COMPLETE TALES.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXV, Issue 199, 20 August 1904, Page 13

COMPLETE TALES.

By MRS GEORGE CORBETT. (Author oi "A Mere Masquerader,"

AVT HO R 3. jm (Copyright Story.) STEAJSTDED.

I. My dear Miss D'Alroy, whatever is the mutter? Has something serious happened?" When Winnie D'Alroy hr-ard herself thus spoken to, she raised her tear-stain-ed face, and surveyed her interrogator as entreati'ngly as though she thought him able to binish her trouble.

"It's all that horrid Mr Pleine," she sobbed, giving way to a fresh outburst of grief. "I've only twopence left, and I don't know whatever I shall do." "Well, two pence isn't much, to be sure; but the 'ghost' walks to-day, you know, and that will soon put things right." "No, Mr Creighton, that is just whore you are mistaken. 1 expected the gho«t to walk to-day. and that is where I was mistaken too."

"Good heavens! you don't mean to .ay that Pleine has bilked us?" "Indeed I do. He put us all off —3t Saturday with the promise of a iortnight's treasury to-day, and we ail believed he meant It. But instea 1 of paying us, be has gone away with every penny of our takings, and left us to look after ourse'.ves —perhaps to starve, for all he cares."

"Stranded, by Jove! Before we are hnlf way through the tour, too! Just wait here. Miss D'Alroy, while I go inside to make a few inquiries." As Fred Creighton this injunction he was about to leave the room behind the stage entrance, in order to hurry upstairs to the office, in which h" had expected to receive a fjrtnightS treasury, but alcered his mind when he heard a great clattering, caused by the descent of several people who aeemel to be very much excited. Another moment and a group of play ers appeared on the scene. The men were loud and angry. The women tremulous and tearful. And tho whole party was in a state of an—on? wonderment concerning what had better be done next.

"Hello, Creighton, so you've -urned up. have you?" inquired big, good humoured Larry Moore, the "Hibernian Comedian.' "We weren't surf but that you had hooked it along with Pleine. when you were unpunctual for treasury." "Pleine was not so amiably -Hspop-sd towards mc as to make an exception in my favour when everybody else was being swindled," was Fred's grave retort; "but I do not exactly understand the situation even yet." "it's easy enough to uncier3—nl, old man. The manager has cleared ou; wi!r, the cash, and the Coneordm Comedy Company has at present only one dc-urc —to smash the iellow's Certainly, it might be more satisfactory to secure a fresh engagement, but we are none ot us likely to manage that till we get back to London."

"London!" echoed several voices at once, and two or three of the ladies put their handkerchiefs to their eyes again.

"How can we possibly set back to London without money?" inquired De Vere, the _eavy Old Gentleman' of the company, who looked as if the end of the wond had almost come for him. "Well, that is a bit awkward," ad mitted Larry, running his fingers meditatively througa ivi3 tumbled chestnut ha.r; "but we'll never say die 'ill vvi're lorced. There must be some way out oi the difficulty. "Suppose you show it to usr" suggested Thurton Browne, whose salary could always be computed in shillings by the number of lines he was called upon to Epeak at each representation of the plays in which he took a part. As his speaking part had never exceeded eighteen "lines," Thurton Browne may be excused for not having a little nest egg to fall back upon when he found himself cast adrift with neither money nor oc cupation. "Well," was Larry's cheerful answer, "we're all in tolerably good health. And some of us are first-rate walkers." "Larry, don't be an ass," growled Browne. "Think of something better than going on tramp." "There is another course, which might possibly prove useful to some of us." "And what is that?" "Write to our relations, tell them the fix we are in, and ask them to come to the rescue." "You are only wasting valuable time, Larry. Some of us haven't any relations. And the rest—well, speaking for myself, that expedient has been overdone already." "My relations could help mc, and they would help mc, too," interpolated Florence Ferrars, the beauty of the company, "hut I would die before I would ask them." "Why?" "Because this is just the sort of thing they predicted when I scandalised them hy insisting on joining the profession, and I really couldn't stand all the 1 told you sos by which they would punctuate their help." "But how are you going to manage Without somebody's help?" "I shall have to raise money on some of my bits of jewellery, and trust to Providence to be able to redeem them when better times come. If I can muster enough to pay for my lodgings and for my railway ticket, I am not afraid of what will ■■ppen in London. I can go back to my old digs, and I've been promised an introduction to Mr. Edmonds." This last announcement was given rather triumphantly, and Winnie D'Alroy glanced with a shade of envy at the teautiful girl, whose chances of success *ere so much greater than her own Would ever be.

"Yes, Flossie, you certainly are too good-lookinjr for a twaddly little tourtog eompnny like this has been," was --Mry's opinion; "but you must excuse •»« for saying that though lovely wo"i— are the rule, not the exception, at 'he Jollity, it is a fact that the supply ™ pretty constant. The manager may "ot exactly be waiting for your arrival, and' "

But Miss Ferrars was too disgusted Jo remain and listen to another word ■wn Larry. Good afternoon, everybody," she int *rrupted. "I mean to catch the 5.35 ■press, so I've no more time to waste." 'Anyhow, that is one of us provided •»." exclaimed Larry, ns Flossie passed •ot into the ttreet. 'It seems to mc that several of the •Jtopany are equally well off." opined {* Vere. "Nowell and Tredegar, and w* Sisters Vane have all slipped quiets' away. That meant that they have «ought of soma way out of the diffl-

"Eight you are!" exclaimed Larry, after taking a rapid survey of the remained of the company. "That leaves only five of m to be disposed of now. Browne, I suppose you have nothing that you can raise the wind onT"

"Not a ha'penny scrap!" admitted Thurton Browne lugubriously. "Everything that was possible in that line of business was done long ago." "And Miss D'Alroy owns to the possession of the sum of twopence," added Creighton. "That won't go far towards paying her fare from Ruston to London."

The very idea was so ridiculous that everybody laughed, and henceforth a more cheerful tone pervaded the debate. "And how are you off for tin, De VereT" inquired Fred. "To tell the truth," admitted 'the heavy old gentleman,' whose anxiety waa manifesting itself in a constantly growing inability to keep still. "To tell the truth, my finances are about as low as Miss D'Alroy's. I've only had two guineas a week, less agent's commission, and I've screwed every penny I could out of it for the little woman at home. I'm strong and healthy, and wouldn't worry much, if there was only myself to think about; but it's hard lines on Millie — her baby isn't a week old yet." De Vere was a strong man, as he had said, but there was a queer catch in his voice, and his eyes suddenly filled with tears, as he thought what Mr Pleine's rascality might mean to his delicate young wife, for whom the doctor had prescribed the best of nourishment, if she was to have a chance of recovering her strength.

For quite a minute there was silence. For here was suddenly revealed the depth of tragedy, and even Winnie D'Alroy's self-pity was swamped in sympathy for the greater griefs of poor De Vere.

"I'm so sorry," Bhe faltered tremulously, tears of genuine pity running down her cheeks. "My trouble is nothing beside yours. I wish I could be of use."

"I say, Fred, just come outside a minute," interrupted Larry. "I've a word or two to say to you in private." Fred, glad to cut the painful scene short, promptly did as he was asked, and for several minutes the two young men conversed earnestly together, while Winnie D'Alroy, Tom De Vere and Thurton Browne looked silently at each other, or at the floor, until the stage door keeper pressed himself upon their notice.

"Very sony, miss. Very sorry, gents," he observed, "but you can't stop and live here, you know. There's not going to be no programme to-night, and you are the last people in the theayter. I'm only waitin' for you to go, and then 1 shall fasten up and go home too—so don't keep mc waitin' longer than you can help." "You dry up!" growled Larry, who, with Fred, had stepped inside again. "We shall clear out of this when we are ready, and not a minute sooner." Larry looked too big and too strong to argue with. So the doorkeeper retired to his box, and waited with what scant patience he could muster. "We've managed things beautifully," continued Larry, turning to the diseon solate 'heavy old gentleman.' "Fred and I have more resources than we imagined, and we think we can get you three off to town to-night. We are not in a great hurry ourselves, and intend to stay in Ruston a few days longer. We haven't the money with us, but will fetch it here for you. It won't take us long to go to our lodgings for it, and we'll be back in half an hour."

Thankful protestations of gratitude greeted this announcement, but Fred and Larry did not stop to listen to them, being in a hurry to transact the business they had decided upon.

They were absent from the theatre much more than the half hour they had mentioned, and found their three stranded friends waiting for them in the si reet.

"The stage doorkeeper got impatient and cheeky," said Thurton Browne, "so we came outside."

"Well, you haven't much time to spare, if you mean to start for London to-night," admonished Larry. "So take your fare, and be off. Browne, aren't your digs close to Miss D'Alroy'sr" "Yes, next door," was the reply.

"Then you can look after her luggage, and see her into the train. And don't forget that you'll all need to get a tea-basket en route, for you won't have time for a meal before you start. You'll all have enough to see you home." "But," inquired De Vere, as a little packet of money was handed to each of the trio. "About paying this back? You must give us your permanent addresses."

"Nonsense! Don't discount our friendly efforts by turning them into a business transaction. We can both afford the trifling present, and we'll cry quits for comradeship's sake.—And—a—De Vere, we've taken the liberty of adding a sovereign as our present to the baby. Tata, old man. Good-bye, Browne. Cheer up, Miss D'Alroy, you'll soon get another engagement. Come along. Fred. I'm going to have a big tuck-in at that restaurant in the High street."

11. Fred Creighton and Larry Moore walked briskly away from the theatre down the street, and then round the corner, in an opposite direction to that which was being taken by the three comrades whom they had delivered from a terrible dilemma. Nor did they slacken their pace until they were sure that none of the members of the Concordia Comedy Company were likely to see them. Then they stopped suddenly, looked at each other, and began to laugh, though it must be confessed that their laughter lacked the ring of genuine mirth.

"Well, we've made a fine hash of our own affairs," observed Larry, diving both hands to the bottom of his pockets, as if he would fain assure himself that they were not quite so empty as he had believed. "What are we going to doT"

"I haven't had time to think about that yet," was the answer, given with an anxiously puckered brow. "Half a dozen pawn tickets won't help as much."

"No, but it's a comfort to know that we've been able to get the others out of their scrape. I was sorry that we could only raise five shillings each over their actual expenses for Winnie and Browne." "Yes, it's a tight fit for them; but they will be able to reach home, and they won't imagine that we are quite skinned out, as we were the two best-paid numbers of the company." '

"Oh, things are not ao bad as that, sonny. I'm not quite skinned out. I still have sixpence left, just enough for half a pie apiece." "With nothing to wash it down!" "With nothing to wash it down, old man."

Both Fred and Larry pulled a wry face at this; but they were master hands at adapting themselves to circumstances, and this was not the first time they had visited Queer street together. So they went into a cheap restaurant, enjoyed their pie without anything to wash it down, and thai indulged in a cigarette each.

During their smoke they discussed various methods of overcoming the difficulties of the immediate future, only to reject one after the other as utterly unfeasible. It was a foregone conclusion that no professional engagement need be looked for in Ruston. And, unfortunately, the histrionic art was the only one with which the two young men had anything like on intimate acquaintance. To go back to their lodgings, and expect more credit before they had paid the bill they already owed, was also out of the question, for their landlady, Mrs. Willins, had a very circumscribed opinion concerning the wisdom of trusting "pro's" too much. She hod, furthermore, learned from private sources of information, to which she was in the habit of having recourse, in the interests of self-defence, that the Concordia Comedy Company did not appeal to the taste of Rustonian theatre-goers, and that to book it for twelve nights had been a ridiculous error of judgment on the part of both manager and lessee.

Against defaulters she had a partial remedy in the detention of their luggage, whenever they had any, until the amount of their debt was forthcoming, and neither of her recent lodgers was likely to be made an exception to this rule.

It will be seen that their plight was a very serious one, for all their spare clothes were at their lodgings, and their jewellery was in the hands of a pawnbroker. Nor had they another penny wherewith to purchase a meal or a night's lodging. The theatre, so called, was of such a ramshackle order, that none of the company had cared to leave any of their possessions therein overnight, and none of them had token anything with them when they went to dr .v the salary that was due to them. So, unless they could satisfy Mrs Wiilins, the two chums must dispense pro. tern, with everything except the clothes they stood in, plus several pawn tickets, and two nearly empty cigarette cases and similar trifles of no great immediate use. On leaving the restaurant where they had dined at threepence per head, they walked aimlessly along the streets, which were becoming thronged 'with eager multitudes of working people to whom Saturday night brings opportunity for spending the money that has been earned during the week. Everybody seemed to have some definite purpose iv view, and shoppers and shopkeepers all looked as if they enjoyed the gaslit scenes of bustle, noise and confusion. "Nobody but us seems too poor to have a copper to spend," remarked Fred, as he watched the brisk business that was being done by peripatetic vendors of whelks, fried fish, and pease pudding. "Even the couple that were howling at the top of the street as we came along are going in heavily for refreshments now."

Fred did not begrudge anybody the ability to purchase refreshments or anything else r if they were so inclined; but if one's pockets are empty, the siglit of this ability in others is apt to have a somewhat depressing effect on the mind, and it is not surprising thit the young fellow was reduced to a rather pensive condition.

"Yes, by Jove! And wasn't it howling too?" inquired Larry, more by way of talking than of propounding a question that required answering. "Yet they cal l it singing, I suppose. And just listen to that!"

That was the voice of an individual who waa mutilating the latest comic song in tones which were intended to be impressively musical, but which sent a shudder through the finely attuned nerves of at least two listeners.

Fred's eyes lighted up with sudden resolution.

"Larry," he said, "we could do better than that."

Comprehension came instantaneously to Larry, who replied promptly;

"Yes, we could do better than that." "But where? Street business will hardly do."

"Xo, it's overdone already; but we might try the pubs. We should have a better chance of being heard there, and it is just possible that, colliers and factory hands can really appreciate good music when they hear it." "It's a rapid come down, Larry. Yesterday we were leading men. To-day wv —well, of course, we are bound to <io something —or starve."

"And as we are not inclined to do tinlatter, we will start at once, while our courage is warm. Come on, Fred."

Three doors further down the ttreet was a public house, in which the two friends, somewhat to their own aston ishment, found themselves listened to with rapt attention. They were both prosperous looking and well-dressed, an i at first, landlord and customers alike. imagined their vocal efforts to be the re suit of either a bet or a jolcs on their part. But, after Fred's exquisite rendering of "Tom Bowling" had been supplemented by an equally successful delivery of "Father O'Flynn" by Larry, a burly collier jumped up, and passed his hat round.

"Aw never yerd Bieh singin' i' aw my loife!" he ejaculated. "Nor no noather, so aw think it's ony roet it should be paid for." "An* so do aw," agroed the landlord, promptly endorsing hit opinion by drop* ping a shilling into the hat. His contribution was followed by the more modest offering* of his customers, one of whom suggested that the gentlemen would perhaps oblige them again. Greatly encouraged, the two friends tang one song after another, and eventually left that particular honse the richer by four and flvepenee each.

Near the etation there waa a qniet commercial house that was patronised by a superior class of customers. Not at all sure of the reception they would get, but mindful of the necessity of increasing their store of cash, Larry and Fred entered the hotel, and after indulging in a well-earned glass of bitter ale each, began to aing "All's Well" an old duet that was a favourite of theirs. Whan they had finished, the landlord

approoehed them with a courteous question.

"Am I to understand that you gentlemen ore singing for money?" be asked, in a tone that so appealed to Larry's confidence, that he promptly told him the whole story, suppressing only the fact that but for their own generosity to others, he and Fred could have travelled back to London very comfortably.

"I've heard of that sort of thing before," said Mr Mathewson. "In fact, I have a little girl here now, who was left behind by a scoundrel who was touring a Children's Comic Opera Company. From what I have been able to gather, she has no relations who care to claim her, so my wife has been taking her in hand, hoping that she would show a taste for domestic work."

"And doesn't she?" inquired Fred. "Bless you, no! She'll learn as much as you like from books, and she will give you recitations by the yard. But she won't do a scrap of housework, and openly avows her hatred of sewing. Now what is one to do with a child like that?"

"Send her on the stage, of course," was the amused opinion of both young men.

"I should like to see your youthful Juliet," added Larry. "You cannot see her to-night," be cause she has gone to tad," Mr Mathew son answered. "But there is no reasoi. why you should not see her to-morrow. When do you expect to get back to London?"

"As soon as we have raised the wind," was the reply. And then Mr Mathewson, who had been to see their performance during the week, and did not doubt their bona fides, made a welcome proposal to the two stranded actors.

"Look here," he said, "I've hit upon a good way of helping us all out of a difficulty. Next Monday we have a Pree-and-Easy in our big clubroom, and on the folowing night we have an anniversary dinner at which some good singing will be welcome. You want money. I want talent. Suppose we strike a bargain? If you will sing for mc on those two evenings, and use your best endeavours to make both concerts successful, I will board you here till Wednesday morning, and pay you enough to settle your landlady's bill, plus thirty shillings each for travelling expenses to London. What say you?" Such a liberal offer could only evoke one answer—that of grateful acceptance, and the bargain was duly carried out to the satisfaction of all concerned. So also were various sequels which proved that Mr Mathewson had not been mistaken in his estimate of the stranded actors, and his wife still boasts the possession of a black silk gown, which almost stands upright by virtue of its own richness, and which is proudly mentioned on special occasions U the joint gift of the great actora*nagers, Messrs Creighton and Moore. And Juliet, the stranded little waif, whom the Mathewson* ._d also befriended, what of her?

Well, between ourseli"**, dear reader, she has just made a seni*. tional debut in London, and wonderful things are predicted of the young -tress, whose real name is Juliet Stainthorpe, but who is henceforth to be known as—No! on second thoughts I have resolved not to be too confidential about it, for neither she, nor one of the above-mentioned successful actor-managers, to whom she i? engaged to be married, care to have it universally known that when they first met each other, it was in decidedly vmprnsperons circumstances, in a northern provincial town, whpre both of them had been left "stranded."