The Storyteller.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVI, Issue 2086, 11 January 1908, Page 7 (Supplement)

The Storyteller.

THE MANOR MYSTERY.

By FERGUS HUME

Author of "The Mystery of a Hansom Cab," "The Jado Eye,” "The Black Patch,” “Jonah's Luck,” “Tho Scarlet Bat,” etc. [All Rights .Reserved.] CHAPTER HI.

Mr Clair, seated in the shabby draw ing-room, with crossed legs and closed finger-tips, was boring an audience of three with speculations as to the disappearance of Sir dohn New by. From time to time -Billy glanced reproachfully at his sister, mutely asking why she had placed him in so unpleasant a position. AN dl> had not thought fit. to explain her reasons, lest the young man. secretly amorous of Dorothy, should intersupt the loves'- at ass inopportune moment. So Mr Clair prosed on, eminently roli'iesl ass>l extraordinarily dull. ‘'l etesl Sir John by tour o'clock train on Saturday,’’ lie complained. plaintively. "And 1-ady Fan win bad prepared everything for his reception—you remember, Selina, what ti'ouble you took. 1 remember that when snv expected guest tl-'d not arrive. 1 walked ns far as tlw Cuckoo’s Grove, thinking that Newby might have taken a short cut through there, instead of proceeding by the high road. Of course, were tilings different —as regards money, I mean —-L should have sent a carriage; but inv means being what they ate, Sir John expressed, in his letter accepting my invitation, an intention of walking. It is quite a mile from the railway station —” •■A trifle over, I think, sir," interrupted Billy, respectfully. “j—think—not,” rebuked Air t lair slowly. "1 have frequently walked it, coming through the Cuckoo s Grove.” •‘That short cut lessens the dis- — tance, of course, 5 assented the aoung man, suppressing a yawn. "So you did not see Sir John there, Air Clair ?” "Had l seen him," rebuked the old gentleman again, "I certainly should have brought him back to dinner. 1 did not enter the Grove, but paused oil the outskirts'and gazed along the road in the direction of the railway station. I did not see him, and so returned to my own house —alter a short stroll—extremely disappointed.”

"You were late for dinner. •' said Lady Panwin, who was tatting—an early Victorian craze she indulged in. "A'es. Frauds, you need not deny it. for you left the house at six, and it w is ton minutes after eight when you returned. I am positive of the time, because the duck was overcooked. 1 asked Jules, who had been to the village- for a bottle of white vinegar, if he had seen you, and he had not.”

"Jules probably came round by the road, Selina, and I—as I have clearly stated —was hovering on the outskirts of the Cuckoo’s Grove. I was late,” proceeded Mr Clair, while Billy >nd AY illy looked at one another, wondering when this small-'.w-er chronicle was coming to an end. “I know that well, Selina, -ind you need not remind me of the painful circumstance that, owing to my anxiety for- Sir John, I was forced —for the first- time in my life—to sit down to dinner in my ordinary clothes, after a hasty wash.”

“Ditl that matter?” asked Miss I Miuter, innocently. I Mr Clair looked shocked. "Etiquette, my dear, is what raises us above savages. It was very painful for me to find myself not in evening dress at ten minutes past eight on Saturday. Ijdiall certainly point out to Newby bow liis negligence caused me to commit a breach of good niaiH ners. Lady Panwin”—lie. rose and . bowed to his sister —“was kind? enough to excuse me.” “Oh! it didn’t matter,” said Lady' 1 Panwin, carelessly. “The duck was; beautifully cooked, after all. Three-i. and-six it cost, and —” / Her brother raised his hand. “Par-i don me, Selina, but these domestic) details scarcely interest our young guests. You are democratic, Selina!”' “"When "Willy and Billy marry,” said Lady Pamvin, obstinately, “they will be forced to attend to such things-; It’s just as well to inform them.” - “T know all about them now, dear .- Lady Panwin,” said Miss Minted,, merrily. “On our small income oD have to do a great deal. ’ “As to being democratic,” went on the old lady, paying no attention -o this speech, “I suit myself to the ago.; “What’s the use of birth when there's/ scarcely a shilling to spend?” “You shock me, Selina —you shock SIC-! Such sentiments remind me of the worst excesses of the French Revolution.” “My dear Francis, owing to Panwin’s estates having passed to his skiniEnt heir, without any provision having been made for me I have oxporioncecl poverty, as you know. But that Panwin gave me a good wardrobe, during our year of married life, I don’t know how I should clothe my-' self. "What's -a hundred a-year, and —”, Mr Clair’s silvery hair rose on end. I;l.e and his sister always differed in this way, and generally in company, as Lady Panwin would not be »up-

pressed. “There is no need to let the world know of your unfortunate position. Selina.” “These two infants being the world,” snapped Lady Pan win, “it’s no use, Francis. I .always call a spade a spade, and I hope with nil my heart that Dorothy will marry Sir John Newby, and bring money into the family. I declare, if I were only a stronger-minded woman, that I would go to the tower and turn the ‘Devil’s Ace’ at once, in the hope of our luck changing.” “The door of that wicked chamber will never be opened during my lifetime,” cried Mr Clair, vehemently, and rose to give effect to Ids speech. “My grandfather ventured in and nearly ruined himself.” “But, surely,” said 'Willy, curiously, “you don’t believe in such rubbish, Mr Clair?” “Rubbish!” the old gentleman gasped.' “Ah, well, rubbish to you, “Wilhelmina, who are not a Clair. But to me, to Dorothy, to Lady Panwin yonder —” “Don’t bring me in, Francis; I’m partly a sceptic myself.” “Then, Selina, you are not a genuine Clair.”

“I’m a genuine pauper, I think.” sighed Lady Panwin, feeling if her hair kvas iu good order. “And. if I .....mercy me L

She rose with a scream, and the remaining three people sprang up, but without tho scream. Through tho French window, which was out' >-f three opening on to ,tlio terrace, came Hallon, hearing in his arms the insensible hotly of Dorothy. Before tho startled, quartette could gait) breath to -id; licet sary questions, he laid the girl down on all adjacent sofa, and explained.

"She has fainted," he said, rapidly, and evidently strung up to a high pitch of excitement. "\Yo were going to turn the ‘Devil’ Ace,’ and —” “What!” cried Air Clair, furiously, uni finding his voice with surprising; rapidity. "Do you dare to say tint you have been to the tower? “Yes. Dorothy— ’’ "Dorothy, sir?" foamed Air Clair. ■•Yes." said Hallon, obstinately. •Dorothy is engaged to me, and we went to turn the ace and change H" luck, and—and—” -Oh. don’t talk so much,” cn-*l Ladv Panwin. irritably, “but ring the bell for water."

Tty this time she and AA ilhclmioa were attending to Dorothy. _ Billy --prang to the bell, and Air Clair, absolutely dumfounded by Hallon is announcement of the engagement, s ood stuttering incoherent remarks. ‘Butbefore he could gain control, and deliver himself of bis opinion, the young engineer inflicted a second blow on his self-complacency. -We have found Sir John Newby. He is dead —murdered!” Air Clair dropped back into his chair, gasping, with staring eyes and >pen month. Ho looked very undignified, but this new intelligence, coming on top of the other, reduced him to° impotence. The two women attending to Dorothy looked roundwith inarticulate exclamations. Only Billy Min ter retained sufficient command if motion and speech to spring forward and seize Percy’s arm. “Ilalion! D illon! Are you mad? Have you lost your wits?” “1 verv nearly did. with the horror of tho thing'” said Hallon, passing a handkerchief across his dr/, white lips- "Fancy coming on tho corpse iu tho darkness. 1 struck a match and saw the face, -and and ugh!” he shivered. "I’ll never gob over the sight.” "Sir John Newby murdered, -moaned Air Clair, still staring, as his wrath at t-lio idea of Dorothy’s engagement to this young man was swallowed up in amazed terror -at the later intelligence, "iu my house!” “He was not murdered hero, suroly?” said -Billy, aghast. "I don’t know where ho was murdered, or how, or why,” said Hallon, dropping into a chair in his turn. "All I know is that Sir John Newby lies dead cn tho stone table in tho chamber under tho tower. There is blood on t-lio stones, so he must have been killed in some way. All! He sprang up and forward as Dorothy sighed and opened her eyes. “Aly darling! Aly —” Clair dose suddenly and pushed him back. "You must not approach my daughter or speak to her. I re- . fuse to sanction this preposterous engagement. You must —” “Francis,” cried Lady P-.unviu, rising, tall and gaunt, ■ “what s the use of talking about such tilings in die presence of death? Where s Jules?”

A neu a, lean-faced, black-haired iictle mail, with fishy, dark eyes, and a deferential manner, stepped forward ■ and took the glass of water from his mistress.- "Here, milady,” lie said, in very good English, and in a meek tone which fitted his servile looks. ".Go down to tho chamber under ' tho tower, Jules, and see if what Aar Hallon says is true.” "I know not- where this chamber is, milady,” said Jules, respectfully. - "I forgot. Billy, you go. Francis, go with him. AA’illy, you and I must Dike Dorothy to her room. She is still faint. Jules, go to the village and tell Dr Hart to come up at once, and bring back tho constable with you immediately.” “Selin-a!” cried Her mother, furiously. “A policeman in my house!” “Don’t bo silly, Francis,” retorted Lady Panwin, tartly. “If a mur\der has been committed, we must do \all wc c.ui to find t-lio criminal. Go /away, Jules, and do wliat 1 toll you.” she stamped her foot. “AA’liy are you staring there, like astuek pig, man?” Jules vanished promptly, and Billy would have followed. -In. that Mr .(Clair caught his arm. '1 won’t—l '.won’t —have a policeman here!” he stuttered, and looked like a badlv(f lightened man—as indeed he was. |S"Tliink of the disgrace—the danger, -Selina 1”

C ! “Danger—pshaw! You didn't muricler the man yourself, Francis.” i ‘‘l—l—l commit a crime? Oh, this .is too- much!” Sir Clair dropjped again into his chair, and turned iso markedly white that Hallo,n (thought he would faint also. “Get Inc some wine,” gurgled Mr Clair, I who really had received a very severe ' shock.

. Lady Panwin, who was supporting Dorothy to the dour, fumed round is her brother spoke. A curious expression came over her face, and she involuntarily glanced at a portrait over the piano. It was that of a Georgian soldier, as Ha lion —whose eyes followed hers—saw in a moment. But Lady Panwin frowned when sho noted that lie was watching her, and surrendered her niece to “Willy. “Take her to her room,” sue said, sharply. “I’ll attend to my brother. Billy, you and Mr Halien go to the tower. The ‘Devil’s Ace’ indeed,” muttered the gaunt, energetic woman, between her teeth; “it’s got us into worse trouble than ever, I think.” “While she poured wine for her halffainting relative, Hallon and young Mintnr disappeared through the window, in order to explore the crypt, with a lantern. Wilhelmina, pile and silent—for she, also, was slioeu--d and startled—helped Dorothy up the stairs. That young lady was trying her best to recover her nerve, r. in' succeeded very well by the time she moved in her own room.

“What a fool you must fhi.ik me, Willy.” sho said, snatching -it n hottic of can de Cologne, and wotting her handkerchief; “hut I could not help myself. The darkness, and that poor man's face. Ugh!” Sho shock nervously. “Are you sure the dead mu a is Sir John Newby?” asked “Willy, awestruck. “Oh, yes!” replied Dorothy, dabbing her forehead with scent. “I knew him the moment Percy field the match to his poor white face. Oh dear, .me, “Willy! And in life it was; wo ..rod. qnH-Ti ooH-t.v-l 110-. bj~ T T <-rt

looks lilco a waxwork now —one of those things in the Chamber of Horrors. i’ll be haunted by that face.” “But how on earth could Sir John Newby’s body get- into that vault?”

“How should 1 know," said Dorothy, querulously, for her nerves still quivered and indicted pain. “Of course, it has been shut up for years and years —since tho time of my grandfather. But tho key is in tho passage niche, and anyone could enter if he chose.” “But no one would know where the chamber was, unless they were guided, Dorothy. How, then, could—” "Oh! AA’illy, don’t ask questions which you know .1 can t answer. Everyone in the neighborhood knows tho legend, and that the chamber is tinder the monastery tower, it is liard to find, 1 know; still, anyone might stumble on it, if he took the right passage.” "And if he did not?" asked AAilly, quickly. "Then lie would get lost in one ol the other passages. There’s a perfect set of catacombs under Abbot Hurley's Tower. Bather lias a plan of the foundations. But the luck! Oh dear me, AVilly, I have changed the luck. Though to be sure,” ended Dorothy, doubtfully, “1 did notturn the ace of spades.” "Did you intend to?” "Of course. AA’lien Percy proposed, and 1 accepted him —” "Oh, Dolly, have you accepted?” “Yes. But- I can’t talk of it now. Everything is swallowed up in this horror. Really, 1 don’t- know if I can marry Air Hallon now. lie will ever bo connected in m.v thoughts with this murder.”

“AA’hat nonsense 1” said AAilly, spiritedly. “He’s a dear good fellow, and you are a luekv girl to win him. If 1 were a marrying woman,” added Alias Alin ter. with determination, “1 should marry him myself. Did he propose to visit tho tower? "No. Ho tried to persuade me not to go. I wish I had obeyed him now,” said Dorothy, with a shudder. "Fancy going there, and finding that corpse in the darkness! But I can’t have changed the luck iu earnest,” she went on, trying to comfort herself. "I didn’t turn the ace, remember; and the spell won’t work unless a Clair does that.”

AA’illy stood -at the window, with her face pressed against the glass, and looked at- the base of tho dark tower, which could be seen from Dorothy's bedroom. “There’s the policeman,” she announced. “Jules ; s with him, I think.” “How can you tell in this uncertain light?” said Dor:'!by, coming to the window herself. “I can see Hobson’s uniform; and as Jules went for him, I presume that the other man with him is Jules. Oh! Dolly, I wonder who killed that poor man, and why he should have been murdered?” "Let us find out,” said Dorothy, linking her arm in that of AAilly s. "But your nerves, dear?” "They are all right now —that is, I can exercise self-control. It was silly of me to give way. I never fainted before in my life. Oh, wlnit an unpleasant memory I shall have of my second proposal!”. "Your second?” “Yes. You know that poor Sir John asked mo to be Lady Newby, •and I refused, much to my father’s anger. But I really could not bring myself to marry such an old man, for money. I would rather live with Percy ill a cottage- than with Sir John in a palace. Oh, I am sorry he’s dead —for lie was a kind man, -and never bored me, except when he made love. AA’ho can have killed him?” “Someone who knew the way to the crypt,” said AVilly, decisively. “I don’t think you know what you are talking about,” cried Dorothy, impetuously. “I know the way, and aunt knows it, as does father. Y'ou are not going to accuse any of us, are you?” “No. But” —AA'illy paused. She thought of Air Clair’s terrified face, of Lady Pamvin’s apprehensive look, and again remembered the difficulty of finding the crypt. A terrible thought flashed across her mind, which she quickly dismissed. “It’s impossible!” she muttered. “AA’hat is impossible?” risked Dorothy, as they left the bedroom. “Nothing, dear —nothing. But I should liko to know for certain who killed this poor man, and for wliat reason.”

“Tho polico will find that out,” said Dorothy, with a shudder. “Oh dear—oh dear!” sho remarked fortljo third, time. “How I wish I had not gone near the secret cha'mber. The luck has changed, ami tbjugs are worse instead of better.” OHAPXjSR, iv. U illy mado »jo answer. She was wondering in her own mind—for the thought would not be dismissed —if Francis Glair had anything to do with the death of Newby, and the concealment of his hotly. It was ridiculous, of course, even to think of such a ‘ tiling. All the same, Mr Clair, V his own confession, had walked to the Cuckoo’s Grove to sec if Sir John were coming. Ho could have come and gono in twenty minutes, yet lie was absent from the Manor for two hours and more, according to Lady Panwiii. "U lwt if ho had met with; Ncwh.v, and had quarrelled with him, and then ? But it was absurd to build up such a. theory without any solid foundation. The millionaire avas Mr Clair’s best friend, aiul bad been anxious to marry Dorothy. The match would have put a final end to Mr Clair’s monetary troubles. Therefore, there was no reason why Clair should have committed such a purposeless crime; let alone the fact that a frail delicate old gentleman like Francis Clair would scarcely have ventured to attack such a bunly son of the soil as the deceased stockbroker.

When the girls re-entered the draw-ing-room, Lady Pamvin, very white, but very composed, avas talking to Hallon. She turned with a start when the new-comers entered a strange thing for Lady Pamvin to do, as she often boasted of her immunity from nerves.

“I am glad you are looking better, Dorothy,” she said to her niece, in a markedly quiet tone of voice. “Billy has gone to Axledgh on his bicycle to oring the inspector here.”

, -^ IR I n '.V father?” asked Dorothv quickly.

“I havo mado him lie down. He has sustained a severe, shock, and at hj« age such a thing may break up his health entirely.” “What about the—the body, Percy?” asked Willy, hesitating. “Billy and I found it in the vault,” ho said, with forced composure, “and we have left it there until the inspector arrives. Hobson is guarding the door of the tower.” in V. —— ' —

iloral ?” “Yes. Wo turned over tho body to scaroli lor a wound. Tlio poor man hud boon stabbed lrom behind—that is, ho was struck under tho left Bbouldcr-Wade, and must have died almost immediately.” “Did you Jiiid any knifeP” “No. ' The body was simply laid out, face upward, on tho stone tablo in tho centre of tho vault.” “flow is it dressed?” asked 'Lady Panwin, suddenly. ‘ln a suit of grey tweed, with brown boots.”

“And the hat?” “Wo could not find any hat.” Lady Panwin hesitated, and glanced sideways at the two girls, whose faces wore white and horror-Htricken. “I suppose,” she said, as if she hoped to be contradicted—“l suppose tho body is that of John Newby?” “Ob, ycsl” said Dorothy quickly. “I recognised him tho moment Percy strudlc tho match.” A\ i Wy, still haunted by her foreboding concerning Mr Clair, ventured a question. “Do you think he was stabbed in tho vault?” “I can’t say,” said Hallon, pondering; “but from tho absence of the hat. and possibly of the weapon which slew him, I should say that ho bad been killed somewhere else, and then tlio assassin concealed the body in the crypt.”

Miss Mi liter’s face cleared. So fragile a man as Mr Clair could never have carried so heavy a corpse from the Cuckoo’s Grove to the tower. The next day, everyone, far and wide, knew of the tragedy which had taken place in the haunted tower of Abbot HurTby. On Tuesday night, when tho body was discovered, tho Boltan villagers learned about the murder from Constable Hobson, who could, nob hold his tongue; and, as the news had been carried to Axeleigh by Billy Minter, when seeking the Inspector of Police in that town, for obvious reasons, the bare fact became speedily known there also. But it appeared inconceivable to everyone at the Manor that the London morning papers should be in a position to publish tho death of the noted millionaire. It was probably, ns Hallon suggested, that some busybodyGn Beltan, anxious to earn, a cheap five shillings, had wired to London. But even then, as it was after eight o’clock when Abe corpse was found, this unknown person must have procured the opening of tho telegraph office. It really seemed as though somo individual was anxious that the intelligence of Sir John Newby’s death should bo known as speedily as passible. Not that such immediate dissemination of the dreadful news mattered much. Events were succeeding one another too rapidly to permit the mind of anyone to dwell upon one single item for any length of time. Tlio ono fact—the principal fact, the dreadful truth—was that Sir John Newby had been brutally done to death; and the burning question of the hour was: Who had murdered him? No one could answer this — not oven Inspector Trask, of Axeleigh, a particularly zealous and sharp-sighted officer, whom Billy had brought back on the same night. Certainly, Inspector Trask did not permit himself to an opinion. He was to clever for that. He simply examined the body, the vault, and the tower; took the report of Dr. Hart, and questioned closely the inmates of the Manor. Not one of the six people who had been at tho dinnertable could throw any light oil the matter; and the servants, from Jules the butler to George, the gardener’s boy, were equally ignorant. The sinister affair was as complete a mystery as could have been found in any detective story. After the first shock Mr. , Clair, quite recovered liis nerve, and took matters into liis own hands. That is. ho saw' Inspector Trask, and explained all about the invitation and the non-appearance of the expected guest. Ho was also present when the servants were questioned, and finally related to the sceptical policeofficer the legend of tlio tower. Mr. Clair was particularly emphatic in insisting that tho vault had never been opened for over fifty years. “Can you bo sure of that?” asked Trask, doubtfully. “You tell me that the key of the door was usually left in a niche of the passage. Anyone could have entered.” “No ono could have known where tho secret chamber was,” said Mr. Clair, obstinately. “There is one passage leading to tlio chamber, certainly, but three or four branches off. An stranger would probably lose his way in such a labyrinth—and in the darkness too.” “Could you make a mistake yourself, sir?”

“No. That is, if .1 went down I should take a lantern and the plan with me.” “Oil 1” Trtisk pricked up his ears. “Then there is a plan.” “Yes. One which dates from Eliza•bcthan times. It was made by an ancestor of mine who ventured to turn tlio ‘Devil’s Ace,’ with bad results, and who ” “But you really do not believe, Mr. Clair that ” Mr. Clair interrupted with dignified rebuke. “Pardon me, but I believe that the hist Abbot of the monastery did curse the tower, and I believe that the turning of tlio ace is fatal to any member of my family. Several'of my ancestors and my own grandfather risked the danger, and wum pad results. And now, wJien

my daughter goes—against my express wish,” said Mr. Clair, with emphasis—“this horrible thing comes to trouble my peace.” “But I understand that Jliss Clair did not turn the ace,” urged the inspector. "tone never even saw tno card—if card there is; which 1 doubt, as, when searching the vault, we did not find one.” “ A mere visit of a Clair to the secret chamber is enough to alter the family luck,” said Mr. Clair, clinging tenaciously to the legend which added dignity to his family history. “You can see for yourself that trouble lias come with my daughter’s rash intrusion into that unhallowed chamber.” “It- is strange, certainly,” assented Trusk. nursing his chin. “Did you ever show the chamber to Sir John?” “No. He knew the legend, like everyone else, and even asked mo to show him the fatal spot. But 1 always refused. Until I went down with you, Inspector, to view the body of my lamented friend, I never sot foot ou those stairs.”

LOVELY. (By Juliet Wilbor Tompkins.) “If you could have seeon the dear lambs, T.J. 1” Mrs Sparling’s laughter ran over. “Married a week, and both absolutely vaguo and heavenly. Of course, I .am a perfect old mush of sentiment; but no one could have helped stopping and picking them up and seeing that they had a place to Hleep and a blue ribbon each. Not ovon you, my doari”

Mr Sparling smiled at her, but offered no comment. Ho had been •smiling at her for twenty years, while lie grew lrom lean to comfortable, from untalkativo to silent, .and with every year the smilo had grown nicer. When somo more poignant comment seemed to flicker through it she sometimes checked herself with a good humored “Well, what is it now, T.J. ?” But he never told her what it was. “Of course I should not have thought it right if tlio cottage had a chance of a tenant,” she went on; “but when it misses Juno it never gets ono till October—you know that as welll as I do. That will give the lambs a two months’ home and a chance to get going.” She laughed again at tho vision of them. “Lovely sold a picture, so they married at once on the proceeds and came on to—” For once Mr Sparling interrupted. “Lovely?” he queried, taking out bis cigar and holding it suspended. “Well, Charles Lovelace Fabvan, if you prefer; but bo lias never been called anything but Lovely. Ho really is, yoii know-—great, loose, soft thing with tlio face of a new-born angel. And she is a little compact Lovely herself. Ignorant! My clear, I could have sat right down and cried over them both.” slowly replacing his cigar. “Lovely,” ruminated Mr Sparling, “Now, you are not to hold that up against him, T.J.! Ho is .a love, and everyone feels it. The Slades took him to Europe with them, and then tho Evanses kept him on in Paris for two years studying painting, and he has practically lived at the Dodges’ and the Van Duseus’—those are all big people at home. He hasn’t a. cent, but everything has been simply showered on him all his lii;e —without once waking him up!” * “Lovely,” murmured Mr Sparling, with half-closed eyes. “Did you tell him that lie would have to move on by October?” he added. “Oh, yes; they know we have to rent it-. They were so wildly grateful.”

“Bettor put it in writing,’” and Mr Sparling picked up a book. “Oh, T.J.!” she laughed reproachfully. Mrs Sparling spent two glorious days getting the cottage ready. It lay in a corner of tlicir own grounds, a concession to the fact that their little settlement was growing into a suburban city and those who held comfortable old homesteads -must be prepared to meet uncomfortable new taxes. With the help of Flora, the housemaid, she scrubbed -and swept and put up curtains, and put down rugs in a glow of good-will. Silver and linen were borrowed for the other house, the coal-bin was filled; then, half-shamefacedly, she ordered a supply of groceries. “I had to give the dear lambs a start, T.J./’ she apologised. “Just think of their fun, coming into that precious play-house and finding it so beautifully ready. Flora is staying down to cook a little dinner for them this first night; Mrs Lovely may be a good cook, but she doesn’t look it, someway. Dear, dear, wou’dn’t you give something to peep in and see them rejoicing? Oh, I know I’m-an old goose without your smiling, T.J.! But. litttle stray couples just break one’s heart, they arejso pathetic and so happy. And you won’t mind having a scrimped dinner to-night, will you, dearie? For Katie Inis been helping us, too; she made them a cake and somo fresh bread. Don’t you think we could run in on them for five minutes this evening? Or should we be spoiling things?” Mr Sparling guessed it wouldn’t be

fatal, so after dinner they went down through the starlit garden to the little cottage glowing at them from beneath its drooping vines. As they' passed the wide-latticed window of the sit-ting-room Mrs Sparling pressed her husband’s arm and they paused to peer guiltily in. The 'Lovelys certainly did look happy. “And to think we had it to give them, T.J.!” burst cautiously from her heart as they went -o i to the steps. They were greeted with wide-armed rapture. Both Lovely, .and Mrs Lovely kissed Mrs Sparling and barely checked themselves on the verge of Mr Sparling, compromising by drawing him in with their;arms about iiis shoulders. “Dearest little plaeo on earth I” was tlio sum ajiid substance of their excited chorus. Mrs Sparling held the bride’s little soft hand in both her firm, capable ones, while Lovely sat on tho .arm of her chair and occasionally -pressed lr's wide, sweet, radiant faeo against the graving brown of her hair, “I can’t see why you were so heavenly to us 1” he exploded. “Why, I haven’t seen you threo times since I was a little kid, and you’d never seen Doodoo at all.”

“All, but you are home people; that makes such a difference! Desides, here was the cottage just waiting for a stray couple.to mother—” “Precious little mother,” inirmnred Doodoo. “There is just one thing in tho world that it lacks,” added Gov-sly, with a deep sigh of happiness. “And it is so perfect, I think we : hall find even that tucked away some ■ boro—a room with a north light to iu.int in One does need a north light.” They looked eagerly at Mrs Sparling while she considered their problem. When she realised that the loft of the barn opened to the north and could be spared as well as not they both embraced her again. “Now it’s perfect,” they cried. She went home brimming with plans for making the loft attractive. Her husband heard her thoughtfully, but offered no comment until she began to wonder if they could not spare the ball rugs. “Don’t you think perhaps they can paint without draperies—for two months?” lie suggested. She had to admit that perhaps they could. “!>ut 1 wish you were more enthusiastic. T.J.,’” she sighed. “I am,” he said mildly. “God bless Lovely and Doodoo, every lime.’’ “Oh, you!” with affectionate contempt.

She and Flora cleaned and furnished tlio loft tho next clay while the Lovelys tacked up sketches and brought in.v'trai]iii(r-_vino«.. fi-nm_i.n«

•nation. They lunched with her, and five o’clock came suggesting to them any responsibility in the matter of further meals. Mrs Sparling, dusty, weary and radiant, yearned to invito them to dinner, but T felt that tho timo had como to Spartan. \ ’ “Well, dear lambs, I must leave you,” she said, lier\ grimy dusters. “If you need anything '"'' V' for dinner, just run in and ask Katie for it.” “Ob, that’s so—dinner 1” 6aicTDoodoo cheerfully. t" “Have you ever cooked a. meal?” Mrs Sparling lingered at the head of tho loft stairs, tho invitation almost leaping out in spite of her. “No; but we have a splendid book that tells just how to do everything. It’s going to be loads of fun.” And Doodoo curled down happily in a nest of Mrs Sparling’s cushions. “Great!”’ added Lovely, filling his pipe. And so she got away with the _ invitation still suppressed, though her > “0»* eyes were full of amused concern. “Poor babies!” she laughed warmly to herself. t. It was nearly dinner-time whendragging footsteps crossed the porch and two forlorn figures presented themselves in the sitting-room doorway. The bride wore a big .jiuo , apron that dripped milk, water, and jelly, two fingers were bandaged, and her face was marked with tears, while Lovely’s downcast countenance had obviously been wiped more than once with tho sooty hand now resting on her shoulder. “Everything .acts so queer, and it won t thicken,” said Doodoo with a sob. “The book said just how, and we did everything.” Ixrvely nearly sobbed, too. " 5 %5“And the fire is red-hot one minute and goes out the next, and it hurts so to be b-burned!” Doodoo finished in Airs Sparling’s outstretched arms. “You poor darlings! Of colivso, you shall dine here. in i

“It isn’t that,” Lovely interrupted. “We’ve got to eat down there or we shall never get- rid of the food. And the potatoes may he iall right. But do you think Flora would come down and show us wliat’s wrong with that infernal ragout thing and tho pudding?” “And do you suppose she would give mo. a few cooking lessons?” added Doodoo with a weary sigh. Mrs Sparling’s heart misgave her, for Flora was not the most willing of mortals, and she had toiled all day; but the Lovelys exercised some magic, for she took her weary bones down, there without a murmur, and did not reappear until the Sparlings’ dinner > was over, “Isn’t it lucky Flora can cook as well as Katie?” Airs Sparling said contentedly, when slie told her husband the day’s adventures, “Um—lucky for Lovely and Doodoo,” he assented, getting up inquest of sugar for his coffee. At lunch-time the next day the young couple appeared hand, in hand, “Won’t you feed' usP” begged Lovely. “Doodoo has been posing for me all the morning, and we’re noth dead.”

“Of course I will!” A lit* Mrs — t* Sparling flew to the kitchen, whence came presently a sound of hasty beating. When she returned, slie found! them intently examining a bookcase that had been made to fit a spare corner of the irregular old room. “This is a iollv tiling,” Lovolv exclaimed. “There is a corner of our sitting-room that just screams lor such a bookcase. I shall have one made the next cheque I get.” “But, Lovely .dear!” 3 irs Spa rling looked worried. “That sort of tiling costs .a good deal.” “I know; but it’s always good as long as you live,” was tlio-peaceful reply as they sat down at the lunchtable. “There are several tilingsI m going to get lor the cottage when I sell another picture.” “Not but what it is perfect now,” said Doodoo, slipping her hand into Airs Sparling’s. The latter laid down tlio spoon with which she had served the omelet and looked from ono to the other in whimsical dismay. “But, you lambs, you’ve got to think of the future,” she cried. “You can’t just live along like puppies.. Think what youi' rent will be next: winter, and coal, and clothes—why, you can’t spend money on the cottage 1” They looked depressed, even a little frightened, for a. moment. Then Lovely’s mellow, fog-dispelling smilo , came out like sunshine. “Oil, something nice will happen; it always does, for me, Airs Sparlings, darling,” he comforted her. “I shall earn lots of money, you know, as soon as I get going.” “It isn’t as if Lovely hadn’tgenius,” added Doodoo, getting upto put a reassuring arm about her. Lovely came, too, with his big cm-

brace. “Don't worry, sweetest!” they ed so kindly that she had a bewildered conviction that she had been absiud. And, after all, sho knew nothing about pictures; perhaps Lovely really was a genius. They finished the meal in great merriment. ‘‘lf J, could only cook like this!” sighed Doodoo gracefully as they roso. “Flora is going to give me a lesson, when 1 get dinner every afternoon the dear thing.” “By the way,” added Lovely, “tlio ' one thing that blessed little p’ a ~.> lacks is kindling. Why could i’t t carry down an armful of it nowH'* “Why, so you could,” agreed Mrs. Sparling; but the brightness of her-, face was a little dimmed as they went'' off laughing and strewing sticks along the path. Hon mean of me, when we have ■so much!” she reproved herself with m indignant shake of the head. 1 lie two came" in daily to lunch at- - ter that, always appearing hand in', hand, humble beggars of food, and sot riotous - with- good spirits, that Mrs:. •Sparling would liavo missed them sorely if they had stayed away—though her face often clouded uneasily after they had gone. Periods of serious reflection on their future would occur, and led her to drop in late one afternoon to sec how tlio cooking lessons were progressing. Sim y found Doodoo in a ruffled white mus- ""Trim seated on the kithen table, throwing salted peanuts for Lovely to catch, in his capacious mouth, whilo Flora/* - cooked the dinner. “Doodoo is getting on splendidly, Sparling darling,” Lovely greeted her. “She can make apple-sauce and any number of tilings. Flora is the most wonderful teacher you ever saw!” Flora’s usually grim mouth had h

“We’re roasting the sweetest little chicken, and Flora showed mo how to .make /ftessing to-night,” Dootloo added happily. “We are going to do stuffed potatoes to-morrow. It's such fun to^cookl” The protest in Mrs. Sparling's soul wavered and fell away into helpless silence. After all, if Flora had no objections, what concern was it of hers? ... /'Mrs. Sparling-darling is tired,' said Lovely sympathetically. "AN© will take her out of this hot kitchen—you can come hack in time to see Flora tie tho gravy, Doody. Let’s all go sit in the garden and love each other! Mrs. Sparling shook her head with a. troubled attempt at; a smile. ••'I must go and meet my old man, i(,’s just- time for him," she said, and left them sitting together on the stops while .Flora within scrubbed the sink. Her husband was already on the porch waiting for her, as she came across the lawn. His smile was nicer than ever as his eyes rested on her face. “Oh, T. G., little stray couples do make mo ache,' she sighed, laying her head against his shoulder. “V hat is to become of them?” He gave the question a. moment’s reflection. “Guess I wouldn’t worry,” lie concluded mildly. But. Mrs. Sparling did worry persistently as the summer weeks drifted by over the serenely happy Leveies.- They came and told her without smile when the kerosene was used up, or the flour, or the coal, and how could she help supplying tile deficit when she had so much more than they, and they were so dear and so unconsciously pathetic ? “It isn’t good for them; I shouldn’t. I am a miserably weak old woman,” she scolded herself, but she did it, and sought anxiously for ways to economise, that it might not fall too hard on the household account. She did try to protest, once, when Lovely discovered that tho ouo thing Jacking in the dear little place was a heather duster and ordered it up at her expense. “Of course it is yours, just as much as if it were up at your house,” he explained gently to her. “A\ e shouldn’t dream of carrying it away with us. You will always need one, you know.” And, somehow, taken in the light of his lovely, candid face, the explanation seemed unanswerable. It was not a good year for renting houses. September brought a few half-hearted seekers, who found the cottage too small, or too far from the station, and went away agaiu, to Mrs. Sparling’s secret and guilty relief. Of course they could not at all afford to have it unrented; and yet how could those poor little lambs be turned out on a bargain-driving world? She had worked out drastic schemes for retrenchment on the . backs of various old envelopes when, out of a clear, blue September sky the tenant came. He was a rapid, concise man of business, and she had - a dready consciousness even beforesite : ''took him over the cottage that it was just what he wanted. The Lovelys had evidently gone to town for the day; she had seen them rush through before train time that morning, hail a passing grocer’s cart, scramble in and“fie whirled off at a good-natured gallop). Their home was uot in perfect order, but the concise personnodded brisk approval from room to •room and emerged with an air of relieved satisfaction. He would go through the technicality of bringing his wife out to see it in the morning; ho would then be prepared to sign a lease, write a cheque, furnish references and otherwise perform the proper funtcions of a model tenant, as well as a concise man of .business. He .already knew that nine and a half minutes were needed to reach tho station, and took a perfectly timed departure. Mrs. Sparling went into the house and mourned. When her husband came home, she tried feebly to find some way out or it; but ithe .logic was irrefutably •against her. They certainly were not in a position to help to support two healthy young persons for the rest of their lives; and it would oe exceedingly bad for the healthy young persons if they were. Having had to admit that her longings ■were both impracticable and immoral, Mrs. Sparling went sadly down to the garden/after a pretence of eating dinner to put a ruthless end to the honeymoon. The Lovelys, still in their town clothes, with hats and gloves flung on the table, were kneeling on the lioor over a heavy package that they had evidently -brought back from town with them. They fell upon her with a joyous burst of news; Lovely had .sold'a design for. a cheque for one hundred dollars and a cheque for one hundred dollars was coming in the morning mail, and they had had such a spree in town! “And just look what are bought for the cottage!" Dootloo cried, us tho package was unrolled. “We it home because we could not 'wait for delivery. " We’re going to buy one nice thing out of every cheque Lovely gets, always. See, isn’t it a beauty for 40 dollars?” And they spread before her sick eyes a very charming Parisian rug. 1 Isn u it a treasure?” they exclaimed. “It’s beautiful," said Mrs. bpurl- : >iig, faintly. The two settled down on It, patting j.ts soft texture, pointing out its color values. , “And we had other adventures, Lovely went on. “Oil, it was a greatday! We - walked right into the Howards —you 'know, they’re the Van Dusens’ cousins; bully people. They . us out to lunch, and we invited them up to see us, but they are going West in their private car next wec-k, and won’t have time. Gee, it was a lunch, Mrs. Sparling-darling! Champagne and everything. I never knew them well before, and Doodoo bad •never seen them, but we loved each other to death before we got through. Oh, aren’t people nice !” And lie hurst into song, sprawled on liis new • rug. “Oh, my lambs! And I have got to spoil everything!” Mrs. Sparling stretched out her hands to them with tears in her eyes. “The tenant has come! ’ ’ Lovely sat up, and they stared at \hjher in unbelieving dismay. “Oh, not k-rc-nlly!” To take our houso away ■from us!” , .jYo logic could keep the note of guilt and apology out of her voice. “Wo have to rent it—you know I always told you that, dear lambs. Wear© too poor not to. And these are perfect tenants; only we sha’n’t love them as we do you.” “It is really taken?” they ropeat-

thon sign a long lease. lam so sorry 1” ••Old beast 1” said Lovely heavily. "Perhaps there will be a railroad accident amt they’ll both get killed.” Doodoo’s little sweet voice had a note of hope. Mrs Sparling tried to interest them in making new plans, but they could not get beyond the face that their home was to be taken away from them in less than a week. They bravely exonerated her from active blame in the matter, but the load of guiltpressed so heavily on her breast, coni'routing the two downcast figures drooping on their new rug, that rash offers kept crowding to her lips, and she had to go .away to keep them down.

“1 feel even worse than I did the time I drowned the kittens,’’ she told T. J. miserably. Ilis smile had a touch of compunction. "Wish I were better off, old girl,” he said.

“Oh, but- it wouldn’t- he right- for them, anyway,” she told him eagerly, to comfort him. She saw the tenant and his wife going past in the direction ol' tho cottage the next morning, and awaited their visit, in a. mood of most un.businesslike resentment. Shortly afterwards there was a rush of excited feet across the porch and the Lovelys burst in on her, glowing with joy. “It's all right,” they shouted, smothering her in double embrace.

“Don’t they like it? Aren’t they coming?" (She was startled to and herself more dismayed than relieved..

“Like it? Of course they like it-. Lovely seated himself on the pianostool and twirled violently to express his isatisfaction.

“Oil, they’re so mid!” piped Doodoo. and tho two doubled lip with reminiscent laughter. “Children! You must tell me what you mean.” Mrs Spalding's voice was grave enough to bring them hastily to explanations. “It is all right, Mrs Sparling-darl-ing,” Lovely reassured her. “The cottage is rented, only not to those two stiffs—they’re piking down the road to take another house they looked at. Wo never thought of the way out until two minutes before -hev came—that’s tho funny part of it. Do you know who your new tenants are?” They rose and joined hands to bow at her. “They’re us, that’s all! We are going to pay you rent!” Mrs Sparling could ouly drop her hands in her lap and st*re at them. “Of course we may h* a little behind for a month or two, but we can easily do it as soon as I get going. We should have to pay rent if we went away, any way. And our living costs us to little here; why food amounts to almost nothing. It's as simple as -a. b c. Aren’t you pleased ?” •Mrs Sparling hid her face with a sudden gasp of laughter. She laughed until there were tears on her cheeks.

“rsn’t it a scheme, though?" sail Lovely, beaming in sympathy. “There wasn't- time to come and tell you, for there they were; so we just said chat we had deckled to keep the cottage ourselves and sent them about then- business, very mad. We are so happy we could ourst. I will sign a lease, if you like, though it wouldn’t bo necessary, between us? Isn’t it almost lunch-time? I am starved.”

Mrs bpa-rling dried -her oyes with heipiess relapses. “Oh, you lambs 1” she sighed. “But you should have consulted me, you know, -before yon turned away my tenants. That was not —business-like. 1 don’t know vvh.it T.J. will say to you!” “Oh, iie would rather havo us than cho.-.e two stiffs,” was the confident •answer.

“Well, ho will have to deal with yon. I just can’t. Mr Sparling refused to see the humor ill the situation when he returned that night. He was as near indignation as he ever came.

“Livo cheap hero—l should say they did!” -he .protested. “That’s positive impudence, in the face of our grocery bills! I si.a 11 go down aft.ir dinner -and have a plain talk with them. It is time they woke up.” “ they would -really mean to pay their rent,” she urged, her laughter still unquenched. “I am sure they would do it whenever Lovely ha-1 a spare cheque. Must you hurt their feelings?”

“Well, they -have hurt -mine, badly —-losing us a tenant like that. I toll you, I won’t have them staying, whr t’her we get another tenant or not.'’

“Oh, but what is to become of them?” she pleaded, wholly sobered. “That is their look-out,” was tho severe answer. She -could not mako him change lus decree, and dinner was a sorry farce to her, with her poor lambs about t.i encounter their first rough wind. She sat with distressed eyes trying to think of some way in which they might bo housed and fed, while her husband ate and smoked with unwonted lack of -sympathy. When at last he rose, straightening his coat, • she laid imploring hands on liis aim.

“We can't just turn them off, dearie; we must find a way to-help them, she pleaded. His eyes relented a little as they met hers, but before lie could answer the Lovelys themselves burst In with shining faces ami an open letter. “Oil, wliat do you think!’’ they cried. “The Howards went us to go West with them in their car!” “A three month-’ trip!” shouted Doodoo. “All as their guests, you know!” “The letter just came, special delivery !” “Did you ever hoar anything so boa iitiful ?” “Only we curt be your tenants, Airs Sparling-darling!” “But it will always seem like our own little home.” ■“And we will conic back to it whenever it’s empty!” “0!i, aren’t people nice?” They had their arms about her swaying her joyfully between them. Her eyes had a swift vision of her husband's bewildered face before they were drowned in helpless laughter. The Lovelys stayed half an hour, but when they flew back to begin packing, nothing had been said about flic lost tenant. The wind was still tempered.

Air Sparling lit a second cigar ami picked ui) a hook. “1 guess I wouldn't worry about your lambs,” he said dryly. “1 have a feeling that they'll get on.” “And, someway, aren’t you glul of it, T.J?” she begged. Their eyes met, and then bo smiled at her.