WONDERFUL BILL.

Auckland Star, Volume LIX, Issue 305, 26 December 1928, Page 15

WONDERFUL BILL.

(SHORT STOSY.)

(By J. C. HOWARD.)

With a year's hard work in London behind him, Bill Smith planned his fortnight's holiday at Wolmersea in his usual steady w*ay. His expenses included the most inexpensive of flannel suits and new brown shoes that had not cost what thev looked. And beeause Bill was big

and' fit, and, above all, young, he looked, after one day's bronzing by the summer sea, as desirable a cavalier for, a maid on holiday as one could find. Now, if Mary Garret, who during fifty weeks of the year was a waitress in the city, had been thirty-odd instead of twenty, she might have looked less sweet in the frock that she ha<J scanned the evening paper advertisements for weeks to find pretty and yet within her means. And Mary had colour and freshness and nice brown hair besides.

Yet, when from opposite ends of the crowded beach this boy and this girl

strolled past the oyster stalls, the winkle barrows, the ice-cream stands, and the Punch and Judy show, they were lonely souls. Actually, it was before the Punch and Judy show that Bill found himself undesignedly next to Mary, and then, somehow, inexplicably exchanging laugh for laugh with her at the vicissitudes of that time-worn drama. And if a boy then spoke to a pretty girl to whom he had never actually been introduced, why, let the critics whine their tutile protest that never did and never will affect such light-hearted acquaintanceships so long as a boy is a boy on holiday and a girl is a girl with fifteen really happy days in a rear.

So they went out to the water's edge and threw pebbles into the waves. They

talked of non-existent parents in nonexistent wealthy homes, and didn't be-

lieve one another in the least. The* Bill suggested tea. And gleefully, because she liked him, Mary smiled.

Now there was close to the beach a wooden structure where teas were sold. The afternoon was hot, and within the hut the odour of boiling urns was insufferable. There was, moreover, a queue of hot and perspiring folk lined up for serving. There was noise, an odour of packed humanity, and a smell of rancid butter. Bill just took a breath of it all, and elected for tea outside on the beach.

The biscuits on a cracked plate looked dreadful. There was two-and-sixpence deposit on the tray, and the tea was over-drawn, arid dear at the price. "Mary," said Bill, with conviction, as they sat on the shingle with the tray between them, '"that tea won't do for a pretty girl like you." She would have protested and sipped at her cup, but he stayed her hand. Deliberately he caupht up the tray and, setting it beside the window he had got it from, seized her arm.

This way, Mary," he said, and led

her along the front to where, palatial and imposing, swung around the revolving doors of the Metropole Hotel. Up the steps he conducted her and raised a little rakishly that not unhandsome nose of his at the smell of the cool winter garden air within, as truculently he led her to spotless napery and cups of porcelain.

"This," he said, 'looks a bit more like it. For you!" And Mary felt a hot glow of delight in it all, in the low music of the orchestra, before the thin bread and butter, the excellent tea, the cream, and, above all, the strawberries, in the cool green of their basket blushing less red than her own happy cheeks. But suddenly Bill, who had been sitting beside her on the upholstered seat under the wide mirror, looked up with a start, coloured swiftly, raid then deliberately went round to the other side of the table so as to sit with his back to the room.

At that moment an elderly, whitewhiskered, prosperous-looking man in immaculate holiday tweeds turned to a gentle elderly woman taking tea beside

him. "Maria," he said, "I'll eat my new hat if that isi*t Bill Smith over there having tea with a girl." His wife nodded complacently. "I've been watching them for ten minutes, Joe. It's Bill all right. And what a pretty girl! No wonder he take* her to the most expensive hotel in the place. I think I'd want to, too, if I were Bill." The prosperous old man coughed a little doubtfully. "One can put it like that if one likes," he admitted. "Still, on Bill's salary, you know. And we know Bill's salary, don't we, Maria?" "I've thought lately we could give Bill a rise, dear," suggested the old lady. "His rise is overdue," admitted Joseph the prosperous. "Only he hasn't got it yet." "Dear, dear!" exclaimed the old lady. "And in the meantime that tea will : cost him fifteen shillings at least. Still, look how happy the girl is." Her husband slapped his knee. "That's I just you all over, Maria," he asserted. "You'always did hold that a chap should take his girl out regardless." "Regardless isn't grammar," reproved Maria gently. "Xow that we're rich, Joe, you should talk proper." "My dear," returned the old man, slyly, "I'm thinking that if you hadn't made me buck up when we were courting, we wouldn't be where we are to-day, my dear, and that's that, Maria." Whereupon, beneath the table, he softly squeezed his sixty-year-old partner's hand. But Bill and Mary were departing. Mary with her cheeks a-kindlinsr still and her head high with pride. What a wonderful chap was this Bill! His other name she didn't even know! There had been a large deposit on the first detestable tea-tray; this wonderful tea had left but a few shillings out of a Treasury note, and Bill had tossed two whole shillings to the waiter besides. *

Now Bill Smith was not the man to set a standard one day to fall below it the next. Actually, though not the flicker of an eyelid showed it, the price of that tea had staggered him. Staggered him even more in that, by a flash of intuition, he foresaw that from now onward either he must never see this pretty and likeable Mary again, or else we ll—every tea that he offered herj must be of the same quality. Char-, acteristieallT, he cut the problem four square. His planned holiday was to have been a fortnight. It should now, be a week at a fortnight's cost. On every afternoon that week, therefore it happened that, to the increasing astonishment of the elderly couple, Bill would arrive for tea at the Metropole with Mary of the blushes and the pretty, sparkling, grateful eyes. Ah, yes! Mary loved it all. And Bill? Well,' Bill just knew that never had he been so happy in all his life. Even if, closer would mean an end to these happy i alas the Sunday that was looming j hours, _ r , .. „ .

So that, on the Saturday, after per-] haps the happiest tea of all, Bill camel out of the hotel with Mary and took her for a long 4 long walk in silence. Quite suddenly he broke into words. He loved her, he told her, loved her as he had never loved anything in his life before. He was returning in the morning to London for work on Monday. He had a good job which would be a better one, ten years with the same firm, some savings. Would she—could she—care to hear from him ? Would she marry him ; one day, and make him happier than any chap had ever been before? It speaks volumes for what Mary found in her heart to say to him in reply that they came back • along . the sea' edge hand in hand like theii;, heads high and their eyes looking straight before them, like people that dream dreams.

He left her early to pack his things, | but the packing didn't take long. Then, I passing the Metropole, he looked in through the lighted window at the table that had been his and Mary's. Sentimentally, yet determinedly, for he had never done such'a thing in his life before, be strode within and ordered a cocktail, sitting at the familiar table as to the manner born. He'looked Tip at a movement beside him to meet the amused eyes of his employer, Joseph Burrows, of Joseph Burrows' Multiple Shops, Ltd.

"Well, Bill Smith," asked his employer with a smile, "having a good time?"

"Thank you, sir," said Bill, 'Tve had a wonderful holiday."

"And another week to go, Bill," remarked old Burrows."

"No, sir," said Bill. "I'm reportinj for duty on Mondav."

"But," said his employer, doubtfully, '■you're entitled to a lortnight." "I've changed my mind, Mr. Burrows, sir," said Bill. irlis employer chuckled and sat down suddenlv beside him.

"Things ure a little expensive, Bill," he said. "Daily teas for two in this place, for instance. 1 don't want to be impertinent, Bill, but—well, I'm an older man than you are, Bill, and I know your salary. Bill! Why?" Bill looked him straight in the eyes. Never had he felt so bold. A little of his feelings may be accounted for by the unaccustomed cocktail mounting to his head. But, more powerful of influences, he was verv much in love.

"Mr. Burrows, sir," he said, "there are some people in this world for whom nothing is too good. You've got two cars, sir, I knoSv, a Rolls-Royce and a Ford. You would never think, sir, would you, of taking out Mrs. Burrows in the Ford?"

For answer old Joseph Burrows slapped his thigh. "I'm going to bring my missus over to talk to you, Bill," he chuckled. "Maria." he said, as he arrived with that smiling old lady and handed her to a chair, "here is Bill Smith, who has cut his fortnight's holiday into a week to take out his sweetheart regardless. He's a chap after your own heart. Says I'd never take you out in a Ford when I could get a Rolls-Royce to fit you. And no more I wouldn't. The chap's got your turn of mind." "It's the right spirit," said Mrs. Burrows. "Does him credit. And she's such a pretty girl. Worth it, I'm sure, Joe," she added. "Joe, go on!" Her husband coughed a little and spoke. "Bill Smith," he said, "I've had something against you for a long time, and it's got to be altered." "Against me, Mr. Burrows?" "You're not a married man," said Burrows, with emphasis. "Now a chap has to be married that wants to get on. There isn't one of my branch managers that isn't married, and I couldnt possibly offer you the new shop in Holloway unless you get married at short i notice." j "What?" gasped Bill."Me! Manager of the new branch in Holloway?" I "As a married man, Bill," said Burl rows. "Not unless. It's a competitive world. A man must be able to do one thins terribly well. He wants a mate for that. Bring that girl to tea here

to-morrow to see Mrs. Burrows and me. And stop down here fo.- that other week to finish the courting. You can afford it now, can't you?" "I can, sir, now," laughed Bill with glee. "And take her out —take her out regardless. The girl that a chap feels he must buy the best for will turn him into a winner."

"If your grammar was as good as your heart, Joe!" smiled Maria. But it is doubtful if Bill heard her, for he bolted precipitately down the hotel steps on his way to Mary.