The Million Dollar Doll.

Auckland Star, Volume LIV, Issue 293, 8 December 1923, Page 26

The Million Dollar Doll.

"BijCTl and QUHMIUmsm C/Litnofiso/ Sine /jgntnjng Qhndacton

',_ CHAPTER I. Of a Lord, the Staee and a Millionaire. No one would believe in Terry Desmond and her story without some knowledge of her childhood nnd her upbringing. Those years would have explained her to Sheridan. Bnt, If he had understood in the beginning, or near it, the story would have been -lfferjfefe. Tn ___; memory of most children there are milestones with blank stretches in between. Teresa Desmond's first landmark was in June, just before. her seventh birthday. There was an old rose garden at Silverwood. All the rose trees were old and the paths of broken paving-stones were seamed with moss and weeds. To reach the garden across the lawn you had to wade through tall grass —for the place needed four or five gardeners, and had none; but the roses were Terry's friends. She played that they were fairies try night and flowers by day. Wonderful Sister Julia, who was like a princess (one of those princesses you saw in Sunday Supplements when Father had finished) had brought her books about fairies: Terry had learned to read those books without being taught. On this day Terry was in the rose garden, wondering if Julia would come from New York for the birthday, when up the drive from the gate flashed a motor car. Such a thing had never happened before in the five years (they seemed like All Time) since* Terry came to live at Silverwood. Many cars passed along the road, and Terry's spirit flew after the beautiful ones, leaping on board to whirl away into Adventure. But a car inside the gates—a splendid blue car with glittering windows—what could it mean? At first the child stood still, peering through a screen of roses. Then it occurred to her that she might run to the house. Would father be angry! He and mother were caretakers at Silverwood, but in Terry's eyes they were the master and mistress. There was an old lady, Mrs. Parmalee, who stayed in some far-off country called Europe, and father and mother had been asked by her to live at Silverwood. But she never cam- —nobody came except Julia —so the place was Home. Father was like a lord, and often said to mother and Julia that he would have been a lord in Ireland, except for some queer reason which Terry Couldn't understand. It had to do, apparently, with a marriage—or rather, a marriage that ought to have happened and hadn't. Still, if Terrence Desmond were not a lord in Ireland he was at Silverwood! You had to obey him, or things were disagreeable for everyone. Father had a summer cold to-day, and was keeping to the house. Yon had to be careful about making a noise or doing anything he might not like, for if you forgot, he burst out from a black, silent mood 1 , into one of his red rages. Mother, very mouselike and subdued, had sent Terry to the rose garden, with a piece of bread and sugar, and the whispered advice, "Best not come, in till supper-time." But since then the beautiful car had happened. The child was drawn to the house as iron filings are drawn to a magnet. "Well, by gosh! Who are you, 1 wonder?" was the strange greeting she got from a smart young man in grey with silver buttons, who sat on the front seat of the car. Terry gazed at him in pained surprise, and he stared hard at her. "'Gosh' isn't a nice word," she informed him. "Sorry!" remarked the youth, continuing to stare. "But I got a shock, seem' you. You're the livin' miniature image of my young'lady. She doesn't look old enough to be . . . but you never know! Say, who is your mother?" "Her name's Mary Desmond," Terry replied. "This is our house." "Some house!" the guardian of the blue car echoed. (Terry had never heard the word "chauffeur." For her, he was the owner.) "Sure your ma doesn't live in New York?" "No. It's my sister who lives there,"; the child explained. "She comes to see us." "I guess she's come now." said the man. "But her name's different from yours. That'll be because Miss Divine's on the stage, I expect." Miss Divine! On the stage! Terry didn't know what being on the stage meant. She wished to ask, but something sensitive within her forbade questions to a stranger about Julia. Besides, the child's attention was caught in another trap. Julia had come—in a motor car! It was magical! And the front door stood open. That was strange, too. No one ever used the front door. Terry forgot that father was in "one of his moods," and that she had been warned to keep at a distance. She darted up the steps of the porch and into the house. Then, before she could run across the hall to the passage, leading down to the basement (the family lived in the basement) a voice stopped her. "Damn ybu, mind your own bush-ess!" it roared. Father's" voice! And he never spoke like that except to mother —mother, who was so small, so meek, yet seldom gave in, really, to him. Everything was queer to-day! The voice came from th© drawing room;.' and now Terry remembered that the shutters were open. The door of the room was a little open, too. The child peeped in, and saw three figures in _ scene of confusion. There was mother, her tiny figure almost overwhelmed by a mass of white calico covers taken from the brocade furniture and piled on to her thin arms. There was father, towering giant-like, red-haired, black-browed, handsome, yet terrible. Both were standing, the small woman showing that odd mixture of cowardice and obstinacy which was— just mother; but Julia had thrown her-. self into one of the newly unshrouded chairs. It gave a background of "crimson to a long coat of embroidered pearl grey silk. Oh, Julia was more like a princess than ever! Aid she looked sure of herself, not angry or afraid.' "Nobody asked you to interfere!" Terrence Desmond bellowed at Mary. "Jule's my daughter, not yours." This puzzled the child. How could Julia be her sister if mother wasn't Jule's mother too? Terry stared at Jule. What was there different about her beside the clothes which were so much grander than anything she had worn before? Why—her hair had turned from black to red, as

red as Terry's own! It was true now, as that than had said; they did look alike, if a little girl could look like a big one. The child longed to rush in and surprise Jule with a hug, 'mt instinct held her back. She did not know that she ought not to listen to the conversation of grown-ups. "I only repeated your own words," Mary replied. "If I'm not her mother I've always tried to act as a mother should. And to see her disgrace herself——" "Oh, cut it out. Ma! Anyhow, I haven't disgraced either of you," Julia broke in. "My name's Juliet Divine. Nobody knows who my people are. And the way I'm fixed I don't want them to know. If I told Tom Pcrrin that my father and mother were caretakers in an old lady's house on Long Island " "Curse Tom rerrin!" bawled Terrence. "You ought to bless»him," said Julia. "I may do better some day, but I can't yet, and I never dare hope to do as well. Why, he's a millionaire! He'd marry mc if he could." 'Why doesn't he make his wife get a divorce, then?" "Nothing doing with her, and I don't want to be tied, though I'm not telling him that. Oh, I'll climb higher than Tom Perrin! He's a stepping-stone. Now do have a little horse sense! Tom's my biggest catch, but —he's not the first How do you think I've lived the way I have, with things costing what they do? It's late in the day to fuss, when I've rushed down to show off my smart clothes and car, and see what I can do for you all!" "My God—to hear my daughter talk this way!" groaned Terrence. But the rage had died out of his voice. Often it had been like that before when Jule and father had their "rows." If mother interfered father turned against her and took Julia's part. Terry wondered who Tom Perrin was, and what it meant to be a "millionaire." Father looked suddenly reflective. Perhaps he too was thinking about millionaires. "Well, I've had my say!" Mother sighed the words on a long breath. "You've told mc to hold my tongue, Terrence, and I will. I must hurry and get about my business, anyhow. With the ladies arriving this evening, and expecting dinner, there's all I can handle, and more." So speaking, she pulled the white cover off the last chair, and was at the door before Terry could move and let her pass. If Mary could have done so unremarked, 6he would have swept the child away; but Julia caught sight of the pink gingham dreßs and sprang up. "Hello, kid!" she cried, her Bullenness gone. Picking up the small sister, she kissed Terry as she had never been kissed before. While father brooded in silence, scowling, Julia took the • child on her grey chiffon lap, and explained that she had come partly to bring presents for the "kid." She was going away, perhaps before Terry's birthday, going to have a real good time, because she was rich now. The first cheque out of her new cheque book had bought an outfit for Miss Teresa, from hat to shoes! So there! Terry would rather have had a doll than new clothes, though hers were old; but she would not have hurt Julia by saying so. She put her arms round the beautiful, big girl's neck, thanked her,; sniffed her heavenly perfume, and began to ask questions. Was Jule on the stage? What was the stage ? And what had made her hair turn red? "Oh, the stage is a sort of place where you dance or sing, or walk on and show yourself," said* Julia. "That's what I do. But I'm going on a ship soon. Maybe I won't be back on the stage much again—or maybe I will; just as I feel. And my hair has turned red because — well, because. I meant to stay here and visit * bit, but Mrs. Parmalee and Miss Sheen are coming, so everybody'll have to fly round and get things ready. I'll be better out of the way." Mrs. Parmalee and Miss Sheen! They were coming to Silverwood. Terry was thrilled. This was the most exciting day of her life. Why were they coming! Oh, Julia hardly knew. The old dame had telegraphed to Ma. Hadn't Terry seen the boy bring the message ? Well, he had brought it, and Ma had begun to tear around like a wet hen, before the motor car turned up. It was jolly selfish of. madam not to give longer notice, but there it was! And Julia must go. She might, instead, have stayed and helped, but that didn't occur to her. Julia was ,not a girl you could imagine working, and if ever she had worked, Terry couldn't remember the time. It was two years since Julia had gone to New York and had become a mysterious princess. Terry knew it was two years because mother had 6aid so, and two* years was almost forever. Julia offered to take her for a "spin" in the blue car, which would have been wonderful, but mother wouldn't hear of it. "Terry's old enough to help mc, and I need all the help I can get," she said After that, Julia went at once, father (half sullen, half admiring) shutting her into the car; and Terry would have cried if mother hadn't looked so little, so pinched and so harassed. These happenings would have been enough in themselves to have made a Milestone, but there were more to come before the day's end. CHAPTER. IT. Betty, the Blue-eye.:. At seven years old one knows more, and less, than "grown-ups" remember. Terry knew a <rreat many things. She knew about fairies, and the people in the County of Dreams who were real, though it was" better not to speak of them. She knew how to make flowers keep fresh when mother would have thrown them is the ash-barrel. She remembered everything that she heard talked about by father, mother and Jule, who were the only persons in her daytime world. And that is why she knew about Mrs. Peter Parmalee and Betty Sheen in a general "Who's Who" way, while knowing nothing ofthem as individuals. Mrs. Peter Parmalee was an old lady, perhaps as old as seventy. Teresa pictured her with white hair, like that of the old ladies she saw when mother took her into the village .of Oldport, shopping. Her husband had (Jied many years ago. Nowadays Parmalee lived across the sea, in Paris; and with her lived the only grandchild. Betty Sheen, who was grown up, seventeen; Julia's age.

Betty, father, who had married Mrs. Parmalee's daughter, had been an artist. That was why he'd lived in Paris. It seemed that artists liked to live in Paris. But he was dead, and so was his wife. There had been an automobile accident. Betty had no one left except her grandmother, though the village heard that she was engaged to a rich young man named Miles Sheridan, a "great match" even for such an important girl as Betty Sheen. Like Betty, Sheridan had lost his par- • ents when he was a child. Long ago he ihad spent 'his holidays with Mrs. Parmalee; but that was before Paris. It must have been in this very house, Silverwood, in prehistoric days before Terry was born. The child didn't waste many thoughts upon Miles Sheridan, for 6'he knew no young men with whom to compare him; but she imagined that Betty Sheen would be beautiful and kind, like Julia. It w_ splendid that the ladies were coming to Silverwood. She pictured them as visitors, her mother and father as host and hostess. Terry ran about after Mary, dusting 'furniture with a feather duster, when 'her mother had swept. They got ready tbe drawing-room, dining-room, Mrs. Parmalee's immense bedroom and Betty 3 adjoining, which was smaller, but interesting because of the things stored there. When the Desmond's first came to SilTerwood (rheumatic fever had turned ! Terrence to caretaking after a career as 'a riding master) these things were already in the house. They had teen left behind when Betty went back to Paris after a visit to grandma in America. Little silk and muslin dresses, Leghorn hats wreathed with roses or wildflowers and delicate shoes. These rel'cs had spent the years asleep in a cedar-lined wardrobe built into the wall; and on the floor of the wardrobe were ranged toys which, no doubt, had been too big to travel. There was a dolls' house, a Noah's ark, and a Teddy bear so adorable that Teresa would have given her best treasures (including the red curls which the village people praised) if she could have owned it. She had never been allowed to play with the toy, however, though she saw it when mother aired this most fascinating room at Silverwood. Next door to Betty's and opening into it, was a little room originally intended for a dressing-room of a married couple. Now, it would be occupied by the ladies' maid; for Mrs. Parmalee had telegraphed, "Just landed New York. No time write in advance. Will arrive Silverwood evening June 14th for dinner, 'staying only two days' business. Not necessary get servants. Hope you can manage. Please prepare my room and Miss Sheen's also adjoining one for French maid." Terry dared to hope that Betty, now too old for the Teddy bear, would give it to her. There might be chocolates, too. The maid would help mother in the housework, and everything would be delightful These were the thing, that the child knew or thought of Mrs. Parmalee and Miss Sheen. One of the things _he did not know or think wu that she wa_ of no more importance in Mrs. Parmalee's house than a fly—a deitnictiv© and unwanted fly. It was only when she and mother were shelling peas for dianer that Terry received her first shook. "Do you suppose Betty Sheen will give mc the" Teddy bearf" sha couldn't resist asking. "Miss 6heen," corrected Mary. "No, I don't suppose she'll give you that or anything. She probably won't know I you eyist. Now, mind, Teresa, you're not to go near the ladies. YouY not to show yourself upstairs while ttfcf 're here, or play in the garden, nn»_ the kitchen garden. In the house, t* our own part." Mary meant every word, Terry knew. The child was called "Teresa" only in serious moments, or when mother (a school teacher as a girl) taught her the multiplication table, and horrid facts like that. Terry was not even asked to promise obedience. Mary took that for granted. But —though the basement was nice, Terry loved "upstairs"; the -large rooms whose pictures and dim, haunted mirrors were shrouded with mosquito netting, as the massive furniture was shrouded with white calico. The basement, where the Desmonds lived, was pleasant enough. It was cel-lar-like . only in front, for at the back all the windows looked out through an ivy-draped trellis on to a garden full of flowers. There were three .good bedrooms, with pretty patchwork auilts on the beds, and rag carpets on the floor, and Mary had made one-half of the kitchen into a sitting-room. Still upstairs was "fairyland." It called, it lured, especially after two taxis from the nearest railway town had" brought the ladies and their maid and luggage to the house. Terry, hiding, had seen the arrival: and mother, helped by a black woman whom father had grumpily fetched from Oldport, had forgotten the child. Mrs. Parmalee was very strange to see. She was old, but old in a different way from other people's oldness. She had wrinkles all over her face, even on her eyelids, but she was white and pink, like Terry herself, and her hair wasn't grey; it was a dark sort of crimson. She had a beautiful figure, only rather ■ stiff, and Terry had never seen such a handsome grey dress and cloak except the lovely things Julia had worn that day. More interesting, however, was Miss Sheen. Terry had a chance for a look at her while Mrs. Parmalee explained, with stateliness, to father why they had started unexpectedly for America. They stood grouped on trie porch, and Terry 1 crouched behind a laurel bush. Betty was pretty, with waved hair, so fair that it was almost more like silver than gold. She had big, turquoise blue eyes, complexion like the inside of a shell, and a pouting, pink mouth. She looked rather bored and indif"erent, even when Mrs. Parmalee told how Mr. Miles Sheridan had had a bad accident playing polo; but when her grandmother announced that "Mr. Sheridan and Miss Sheen would be married in a few months' time" the girl suddenly smiled. A dimple came close to her mouth, in each cheek, and her teeth were perfect, small and gleaming like the lovely beads Julia had worn that morning—beads she called "pearls, real pearls." Terry couldn't keep downstairs. There was a Japanese gong on an old chest in the hall. The black woman, j Nancibell Washington, went up and struck it when dinner wasteady. After she had flopped heavily back to the base- . ment again (the French maid had con- , sented to wait at table), Terry stole up, Ito lurk behind a Spanish leather screen. The old lady and the v_ung one sailed down from their bedrooms. They wore low-necked dresses, such as the child had seen pictured in magazines. Mrs. Parmalee was talking of things she wished to take away from Silverwood to some hotel in , New York. ' Josephine, the maid, had begun already to collect these things, it seemed. Oh, what if the Teddy had been colI lectedl

Teresa could not bear to think that he might go. But, if he must, she wanted to bid him good-bye. She would do no harm. The ladies wouldn't see her, so they couldn't be cross. She'd run up while they were at diner. Besides, it was more her house than theirs! She had a right to go anywhere in her own home. The stairway and the upper halls blazed with light for the first time in Terry's knowledge. She made straight for Betty's room, and found it lighted too. Miss Sheen hadn't troubled to press the electric switch. A trunk was wide open. Several dresses lay on the bed. A delicious perfume filled the room. Jewellery was scattered on the dressing-table, but Terry scarcely glanced at these things. Her eyes were caught by the bear, which had been torn from its place in the wardrobe, and—oh, shame!—thrust head down into a big barrel-like waste-paper basket. The child snatched the plush monßter as a mother might snatch an abused baby. "Dear, darling one!" she cooed. ' But the sound of her own voice frightened the child. What if someone had heard? The maid might run up, retrieve the toy, and order her away. It did not strike Terry that, if she left the bear in the basket, it would fall into her possession sooner or later. She was too excited for prudent thoughts. Her beloved must be rescued! For a moment she stood still, listening. There was no sound. All was safe! Everyone was busy downstairs. A thrill ran through her veins. Howglad she was that she had been in time! The Teddy Boar was hers. And she could look at the things scattered about the room. The plush bear under her arms, Terry gravitated to the dressing-table. A mirror hung above it, slightly tilted. She looked up, arid met her own eyes. The light from a pink-shaded electric lamp set her hair on fire. It was strange how much she was like Julia! Julia was beautiful. Why, then she must be beautiful, too! Some queer vision came to the child of herself grown up. She would have gold-topped bottles and jars with monograms in blue stones like these on Betty Sheen's dressing table. She would have perfumes, and sweet-smelling powder like this in the cut-glass bowl, which Betty had left uncovered. Terry bent down and sniffed at the powder puff. The scent was heavenly. The same fragrance came from a bottle whose silver gilt top was not screwed on. Ecstasy swept over the child. She must must have some of that sweetness! It couldn't be stealing to take a drop. The bear left only one hand free. She lifted off the turquoisc-monogrammed top, and tipped the bottle against the breast of her frock Oh, how lovely! Nothing had ever been so nice! "Mon Dieu!" squealed a shrill voice at the door. Terry started; and then everything dreadful happened at once. It was like the end of the world. • {To be continued daily.)