Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England Flaming June By Mrs George de Horne Vaizey ________________________________________________________________________ This book is a little different from most of the others from this author. The cast of the story are just a shade older than we are used to in Vaizey books, and there is no one who is afflicted with a disabling disease, such as the author herself suffered from. I suppose you could describe the setting as the upper-class Mayfair set. The scene opens in the house of a tidy old spinster, living in a tidy little seaside town, in a row of large houses of similar people, sharing private access to a well-kept garden. A rather stable existence. There is also a nice young American girl, over in England as part of her education, no doubt. Her father has become very rich in America, but he is the brother of the tidy old spinster, on whom, and to whose dismay, he has imposed Cornelia's visit. Cornelia is simply not used to the standards of English behaviour, for instance chaperones, and not gadding about with young men. Cornelia has quite enough pocket-money to do as she pleases. But her aunt is proved right in the end, for among all these nice well-brought-up people there is a baddy, which is revealed only towards the end. NH ________________________________________________________________________ FLAMING JUNE BY MRS. GEORGE DE HORNE VAIZEY CHAPTER ONE. Somewhere on the West coast of England, about a hundred miles from the metropolis, there stands a sleepy little town, which possesses no special activity nor beauty to justify its existence. People live in it for reasons of their own. The people who do _not_ live in it wonder for _what_ reasons, but attain no better solution of the mystery than the statement that the air is very fine. "We have such bracing air!" says the resident, as proudly as if that said air were his special invention and property. Certain West-country doctors affect Norton-on-Sea for patients in need of restful change, and their melancholy advent justifies the existence of the great hotel on the esplanade, and the row of bath-chairs at the corner. There are ten bath-chairs in all, and on sunny days ten crumpled-looking old ladies can generally be seen sitting inside their canopies, trundling slowly along the esplanade, accompanied by a paid companion, dressed in black and looking sorry for herself. Occasionally on Saturdays and Sundays a pretty daughter, or a tall son takes the companion's place, but as sure as Monday arrives they disappear into space. One can imagine that one hears them bidding their farewells--"So glad to see you getting on so well, mother dear! I positively _must_ rush back to town to attend to a hundred duties. It's a comfort to feel that you are so well placed. Miss Biggs is a treasure, and this air is so bracing!..."