"HIS DIFFICULT DAUGHTER"

Auckland Star, Volume LIX, Issue 75, 29 March 1928, Page 23

"HIS DIFFICULT DAUGHTER"

By WINIFRED CARTER

•YNOPSIS or PREVIOUS CHAPTERS.

SIR JAMES BCCKTON. K.C.. the great criminal lawyer, believes that bis wife ran • w ;y with a lover to Italy, her borne, •lfbteen years before the story begins. One day, however, a death-bed letter from J* r .**tabll»b»» the fact that she ran away to Join her brother. A few months after J«r departure a daughter was born to ?'[ la Italy and the letter Indicates • wk «reabouts. Sir James at once HDQI MICHAEL ROCHESTER, his secretary and a favourite relative, to bring back ''"URhter of whose extsteace in f. i "»J*ert° been unaware. On arrival m.« '/• however, Michael finds that Car«n~ Ji. y' ul * ,r ' w whom he is at UtSA ttrßc ted, Prof:esses to bate both her dtriu*. * England, and resolutely 2«?laea to go to Condon. Michael rescues English Artist? ClUtCh " * dissolute to w j) oin be administers a Mi«k..i V n ® Carmen then permits Ul f« to England. Shortly sowev#p »i?« r «?J , at her "ther's bouse, na li. JL llfu ? y°ang beauty tries to Who»r?i S ?° ,B caught by Michael, wfiom ah* passionately slaps in the face.

CHAPTER V. The moment Carmen had done it she Granted she hated him, j v moment, "opptd her getting away, robbed her of •M!.! n v, mpll over her father, but—to hooligan! "he were a little I, could he ever understand 2nn j was >ick to the heart of the house, or how she resented j " on " ne «riag and ordering her •bout, and actually locking her in! No girl would stand that! unaware of any compunction on CarflnJl! ' )art ' c h*«l started back, thorgniy astounded at this onslaught, fierce indignation seized him. He pounced upon her, caught hold of her wrist and gave her a quick little shake. Carmen!" he declared. "You —are svi!!i )Ste r OU8! an undisciplined J™. 1 "r. *am ashamed of you! You ght have been killed had you dropped from the balcony." Killed," she retorted. "I am like the goats on my hills at home. I never dropped to hurt myself there—and I « climbing. And he—my T nT v W "I n °t obey him. I will not! J dislike him more now that I have met mm than before." Then suddenly the instrou. eyes overflowed as she added: i»n. JOU T I * m Borr y I atruck you." » o. n , K presented themselves belr " me8 > he pleaded for her. ,orr y " ow . sir," he said boy*. '. '7* "She's explained that she's , done everything she's wanted to 08 to* »him of the moment, and if vJ 0 "* orders her about it brings on woret moods."

"I hope you will never behave like that again," said her father gravely. "My daughter, Carmen, must have unquestionable nianners." A threat of rebellion came into Carmen's eyes. Hastily Michael interposed, knowing full well her ideas on the dignity or otherwise of being Sir James' daughter. "Has Carmen seen any of the things that Betty ordered for her!" he interposed. "When I rang up Betty this morning she told me that she had been round already, only Carmen wasn't awake."

"She shut herself in her room last night the moment you went out," said her father reproachfully. "I wanted to see her, both then and at breakfast this morning." "But, you see, I did not want to see you," said Carmen indifferently. "And now I will look at the things Betty sent." /

"They are sent on approbation. Anything that does not suit you, Carmen, we will not keep," said Sir James. "I would ask Betty's advice, if I were you. She will know better than you do, what is being worn." Michael could see mutiny trembling in her eyes, so he swept her out of the room.

Sir James heard a sudden ripple of laughter and wondered what Michael had said to make her unbend. "I'm glad there's Michael," he thought. Carmen took Michael up into her boudoir.

"Do you recognise that?" she said solemnly, and pointed to an exquieite little water colour.

"Venetia Villa. Wonderfully like it, too," said Michael thoughtfully. "It draws out my heart," she said, with a fierce gesture of pain. "You will never keep me here, unless earth holds me down."

"What, exactly, do you mean by that?" said Michael wonderingly. "Till I am in my coffin and buried," she said tragically. She saw that he was amused. She stamped her foot at him. "Is it so amusing to you that I die?" she demanded.

"It wouldn't be ao amusing if you were to die, but, visualising you as the healthy young creature you,are, it seems ridiculous. But don't let's start quarrelling again," he said persuasively. "Let's have the boxes brought in." She touched a bell and a maid entered. And soon the cardboard boxes and Mrs. Benson, the housekeeper, arrived, the latter looking most important in her black silk gown and white lace cap. Carmen stared at her resentfully. She feared more censorship.

"I have been longing to see the mistress' daughter," said Benson, and her voice quivered. "Why, I believe Mrs. Benson was here when your mother was here!" 6aid Michael, delightedly. "Weren't you a parlourmaid, or something?" "I was, sir," said Benson. "I remember your mother, Miss Carmen. She was very beautiful, like you, and yet not like you. She was so sweet and kind to us all. She was like a sunbeam about the house wheu she was happy. Alas, I think the weather broke her heart!" To Michael's astonishment Carmen flung herself bodily on Mrs. Benson's stiff breast. He withdrew, conscious that as usual, Carmen had done the unforeseen.

He was thankful to find Betty had arrived. He gave her a quick review of what had happened. "She's going to wake up Uncle James with a vengeance—and a jolly good thing, for him!" said Betty gaily. "Goodness knows, being a K.C. doesn't help a man to be human." "Oh, I say Betty," Michael said anxiously. "Keep her on the quiet side as regards the frocks!" Betty flashed him a look of laughing amusement as he went off.

And then began a scene in which all Betty's tact was called into play. Perhaps, but for Michael's 5.0.5., Betty might have given in to Carmen's passion for colour and for the bizarre, but, remembering, she stood firm. Carmen 6ulked emphatically, and to pynish Betty, sat out on the tiny balcony and put her love birds through their tricks, heedless of the fact that a crowd had gathered. Betty almost dissolved in tears. Then, when a policeman drove the crowd away, Carmen gravely kissed her hand to him. She liked his uniform; she told Betty. When Michael called at six-thirty, Carmen and Betty were just ready; Betty in a mere whisp of a frock of palest dawn-coloured georgette, and her cropped head, looked an adorably boyish thing. But she instantly paled into insignificance on the entry of Carmen. "Behold your daughter, Sir James!" said Betty, with laughing curtsey. "Tell me you like the transformation." Then she gave a rueful laugh, for Carmen, determined to get her touch of colour, had snatched a glorious scarlet rose from the silver bowl near the door and was tucking it in the ribbon at her waist. Hers was dead white chiffon, a snowy, billowy thing, that most girls would have found difficult to wear. But not so Carmen, with the thick night-black clustering curls, the exquisite poise of hef, the eyes so darkly, gloriously black, with their fathomless depths, the thick upcurling lashes, the insolence of the scarlet rose that still could not rival the scarlet of her mouth.

Betty made a dive for tlie rose,

"You spoilt my ladylike effect by that touch of colour," she reproved her. "Now stand and let your father see you." Yes, Carmen was decidedly less obtrusive, thought Sir James, without the rose. "Isn't she a duck of a thing?" said Betty eagorly. "I'm just a girl, and yet . I can't take my eyes off her. No one else this season will get a suitor. Everyone will vote solid for Carmen," Carmen looked from Betty to Sir James. ..She could see that Sir James disapproved, but with a 6covnful little laugh she turned to Michael. Did he disapprove, too? But she could not read his glance. She did not know how the sight of her in all her glowing youth and loveliness had set his pulses throbbing, bad made his heart give that bewildering, inexplicable little jump. Then, from behind her back she drew out the shawl.

"Now none of that!" said Betty firmly. "You know you're to wear that bronze chiffon velvet cloak. It's dclicious against your hair."

Carmen's eyes flashed dangerously. "I do not go without my shawl," she declared determinedly. "I said to my father this morning I would not go without my shawl. I meant it." There was dead silence. Something flashed in Carmen's eyes, something menacing, determined, something hard. A streak of her father, thought Betty uncomfortably.

"I've seen dozens of wraps like that," intervened Michael. "Why shouldn't she wear it to-night? It's quite all right for evening wear." Then he turned to her.

"If we give in now, Miss Impudence," he said laughingly, "don't think you're always going to have your own way."

Carmen gave Michael a sharp, indignant glance. Then, beneath the whimsical amusement in his eyes the frown disappeared and she smiled, a slow, enchanting smile.

"Very well, I wear it in the evening, when I choose, but I will never wear it in the day time, since my father does not desire it. Does that suit you, my father?" she questioned solemnly. "Absolutely." said Sir James with a sigh of relief.

But when Betty saw the look that Carmen shot at Michael, her warm little heart missed a beat, before it went its regular way again. That look! It htrl seemed to say that Carmen was glad to have pleased Michael.

(To be continued daily.)