A SHORT STORY.

Waipa Post, Volume VIII, Issue 372, 4 December 1914, Page 3

A SHORT STORY.

(All Kights Reserved.)

By Alice Maud Meadows. Author of "One Life Between," "I Charge You Both," "The Eye of Fate," "Days of Doubt," "An Innocent Sinner," etc.

In Three Parts. ON THE CUFFS BY THE SEA.

PAET I. "Polthorpe Farm? Yes, sir—nine miles from here; but my little mare will get you there in next to no time." Clement Sterling looked somewhat surprised. "Nine miles!" he repeated. "The advertisement said five." "Very like, sir," said the Jehu, who was evidently a. Cockney, though his landau stood outside the railway Station of Penzance. "As the crow flies it's not more than that, but by 'road it's a good nine miles. Any luggage, sir?"

Clement Sterling pointed to a pile of luggage, over which a countrified porter kept guard. "That little lot is mine," he answered. "Be careful with my easel and cameras. I'd better have them inside. Thanks—that will do. You need not hurry your horse—l've plenty of time at my disposal." "Very good, sir. And, I beg your pardon, but—are you a teetotaler?" "Goodness, no!" Clement Stewart said in some surprise. "Do you mean to say alcohol is barred at Polthorpe Farm?"

The man grinned. "Not at all, sir," he answered. "But the next nearest public-house is four miles away, and you'd not want to be sending that distance. Best take something with you, and if you'd.send me a card any time with an order on it I could bring it to the farm in my little cart. It'd be a bit of a job for me and a convenience for you.'"

Clement Sterling laughed. "That it would," he answered. "Drive to the nearest wine merchant's and we'll take something along with us; then I'll 'leave an order, and you can bring the rest to-morrow." "Right you are, sir."

The luggage being carefully disposed of, the porter "remembered," the coachman took his seat and drove oft". In a few minutes the wine merchant's was reached, sundry and diverse cases of wine, beer, and aerated waters were placed under the seats, then they were off again. "It's just five miles to the First and Last House," the coachman said. "Perhaps you'd like to pull-up there?"

'"Why, certainly," Clement returned. "The' First and Last House means. 1 suppose, the first from the sea and the last from -the land?" "That's it, sir, but it's not the only rite. There's several of them now, on cl-'ffrrent roads, though this one we shall put up at is the original. They do say at one time''the wine and spirits sold there never paid duty, but I don't know whether it's true." After that the man drove on in rfil■mce, and Clement looked about him. The country seemed bare, rocky, and desolate. Here and there were crops and grassland, but for the most part it was wild and uncultivated—very HfWent from beautiful Devonshire, which, with its red earth, giant trees, wonderful quantity of flowers, seemed like a semi-tropical land. Still, Clement Sterling, an amateur painter of no mean repute, who had been "hung on the line" more than once at the Royal Academy, was visiting Cornwall to paint coast and not inland scenery. He was not quite a "Graham" with his brush and paints, but he -approached him very nearly, and it is possible, had painting been a matter of necessity, of bread and butter and clothing, he might have rivalled him; but Clement, perhaps unfortunately for his art, was particularly •veil endowed with this world's goods, and could precede his name with a title. This, however, when out on a painting tour, he always dropped, and few whom he came across ever guessed that he had other money than that which he earned by his brush. He was one of those who preferred, above all things, to be liked for himself'alone, and in the most secret recess of his heart he kept the wish that some day he might not only be liked but loved for no other reason. Refreshment was partaken of at the First and Last House, which looked both old and new—something like an elderly lady or beau who had been enamelled and painted. Then the little mare trotted on again, and in another half-hour Clement was being driven long close to the sea. "Wait a moment," Clement said; "I'll get out and have a look round. The sea and the rocks are magnificent." He alighted and made his way right to the verge of the cliff, then he looked down. Great rugged, jagged brown rocks, some tinged green with seaweed, stood up boldly from the seething, boiling waters. The tide was at the full, and a brisk breeze blew landwards. On the cliffs and rocks which were nearest the land, millions of birds rested, rising and circling round now and then, or swooping suddenly to the foam-crested waves, as the need for a refresher in the shape of a fish occurred to them. There were cormorants by the thousand, all sitting in exactly the same attitude, and looking like little gentlemen in evening dress with their hands in their pockets. Very grave and very dignified were these birds; nothing seemed to disturb .the quiet repose of their manner* The

truth of the matter was they had done themselves exceedingly well at their midday meal, and the mystery of digestion was in full swing. They could be noisy enough and active enough' wWza the necessity arose—not without reason is a greedy person sometimes designated a cormorant. There were seagulls innumerablegreat big fellows, double the size of those seen on the south coast —some resting on the waters, rising and falling with the waves, some perched by thousands on the rocks and cliffs, turning the brown stone to snowy whiteness. There were jackdaws, crows, and sandpipers, and, joy of joys, high up, a pair of golden eagles that, Clement learnt later on, were sacred from the shot of any gun, soared majestically.

"What a wonderful scene! what a wonderful picture to inspire one to do great thing's!" Clement said to the man. '"And yet what a pigmy thing man's art is by the side of Nature!" "That's so," the driver returned. "But then man's art hasn't the whole of nature for a canvas. You're a painter, sir?" "I try to be."

"There's many come hereabouts. Newlyn is their favourite headquarters. Even been there, sir?"

"No; that's a pleasure to come." And then they drove on again after a little while inland, with poppy-be-decked cornfields upon one side and big- rocks on the other, and after a while another turn took them on a more seaward road, and then they drew up at a farmhouse. It was a low, long\ one-storeyed building with a thatched roof. The garden was a blaze of flowers, neatly kept, the pretty, old-fashioned scarlet fuchsias grew in bushes and standard trees almost as hig"h as the house. There were ferns —maiden-hair, heart's tongue, and ribbon—on the rockeries, and as Clement walked up the gardenpath numberless lizards darted to the shelter of their verdant beauty. The door stood open; there was no knocker. Clement rapped with his knuckles.

lie had expected a middle-aged, comely housewife to answer the summons, but a beautiful young girl, whose years numbered perhaps twenty, put in an appearance. Clement's artistic eye was delighted. If he wanted a model—supposing- she would sit for him—heie was one close at hand.

"Mr. Sterling," she said, in a low, sweet, cultivated voice, which was not quite what Clement expected to hear, "I told granny"—smiling charmingly —"that you would be sure to drive. She was certain you would walk. Artists, she arg-ucd, never had any money to spare, and five miles was nothing to a young man. But, you see, she was wrong:. Please come in; Tom will see to your baggage. He knows his way about here, don't you, Tom? Granny has gone up the road about a mile to get you some honey for your tea. Granny's young men, as she calls her lodgers, always like honey, i hope you do." "I like everything that is sweet and fresh," Clement answered, looking at her with so much undisguised admiration in his glance that she blushed; "but your grandmother should not have troubled, though it is exceedingly kind of her." She opened her . mouth as though she would speak, thoug-ht better of it, then her eyes as well as her lips laughed. "Oh! granny did not consider it a trouble," she answered. "So long as she makes you happy and comfortable she will be quite content."

"And you?" he said, daringly, while his handsome grey eyes laughed back at her violet ones. "Will you help?""Of course I will. I should not be doing my duty by granny if I 'did not."

"Then I am sure I shall be more than happy. As for comfort, who could help being comfortable in such a room as this?" They had entered a low-ceilinged room, crossed by oaken beams, which the hand of Father Time had turned to ebony black. There were seats in the deep bay-window, the casements of which stood wide open, admitting the perfume from the varied flowers in the garden. On the window-sill itself were glorious red geraniums and on the table and a quaint old brass-bound settle bowls of roses, some as faintly pink as a maiden's blush, some almost black in their, velvet richness. It was an old-fashioned room of dignified beauty, in which the unimag-inative might well dream dreams and build castles in the air. The g-irl drew a deep breath. "Yes, it's a dear room, and I love it," she said. "Until now this year it has been mine. I mean"—pulling herself up short—"granny has let me use it; but of course, when she had the chance of what she calls a 'good let' she took it. Times are not too prosperous for the small farmer in Cornwall, especially when the farmer is a woman." "Your grandmother farms her own land, then?" <'y es " — s he seemed to hesitate for a moment—"grandad died two months ago, and the hands, even the foreman, cheat granny when they can. I can see that, though I know so little of fawning. I —l'm only here for a holiday. Generally I live at Cheltenham." "You are a governess in some family, perhaps?" Again a faint flush tinged her cheeks. "No, not exactly a governess. There is one house there, a big house, in which I am what may be termed a general factotum, a female overseer, a someone indispensble. I do no real work. I give orders whLh others ! obey." (To be Continued.)