Day-Books…chronicles of good and evil

This ebook edition has been proofed and corrected for errors and compiled to read with pleasure!



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Contents:


Morrison's Heir
An Acquaintance Renewed
The Hour Of Her Life
The Fifth Edition

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an excerpt from the beginning of the first story:


MORRISON'S HEIR


A December afternoon, cold and clammy. So thoroughly disagreeable a day that, when with the first touch of twilight a drizzling rain began falling, the policeman on duty at the upper end of Pall Mall seemed to have the deserted pavements entirely to himself. The sentry on guard at Marlborough House had sensibly withdrawn into his box, and the crossing-sweeper at the corner had given up business as hopeless, and had retired for the day. Only the swift roll of an occasional carriage, and the patter of horses' feet through the mud and slush broke the silence, and a girl who was sheltering in a hospitable doorway began vaguely wondering how it was that the discomfort of her surroundings could still have power to affect her. She had believed herself incapable of any thought other than of her own misery, and of what Dick would say, and it was a positive relief to her to feel that her wet garments were clinging round her ankles.

She hated it so much, and the little pools of water which had dripped from the folds of her umbrella, that the hatred seemed to humanise her, and bring her more within touch of her fellows and their commonplace annoyances. Probably the guard opposite was longing for dry clothing and a fireside as much as she. Perhaps the policeman was thinking wistfully of his home, and .... No, not that. The dulled look came back to her face. She had nothing in common with other people except just the weather; she must keep to that. But the sentry must dislike this rain and cold, and so did she, she told herself with childish reiteration.

' Are yer waitin' for a 'bus? None run along 'ere; leastways, not so 'igh up, ma'am.'

The 'ma'am' was jerked out involuntarily, and possibly more in deference to her clothes than to the pale scared face. For they were handsome clothes, and, to the practised eyes watching her, their wearer was evidently unaccustomed to what the man chose to consider was a questionable position.

'Isn't it a 'bus yer waiting for?' he repeated.

The girl shrank farther back into the entry.

'Oh no, I know, thank you,' she said, hurriedly. ' I have an appointment I'm rather early; I am waiting here.'

The policeman growled something she did not catch, and turning on his heel recommenced his beat. It was nothing to him if she stood there until the shop-people closed up their doorway, but he would have been willing to make a small bet, had there been anyone there to take him, that no one would arrive to keep that appointment with her. It was the happy-go-lucky, satisfied-looking women, as far as his experience went, with whom appointments were kept, not miserable creatures who would probably burst into tears by way of a welcome.

So he was considerably astonished when, having tramped back again and arrived within sight of her, he found she had left her refuge, and was ringing at a bell a few houses down. He had never known Mr. Richard Morrison to have mysterious callers before, and it was undoubtedly a compliment to that young man that he paused a moment to see if she were admitted.