THE MONEY MAID

Auckland Star, Volume LVI, Issue 133, 8 June 1925, Page 12

THE MONEY MAID

By WINIFRED CARTER,

Author o) the successful novel, "Lass 0' Laughter* "The Marriage Tangle," and many other serial stories.

CHAPTER lIT. I'pon that wonderful, wonderful niiiiiu'iit the door opened. Angela Doyle's perturbed, anxious face peered round the .lour. She had just .lone a daring tiling, and she wondered whether she had made a mistake or not. The moment she saw Joan's ecstatic face she knew that she had been very wise indeed. Jim had proposed. She had not been at all sure that he would, for when she had shown him those revealing entries in Joan's diary he had read them, then, without saying a word, lie had swung out of the room, leaving her thoroughly nonplussed. This brief sight of Joan's face told her that everything was nil right, in the best of all possible worlds. She came across to the two young people and looked at them archly' "Why. my dears!'' she said. "Oh!'' said Joan, in a voice tremulous with feeling. "Tell her. Jim. Tell her just how wonderful everything is." Jim turned to his mother and his face was strangely white. His mother knew why. He was angry with her for reading Joan's diary. She had thought no wrong in reading that outpouring of Joan's young heart, but Jim was judging her, she knew it. "Joan and I are engaged, mother," he said slowly. "Oh, my dear little daughter!'' said Mrs. Doyle, thrilled to the heart, just as though she had not stage-managed it herself. "I always felt you were more to mc than an ordinary girl. I'm so happy, dear. Jim has been a perfect son, he'll make a perfect husband. It's taken a load off my mind. I was afraid Jim would end in being a bachelor, like his crusty old uncle Stephen. And I couldn't bear that, Joan."

lie smiled across at her. then on second thoughts came round, ailW leaned over and touched her cheek with his lips. The happiness of that touch almost deprived Joan of the use of her faculties. None could ever dream, certainly not Jim. how his touch thrilled her. How wonderful it was to watch Jim eat such prosaic things as bacon and eggs! Soon, thoy two would he always together! It was a devastating though delicious thought for Joan, milking her eyes sparkle, her cheeks flame with scarlet. "You look very happy this morning, Joan," remarked Jim, amazed at. the transformation in her. The right dressing had done much, but it had needed this gift of love to give her a quite vivid beauty. A girl in love is always beautiful, and Joan was beautiful to-day. so Jim thought. "1 am happy." said Joan. "I like to pour out for you. Don't you realise Jim, that we're engaged. That's why 1 got up. 1 wanted to do things for you. "I am always wanting to do things for you."' "lou're rather a darling. Joan!" he said, smiling across at her. touched as he so often was with her. "I think we shall be chums." "Chums as well as lovers." said Joan dreamily, "I think that must he the most wonderful tiling—to have a husband and a chum!" She blushed again at that, and he laughed at her confusion. Presently he spoke thoughtfully. "I want a churri specially. My father and I were chums. He waa like' a great boy himself, so happy and care-free. Perhaps he was careless too, just as if he had been twenty-one. Down at the oflice my uncle is so difTerent, he is crusty, and w e don't get on at all well. Indeed, I'm rather unhappy there, we've nothing in common, you see." "I'm sorry." said Joan sympathetically. Her wistful eyes showed how she stilVered for him, always would suffer for anything that wasn't" exactly right f-ir Jim. "I expect you have things in common though, if only you knew" each other properly. And he must love you, I can't think how anyone couldn't be fond of you." She went scarlet. "You're a little partisan!" said Jim laughing, then lie became serious. "I can't forgive my uncle, that's the difficulty. Ho blames father for squandering his fortune. Perhaps he did, but uncle Stephen ought not to have said so to mc. He said, too, tiiat mv mother had ruined my father. He told" mc that after the funeral. I never forgave him! \et I've learned since that mv mother is extravagant, but then she'd never learned the value of mone'v and I m afraid she never will." "She's a darling," said Joan and a flood of thankfulness went over her that she'd plenty of money, and that he need never trouble any" mo re about. being poor. To think that she could give him of her affluence, help him to peace, erase those lines graven too early on his forehead, thrilled her with a great happiness. Jim stopped his confidences, amazed at himself for talking to Joan. He had never felt the least desire to tell anyone of his troubles before, but Joan, with her great, dark, sympathetic eves, made him talk far more than he had meant to.

"Jim! A bachelor!" said Joan, givin"him a shy, upward glance. "If he wasn't going to marry mc, I should hope he would be a bachelor. Oh, it's all magical to mc, Mrs. Doyle." Angela Doyle smiled. Already she was planning a big wedding; how 'intoxicating was the thought that she would dabble in a really up-to-date trousseau, in which money had no terrors. To think of fitting Joan out, regardless of expense, was a project most alluring to Angela Doyle's mind. "My dear, don't say you like long engagements," went on Mrs. Doyle eagerly. "I can't stand them. I am not the least a patient woman. I hate people who waste time. What do you say, darling?" Joan drew back. A soft flush suffused the pretty, wistful face, as she turned and gave Jim a shy, beseeching glance. She didn't want to wait, but then she had loved him secretly for two years, so it didn't seem qui'ek to her; it was all like a glimpse of Paradise, that he, her knight, her hero, should really love her too! It was something she had never imagined outside of her day-dreams. But it was here, love—elusive love, and she and Jim were engaged. Then she saw his face. Why did he look so strange, so queer, almost reluctant. Yet as Jim caught her look, saw her transparently happy face, lie was touched to pity. She had no part, no lot, in this matrimonial bargain! His mother was pushing things on. Joan knew nothing about Mrs. Doyle's ideas of marriage. If they were" made in Heaven, then Mrs. Doyle believed in aiding the process. "Of course we won't wait!" said Jim decidedly. "There isn't an earthly reason for waiting." The look of gorgeous delight that flashed into Joan's face touched him unspeakably. The next moment, rather to his own amazement, Jim had drawn her into his arms, and had kissed those soft, upturned lips. And Mrs. Doyle turned away, mentally patting herself on the back, for so successfully organising and carrying through what had seemed a most difficult achievement.

"Well, I'm in his office and I've got to make the best of it," sjiid Jim. as finishing his breakfast he got up to' his feet. _ "I don't dislike the work, really. It's just that we seem to strike sparks most of the time."' Joan jumped to her feet too and went with him into the hall, gettin" his coat and helping- him on. He smiled down at her. Dear little face it was! Something charming, quite unique about her. He hadn't known girls were quite like this. She seemed somehow genuine, real. Another face flashed into his mind. A face so different, provocative, exquisitely lovely. With a little shiver ho sent it 'from his mind, then bent and kissed. Joan. "Will you meet mc at the office at one o'clock. I want to take you to buy the ring?" She nodded, eyes like stars. For a long time after he had gone, she stood there trembling, almost crazed with happiness. Slowly she went to her room, stopping in at Mrs. Doyle's on the way. " "If we're going to have" a quick wedding." said Mrs. Doyle eagerly, we'll start shopping this morning!"" "Jim wants mc to be at the office at one. he's going to buy mc an engagement ring," said Joan, a note of pure music in her voice. "Well, it suits you to be engaged, mv dear." said Mrs."Doyle, satisfaction in her voice. "You shall be there, you can drop mc first at Madame Lucia's and get measured "for your wedding dress, and discuss fabrics! I can order mv own dress for the wedding, then you can pick mc up later." Quite soon she was ready, and Joan, her head really in the 'clouds, was plunged into trousseau buying. Certainly she did very little of the choosing, hut Mrs. Doyle didn't mind that. Angela Doyle's soul was always in a state of repletion when she could spend money without considering how great the cost, and to dress her own son's bride-to-be, was a pleasure she had never dreamed would be hers: so the capable, bird-like little woman glowed and sparkled over frocks and styles and beautiful fabrics, and Joan looking at her, thought of what Jim had said about her inability to realise the value of money, and she realised it was true. (To be continued daily.)

So they talked of weddings and trousseaux, and every now and again •Toan looked at him, at this splendid lover of hers. He was not touched by money nor any of the things money COllld buy. Wonderful, amazing fact, he loved her. Little, ordinary" Joan Peterson, who had never had a lover all her days, had suddenly stumbled across the immaculate wonder, the thrilling glory—of love. At last she said good-night and went upstairs, and then Jim and his mother were left alone. Jim looked nt his mother almost threateningly. Almost she felt afraid of him. "Mother!" he said hoarsely. "Promise mc that Joan shall never know you brought that diary to mc, it would break her heart, and she's just so happy. Promise mc!" "I promise!" said Mrs. Doyle, rather aggrieved at such a question being put to her. "Don't take mc for a fool, Jim. I wouldn't dream of ever letting her know." And Joan, unconscious that above this wonderful love that had blossomed as it were in a night, hung a shadow-—a tragic shadow—sat down to her diary, and in a sudden flood of speechless happiness wrote: — "Oh wonderful day, oh day that never was before in all my world—the happiest, the most marvellous day! Jim Doyle loves mc. Jim, the man I have always enshrined as the perfect man, has actually fallen in love with little mc. To think how only a short while ago I was so lonely, living by myself with only my dreams, and now in the twinkling of an eye, I am his beloved! I am too happy to write! I am too happy to go to bed and sleep! It -seems a waste of time to sleep when I might be awake and telling myself—.Jim loves mc." The pen dropped from her fingers and she stared out. Then vaguely there came to her a soft, delicious perfume. .She lifted her head and inhaled it. Was it lavender? No—it wasn't the fragrant, old-world fragrance of lavender, that •seemed to hang about the little diary. It was something more sophisticated. Why, yes, it was the faintly eastern perfume that Mrs. Doyle uesd.

Joan wondered a little why that scent clung about the diary, and then she clo-sed the book and put" it to the back of the desk, and forgot all about it, for many, many days; and when she slept Jims face smaled at her. as it always did, hut this time, when she waked she would -still know it for her lover's. She got up early next morning. Always Mrs. Doyle breakfasted in bed. and =o Joan did ton, but lately it had been difficult to restrain the young lifo that rilled her with new vigour now she was rested To-day, however, she dressed, that soft happy smile curving her lips, for to breakfast alone with Jim was an intoxicating idea. When Jim "-ot down he found her sitting at of the table ready to pour out his coffee.