Part 10 (1/2)

At this moment the door of the next cottage opened, and a woman came running out. ”Well now,” she cried in a hearty voice, ”didn't I say just that same thing to Palling when he comed for his bit o' dinner?

Them bees, they've been that excited all day, I knew that couldn't mean nothing but a visitor. They know when a stranger comes about as well as well. Never you think about the d.i.n.kie, ma'm, I'll see to he. Jes'

you go right in. The kettle, that have been on the boil a-waitin' this hour or more; for them bees, they told me you'd be bringin' a visitor back with you as certain as anythin'. Pallin', he said to I, 'Where's a visitor comin' from, I'd like to know?' But Pallin', he ain't no believer; he wouldn't believe he was dying not unless he woke up an'

found himself dead--that he wouldn't.”

”I'll promise to believe anything the bees tell you if only you will get us a cup of tea,” interrupted Isabella, cutting short the stream of the good woman's volubility. ”Now come in,” she continued, taking Philippa's arm.

They walked up the narrow flagged pathway, at the end of which two bushes of yew, neatly clipped, stood like sentries on either side of the doorway, where the overhanging thatch hung low, with a patch of golden houseleek glowing like a jewel upon its weather-stained and varied tones.

The interior was small and low, but it was evident from its look of comfort that affectionate care and good taste had been lavished upon its simple furnis.h.i.+ng. On the walls, which were plainly distempered a light colour, hung a few photographs of well-known pictures. A sofa and one or two easy-chairs covered with a pretty chintz, an oak table s.h.i.+ning with age and the results of Mrs. Palling's energetic polis.h.i.+ng, a few pieces of cottage china and various trifles which spoke of travel in far lands--these and a number of books formed all the furniture of the simple apartment.

In the wall, opposite to the one by which they had entered, was a door hung with a curtain of Chinese embroidery, its once brilliant hues now faded to tender purples and greys, and Isabella stepped forward and pulled it aside.

”Ah,” she said, in reply to Philippa's murmur of admiration, ”this is nothing. Wait until you see what I am going to show you.”

She opened the door and Philippa pa.s.sed through it, and then stood quite still, struck dumb by the beauty of the scene before her. She found herself standing in a low s.p.a.ce--it could not exactly be called a verandah, for it was evidently a part of the original building, perhaps a shed of some kind, and it was under the shelter of the thatch, but the outer wall had been entirely removed and replaced by two stout oaken pillars, which in no way impeded the view. Before her stretched the wide expanse of Bessmoor, glimmering and gorgeous with heather, while far away in the distance was the blue line of the sea.

Immediately in front of the building was a small garden where lilies, blue delphiniums, lupins and other old-fas.h.i.+oned flowers were in bloom, but no fence or hedge divided it from the moorland, which ran like a purple wave right up to the flower border.

”Sit down,” said Isabella. ”Sit down and gloat over the wonder of it, as I do. I am very rich, am I not, with a vision like this ever before my eyes? Now you see why I told you that I spent my life on the moor.

It was literally true, for I live in the very heart of it, don't I?”

”However did you manage to discover such a wonderful spot?” asked Philippa at last.

”Quite by accident. I had a longing to re-visit scenes which I had known very well many years ago, and I planned a solitary tour, and rode my bicycle all over this part of the country. One day I just happened to see in the distance the smoke curling out of a chimney, and some impulse made me turn off the road to explore. I found these two cottages and Mrs. Palling, and it ended in my coming to live here. At first for a year or more I lodged with her next door. This side was occupied by some people who moved away later on, and about the same time the little property was put up for sale, and I bought it. It is my very own, and you cannot wonder that I am proud of it. Then I altered this side to suit myself, and Mrs. Palling continued to look after me; the cooking is all done next door, and she saves me all trouble.”

”It was a stroke of genius--this arrangement, I mean. How did you think of it?”

”We are sitting in what corresponds to Mrs. Palling's wash-house,”

returned Isabella, laughing. ”Only, I knocked the outside wall down, much to the dismay of the good lady and of the local carpenter whom I employed. I am sure they thought I was a little mad. What sane person would think of living in a room without a wall? Mrs. Palling did not express her opinion quite in those words, but that was what she meant.

I live out here, and have all my meals here, and sometimes, to tell you the truth, I sleep here.”

”But what about the winter?”

”If it is too desperately cold I retire into the parlour, but there really is hardly a day in the whole year that I do not spend some hours here. But here comes the tea.”

”Well, well,” said Mrs. Palling, as she set down the tray on a table in front of Isabella. ”That means it's gone, for sure.”

”Means what?” asked Isabella in surprise.

”I was just a-liftin' the kettle off,” said the good lady, speaking quite cheerfully, ”when a little coffin that jumped out of the fire--just as plain as plain--a little small thing that were. And that means, for sure, that Mrs. Milsom's eighth is gone. I did hear as how that were wonderful sickly, and no doubt but what that's all for the best. 'Tisn't as if she hadn't plenty more.”

”You are a heartless woman,” cried Isabella. ”What grudge do you bear Mrs. Milsom's eighth that you speak so cheerfully of its early demise?

It can't be more than ten days old at the most, for it certainly seems no time since a cradle jumping out of the fire announced its undesired arrival. Think of the poor mother's feelings. Mothers as a race have an unfortunate tendency to value their offspring, even when, as in this case, the supply exceeds the demand.”

Mrs. Palling seemed rather doubtful as to whether Isabella was not, in her own phraseology, making game of her, for she was silent for a moment, and then repeated positively--