tremors, stepped forward, raising his soft hat-

“ Excuse me, madam, but wo appear to be in tho same plight. I’m bound for the Manor of Hillington—l’ve just heard it’s two miles off. I thought I’d walk. My uamo is Thomson— Harold Thomson. I suggest, that we walk and leave our stuff to be brought in the fly of a person, name of joe Baggies.” “ Qh I” said the young person again. “ Well, I don’t mind. My name’s Dartle—Rosa Dartle.”

Thomson once more slightly raised his hat. Where had he hoard that name before? It was not until he was in his bed that night that he remembered that Rosa Dartle was the name of a rather unpleasant person in Dickens’s book. “ Dombey and Son.” “ I don’t mind if' I do walk,” 6aid Miss Dartle. “It would be rather slow kicking our heels in this Godforsaken station, wouldn’t it? But can we be sure the stuff will be brought up by the Baggies gentleman?” “ I’ll see to that. Miss,” put in the porter civilly, and in his eyes there was rather an amused look. They derided to trust him. and walked off together, after receiving his instructions as to the route.

“ T shouldn’t call this good business, would you. Mr Thomson, not for people anxious to encourage paying guests. That’s what we are. aren’t we?” “\es, I answered an advertisement in the ‘ Times-’ Have you been hero before?”

“ Good gracious, no. I don’t know that I’ve any particular business here now. but one mukt go somewhere for Christmas, and at the place where I live nothing much seemed to be offering. so I though T would do a small flutter on my own.”

“ Precisely mv said Thomson delightedly. “ I belong far north.” “ Scotch ?” suggested Miss Dartle. with a swift side glance. “ Thought so. from your accent.”

“ I don’t think it so pronounced as all that, hut I’m not ashamed of it.” “ It would be very queer if you wore. Most of your oonntryrnen are simply bulging with conceit about their nationality. and always thrusting it at von. T haven’t much use for them myself.”

“ I hope T shall prove at least inoffensive.” observed Thomson meekly. “Oh. I think you will. Shall we •oretond we know one another as we’ve •rrived together?” “C’hgrmed, I’m sure.” said Thomson. >nd spoke as if he meant it. 44 Veil, von *ee T shan’t knoxv anvw. and it wdl give us a. feeling of confidence. It’s quite often done now. People who know one another arrange to go to the same place for holidays. 1 tried to get a g : rl to come with m". u ut at the last minute she was prevented.” “ None of the rest of your people "ould come with you?” “ No, sind *bev don’t know I’m here ” ronlied D*r*!e with an '’mazing confidence. “ They’d hem a fit. mv old uncle and aunt. The V *hing I’m <Tv>nrlinn- CbUtr.-R with tho very girl I’ve just srv>k«n Tf they ever find out—well, thev’ii have mo more use for me, I’m afra ; d.” Thomson was still further amazed at *his confidence, but there wns something so sincere and attractive about his fellow-guest that he had no reason •o doubt it. We might he cousins,” she said presently. “It would have ouit* a lot >f trouble ,and give us all the freedom we need to go about together. Then we could danco. Du you danoe?” “ Yes, after a fashion,” answered rhomeon. rather lamely. Miss Dartle was quick to observe the alight strain in his voice. “ You’d -ather not,” she said quickly. 44 Do i.nd 1 wish 1 could go home again. : it I can’ i. T think you’re a good sort that would help a damsel in distress,

to tho extent of being a cousin for three or' four days.” Thomson *aughed, and tine sound was pleasant and reassuring on the night air. Ho was enjoying himself immensely, and having a slice of quite new experience.

The spirit of adventure was abroad in tho Berkshire lanes that night; quite innocent adventure, which stirred the blood and modo life suddenly become an amazing thing full of the most cheerful possibilities. explained his situation, described himself as that mysterious “ something in the city ” which covers a multitude of hazards if not of sins, but did not mention tho nqme of the firm with which he was identified. Miss Rosa Dartle listened interestedly, putting in a word here and there sympathising with his loneliness and his desire for change, which partook of the essence of her own unrest.

“ But you’ve the whip hand every time, being a man,” she said, with a little catch in her voice. “ The odds are always against the girl. It’s whatever you’re doings don’t do it, world without end! I wish I’d been born

“Oh. but the world would have been so much the poorer,” began Thomson eagerly. Miss Dartle stoppd dead in the road. “ Now, if you’re going to talk like that we part company here and now. When I looked at you at the station I didn’t thiuk you were that sort. Perhaps it was tho oil-lamp camouflaged your real self.” “ I’m not that sort,” answered Thomson meekly, “ and I humbly beg your pardon. I promise not to offend again. But I should have thought in these days that all the odds were with the girl. That’s what the papers tell us, anyhow. The woman’s age, you know, and we’re to be wiped out.” “ I don’t see it,” returned Miss Dartle in her quite normal voice. “In my estimation it’s only a move on the board for your sex to get more power. I say, do you suppose we shall soon be at this blinking place—and who’s going to do the explaining?” “ We shan’t do anj',” said Thomson firmly. “ Not any at all. Obviously the line to take is just indignation about not being met.” “Splendid! Well, you’ll 4o it. I leave everything to you,” said Miss Dartle; and on that understanding they arrived at the distinctly pretentious looking gates of Hillington Manor. It was an old property that had fallen on evil days and been bought for a mere song at the moment when there was a slump in big houses. It was now being run for a profit by an enterprising ex-officer and his very capable wife. They were gentle people, whom fortune had treated scurvily, but they knew how to cater for country house guests, and did it well. They recived the walking couple with many apologies, and promised to see that'the luggage was brought up without undue delay. Miss Dartle decided that the assemblage of guests were a motley crew when 6he descended to tho drawing-room three-quarters of an hour later, a demure but attractive figure in a black net frock with a bunch of roses at her waist. Her clear eye 6 detected all the makeshifts in the furnishing and appointments of the house, and were quick enough to 6pot tho weakness” of the paying-guest system. You can’t select your guests. You have to take what comes, and, when you have your living to make, can’t afford to pick and choose except ou the broadest lines.

There were about a score of people in the drawing-room, some of them frankly impossible, according to Miss Dartle’s standard She wondered, for instance, how Major and Mrs Tristram could stand a very vulgar, decollete mother and two daughters, painted and rouged, attired in brief skirts and diaphanous bodices. Also, the.ro were some rather objectionable-looking men. Miss Dartle found herself seated beside one at the table—a long one of the usual type. It made her think of old days at Swiss and German resorts, when her father and mother came to take her back by circuitous routes from her foreign school. There were some small tables, but they had been taken. Miss Dartle could not see Thomson at all, because he was seated at one behind her, and good manners forbade her to turn round to discover what he was about and who were his vis-a-vis.

Miss Dartle had one of the underdressed ones on one side of her, and a fat, middle-aged man who tucked his napkin in at his collar and ate his soup audibly. “Jolly little place this, eh? —especially for lonely folks,” he began affaby. “ Ever been hero before?” “God forbid!” very neary fell from Miss Dartle’s lips. All sbo succeeded in getting out. however, was a faint, indecisive “ No.”

“ Hear it’s very jolly, and T must say they do you well. It was a topping dinner last night. Of course they’re toffs, the Tristrams. They know how to treat people. Goin’ to stay long?” Miss Dartle had a great aversion to people whG clipped their words and never sounded a “ g,” but she tried to swallow her aversion and to be polite. That is the worst of being a paying guest; you’re expected to bo polite- to other paying guests, all the time, whatever you or they may be like. It was rather an appalling thought. She longed for Thomson, with his quiet, respectful manner, his beautiful clear speech with the slight Scotch breadth and music in it; his quick readiness b see the queer side of things. She imagined herself walking tlit lanes in the clear dark with this oveririendly specimen, and inwardly shuddered “ Goin’ to stay long—all the ’olidays, l hoper"’ said her febow-guest eagerly. “ Got a rippiu’ dance-floor here, and a gel that plays the piano a treat. We had quite a nice little ’op last night Are you goin’ to stay long?” “No,’” said Miss Dartle boldly; “ only till Monday.” ’ “Ah' ha! Only a week-end flutter, eh? Who s with you?” “ Only a cousin—he’s at another table,” said Miss Dartle calmly. “We couldn’t sit together, because we wero the latest arrivals, but Mrs Tristram has promised to arrange us bettero to morrow.”

It was a decided rebuff but then, if you happen to be a person who doesn’t take rebuffs, who simply doesn’t see them, wbat is to be done? Obviously, adopt some other tactics* It was not a long dinner, but Miss Dartle was thankful when it was over. The young lady in the pink tulle evidently was an noyed with her for engrossing the attention of the gentleman who clipped his words. Until the new arrival he had been paying his chief attention to her. As Miss Dartle left the room she cast a distinctly appealing glance at Thomson, which had the effect of mak ing him rise, and follow her into the hall, which was always spoken of by the guests an “the lounge.” Mins Dartle turned to him with n. look of relief. and made a. queer little wry face. “ Oh, what a queer lot! How did you get ou? You had all men at your table. I rather envied vou. But vou into ‘/r eyes crept a most amused look! He. was enjoying himself immensely,

and felt, more and more drawn to the girl, who so evidently regarded him as a friend, if not actually as a. companion in distress.

“ Of course, J. see what a mistake it was. A girl oughtn’t to come to a place lfko this by herself. Tho old logic’s are right, aftor all. I’ve a very good mind to tell Mrs Tristram all about it. She -looks such a. good sort, and is a lady. How she can stick this sort, of thing, goodjiesa knows.” “ I expect she has her living to get,” suggested Thomson, blinking his kind eyes significantly. “ I’d rather char at my uncle s offices in Reed Lane—l really would,” said Miss Dartle, with conviction. “ Reed Lane —that’s where 1 seen'’ my happy working days,” said Thom son with a smile. “ One more link bo tween us.”’ “Ts it a nice place? I’ve often threatened Uncle Silas with a visit, but he was' never very encouraging Oh, goodness! Here they are.—coming out. All I want is to bo protected from th 2> gentleman who talks about 4 rippin’ ’ and ' goin’.’ You will protect me, won't you?” Thomson.could have, replied that he would do it with his life when she look • like that, but he, had not the opportunity. The stout one bore down upon them immediately. He was even plainer than before, for the vast expanse of shirt front had got ruffled and stood out; also, liis faco was flushed and his smile a. trifle fatuous. Compared with him. how cool and fine Thomson looked, in his well-fitting dinner jacket, neat black tie and slim figure. Miss Dartle felt her heart warm to him. The elderly Lothario, whose namo was Pennington, tried to devote himself to Miss Dartle from that moment onward. Next day, to escape his attentions, she begged Thomson to make an excursion with her to some ruins in the neighbourhood. When they went off together immediately after lunch, several significant glances were exchanged, and it was passed round that, though they might be cousins, they wero also an engaged couple. They had a very happy afternoon together, walking steadily across the frozen fields, enjoying the clear, crisp air and one another’s company. Thomson was a modest, unassuming young man, but well read, and a good conversationalist when fairly started He was delighted to find that Miss Dartle was a great reader, and there is no finer bond than sympathy about books. “ I think I'm rather glad I came, after nil.” said Miss Dartle. as they turned their faces homewards after their five-mile walk and inspection of the old monastery; ‘‘but what I should have done without yoii, Heaven alone knows! My blood curdles at tho thought.” Thomson laughed. “ And I without you. What should I have done among that queer crowd?”

“ Oh, you could have made up with the pink lady. Perhaps I’ve kept you from her engaging side P” observed Miss Dartle, with a little demure side glauce. “ Possibly, but the chances are against it. I should probablv have made up to the long-faced clergyman and tried to retrieve him from his slough of despond about modern life and manners.”

“ Oh', is-that- his line? Well. I’d better not get into conversation with him. or he might dub me an awful ex ample. He ought to give his mind to Mr Pennington, and try to improve him.”

“ Pennington perhaps isn't so bad when you know him,” said Thomson, disposed at that happy moment to a large charity. “He reminds me a little of one of the partners at our office, a man called Wingfield. He an noys Mr Tarland, but ” “What is it now?” asked Thomson, as Miss Dartle stood still ou the path, planting her shepherd's crook on the hard ground and staring liard. “Tarland, did you say—mean to “Mean to say what?” “That you’re at Tarland’s office?” “ Yes. I’m the managing clerk in the firm of Tarland. Gibson and Wingfield,” answered Thomson a trifle stiffly, but at the same time quite glad of tho opportunity of stating his case exactly. He knew nothing about the subterfuges and pretensions adopted by men of a certain brand who masquerade at holiday quarters as persons of importance, sometimes even impersonating their own employers. Thomson was far too straight. and sincere to think of such a thing. What disquiet ed him was that he was beginning to be far too deeply interested in this fascinating, live creature, so different from any women he had ever. met. Why shouldn’t I be at Tarland’s office? Anything against it?” he asked, wondering why she continued to stare at him. “It's Nemesis, or fate, or whatever is tho malign influence which pursues me. I’m not Rosa Dartle at all —I’m Madge Tarland.” “Oh!” said Thomson, and took a step back in his astonishment. “ Didn’t it strike you that there was something queer about my name? Of course, if I’d known you, were such a reader I’d have adopted a. less flagrant nom-de-plume.” “‘Alias* is the word,” said Thomson, with a dry smile of pure amusement. “ No, pardon me, it’s only an alias when the police arc after you, and I haven’t committed any crime-—only an , indiscretion. But if you lived with Uncle Silas I “I work with him,” observed Tliom- | son ; but his look was singularly blank. 1 From it Miss Tarland could not guess i whether he was shocked or merely ! puzzled. I “ Then you do- understand,” she ! said. But you can escape from him j after your working day is over. . I : never do. Then there’s Aunt Caroline as well. I'm in a cage. I wanted a little flutter—a perfectly innocent one ; but my sin has found me out—l had to tell lies. Lies don’t pay, Harold Thomson, from any point of view. s ’ “ I’m sure of it. But yours, so far, haven’t done any great harm.” “ No, but I’ve lost your respect. I can see that. What are yon going to • do about it, then—wire to Uncle Silas ?” “ It’s no business of mine, and if—” “If what?” If I might presume to advice. Id j say. let us go on to the end of tho j holiday and make the best of it. ExI planations can come after, if necesj sary. I rather think they are going to be necessary, but I’ll be in the offing when the critical moment comes.” Madge Tarland’s colour rose, and she ; began to walk on. totally unable to 1 account for the queer feeling which j stole over her. She took his advice, however, and re- | mained at the Manor of Hillington for I five days. On the last night- they went for a stroll together in the moonlight after dinner. Their fellow guests, firmly j believing that they were engaged, had ! left them pretty much alone, and both • had been glad of it—how glad they \ were just finding out, now that the I moment of parting was at hand. ' “ T say, Miss Dartle,” said Thomson. “ they think we’re engaged inthen. have you tclrt them they’re , wrong?” 1 “No, bonuse I hope it's going to j

ho true," he said quietly. “ I believe you and I had to come here as country house guests./ There was no other way for us to get to know ouo another. What do you say, Madge?" “ I’ve told so many lies," said Madge, ruefully. “ I don’t sco how you are ever to forgot them. You’d never trust rne, would you? You’d be thinking of me as It os a Dartlo. Then, what about Uncle Silas? I shiver when J think of him. How can we ever explain bow wo happened to meet?” “ Merely by saying we were country house guests together. But don’t you worry about Uncle Silas. The othor tiling is all that matters, really.” “ What other thing?” “ Well, how it is with you and me. I lore you, darling. I want you for my wife. You do care a . little, don’t you ?” " 7 would be an ungrateful wretch if I didn’t, after all your goodness. Think how you- saved me Horn the Pennington persecution by being a cousin ” “Cousins sometimes fall in love,** suggested Thomson hopefully. “Do they?” “Yes, and even marry.” ‘‘Oh, • wd—- —” said Madge, and the next moment she had no chance to speak, for her face was hidden on a lovers breast. The wise old Christmas moon, which sees so much and never tells, looked down on anotlier happy betrothal, and there was no doubt in the minds of two of the country house guests at Hillingtou Manor that they had spent the very happiest Christmas in their lives.