THE GIFT IMPOSSIBLE.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXV, Issue 199, 20 August 1904, Page 11

THE GIFT IMPOSSIBLE.

By BTHBL TURNER. Ifcuther of "Seven Little Australians," "The Family at Misrule," "Tljc Little J-errikin," etc.

CHAPTER VIII. "It is very wearing to Ijr jroou." —Marh Twain. "H'-ch, Bonnie—you can't come if you j_tke a noise. Walter, h'sh, h'sh, you'll wake thc;u. I know.'' '".Let go my arm, then, and I'll slide down the banisters—that's the quietest way downstairs." "No. you carry Byny. Come on, Bonnie—oh, Winnie, look, he's going down head first, and he'll make such a noise if he falls." "I can't help it—be won't stop for mc, Ru." "Bonnie, stand up, or Ru will have to smack you." '•'Mack mc? No. Mc "ittle gee-gee/ and Bonnie persisted in his four-tooled career downstairs. Walter was at the bottom first, and his quick, brilliant slide fired Byny with a desire to emulate the performance, so Ruth put lii::i on the banisters, and with her arm round him hurri«d hitn down to where Walter in his grey pyjamas still sat astride. Ruth was the only one fully dressed, and even her soft, brown haid was still pinned roughly up just a-; she hod done it to keep it out of the water when she had bathed '20 minutes ago. Winnie had reached the petticoat stage, ami had aNu one of her socks on. Bonnie was lightly uttired in his singlet. and Byny was still in hi- nightgown. But they were clown at last and away from the narrow, sounding staircase. "We'll do the decorating first thing," said Walter, and made v clash for the bundle of bracken :;nd wattle bush lie bad beeu so far r >v yesterday. "Oh, 1 think —1 think we ought to set the table lirst and sweep the room,'" said Ruth, though she. too. had seized an armful of the \el low sunshine with eager eyes. "Scliwee.p loom, no." said Bonnie, "hang up," and he stood on the tips of >iis bare little toes ;md tried to reach a picture with a great fern l'rotid. "Just like a urirl," said Walter, "always wants to fuss after stupid things," and he climbed on the table and begau to stick some bush bravery on the cheap gasalier. But Ruth, though the downy yellow 1 b—ls dragged at her little heart, took off the day table cloth and ran for the sweeping broom.

"Come on. Win." she said. "We promised nurse mania shouldn't have to \rait for her breakfast."

Winnie laid down c. long wand -of. wattle with a sign. The upraising of it had turned her into v Fairy Queen. "Well." she said, tumbling lier.=elf hastily from such a height, "let's 'tend we're busy gnomes getting the feast Teach' for the Queen," and she flitted round with a du&ter. aud then ran lo and fro with cups and saucers. Ruth mixed the porridge in a big saucepan and stood stirring it on the gas ring until it should boil. She arranged her plans as she stirred. She would do loast for the dear mo-' ther—cut; it in dainty linger strips, and make tiny bulls of tiie butter.—the little half-pound of butter that she kept carefully in the safe for the mother, and would not use for anyone else, except now and again for Byny, who had never quite "picked up" again since Ilia accident. But with her mother :if the table fence again, how much more difficult this saving of dainties would be than when %rays were carried to the bedroom! The •Id order of things would begin again, with the mother serving everything and keeping back the smallest portion or the worst cooked one for herself. And yet nurse had impressed it on them all that mother was very, very far from strong yet, and must be looked after carefully lor a long time. The fair little brow wrinkled itself as one busy hand stirred the porridge and the other turned the Lias low—this expensive gas tha; had to be so zealously guarded.

"Winnie—Walter," she said, "don't let mother think we don't like dripping en our bread."

"We can pretend it's preserved violets," s?id Winnie, with eager willingness. But Walter was longing to give vent to all the grumbling that he had been obliged to store away for five long weeks, all of them crammed with discomforts that saints would have grumbled at. "She's pretty better now," he said; "we can't go on for ever keeping things from her, Ru. And my tooth's aching like mad again." "But just this morning," pleaded Ru: •the Very first time she has been down." A vision of the lightening of her own •weight of responsibilities now mother Was coming down again sent a sudden Warmth to her little troubled heart. "Well, put a lot of pepper and salt ©n,*' said Walter, making a wry face, "and spread it thinly." Buth was hacking away now at a loaf of bread and spreading dripping with a hurrying hand. "Did you say your tooth ached?" she Said. "I should smile." >aid Walter. "Hardly got a wink of sleep all night." ''Well, don't say so to mother," said the child! "not this morning at any rate. It wont make it a hit better, and she only worries herself 'cause she<?an't Bend you to have it stopped." Walter groaned. He really had been promising himself the luxury of his mother's tender sympathy after ho had heroically borne his sufferings in silence all night. And now Ruth laid _i embargo on tbeni. "I'm getting sick cf everything." he Said, climbing up with another armful cf green; "why ,_■ u't they let mc go to sea? It wutth.l be one off, an.l I know I'd strike a treasure ship in no time. Theu mother could have lots of servants and a nurse to look after the new howling kid all the time" lie hammered a tack viciously into the wall with the fiat part of the toast rack since it lay conveniently to hand. "Oh, leave some for mc to do," Ruth called imploringly at last, "have you put all of the wattle up—oh, I did want to make a wreath and the throne!"

The grey pyjamas fell off the sideboard in the dining-room and brought down also the laat mass of green just placed high up on the window valance. "Cut iv and do yours" Wal said; "here, you can have all this. Now, What shall I do when I've finished cutting this bread up? Sweep tho 3—ll and the front path? Right oh! And I say. mix us some waiting and I'll clean the steps—tell you. I'll whiten right down to the gate; that'll please her; she likes the front to look nice and a tar path never looks clean. What luck I thought of it!"

But Ruth released had flown like an arrow from a bow to twine the chair |at the head of the table with greenery and tie to it her hoop, also green encircled, to form an arch. Then together the little girls wove a wreath, a lovmg little wreath of dashed and drooping wattle, to lie cut the dear head that to-day was to be moving about once more amongst thevu instead of lying, lying, lying as it had done for such wearisome weeks on those upstairs pillows. "Byny! where can lie b? —and Bonnie'.'" Ruth looked round ten minutes later, brought back to immediate necessities by the unusual silence. .She flew out. first to the yard, then to the staircase, then to the front garden. Here everyone was happy. Walter, laboriously and faithfully whitening the asphalt path, having finished the steps and even given a coat to the wooden verandah. Bonnie so absorbedly rubbing the mixture on to tbe Iron palLsadhigs he did not heed the milk boy laughing at liis brief garment. Byny standing guard over the bucket and dipping his arm in and stirring up the delightful .stuff with a happy hand. "Walter!" cried Ruth —oh, could she never, never .be happy without things like this happening? "It looks just dreadful —I don't know what daddie will

say. And look at the children —oh, it isn't fair —why shouldn't you look alter them —I'm only ia little oiderer than you, und 1 have everything to see to." "Well, I like that," said Walter heatedly and sitting up on his heels, ''haven't I just cut forty rounds of brent and that blessed dripping to please you. And done all this"—be waved his hand at his glistenLng work. "i know it'll never come off," wailed Ruth. "Come off! Come off!" stormed Walter, "you'd better try. that's all. i thought you pretended to like things spick and span! Look at all the other dirty old black paths in the terrace and [.lien look at this!" "And look at the children!" Ruth's tears were very close. "Byny's just dripping—Bonnie's singlet's soaking — and it's the last singlet in his drawers." Walter sent an-angry glance to the little figure still clinging to the rails. "I've a good mind to knock your head off, you little beggar!" he said angrily. "Knock mine head off, no," smiled. Bonnie, painting away, "'me wash fensh c'ean." There were steps on the staircase. Ruth turned round to find ber father

coming down, carrying the new baby with, exceeding care, and just behind him hf>r mother, wan-looking, smiling, holding to the bannister at every step. Breakfast! The porridge burnt, the. ta'blo not finished, the children undressed, this dreadful whitewash over everything! Ruth's eyes .swam with sudden tears, so beautiful had she meant everything to be for her mother this first moruing, so entirely had she failed. She had to so now upstairs with the children and take off their wet things and sr>e them properly dressed while Dadclh' was obliged to curry in what brervkfost tbe kibehen yielded and tbe mother moved feebly to and fro washing the feeding-bottle and boiling milk to prepare a meal for the hungry baby. A hasty mouthful of toast, a cup ot tea, and Waller was at the front door. Ellie came after him, to give him the smile and kiss with which she always armed him for his day. But she looked almost fainting with the small exertion, almost distracted with the child still wailing in ber arms. It had seemed to wail clay and night for the last fortnight. It was ill, she knew; it needed care every minute. 'Ruth," he shouted desperately up the staircase, "come down at once and look after your mother, and can't you take the child?" Little Ruth came staggering down with Byny, not even yet quite dressed, in her amis. Her eyes were rimmed with red. "I won't forget things -.'gain, Daddie.'' she said with quivering lips. "Don't let her walk about—don't let the children worry ber—make her cat —don't let her do any work—don't, don't den't ——" He was almost stuttering with his exceeding anxiety for the ten hours that must elapse before he could pick up the reins of bis poor little home again. But hero, came ''the man with the r»tl beard" tearing along, his mouth full of toast—he would lose his train.

Mo kissed Ellie hastily, -hook his head at the little boys and Winnie, who came rushing to give him his usual send-otl', and made a plunge for the gate. Upsetting as he went —all over his clean boots —Walter's bucket of whit — wash.

It was the last straw and forced in'.o voice the thought that had lurked in the recesses of his miud for all the la3t wretched week. "I was a fool not to give the youngster up." he muttered, "the handicap'-* too heavy." CHAPTF.R IX. A RENUNCIATION. I am «he that hath borne no children Yet there Is no one hath cursed mc: 1 iook tbe same ns the. others. Rut the nests pity fine even. The sun. the mother oi st:trs. hath compassion on mc and sarin: "Oh. childless woman, what doth thou with all the days 1 make bright?" lline ear Is fftll of the murmur of rocking crudk-s." "Warrawee, Queensland. '•You will not give her to mo; you say if I had ever been a mother 1 could not have a.ked such a thing! You. with six to fill your heart and arms dare say that to mo*! Can you not sec it is just because I never have been a mother that I. do ask? It is the third time I haw asked now. First, in Italy, last year, for.- ah: such a nestling, browii-eyed tiling, nnd its mother had even more others than you —she could have spared it! Then four years ago, here on this station, a boundary rider was killed, and his wife left with two little one:; and no money. T asked for the little girl. And then I ask you. The third 'So.'

"Oo you remember one of aunt's sayings that she used to drum into us every holiday we spent with her? 'Better, better; never deteriorate!' Do you think 1 don't know I have deteriorated all these years? That Alice who made the 'Composite Apartment' in your first little home had just as many fine impulses, just as much capacity for endurance and self-sacrifice as you yourself. They have rusted from want of being called for, that is all. Ten years is a long time. Wilf said once he thought you were a 'fine character.' Pooh! I don't think anything of that. I can't see how mothers can be anything else

"Oh, I know what you will say, and what Wilf says—that thousands of other women who have no children are very happy and lead very useful, bright lives. That doesn't help mc a bit. The love of children was bom in mc; I'm starved without them. 1 cannot help it: it ks mv Da ture.

''[ have Wilf's love unchanged, you will tell mc. That's just it: it. is "unchanged. ,lust the love of those three little months, with the bright glew and passion of it naturally lost. Nothing has come to strengthen it. not even ad" yersity. which often strengthens: nothing to bind us iudis.solubly together, as all those little hands bind you and Ted. We are grown quietly, decorously selfish. Sometimes 1 look ahead to ten. twenty, thirty years of it — lots of women live to be sixty and more—and start un stifling, choking. "You wondered I did uot sympathise with you when I stayed with you that tune, and saw what a busy, crowded thing your Life was. 1 did riot sympathise simply because I had no sympathy. You are a woman to be envied; shortness of means is nothing. "Ah. Elbe, Ellie, forgive mc if I have written bitterly. Help mc with my life thai must be lived. My arms are s'tietching out to you, aching with emptiness. Give her to mc. Give her to mc. —ALICE."

h'llie dropped the letter and. leaned pa&sionately over the child in the cradle. "Little baby. I am going tp give you »p," she said, and her tears rained down on its unconscious face. BOOK 11. CHAPTER X. SYLVIA BREAKFASTS. "Why. Where's baby y" said Angus, coming into the dining-room and linding, actually, at the late -hour of half-past seven, and with the coffee on its way in, lhe room still quiet.

"Her mother thinks she's getting a cold; she's to stay in bed till the day warms up a bit." said Wilfrid, taking his seat aud accepting his porridge from the Jauaue.se.

Angus looked discontentedly at the cane cluiir, with the red cushion on it, that stood beside his own, and that baby hud used ever since she had. as she herself expressed her promotion to diguity, out ot' high chairs." The little girl was a aiovali4e feast. At breaJcfast her chair stood beside Unit of Angus; at the mid-day dinner she belonged to .Robert; at tea, which was. the longest and pleasaiitest meal of the day, she was her father's property. The men made Alice yield her rights on these occasions »n the plea that she had the child ail day. "Of course," said Angus, sitting down sulkily, "it is breakfast she's kept away from; it never occurs to Alice to put her in bed at tea-time for the sake of her coids."' Robert laughed. "1 don't believe she has got a cold at all." he said, "only Alice thinks she ought to have one. You know she took her shoes and socks oil' and jumped about in the water when 1 took her down to the bore yesterday." "[ assure you she hm» snet—?d rive times." said Alice, smiling at them, from the doorway. "Has anyone any camphor? Where's Kiga? He will know whether there is any." She went, to the kitchen quarters in search of her head Japanese. Aud in her absence there came dashing into the room a little figure in a white nightgown of muslin and finest torchon-—Elbe's lost baby, little Sylvia. Wild gold curls fell over her shoulders, brown wide eyes laughed challengingiy up at you: her skin was pure and clear and soft as that of a healthy year-old infant. "Baby!" said three voices at one and the same minute., "Oh," said .Sylvia, joyously, ''I'm so dreacliully ill mother says 1 am to stay in bed for breffust." It was Angus who caught her by one cnrl aud one arm. and nestled her up on his knee with both her cold feet in his hand. "Throw mc that rug. Bob," he commanded, and Robert flung a wallaby driving-rug that had been left on the sofa. From the snug fold* of this the round eyes and the spun gold hair peyped out.

"What you having for your breffust, Uncle Angie?" she demanded. Angus confessed to porridge, cold bam and scrambled eggs. Baby dee—red in favour of the same choice, with tbe omission of the porridge. "An" 1 want your pep' mill on my tray." She laid hands on the ingenious little contrivance with which Angus always solemnly ground bis own pepper at meal-time. "An' 1 want mama to git it ready, and daddic to carry it in to mc. an' —an' —an' Uncle Bobs can keep coming to see if 1 want some lucre." Here Alice returned £»nd si-ulded Angu-> as if he had purposely coaxed the child out of bed theu bore her oil', wallaby rug and all. "It's .ill right, darling," said the littie girl. "I promise you faitliflly not to get my cold worser." She breakfasted in slate, most of the orders she had left behind being carefully fulfilled, only there was a plate of porridge to commence proceedings with. "You can fake that back again. Wilfred." she said, aud held out the plate ■■_> him. "Oh, no. old woman, you must eat up your porridge," said Wilfred; "you'll never grow up to be a big strong girl it you don't eat porridge." "Quick, quick." said baby, "it'll spoil the nice count'pane if 1 drop it." Wilfred was forced to prevent such a calamity, and received the plate into his helpless hands, while baby energetically redistributed the things on tbe tray so as to leave absolutely no pfcl.ee for the. porridge plate. "Robert," said baby, "you'll have to go back for the pep*mill; they've not put it oil." Robert journeyed to the dining room for tiii- forgotten article. "There's loom for that ur-j the washstand, Wilf," said Baby, glaaeing at the burden in her adopted fathef's hands. "No, no, baby, this musf, be eaten," Wilf >~aid. "All big strong g!h!s eat porridge." "I'm not a big strong girl," said Baby. "I'm a little girl very ill in lied." "It's very likely she doesn't feel well enough fur the .-tuff, Wilf," suggested Angus in a low tone. "She ought to eat it whop I've told her to," said Wilf uucom.£<rtably. "I kuow as youugstcrs we were never let off our porridge. Oh, here's Aliot." Alice came into the room with a little copper tray bearing a boiled egg. "Make the youngster eat ber porridge, Alice," lie said. "She won't for mc." "Oh. you don't manage her properly." said Alice briskly. '"Look, Baby, sweetheart, at the lovely egg I've brought you; you shall have it the moment you have eaten your porridge." l Tve sent the porridge away," said Baby, "and I don't want a boiled egg; it's too plain." "Oh, come, come, darling; a lovely

brown egg like this. But where's tbe porridge, Wilf;" Will bestowed the plate on Alice with thankfulness. "Now we'll move these things." said j Alice, "and make room for the pretty plate of porridge. Now, darling."' "Quick, quick, Angus," said Baby, ami seized the plate and held it up lo where he stood at the other side of the bad. To save the spilling of the milk, Angus iv his turn was forced to take it. "Angus," said Alice, with vexation, "how can I make the child obey when you spoil her like this?'' "It wasn't Angus' fault," said Baby. "He was trying to save your eaxpet from being spoiled." "Hive mc that plate, please. Angus." said Alice. . Angus handed it over. "Now, darling, cat it up quieklv. It's really very nice, and look what a lot of sugar I'm giving you." 'Perhaps she'd rather '«ive brown sugar," said Angus. "Chucks, shall I get the brown sugar for you ?"' "Not you, Angus. Let someone else." 'Oh, Babyi" Alice reproved. "I told you you mustn't call Daddy and yonr uncles by their names like that." "They're my serving men, like in the story. You can't call your serving men fathers and uncles," contended Baby. "I'll even have to call you Alice. Get the brown sugar, please Alice." "Let her have her yaino. Surely that's innocent enough," said Angus. "Oh, if it's a game," said" Alice. "Well, darling, mamma will go and get some lovely brown sugar, and then you must eat the nice porridge all up." 'Go and get it," said the Queen, sitting up on the pillow.

Alice departed. Robert and Wilf turned to follow her. Even Angus made a movement, for their own breakfasts were uot yet finished. And in the moment Sylvia slipped out of bed. dashed across the room, the obnoxious plate in her hand, and emptied it straight out of the window on to the grass beneath. '"Don, Don," she shouted, leaning her head out. The she dashed back to bed and snuggled under the clothes. "It's making him such a big. strong dog," she said. If Wilf had not laughed it is possible the others might have kept their countenances. But audacious acts like this were secretly a huge delight to Wilf, and he gave such a roar his brothers joined in. Then Alice came back with the sugar. "Now, darling." she began. "All gone, Alice," said baby cheerfully. "There's a big. brave girlie." Alice gave quite a complacent glance at the men. hoping they admired her superior management. "A big brave doggie. I think." chuckled baby, and Wilf and Angus roared again, while Robert bade Abee took oat of the window where Don was fast devouring the rejected nourishment. "Ob, dear," said baby with a huge sigh. This because Alice was looking at her with reproachful eyes, and baby much disliked being made to feel uncomfortable in the region of her conscience. Then her brow cleared. "I'll tell you what Fll do, Mrs Alice," she said, "tell Kiga to make mc some bread and milk, and then if you put lots of brown sugar on, I'll eat "that for you." "There's a fair offer." said Robert gravely, and walked off to his interrupted meaJ. "You'd better ftccept it," said Wilf, following. "Have some more porridge made and compel her to eat it," said Angus with a twinkle in his eye. for he knew that Alice always took a course diametrically opposed to the one he suggested. Yes. and even baJjy krrew this in some vague fashion and an answering twinkle shone in her eye. But Alice caught only the lip hunmage. " °

"As you are ill to-day, baby, you may have bread and milk," she "said; "bat you must never do a naughty thing like that again." 'Never." said baby clieerfutly. Alice went off again. "Get the shaving dish and another egg, Angus." said baby; "1 can't eat common boiled eggs when I'm ve.r" ill in bed. I'm going to cook a scrambled egg for myself." And when Alice returned Angits was holding her chafing dish steady on the tray while baby was absorbedlv stirring at the delicacy commonly known as s;cra-mbJed eggs. (To be continued next Saturday.)