Complete Short Story.

Cromwell Argus, Volume LXI, Issue 3161, 4 May 1931, Page 2

Complete Short Story.

Friday, the 13th

HOW SHE HELPED HIM ON. "And what," Peter Ellerby asked bis morning paper, "have you got to offer me to-day? Seeing it's Friday, the 13th, you ought to be bristling with thousand-a-year jobs, out of sheer cussedness. Here's hoping!" Actually, it was with very little hope that he 'began reading. the Situations Vacant column. Four months of enforced idleness had damped his natural optimism. The world seemed full of young motor engineers seeking work, and even fuller of employers who had no use for their services. The following advertisement, therefore, came as something of a bombshell. WANTED —Keen young motor engineer, able to take sole charge of busy garage.—Write, with references, A.8.C., Garage, Ltd., Guildford.

In his excitement, Peter flicked salt into his tea and tried to drink his egg. Then he dashed through his breakfast, thinking furiously the while. Finally he smote the table and jumped to his feet

"I'm hanged if I'll write!" he told his shabby bed-sitting.room. "What's one letter among hundreds? I'll run down on Ermintrude, and bag the job if it costs me my life!" Ermintrude was an ancient twoseater which he had bought a year previously for twenty pounds. Half an hour after reading the advertisement, he had coaxed her into reluctant life and was chugging out of his western suburb, Guildford bound. After protesting noisily all the way to Staines, Ermintrude bowed to the inevitable and took the road to Chertsey at a dizzy twenty-five, as if anxious to get the journey over. Peter leaned back in his seat and, as was his habit when pleasantly excited, burst into song.

This seemed to make Ermintrude still more anxious to finish the journey, and she had worked up to a frenzied thirty when shrill hooting sounded from behind. Peter drew in to the side, and waved the impetuous driver on.

The next moment Ermintrude nearly came to grief, her young master's attention having been wholly distracted by the most wonderful blue eyes he had ever seen. Their owner, a very pretty girl in a new coupe, whizzed past and was soon out of sight round a bend.

"A beginner," soliloquised Peter. '"Going much too fast on this surface. But what a glorious girl! I wonder if she smiled at me or at Ermintrude?"

There was no hope of re-passing her to settle the point, so he took up his singing again, with the notable difference that whereas before he had been content with comic fox-trots he . now gave voice to a sentimental waltz. He had negotiated Chertsey, and

was on the open road to Woking, when he suddenly came on a most cheering sight. The gleaming coupe was drawn up at the side of the road, and its fair driver was bending over the open bonnet. Peter braked to a standstill, straightened his tie, and jumped out. "Can I be of any help?" he asked eagerly. The girl surveyed him critically, her eyes brightening in the process. - "Thanks very much," she replied. "I hope you can find out what's wrong, because I can't She suddenly stopped, after a bad bump in the road." "Let's see if we can't teach her better manners," said Peter, bending over the engine. His quick surmise that the car had run out of petrol proved wrong, and a brief examination failed to locate the trouble. Then he cast an eye over the dash-board, and was instantly enlightened. The magneto switch was turned off. Doubtless the "bad bump" had had something to do with it. He turned to point this out, and got a broadside from the girl's eyes that sent his brain whirling. A desperate thought had struck him. If he told this peerless girl that all was well, she would thank him nicely, press the self-starter, and go out of his life for ever. Peter's heart squirmed at the thought. "H'm!" he said gravely. "Have you got far to go?" "Guildford," she replied. "Why, Is it anything serious?" "It is, rather," said Peter, reddening slightly—for he was normally a truthful young man. "I hope you weren't in any special hurry?" "No," she answered. "It's all right as long as I get there sometime today."

"Then I'll tow you to Guildford," he said firmly. "I happen to be going there myself, and I've carried a length of rope In the dicky for years for just such a job as this." "That's awfully good of you—er " "Peter Ellerby is the name," he supplied, "and very glad to be of service." "Thanks. My name's Joan Lewis. But what exactly is wrong with the car?" "Well —the carburettor's dropped off," he said gravely, thinking of a joke he had read the previous day. It seemed as good an excuse as any, and he could easily pretend to put matters right just before getting into Guildford. "Oh!" said Joan. "I—l see." Presently Ermlntrude was panting painfully towards Woking, dragging the coupe behind her. Very considerately, Peter stopped her after about a mile, and went to have a few words with Joan, who was steering her own car. "I mustn't overtire the old bus," he explained. "She's not used to the strain. You're sure you're in no hurry to get to Guildford?" "Quite," she replied. "But it seems a shame putting you "

"No trouble at all," he interrupted. "If you don't mind us having a rest or two on the way, we'll get there comfortably in time in lunch." He stopped chatting for a full ten minutes, then tore himself away and told Ermintrude as he slipped in the clutch that Friday the 13th was the luckiest day of the year. He also took up his sentimental waltz again, and it would have thrilled him to the core could he have heard the faint accompaniment from the car behind.

Ermintrude was allowed a second rest after another mile or so, and Peter jumped out resolved to learn all he could about Joan before pushing on again. He was not disappointed. Joan got in the first word. "I was wondering," she said, "if you'd care to drop me at some garage in Woking and go on without me. I feel I'm putting you to such an awful lot of trouble."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Peter said firmly. "You can't give me the sack like that! I undertook to tow you to Guildford, and I won't be dismissed without very good reasons." "As a matter of fact, I was going to a garage in Guildford," smiled Joan. "If you're really sure you want to tow me all the way . . .?" "I certainly do," he replied. "It's good for the old bus, you know. It — er—tones up the engine. Funnily enough, I was bound for a garage myself. Yours isn't the A.8.C., by any chance?" "That's the one!" she exclaimed. "Isn't that a coincidence?" "Certainly is," he agreed, in a slightly troubled voice. "Were you just calling for petrol, or something?" "I was going to see my uncle among other reasons," she told him. "He's the proprietor." "Oh!" said Peter, and to himself added: "That's torn it!" "What's taking you there?" asked Joan.

"Well, I was really going to apply for a job," he said dully. "Your uncle's advertising for someone to take charge." "That's right," she nodded. "His present manager is—leaving him. I do hope you get the job. You'll love Uncle Fred —he's a darling. I'll put in a good word for you." "Thanks awfully," mumbled Peter, and shivered as he visualised Uncle Fred's face on hearing of the dropped carburettor.

"Though 1 don't know that I hadn't better write instead," he said, dubiously, after some moments of intense thought. "After all, he asked applicants to write in his advertisement. I could take you as far as the garage and come away again." "Whatever for?" Joan asked in surprise. "Of course you must come in

and see him. A personal interview is worth a dozen letters, I always think.

And, besides, you'll have me to testify to your good work of this morning. Think how that'll help you."

"I am doing," he said wryly, realising that he had lost the argument. "Righto, then; I'll see your Uncle Fred and trust to luck."

After all, he reasoned, when they had got under way again, there was just a chance that Uncle Fred would see the funny side of the episode, and remember his own young days. Even if, as was more probable, he did kick him out of the garage, he would have had a whole morning of Joan's company—possibly her London address even!—and that was worth any number of lost jobs. Ermintrude was given two further rests before making Woking, and yet another one just the other side of it by which time Peter was glowingly aware that he was head over heels in love. He spent the rest of the journey—when not listening to Joan's musical voice and feasting his eyes on her loveliness. in alternately thanking Fate for sending such a wonderful girl across his path and reproaching her for having involved him in such a nasty predicament. Their last stop on the way was not, strangely enough, one of Peter's choosing. They were nearly up to the first houses of Guildford, when a bail from Joan brought him running to her side.

"I'm sorry to stop you again," she apologised, "but I always get some flowers for my aunt at that cottage up the lane. Would you mind waiting a minute for me?"

"Of course not" said Peter, opening the door.

Joan got out, and took a couple of steps towards the lane. Then she hesitated.

"It's in a terrible state to-day," she said, turning round. "I'd get up to my ankles In mud. I'm sorry to be such a nuisance, but perhaps you wouldn't mind stopping at some florist's instead?" "Let me go and get the flowers," offered Peter

"Would you really? I'd be ever so obliged, because they're always so beautifully fresh. Just get anything they've got." "Leave it to me," said Peter, and set off for the cottage. As he picked his way up the lane, he decided to pretend to find the lost carburettor on his return. Not that it would make much difference now, but it would at least save him from having to tow a perfectly sound car up tc her uncle's garage. The good woman at the cottage supplied him with a big bunch of daffodils and tulips, with which he returned to the car. Joan smiled a welcome at him from her seat at the steering wheel.

"Here we are," said Peter, placing the flowers at her side. "Now for—"

He stopped. She had taken off her gloves since he had left her, and he saw her hands for the first time. A diamond ring sparkled at him from her engagement finger! "What's the matter?" Joan asked concernedly. "You're looking awful!"

Peter felt it. The whole world had crashed about his ears, and he felt that the sun would never shine again. She was engaged—lost to him! What was there left to live for? "It's —all right," he faltered huskily. Just a passing spasm. We'd better bo pushing on." There was no need now to fool about with carburettors. , He certainly wouldn't accept the job, even if it were offered to him. The thought of seeing Joan running into the garage with a husband at her side was mora than he could bear. He was glad when they drew up at the A.B.C. Garage. His intention was to unhitch his rope, say a few words of farewell, and slink away to grapple with his sorrow. But Fate —and Joan willed otherwise.

Two men came hurrying out of the garage; one young, and almost offensively handsome, the other middleaged and kindly-looking. The first one said: "Hullo, old thing! What's the great idea?" and the second: "Whatever's happened, my dear?" Joan addressed herself to him. "Oh, Uncle Fred, this is Mr. Ellerby," she said, indicating Peter. "He's been awfully kind and long-suffering. I took my carburettor down to clean it, and can't have screwed it back properly, and the blooming thing dropped off. Luckily Mr. Ellerby came to the rescue, and insisted on towing me here."

"I'm very much obliged to you, 'Mr. Ellerby," said Uncle Fred, offering his band.

"Er—not at all," mumbled Peter, fervently hoping that this would close the subject. It did not. The handsome young man, who had burst out laughing on hearing of the accident, now strolled over to Joan's car and threw up the bonnet, thereby causing Peter's heart to miss a couple of beats. A wild urge to escape was frustrated by his legs, which seemed to have turned to jelly. "Well, I'm hanged!" exclaimed the loathsome young man, whom Peter strongly suspected of being Joan's fiance. "Dropped clean off! Wouldn't have believed it possible." Amazement, relief, and the dawn of understanding chased each other across Peter's overheated features. That stop by the lane —sending him for flowers —taking off her gloves. The darling must have known of his base deception, and dismantled the carburettor herself to save his face. Then a look of sheer anguish came into his face. He could never even thank her properly for her wonderful kindness! "Mr. Ellerby was coming to see you about that advertisement uncle," he heard Joan saying. "Wasn't that a coincidence? And I can certainly vouch for his keenness and—enterprise Won't you take him in the office and talk to him, while I have a word or two with Basil?" "Yes, of course," agreed Uncle Fred, taking Peter's arm in propelling him into the garage. "This way, Mr. Ellerby." On entering the tiny office, Peter surprised himself by asking: "Is that your niece's fiancee, Mr. Lewis?"

"Eh? Yes, that's right," was the rather surprised answer. "He's been managing the place for me, but—er—he's got to leave. And now, have you brought your references with you?" Peter listlessly handed them over, telling himself that he might as well wait and see what the verdict would be. Mr. Lewis carefully read through tbem, then asked Peter several questions about his previous experience, wages expected, and so forth. Finally he cleared his throat, and smiled at his gloomy-faced applicant "I think you will suit me very well, Mr. Ellerby," he said. "When could you start work?" "Well—-I—as a matter of fact " began Peter. He was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Come In!" cried Mr. Lewis. Joan entered, looking a little flushed. "Excuse me butting in like this,' she said to her uncle, "but I'm just running along to see Auntie, and I thought you'd like to know that I've come for that nice, long stay we were talking about." Then she bent close to her uncle and, in a very clear whisper, spoke these momentous words: "I've just given Basil back his ring!" Peter strangled a whoop of joy, and just managed to straighten his beaming features as Joan turned to him. "I hope I'll be seeing you again, Mr. Ellerby," she said. "Well," supplied her uncle, "I was just asking Mr. Ellerby when he'd like to start work." "And I was just going to say," replied Peter, gazing into Joan's eyes, "that I'd like to start this very minute."