Jasper County Democrat, Volume 8, Number 29, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 October 1905 — The Yellow Holly [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Yellow Holly

By FERGUS HUME,

Author of “The Mystery of a Hansom Cab.” Etc. X X

CHAPTER I. SHE did not put the sacramental phrase on her cards, as no invitations were sent out. These were delivered verbally by boarders desirous of seeing their friends present on Friday evening. It was really a scratch party of nobodies,' and they assenAled as usual in the drawing room oirthls especial evening to play and not to work. Mrs. Talne laid aside her eternal knitting; Miss Bull dispensed with her game of “patience;” Mr. Granger sang his one song of the early Victorian epoch—sometimes twice when singers were scarce—and Mr. HArmer wore his antiquated dress suit. In her black silk gown, heflace cap and “the diamonds’’ Mrs. Jersey looked—so they assured her—quite the lady. Was she a lady? No one ever asked that leading question, as it would have provoked an untruth or a most unpleasant reply. She admitted in expansive moments to having seen “better days," but what her actual past had been—and from her looks she had one—none ever discovered.

Few friends presented themselves on this particular Friday evening, for it was extremely foggy, and none of them could afford a cab. Even those who patronized the nearest bus line had some distance to walk before they knocked at the Jersey door, and thus ran a chance of losing their way. Either in light or darkness the house was bard to find, for It occupied the corner of a particularly private square far removed from the Oxford street traffic.

It was quite an asylum for old age. None of the guests was under fifty, save a newcomer who had arrived the previous week, and they wondered why he came among them. He was young, though plain looking, and he was fashionablydressed, though stout. This was the first time he had been present at madame's reception, and he was explaining his reasons for coming to Bloomsbury. Mrs. Jersey introduced him as “Leonard Train, the distinguished novelist,” although he had published only one book at his own cost, and even that production was unknown to the boarders.

“Fashionable novelists,” said he in a still, small voice which contrasted curiously with his massive proportions, “have overdone the business of society and epigrams. We must revert to the Dickens style. I have therefore taken up my residence here for a brief period to study old world types.” Here he looked around with a beaming smile. “I am glad to find so rich a field to glean.” This doubtful compliment provoked weak smiles. The boarders did not wish to be rude, but they felt it was impossible to approve of the young man. Not being sufficiently modern to court notoriety, one ?nd all disliked the idea of being “put in a book.” Mrs. Taine, conscious of her weak grammar, looked uneasily at Miss Bull, who smiled grimly and then glared at Train. Granger drew himself up and pulled his gray mustache—he was the buck of the establishment—and Harmer nodded, saying, “Well, well!” his usual remark when he did not understand what was going on. Only Mrs. Jersey spoke. Train had taken a sitting room as well as a bedroom, therefore he must be rich, and as he bad not haggled over terms it was necessary that he should be flattered. Mrs. Jersey saw a chance of making money out of him. “How delightful,” she said in her motherly manner. “I hojie you will say nice things about us, Mr. Train.” “I shall tell the truth, madame. The truth does not flatter.” Mrs. Jersey became still more motherly and paid a compliment. “That depends, Mr. Train. If the truth were spoken about you, for instance.” It was really a very nice compliment, but Miss Bull, with malice aforethought, spoiled it in the utterance by laughing pointedly. Train, who had already set his face for a smile, grew red, and madame darted a look at Miss Bull quite out of keeping with her motherly manner. More than this, she spoke her mind. “I hope, Mr. Train, that you will speak the whole truth of some of us.”

Miss Bull shrugged her thin shoulders a«d In direct contradiction to the traditions of the evening produced her pack of cards. To abstain on Friday evenings always annoyed her, and since madame had been rude Miss Bull seized the opportunity to show her Indifference and enjoy by doing so her favorite pastime. She was a small, thin, dry old maid, with a pallid face and bright black eyes. Her mouth was hard and smiled treacherously. No one liked her save Margery, the niece of Mrs. Jersey. But Margery was supposed to be queer, so her approval of Miss Bull mattered little. “Perhaps Mr. Granger will oblige us with a song,” suggested madame, smoothing her face, but still Inwardly furious. Mr. Granger, who had been waiting for this moment, was only too happy. He knew but one song and had sung it dozens of times In that very room. It was natural to suppose that he knew It by heart All the same he produced his music and read the words as be sang. Margery played his accom-

panlment without looking at the notes. She was as familiar with them as she was with the moment when Mr. Granger's voice would crack. This night he cracked as usual, apologized as .usual, and his hearers accepted the apology as usual, so it was all very pleasant. “If Mrs. Talne will play us the ‘Canary Bird Quadrilles,’ ” Mrs. Jersey hastily intervened, “hckw pleased we shall be.” Mrs. Talne obliged, and madame, under cover of the music, talked with Train. “You mustn’t mind the guests,” she said; “they are old and require to be humored.” “It's most amusing, madame. I shall stop here throe weeks to pick up types.” “Oli, you must stay longer than that,” said madame, smiling and patting his hand, still in a motherly way. “Now that you have found us out, we cannot lose you. By the way”—here Mrs. Jersey’s eyes became very searching—“how did you find us out?” “It was a friend of mine, madame. He knew that I wanted to get into the Dickens world and suggested this house.”

“Do I know the gentleman?" asked madame, who seemed anxious. “I don’t think so. But he is coming to see me tonight." "You must ask him in here and introduce him. I should like to thank him for having recommended my house.” “We were going to have a conversation in my room,” said Train dubiously. “He’s such a shy fellow that I don’t think he'll come in.” “Oh, but he must. I love young people. Will your friend remain overnight?” “He will if he comes at all,” replied Leonard, looking at his watch; “but if the fog is very thick I don’t know if he’ll turn up. It is now 9 o’clock.” “We usually disperse at 11,” said madame, “but on this night I must break up at 10, as I have”—she hesitated— “1 have business to do.” “I won’t trouble you, madame,” said Train. “My friend and I can have supper in my room.” “That’s just it,” said madame, and her voice became rather hard. “I beg, Mr. Train, that you and your friend will uot sit up late.” “Why not? We both wish to smoke and talk.” “You can do that in the daytime, Mr. Train. But my house is most respectable, and I hope you will be In bed before 11.” Leonard would have protested, as he objected to this sort of maternal government, but Mrs. Jersey rustled away and he was left to make the best of

it. Before he could collect his wits a message came that he was wanted. “By Jove, it’s George,” he said and hurried out of the room. Mrs. Jersey overheard the name. “I suppose his friend Is called George,” she thought, and frowned. Her recollections of that name were not pleasant. However, she thought no more about the matter, but sailed across to Miss Bull. “The music doesn’t please you, Miss Bull,” she said In rather an acid tone. “It’s very nice,” replied the old maid, dealing the cards, “but I have heard it before.” “You may not have the chance of bearing it again,” said madame. “It’s a world of change,” replied Miss Bull In her sharp voice. "Margery, was that a heart?” Margery pointed a fat finger to the card In question, and Miss Bull muttered something about her eyesight getting worse. Madame knew that this was just done to annoy hfer, as Miss Bull’s sight was excellent. To revenge herself she took Margery away. “Go and tell the servants to send up the negus and sandwiches,” she said sharply. Margery rose heavily. She was a huge girl twenty years of age and apparently very stupid. Why sharp little Miss Bull, who loved no one, had taken to her no one knew, but the two were inseparable. Seeing this, madame

hard at work In

other quarters so as to part her from the old maid. But with the cunning of an animal—and Margery was very much of that type—the girl managed to see a great deal of her one friend. Madame had an idea of the reason for this, but at the present moment did not think it necessary to Interfere. She was quite capable of crushing Miss Bull when the need arose. Meantime she vented her temper by sending Margery away. The girl departed with a scowl and an angry look at her aunt, but Miss Bull never raised her eyes, though she was well aware of what was going on. Madame was not to be beaten. “I tell you what, dear Miss Bull,” she said, smiling graciously, “since you have broken through our rule and have produced the cards, you shall tell all our fortunes.”

“Yours?” asked Miss Bull, looking up for the first time. Madame shook her head. "I know mine. Tell Mr. Granger’s.” “I am at Miss Bull’s service,” said the polite old gentleman, bowing. Miss Bull swept the cards into a heap. “I’m quite willing,” she said in a voice almost pleasant for her. “Anything to oblige dear madame.' 1

Mrs. Jersey smiled still more graciously and sailed away to send Mr. Harmer to the cards. But she wondered Inwardly why Miss Bull had given way so suddenly. There was some reason for It, as Miss Bull never did anything without a reason. But Mrs. Jersey kept her own counsel and still continued to smile. She had quite made up her mind how to act.

“Ladles and gentlemen,” she said, standing in the middle of the drawing room, “we must disperse tonight at 10. 1 have some business to attend to, so I request you will all retire at that hour. In the meantime Miss Bull has kindly consented to tell your fortunes.” Madame then retired to her throne and saw that the servants arranged the tray properly. She had a gigantic chair, which was jokingly called her throne, and here she received strangers in quite a majestic way. Mrs. Jersey was not bad looking. She had a fresh colored face, bright black eyes and plenty of white hair like spun silk. Her figure was stout, but she yet retained a certain comeliness which showed that she must have been a handsome woman in her youth. Her manners were motherly, but she showed a stern face toward Margery and did not treat the girl so kindly as she might have done. As a rule, she had great self command, but sometimes gave way to paroxysms of passion which were really terrifying. But Margery alone had been witness of these, and Mrs. Jersey passed for a dear, gentle old lady. _A moment later Train entered, and after him came a tall young man, fair haired and stalwart. He was handsome, but seemed to be 111 at ease and pulled his yellow mustache nervously as Train led him to the throne. “This is my friend,” said Leonard, presenting him. “He just managed to get here, for the fog is so thick”— Here he was interrupted. “Madame,” cried Mrs. Taine, “what is the matter? Mr. Harmer, the water—winequick.” There was need of it. Mrs. Jersey bad fallen back on the throne with a white face and twitching lips. She appeared as though about to faint, but, restraining herself with a powerful effort, she waved her hand to intimate

that she needed nothing. At the same time her eyes were fastened not ao much on the face of the stranger as on a piece of yellow holly he wore in his coat. "I am perfectly well,” said Mrs. Jersey. “This is only one of my turns. I am glad to see you, Mr.”— “Brendon,” said the stranger, who seemed astonished at this reception. “George Brendon,” interpolated Train, who was alive with curiosity. “Have you seen him before, madame?" Mrs. Jersey laughed artificially. “Certainly not,” she replied calmly, “and yours is not a face I should forget, Mr. Brendon.”

She uttered the name with a certain amount of hesitation, as though sbs was not sure it was the right one. George nodded. “My name is Brendon,” he said, rather unnecessarily, and Mrs. Jersey nodded in her most gracious manner. “I bid you welcome, sir. Any friend, of Mr. Train’s is also my friend. If there is anything to amuse you here?" She waved her hand. “We are simple people—fortune telling, a little music and the company of my guests. Mrs. Taine, Mr. Harmer!” She introduced them, but every now and then her eyes were on the yellow holly, Brendon remarked It.

“You are noticing my flower, Mrs. Jersey,” he said. “It Is rather rare.” “Most extraordinary,” replied Mrs. Jersey coolly. “I have seen holly with red berries before, but this yellow”— “There was a great bush of it in my father’s garden.” said Mr. Harmer, “but I have not seen any for years.” “Perhaps you would like it, Mrs. Jersey,” said Brendon, taking it from his coat.

She hastily waved her hand. “No, no! lam too old for flowers. Keep it, Mr. Brendon. It suits better with your youth,” she looked at his face keenly. “I have seen a face like yours before.” Brendon laughed. “I am of a commonplace type, I fear,” he said. “No; not so very common. Fair hair and dark eyes do not usually go together. Perhaps I have met your father?” “Perhaps,” replied George phlegmatically. “Or your mother?” persisted Mrs. Jersey.

“I dare say!” Then he turned the conversation. “What a delightful old house you have here!” Mrs. Jersey bit her lip on finding her inquiries thus baffled, but, taking her cue, expanded on the subject of the bouse. “It was a fashionable mansion in the time of the Georges,” she said. “Some of the ceilings are wonderfully painted, and there are all kinds of queer rooms and cupboards and corners in it. Will you have some negus, port wine negus, Mr. Brendon?” She was evidently talking at random, and offered him a glass of negus with a trembling hand. Brendon, evidently more and more astonished at her manner, drank off the wine. He made few remarks, being a man who spoke little in general company. Train had long ago gone to hear Miss Bull tell fortunes, and from the laughter it was evident that his future was being prophesied. [TO BE CONTINUED.)

Did you know the Weber wagon excelled all others in many pointe? See them at Parker’s and be convinced.

“I am glad to find so rich a field."