The very next morning they set out house-hunting, and two days laterthey had found what they wanted. Not exactly what they wanted of course,for the reason, as Anna-Felicitas explained that nothing ever isexactly, but full of possibilities to the eye of imagination, andthere were six of this sort of eye gazing at the little house.
It stood at right angles to a road much used by motorists because of itsbeauty, and hidden from it by trees on the top of a slope of greenfields scattered over with live oaks that gently descended down towardsthe sea. Its back windows, and those parts of it that a house is ashamedof, were close up to a thick grove of eucalyptus which continued to thefoot of the mountains. It had an overrun little garden in front,separated from the fields by a riotous hedge of sweetbriar. It had a feworange, and lemon, and peach trees on its west side, the survivors ofwhat had once been intended for an orchard, and a line of pepper treeson the other, between it and the road. Neglected roses and a hugewistaria clambered over its dilapidated face. Somebody had once plantedsyringas, and snowballs, and lilacs along the inside of the line ofpepper trees, and they had grown extravagantly and were an impenetrablescreen, even without the sweeping pepper trees from the road.
It hadn't been lived in for years, and it was well on in decay, beingmade of wood, but the situation was perfect for The Open Arms. Everymotorist coming up that road would see the signboard outside the peppertrees, and would certainly want to stop at the neat little gate, andpass through the flowery tunnel that would be cut through the syringas,and see what was inside. Other houses were offered of a far higherclass, for this one had never been lived in by gentry, said thehouse-agent endeavouring to put them off a thing so broken down. Afarmer had had it years back, he told them, and instead of confininghimself to drinking the milk from his own cows, which was the onlyappropriate drink for a farmer the agent maintained--he was thepresident of the local Anti-Vice-In-All-Its-Forms League--he put hismoney as he earned it into gin, and the gin into himself, and so after abit was done for.
The other houses the agent pressed on them were superior in every wayexcept situation; but situation being the first consideration, Mr. Twistagreed with the twins, who had fallen in love with the neglected littlehouse whose shabbiness was being so industriously hidden by roses, thatthis was the place, and a week later it and its garden had beenbought--Mr. Twist didn't tell the twins he had bought it, in order toavoid argument, but it was manifestly the simple thing to do--and overand round and through it swarmed workmen all day long, like so manydiligent and determined ants. Also, before the week was out, themiddle-aged lady had been found and engaged, and a cook of gifts in thematter of cakes. This is the way you do things in America. You decidewhat it is that you really want, and you start right away and get it."And everything so cheap too!" exclaimed the twins gleefully, whose ?00was behaving, it appeared, very like the widow's cruse.
This belief, however, received a blow when they went without Mr. Twist,who was too busy now for any extra expeditions, to choose and buychintzes, and it was finally shattered when the various middle-agedladies who responded to Mr. Twist's cry for help in the advertisingcolumns of the Acapulco and Los Angeles press one and all demanded assalary more than the whole Twinkler capital.
The twins had a bad moment of chill fear and misgiving, and then oncemore were saved by an inspiration,--this time Anna-Rose's.
"I know," she exclaimed, her face clearing. "We'll make itCo-operative."
Mr. Twist, whose brow too had been puckered in the effort to think out away of persuading the twins to let him help them openly with his money,for in spite of his going to be their guardian they remained difficulton this point, jumped at the idea. He couldn't, of course, tell what inAnna-Rose's mind the word co-operative stood for, but felt confidentthat whatever it stood for he could manipulate it into covering hisdifficulties.
"What is co-operative?" asked Anna-Felicitas, with a new respect for asister who could suddenly produce a business word like that and seem toknow all about it. She had heard the word herself, but it sat veryloosely in her head, at no point touching anything else.
"Haven't you heard of Co-operative Stores?" inquired Anna-Rose.
"Yes but--"
"Well, then."
"Yes, but what would a co-operative inn be?" persisted Anna-Felicitas.
"One run on co-operative lines, of course," said Anna-Rose grandly."Everybody pays for everything, so that nobody particular pays foranything."
"Oh," said Anna-Felicitas.
"I mean," said Anna-Rose, who felt herself that this might be clearer,"it's when you pay the servants and the rent and the cakes and thingsout of what you get."
"Oh," said Anna-Felicitas. "And will they wait quite quietly till we'vegot it?"
"Of course, if we're all co-operative."
"I see," said Anna-Felicitas, who saw as little as before, but knew ofold that Anna-Rose grew irascible when pressed.
"See here now," said Mr. Twist weightily, "if that isn't an idea. Onlyyou've got hold of the wrong word. The word you want is profit-sharing.And as this undertaking is going to be a big success there will be bigprofits, and any amount of cakes and salaries will be paid for as gliblyand easily as you can say your ABC."
And he explained that till they were fairly started he was going to stayin California, and that he intended during this time to be book-keeper,secretary, and treasurer to The Open Arms, besides Advertiser-in-Chief,which was, he said, the most important post of all; and if they would beso good as to leave this side of it unquestioningly to him, who had hada business training, he would undertake that the Red Cross, American orBritish, whichever they decided to support, should profit handsomely.
Thus did Mr. Twist artfully obtain a free hand as financial backer ofThe Open Arms. The profit-sharing system seemed to the twins admirable.It cleared away every scruple and every difficulty, they now boughtchintzes and pewter pots in the faith of it without a qualm, and evenceased to blench at the salary of the lady engaged to be theirbackground,--indeed her very expensiveness pleased them, for it gavethem confidence that she must at such a price be the right one, becausenobody, they agreed, who knew herself not to be the right one would havethe face to demand so much.
This lady, the widow of Bruce D. Bilton of Chicago of whom of course,she said, the Miss Twinklers had heard--the Miss Twinklers blushed andfelt ashamed of themselves because they hadn't, and indistinctlymurmured something about having heard of Cornelius K. Vanderbilt,though, and wouldn't he do--had a great deal of very beautifulsnow-white hair, while at the same time she was only middle-aged. Shefirmly announced, when she perceived Mr. Twist's spectacles dwelling onher hair, that she wasn't yet forty, and her one fear was that shemightn't be middle-aged enough. The advertisement had particularlymentioned middle-aged; and though she was aware that her brains andfingers and feet couldn't possibly be described as coming under thatheading, she said her hair, on the other hand, might well be regarded ashaving overshot the mark. But its turning white had nothing to do withage. It had done that when Mr. Bilton passed over. No hair could havestood such grief as hers when Mr. Bilton took that final step. She hadbeen considering the question of age, she informed Mr. Twist, from everyaspect before coming to the interview, for she didn't want to make amistake herself nor allow the Miss Twinklers to make a mistake; and shehad arrived at the conclusion that what with her hair being too old andthe rest of her being too young, taken altogether she struck an absoluteaverage and perfectly fulfilled the condition required; and as shewished to live in the country, town life disturbing her psychically toomuch, she was willing to give up her home and her circle--it was a realsacrifice--and accept the position offered by the Miss Twinklers. Shewas, she said, very quiet, and yet at the same time she was very active.She liked to fly round among duties, and she liked to retire into herown mentality and think. She was all for equilibrium, for the rightbalancing of body and mind in a proper alternation of suitable action.Thus she attained poise,--she was one of the most poised women herfriends knew, they told her. Also she had a warm heart, and liked bothphilanthropy and orphans. Especially if they were war ones.
Mrs. Bilton talked so quickly and so profusely that it took quite a longtime to engage her. There never seemed to be a pause in which one coulddo it. It was in Los Angeles, in an hotel to which Mr. Twist had motoredthe twins, starting at daybreak that morning in order to see this lady,that the personal interview took place, and by lunch-time they had beenpersonally interviewing her for three hours without stopping. It seemedyears. The twins longed to engage her, if only to keep her quiet; butMrs. Bilton's spirited description of life as she saw it and of the wayit affected something she called her psyche, was without punctuation andwithout even the tiny gap of a comma in it through which one might havedexterously slipped a definite offer. She had to be interrupted at last,in spite of the discomfort this gave to the Twinkler and Twistpoliteness, because a cook was coming to be interviewed directly afterlunch, and they were dying for some food.
The moment Mr. Twist saw Mrs. Bilton's beautiful white hair he knew shewas the one. That hair was what The Open Arms wanted and must have; thathair, with a well-made black dress to go with it, would be a shieldthrough which no breath of misunderstanding as to the singleness ofpurpose with which the inn was run would ever penetrate. He would havesettled it with her in five minutes if she could have been got tolisten, but Mrs. Bilton couldn't be got to listen; and when it becameclear that no amount of patient waiting would bring him any nearer theend of what she had to say Mr. Twist was forced to take off his coat, asit were, and plunge abruptly into the very middle of her flow of wordsand convey to her as quickly as possible, as one swimming for his lifeagainst the stream, that she was engaged. "Engaged, Mrs. Bilton,"--hecalled out, raising his voice above the sound of Mrs. Bilton's rushingwords, "engaged." She would be expected at the Cosmopolitan, swiftlycontinued Mr. Twist, who was as particularly anxious to have her at theCosmopolitan as the twins were particularly anxious not to,--for for thelife of them they couldn't see why Mrs. Bilton should be stirred upbefore they started inhabiting the cottage,--within three days--
"Mr. Twist, it can't be done," broke in Mrs. Bilton a fresh andmountainous wave of speech gathering above Mr. Twist's head. "Itabsolutely--"
"Within a week, then," he called out quickly, holding up the breaking ofthe wave for an instant while he hastened to and opened the door. "Andgoodmorning Mrs. Bilton--my apologies, my sincere apologies, but wehave to hurry away--"
The cook was engaged that afternoon. Mr. Twist appeared to have mixed upthe answers to his advertisement, for when, after paying theluncheon-bill, he went to join the twins in the sitting-room, he foundthem waiting for him in the passage outside the door looking excited.
"The cook's come," whispered Anna-Rose, jerking her head towards theshut door. "She's a man."
"She's a Chinaman," whispered Anna-Felicitas.
Mr. Twist was surprised. He thought he had an appointment with awoman,--a coloured lady from South Carolina who was a specialist inpastries and had immaculate references, but the Chinaman assured himthat he hadn't, and that his appointment was with him alone, with him,Li Koo. In proof of it, he said, spreading out his hands, here he was."We make cakies--li'l cakies--many, lovely li'l cakies," said Li Koo,observing doubt on the gentleman's face; and from somewhere on hisperson he whipped out a paper bag of them as a conjurer whips a rabbitout of a hat, and offered them to the twins.
They ate. He was engaged. It took five minutes.
After he had gone, and punctually to the minute of her appointment, anover-flowing Negress appeared and announced that she was the colouredlady from South Carolina to whom the gentleman had written.
Mr. Twist uncomfortably felt that Li Koo had somehow been clever.Impossible, however, to go back on him, having eaten his cakes. Besides,they were perfect cakes, blown together apparently out of flowers andhoney and cream,--cakes which, combined with Mrs. Bilton's hair, wouldmake the fortune of The Open Arms.
The coloured lady, therefore, was sent away, disappointed in spite ofthe douceur and fair words Mr. Twist gave her; and she was so muchdisappointed that they could hear her being it out loud all the wayalong the passage and down the stairs, and the nature of her expressionof her disappointment was such that Mr. Twist, as he tried by animatedconversation to prevent it reaching the twins' ears, could only bethankful after all that Li Koo had been so clever. It did, however,reach the twins' ears, but they didn't turn a hair because of UncleArthur. They merely expressed surprise at its redness, seeing that itcame out of somebody so black.
Directly after this trip to Los Angeles advertisements began to creepover the countryside. They crept along the roads where motorists werefrequent and peeped at passing cars round corners and over hedges. Theywere taciturn advertisements, and just said three words in big,straight, plain white letters on a sea-blue ground:
THE OPEN ARMS
People passing in their cars saw them, and vaguely thought it must bethe name of a book. They had better get it. Other people would have gotit. It couldn't be a medicine nor anything to eat, and was probably areligious novel. Novels about feet or arms were usually religious. A fewconsidered it sounded a little improper, and as though the book, farfrom being religious, would not be altogether nice; but only very properpeople who distrusted everything, even arms took this view.
After a week the same advertisements appeared with three lines added:
THE OPEN ARMS YES BUTWHY? WHERE? WHAT?
and then ten days after that came fresh ones:
THE OPEN ARMS WILL OPEN WIDE
On November 20th at Four P.M.
N.B. WATCH THE SIGNPOSTS.
And while the countryside--an idle countryside, engaged almost wholly inholiday-making and glad of any new distraction--began to be interestedand asked questions, Mr. Twist was working day and night at getting thething ready.
All day long he was in Acapulco or out at the cottage, urging, hurrying,criticizing, encouraging, praising and admonishing. His heart and souland brain was in this, his business instincts and his soft domesticside. His brain, after working at top speed during the day with thearchitect, the painter and decorator, the furnisher, the garden expert,the plumbing expert, the electric-light expert, the lawyer, the estateagent, and numberless other persons, during the night meditated andevolved advertisements. There was to be a continual stream week by weekafter the inn was opened of ingenious advertisements. Altogether Mr.Twist had his hands full.
The inn was to look artless and simple and small, while actually beingthe last word in roomy and sophisticated comfort. It was to be as likean old English inn to look at as it could possibly be got to be going onhis own and the twins' recollections and the sensationally colouredElizabethan pictures in the architect's portfolio. It didn't disturb Mr.Twist's unprejudiced American mind that an English inn embowered inheliotrope and arum lilies and eucalyptus trees would be odd andunnatural, and it wouldn't disturb anybody else there either. Were notSwiss mountain chalets to be found in the fertile plains along thePacific, complete with fir trees specially imported and uprooted intheir maturity and brought down with tons of their own earth attached totheir roots and replanted among carefully disposed, apparently Swissrocks, so that what one day had been a place smiling with orange-groveswas the next a bit of frowning northern landscape? And were there notItalian villas dotted about also? But these looked happier and more athome than the chalets. And there were buildings too, like small Gothiccathedrals, looking as uncomfortable and depressed as a woman who hascome to a party in the wrong clothes. But no matter. Nobody minded. Sothat an English inn added to this company, with a little Germanbeer-garden--only there wasn't to be any beer--wouldn't cause the leastsurprise or discomfort to anybody.
In the end, the sole resemblance the cottage had to an English inn wasthe signboard out in the road. With the best will in the world, and theliveliest financial encouragement from Mr. Twist, the architect couldn'tin three weeks turn a wooden Californian cottage into an ancientred-brick Elizabethan pothouse. He got a thatched roof on to it by amiracle of hustle, but the wooden walls remained; he also found a realantique heavy oak front door studded with big rusty nailheads in a SanFrancisco curiosity shop, that would serve, he said, as a basis for anywished-for hark-back later on when there was more time to the old girl'sepoch--thus did he refer to Great Eliza and her spacious days--andmeanwhile it gave the building, he alleged, a considerable air; but asthis door in that fine climate was hooked open all day long it didn'tdisturb the gay, the almost jocose appearance of the place wheneverything was finished.
Houses have their expressions, their distinctive faces, very much aspeople have, meditated Mr. Twist the morning of the opening, as he satastride a green chair at the bottom of the little garden, where a hedgeof sweetbriar beautifully separated the Twinkler domain from the rollingfields that lay between it and the Pacific, and stared at his handiwork;and the conclusion was forced upon him--reluctantly, for it was the lastthing he had wanted The Open Arms to do--that the thing looked as if itwere winking at him.
Positively, thought Mr. Twist, his hat on the back of his head, staring,that was what it seemed to be doing. How was that? He studied itprofoundly, his head on one side. Was it that it was so very gay? Hehadn't meant it to be gay like that. He had intended a restrained anddisciplined simplicity, a Puritan unpretentiousness, with those sweetmaidens, the Twinkler twins, flitting like modest doves in and out amongits tea-tables; but one small thing had been added to another smallthing at their suggestion, each small thing taken separately apparentlynot mattering at all and here it was almost--he hoped it was only hisimagination--winking at him. It looked a familiar little house; jocular;very open indeed about the arms.