Good Old Anna | Page 3

it is. And I only wish I was a young man instead of
an old woman! I'm sorry for every Englishman who is too old to take
up arms in this just cause. What must be Major Guthrie's feelings
to-day! How he must regret having left the Army to please his selfish
old mother! It's the more hard on him as he always believed this war
would come. He really knows Germany."
"Major Guthrie only knows military Germany," said Mrs. Otway
slowly.
"It's only what you call military Germany which counts to-day,"
observed Miss Forsyth quickly; and then, seeing that her friend looked
hurt, and even, what she so very seldom was, angry too, she held out
her hand with the words: "And now I must be moving on, for before
going to the cathedral I have to see Mrs. Haworth for a minute. By the
way, I hear that the Dean intends to give a little address about the war."
She added, in a different and a kindlier tone: "You must forgive me,

Mary, for saying what I did about your good old Anna! But you know
I'm really fond of you, and I'm even fonder of your sweet Rose than I
am of you. I always feel that there is a great deal in Rose--more than in
any other girl I know. And then--well, Mary, she is so very pretty!
prettier than you even were, though you had a way of making every one
think you lovely!"
Mrs. Otway laughed. She was quite mollified. "I know how fond you
are of Rose," she said gratefully, "and, of course, I don't mind your
having spoken to me about Anna. But as to parting with her--that
would mean the end of the world to us, to your young friend Rose even
more than to me. Why, it would be worse--far worse--than the war!"
CHAPTER II
As Mrs. Otway walked slowly on, she could not help telling herself that
dear old Miss Forsyth had been more interfering and tiresome than she
usually was this morning.
She felt ruffled by the little talk they two had just had--so ruffled and
upset that, instead of turning into the gate of the house where she had
been bound--for she, too, had meant to pay a call in the Close on her
way to the cathedral--she walked slowly on the now deserted stretch of
road running through and under the avenue of elm trees which are so
beautiful and distinctive a feature of Witanbury Close.
Again a lump rose to her throat, and this time the tears started into her
eyes and rolled down her cheeks. In sheer astonishment at her own
emotion, she stopped short, and taking out her handkerchief dabbed her
eyes hurriedly. How strange that this interchange of words with one
whose peculiarities she had known, and, yes, suffered under and smiled
at for so many years, should make her feel so--so--so upset!
Mrs. Otway was a typical Englishwoman of her age, which was
forty-three, and of her class, which was that from which are drawn
most of the women from whom the clergy of the Established Church
choose their wives. There are thousands such, living in serene girlhood,
wifehood, or widowhood, to be found in the villages and country towns

of dear old England. With but very few exceptions, they are
kindly-natured, unimaginative, imbued with a shrinking dislike of any
exaggerated display of emotion; in some ways amazingly
broad-minded, in others curiously limited in their outlook on life. Such
women, as a rule, present few points of interest to students of human
nature, for they are almost invariably true to type, their virtues and their
defects being cast in the same moulds.
But Mrs. Otway was much more original and more impulsive, thus far
less "groovy," than the people among whom her lot was cast. There
were even censorious folk in Witanbury who called her eccentric. She
was generous-hearted, easily moved to enthusiasm, tenacious of her
opinions and prejudices. She had remained young of heart, and her fair,
curling hair, her slight, active figure, and delicately-tinted skin, gave
her sometimes an almost girlish look. Those who met her for the first
time were always surprised to find that Mrs. Otway had a grown-up
daughter.
As a girl she had spent two very happy years in Germany, at Weimar,
and she had kept from those far-off days a very warm and affectionate
feeling towards the Fatherland, as also a rather exceptionally good
knowledge both of the German language and of old-fashioned German
literature. Then had come a short engagement, followed by five years
of placid, happy marriage with a minor canon of Witanbury Cathedral.
And then, at the end of those five years, which had slipped by so easily
and so quickly, she had