Uncle James

Auckland Star, Volume LXXI, Issue 43, 20 February 1940, Page 13

Uncle James

. . . By L. G. STRONG

SHORT STORY . ..

•YNOPBIB OP OPENING CHAPTER. The elderly bachelor in the corner •eat of the railway coach tells how he p , ,#d , , Pr » v l*«nee once and then resigned from the role for life. A young couple in whom he hae taken a benevolent interest to the extent of becoming uncle James," begin to show early signs of matrimonial trouble. Vera, t .".*._ wi,, » omm * **•* fr «" • holiday £'A h Jf Mw *••* ,n " f * • nd incidentally introduced a male oousin into the home wnom she had met while away. Hubby. «L„„ ""••••l»««*'"«. welcomed the £l!? fl .? nd - for ••»«"•• months all W ~# - w «'" * nd th€n *"• Inevitable *ErJSS£* °T •«*«P»o'on dart through his simple mind and the plot unrolls with increasing tempo. Read on: ' ~~" « "After this, thing got worse quickly. Vera grew more and more discontented, and kept on insistently about the river air being bad for little Harry's chest. Poor Fred didn't know what to do. Only a dumb sense of injury—unwisely, I think, he had never let on a word of what he knew, woke his obstinacy and kept him from giving in. "At last he spoke to Ix»lie.. He was very reasonable and very quiet. He told him he thought he was seeing Vera too often, and his visits were unsettling her. Leslie took the remonstrance verv well indeed. He said he was very sorry; that, for his own part, he was so fond of Vera, he was only too glad to see her whenever she could spare the time, and that he simply hadn't an idea his visits produced such an effect on her. This was talk after Fred's own heart, frank and modest. He and Leslie shook hands on it, Leslie promised to keep out of the light for three months anvwav, and the two parted on the best of terms. • "When Vera heard of the interview she was furious. Fred had never seen her so angry before, and, in the heat of the moment, she said, I'm sure, a «ood deal more than she meant. "'l'll go to him altogether, if you're not careful," she said. "That was the first real suspicion Fred had that things were wrong. Strictly speaking, I don't believe they were wrong; at least, nothing had happened. It's my belief Leslie tried to get her to go off with him, but she wouldn't. She was too respectable. It is extraordinary how a certain type of girl, in whom the conventions are ingrained, will manage to keep on the windy side of the law even in defiance of her own heart and wishes. "Well, after the row, there was a bit of an armed neutrality for a while. Vera did the cold and dutiful martvr, or else sulked outright. You can imagine what hell this was for poor Fred, a man who hated unpleasantness in any form, and only asked to be on good terms with everybody. Yet what was he to do? He was in the right; he couldn't back out or apologise; and all the time, with the very way she poured out the man's tea, she made him feel a bully and a brute. Oh, I tell you, gentlemen,' it was a revelation to ine; a sad eye-opener as to the possibilities and ways of women.

"Vera's patience gave out first. Fred i came in one evening and found she had gone off and taken little Harry with her. But she hadn't gone to Leslie. Ob, dear no. She had gone to her aunt in the country. She wasn't going to commit herself or burn her boats. She just left a letter, saying that she and the boy couldn't put up with his brutality any longer—Fred's brutality, mind you—and that they were off to a. place where they had a chance to get a little health and happiness. "Well, that roused Fred at last. He got a day off from the office, went down to see her, and when she refused to come back with him, he took little Harry from her by force. She made a scene, I can tell you. She said the climate would kill little Harry. She said he was trying to take from her the only thing ehe had. "But Fred was no longer in a mood to be put off, and, as I said, he took little Harry off, with Vera crying and screaming 'murderer' at him down the garden path. The funny thing was that as soon as they got away from the place, the child seemed glad enough to come, and snuggled up against Fred all the way home in the train. Poor little chap, his feelings had been played on till he was worn to a shadow, and all he wanted was to be left in peace. "As soon as he got back, Fred consulted a solicitor, and the solicitor wrote a formal letter to Leslie. Leslie replied, as frank as you like, to say that he was in as much of a fix as Fred. He would be only too glad to give Fred the easy way out, but he could do nothing, since Vera wouldn't go off with him. It wae a genuine letter, friendly, and very unhappy. She was leading him a dance, too. Upon my soul, it wae wrong of me I know, but I felt right down Borry for the fellow. "And now, gentlemen, I come to the surprising and tragic part of my story. It was as if everything, fate included, was in league to take Vera's part against Fred. The nursemaid kept little Harry out too late one chilly, foggy evening, and he took a cold. In fortyeight bours it had developed into pneumonia, and the child's life was in danger. "I needn't try to describe to you Fred's state of mind. He waited as long as he dared; then he telegraphed to Vera. The wire reached her aunt's place ten minutes after she had gone off for the day with Leslie. She didn't come back till the evening. Leslie brought her a hundred and thirty miles in his car, and she reached the works just after two in the morning. The attack was one of that sharp, sudden sort, which comes to a head quickly, and by the time Vera got there, the crisis was on. "There was no one upstairs in the room but the nurse and doctor. Fred wae waiting in a room downstairs. He heard the car arrive, heard Vera get out and say something to Leslie and then heard her latchkey in the door. He went out into the hall and met her. "She was quite calm until she saw him, and then she let out what she had been controlling for all these hours. "'Where's my child?" she cried, with a break in her voice. 'Tell me where he is. Let me go to him at once.' "Fred barred the way. " 'You can't go up there,' he said. "'Can't IT Who'll stop me?' "She dived under his arm and started to run up the stairs, but he caught her and pulled her back. " 'You can't go up there, T tell you,' he said patiently. 'The doctor aii'l auree are there. Nobody may jo/

' "Tien Vera lost her head. She started struggling with him, beating him in the fate with her clenched fist, crying out to him that he was a murderer who was keeping her away from her dying child. Fred just went on patiently telling her that no one could go there, and that she would only make little Harry worse if she went. "Quite suddenly Vera became quiet. She dropped her arm to her side, and let him lead her into the front room. She .sat down in a chair as if she were dead heat, and didn't say a word. Fred went over to the sideboard and gave her a glass of sherry, and she let him give it to her. Then, if you will believe it, the two of them sat there without savin" a word. . ° "At a quarter to six in the morning the doctor came down and told them that little Harry would live. He let them both go up to take a peep at the child. He was lying back exhausted, sleeping peacefully. "Fred went down to let" the doctor out and when lie had seen him off, he found Vera standing at the foot of the stairs. H e stood, swaying on his feet, waiting for her to denounce him. The poor chap had been blaming himself for all that had happened. It seemed to him only the mercy of heaven that he wasn't a murderer. He felt like one, and to hear the word on her lips was only what he expected. "For a moment the two stood looking at one another. Then, with a great cry, Vera stumbled towards him and flung her arms round his neck. "'Oh, my darling.' she cried. 'My darling, my poor darling.'

A month later," said Mr. Hill, unashamedly polishing his pince-nez with his handkerchief, "they started for Canada, taking little Ha'rry with them. 1 went to the boat to see theiu off, and, if you will believe it, gentlemen, they were in two minds about letting me come. I expect it was only natural, but then, I was never a man with a deep understanding of my fellow creatures, and, being so much taken up with their welfare, I never expected it. A miracle had happened: Fred had got his Vera again; but there was a price to pay, and I was the one who paid it. You nee, in Vera's mind, someone was to blame for all the business of little Hurry, and she and Fred between them decided that it was me. I bad been responsible, you see, for getting them to live there. So Vera turned right against me, and Fred, though he didn't get so far as she did, was sort of ead i#d reproachful to me. Still, they let me see them off. Now they've ttona and " * ' "And Uncle James Is a lonely man," Macdermott prompted him sympathetically. Mr. Hill looked startled. Then he smiled ruefully. "I was going to say, 'And now we've pot a new works manager,*" he said. "But what you said will do just ac well." (Concluded.)