Miss Hargreaves Read Online Free Page A

dear old friend? I am assuming that, as usual, you will be attending the Choirs Festival and I am therefore addressing this to the Manor Court Hotel at Hereford which I know you always patronize. Do let me hear from you. Will you be going to Bath as usual?
    ‘Any time you care to come and stay with us at Cornford you will be more than welcome. My mother and father have long hoped to meet you and I need hardly say that this invitation extends also to Sarah and Dr Pepusch. Send me a card any time you feel like coming.
    ‘With warmest regards,
                  ‘Ever most sincerely,
                             ‘NORMAN HUNTLEY.’
    ‘You ought to put “My” dear Miss Hargreaves,’ said Henry after he’d read the letter through.
    ‘Oh, do you think so? I was inclined to think that “my dear old friend” was a bit too familiar.’
    ‘Too familiar! My dear Norman, nothing could be too familiar for such an old friend.’
    ‘You agree the regards ought to be warm?’
    ‘As hot as hell.’
    I sealed the letter, and addressed it to the Manor Court Hotel, Hereford. We posted it from Lusk, feeling that it ought to bear the Lusk postmark.
    That evening we left Ulster. Just as we sailed out of Belfast and were leaning on the rail looking at the lights of the quay and feeling a bit sad that our holiday in Ireland was over, Henry said to me, ‘I suppose that letter’ll stay in the rack for months. Interesting to go there in a year’s time and see if it’s still there.’
    I couldn’t pass this.
    ‘Why should it still be there?’ I demanded. ‘If Miss Hargreaves hasn’t yet arrived, she will in a day or so.’
    ‘I’m sorry,’ said Henry hurriedly. ‘I was assuming, just for a moment, that there wasn’t such a person. Pure idle fancy, you know.’
    ‘I call it damned disrespectful,’ I said, ‘and in the worst possible taste. You can only make up for it by coming below and standing me a drink on her behalf.’
    We went down and ordered double gins.
    ‘To Miss Hargreaves!’ said Henry solemnly.
    ‘Long may she live!’ I cried.
    We drank.

2
    H ENRY went straight back to Cornford, but I didn’t. I’d promised mother I’d spend a day or so with Aunt Flossie who lives in Doncaster, a nice old thing as aunts go.
    I had breakfast with Henry on Liverpool station, and saw him off on his London train.
    ‘Well, old boy,’ he said, stepping into his carriage and hurling his bag on to the rack, ‘that was a grand holiday.’
    ‘With a grand conclusion,’ I said.
    ‘Tell you what. Next time we have a holiday together we’ll take Connie with us. Give her a treat, poor old dear.’
    He swivelled his pipe from one side of his mouth to the other; he always does this when he’s rather pleased with himself. ‘Should like to take her on the tiles,’ he added.
    ‘She’s better where she is,’ I said. ‘Safely tucked away in her creator’s mind.’
    ‘What about my mind?’
    ‘Your mind?’
    ‘Yes, she’s in mine too. You’ve parted with her, you know. She’s no longer your exclusive property.’ The guard waved his flag. ‘Anyway,’ he added, ‘she’s probably on her way to Bath by now. So long! See you in a day or so.’
    The train steamed out. Henry shouted to me:
    ‘I should think she’s the only person left who travels with her own bath, wouldn’t you?’
    ‘You mean,’ I cried, ‘the one given her by Mr Archer sixty years ago?’
    Henry laughed and withdrew his head.
    I went to find my Doncaster train, wondering just why Mr Archer should have given Miss Hargreaves a bath–I mean, of course, presented her with a bath, not bathed her; though, for all I knew, he might have bathed her. Rather extravagant. But still, if Miss Hargreaves was anything she was certainly eccentric.
    No need to tell you anything about my Aunt Flossie, who doesn’t come into the story at all. Two days later I travelled south, arriving at Cornford about seven. It was a superb