Dr. SALLY

Auckland Star, Volume LXII, Issue 282, 28 November 1931, Page 13 (Supplement)

Dr. SALLY

By P. G. WODEHOUSE.

CHAPTER XVI. V Work.. ' Bill laughed nervously. "I'm afraid," he said, "Uncle was a little premature." 1 "A little, perhaps." "But don't you think . . 1" "No, I'm afraid not." "I had nothing to do with Lottie being here last night," "I know that." "And doesn't it make any difference?" "Ho." "But, Sally, ..." "No. I'm afraid you're not my sort of man;" "I love you." _ "Is love everything?" : <r "Yes." "No," said Sally. "Respect matters, too." "I see. You despise me." "Not despise. But I can't take you seriously." "I see." She thought that he was going to say more, but lie stopped there. He walked to the desk and sat down. "You will excuse me, won't you?" he said formally. Sally was curious. "What are you doing?" "I thought of doing a little work.' Sally gasped. "Work?" she cried, astounded. "Good Morning." Sally settled herself in a chair, and eat watching Bill. Ostentatiously ignoring her presence, he started to busy himself with the papers. Some moments passed. "How are you getting on?" she asked. "All right, thanks." "I won't disturb you." • "That's all right." There was another silence. "You don't mind my sitting here? said Sally. "Not at all." „ "Just go on as if I were not here. "Very well." J . , . "I should hate to feel I was disturbing you." "Kind of you." "So I won't say another wprd. "All right." . There was a brief interval of silence. Then Sally got up and stood behind him. "What are you working at?" she I Bill looked up and answered distantly. | "Well, if the information conveys anything to you, I am writing out an order for some new Alpha separators. "Alpha . . . what ?" i "Separators. They are machines you use to separate the cream from the milk." "How interesting!" She came closer. "Why do you want Alpha separators?" "Because I happen to o\V& a dairy farrii." ~ "You do? Tell me mort. "More what?" > "More about your dairy farm." Bill raised his eyebrows. "Why? Does it interest you? "Tremendously," said Sally. "Anything to 9o with work interests me. . An Alpha separator; it s'ounds complicated." y "Whv ?"

"Well, it does." . , "It isn't. If you're really interested •" "Oh, I atn." , . Bill's manner lost something of its frigidity'. His dairy 1 farm wm very near to his heart. He had fussed over it fbr years as if it had been a baby steter, and he welcomed the chance of holding forth on the subject. So few people ever allowed him to do so. "It's based on centrifugal force, he said. "Yes." > - "Here's a diagram." Ain ardent note came into his voice. "That thing there is the reservoir." «= wj 86' G." "Below it," proceeded Bill emotionally, "is the regulator with a floaty valve. ..." "Go on," said Sally, thrilled. All the coldness had now left Bill Bannister's demeanour and speech. An airaOfet fanatical note had replaced it. He spoke with a loving warmth which would have excited the respectful envy of thfe author of the Song of Solomon. • "As soon as the regulator is full, he said, his eyes shining with a strange light, "the float-valve shuts off the in* flux." Sally was all enthusiasm. "How frightfully clever of it!" "Shall I tell you something ?" stud Bill, growing still more ardent. "Do!" "That machine," said Bill devoutly, "can sepefate two thousand seven hundred and twenty-four quarts of milk in an hour!" ± Sally closed her eyes ecstatically. "Two thousand . . • seven hundred and twenty-four." They looked at one another in silence. "It's the most wonderful thing I ever heard," whispered Sally. Bill beamed. "I thought you'd be pleased." "Oh, I am!" She pointed. "And what's that little fliilctobinkus ?" "That?" Bill paused, the better to prepare her for the big news. "That,' he said passionately, "is the Holsteih butter churnef." ■ "O-o-oh!" breathed Sally. He looked at her anxiously. \ "Is anything tiio matter?" "No, no. Go on talking." "About milk?" Sally nodded. "Yes," she .said. "I never knew it could be so exciting. Do you get your milk from contented cows?" "They've never complained to me yet," said Bill. He placed his finger on the paper. "See that thing? The steriliser!" "Wonderful!" said Sally. "That's the boiler there. At seventy degrees Centigrade the obligatory and Optional bacteria are destroyed." "Serve them right!" said Sally. She looked at him with almost uncontrollable excitement. "Do you mean seriously to tell me," she asked, "that you are familiar with the bacteria of milk?" "Of course I am." Sally's eyes danced delightedly. "But this is extraordinary!" she cried. "The cavillus acidi lactiei. . ." "The bacillus lactis acidi. . ."' "The bactorium koli, . ." "The bacillus erogenes. . ." "The proteUs vulgaris. . ." "The streptococci. . ." "The colosiridium butiricum. .

"The bacillus butiricus," cried Bill/ rolling tho words round his tongue in an ecstasy. "The bacillus sluorovenus. And the penicilium glaucuml" Sally leaned on the desk. She felt weak. "Great heavensl" "What's the matter!" "It can't be possible!" "What?" "That you actually do know something about something, after all," she said, staring at him. "You really do do work— decent, honest, respectable work!" The fanatic milk-gleam died out of Bill's eyes. Her words had reminded him that this was no congenial crony who stood before him, but the girl who had flouted his deepest feelings; who had laughed and mocked at his protestations of love; who had told him in so many words that he was not a person to bo taken seriously. He stiffened. His manner took on a cold hostility once more. "I do," he said. "And fron? now on I'm going to work harder than ever. Don't you imagine," he went on, his eyes stony and forbidding, "that, just because you've turned me down, I'm going to sit moaning and fussing over my broken heart, I'm going to work, and not think about you any more." Sally beamed. "That's the stuff!" ' "I shall forget you." "Fine!" "Completely." "Splendid!" "Put you right out of my mind for ever." "Magnificent!" Bill thumped the desk with a hamlike fist. "As soon as you have left this house," he said, "I shall order new tractors." "Yes, do," said Sally. - "New harrows," said Bill, remorselessly. "Bravo!" "And fertilisers." Sally's eyes were shining. "Fertilisers, too!" "Also," thundered Bill, "Chili saltpetre and Thomas tap-cinders." "Not Thomas tap-cinders?" "Yes. Thomas tap-cinders," said Bill, .uncompromisingly. "I never heard anything so absolutely glorious in my life," said Sally. The telephone rang sharply. Bill took up the receiver. "Hullo? This is Mr. Bannister. . . . For you," he said, handing her the instrument. Sally sat on the desk. "Hello?".she said. "Yes, speaking . . Now . . . Quite impossible, I'm afraid. . . . . you might try Doctor Borstal. Ho substitutes for me. . . I can't possibly leave here now. The case I am attending is very serious. Much more serious than I thought. . . Good-bye." The interruption had caused another radical alteration in Bill Bannister's feelings. Forgotten were the stouthearted words of a moment ago. Looking hungrily at Sally as she sat swinging her feet from the desk he melted again. Forget her? Put her right out of his mind? He couldn't do it in a million years! "Sally. ..." he cried. She had jumped off the desk and was fumbling in her bag. "Ono moment," she "I'm looking for my thermometer." "Are you feverish ?"> A "That's just what I want to find out." "Sally. ..." "Go oil," she said. "I'm listening." v She put the thermometer in her mouth. Bill stood over her, though every instinct urged him to grovel on tho floor. He was desperate now. The thought that soon she would be gone— right out of his life-—lent him an unusual eloquence. . Woi'dß poured from him like ashes from a Thomas tapcinder. "Sally. . . Sally. . . Sally. . . I love you. I know you're sick of hearing me Say it, but I can't help it. I love you. I love you." • ' ' Sally nodded encouragingly. "M'hm," she said. "I never knew how much I loved you till I saw you here—among my things ; — sitting on my desk—won't you marry me, Sally? Think of all the fun we'd have. You would love this place. We would ride every morning through, the fields, with the clean, fresh wind blowing in our faces." "M'hm." "And all around us there would be life and movement . . . things. growing .... human beings like carved statues against the morning sky. . . The good smell of the earth . . animals. . . . ; Benzine and crude Oil—benzine and crude 6il, Sally!" "M'hm I" ■ "It's summer. The fields would be like gold in the morning. Sparkling in tho sun, Harvest time. Ripe Wheat. Do you hear, Sally? Ripe wheat shining in the summer sun, and you and I riding together . . . Oh, Sally!" She drew the thermometer from her mouth. "I have no fever," she said. "Sally. . . " "But I'm trembling, and my pulse is a hundred and ten. And—do you know —?" "What?" "I've lost control of my vascular motors!" - "Sally!" "One moment. lam faced with the most difficult diagnosis of my career. I ascertain the following: The > organs are intact. I have no pain. No fever. But the pulse' is a hundred ahd ten. The reflexes are heightened. On the periphery of the skin I note a strong radiation of warmth. A slight twitching in the nape of the neck. The hands tremble. The heart action is quickened. Every symptom points to something serious . . » something very serious indeed!" "You're ill!" ''I'm not ill. I'm in love. Yes, that is what I diagnose. . . Acute love!" She looked at him. "Do you remiember what I said to you that day we met? If ever I found a man I could love, I Would tell him so as frankly as if I Were saying good morning." She came towards him, holding out her hands. "Good morning, Bill!" "I say," said Lord Tidmouth, manifesting - himself suddenly in the doorway, "do you tw'o know that breakfast. ..." He broke off. His educated eye, trained by years of marrying one woman after another with scarcely a breathing space in between, had taken in the situation at a glance. "Sorry!" he said. "Excuse-it-please!" The door closed. Frbm the passage beyond they heard his voice announcing that he feared no foe in shining armour. THE END.