THE PAYMENT OF HER DEBTS

Evening Star, Issue 19764, 14 January 1928, Page 15

THE PAYMENT OF HER DEBTS

A SHORT STORY [Written by Olive Mercer, for tbe ‘ Evening Star.’] Sheila Lane stood before a shop win-, dow gazing with longing eyes at a pair of neat grey shoes that would exactly match the frock she had seen in another window, and which she had set her heart upon. She was going to Auckland with a girl friend for the Christmas holidays, nnd for months had been saving every penny she could spare from the small salary she received as typist in a publishing firm. But she had not nearly enough yet to cover all the new clothes she desired, knowing that travelling expenses and board for three weeks would cut into her hoard with ravaging hand. Sheila was thinking as she gazed in the window that never in her life had she been able ,to get just exactly what she wanted when she wanted it. If she could afford a new dress one month should could not also buy the shoes and stockings that would go with it. And if, by getting a cheaper frock, she did manage this, there was always a hat or coat or handbag that could not be got for a few months more. A very feminine heart had Sheila, and had you ever seen her violet eyes filled with longing for some new frippery you would have wondered how her father could resist her so firmly, putting his foot down on all her fancies as if they were no more to him than the daisies that would show up in the lawn in spite of all his efforts to combat them.

Sheila’s father, you see, did not believe in owing any man a single penny. “Pay for everything as you get it,” was his motto. And he was able to stick to it, too. But, then, lie did not care a button how shabby ho looked. “ It’s the man inside the clothes that matters,” he had a habit of saying, and, although Sheila, looking at him with young appraising eyes, would remind him with a. little frown, “ But you see, Dad, it’s other people that have to look at you, not yourself ” the implication caused him no twinge of dismay, and ho would merely laugh it off with an easy-going “ Well, what of it,” So everything in the house had to be paid for when it was bought, and if Sheila or any of the others came down to breakfast in a new frock and demanded “How do you like it, Dad?” they all knew very well his question “ Is it-paid for?” had to bo settled before they could expect any verdict as to its suitability. You can understand, then, how it was that Sheila stood looking wistfully into the shop window, but made no move to go inside and fit the shoes on. You can realise, too, how it was that, being at the time wholly engrossed in the difficult problem of making two and two add up to somewhere about seven she was utterly oblivious to the fact that a smart car had drawn up beside the curb and an amused lace was trying to arrest her attention. “Whatever are you gazing at, Sheila?” Her friend had at last been forced to get out of the car and. go over to her. “ I haven’t seen you for ages. Como on home with me for dinner. You can easily ’phone your mother and tell her where you aro.”

“ 0 Mabel, I’d love to come. And how beautiful you look. Is that another new frock? Every time I see you you have something different on, you extravagant person.” Mabel laughted lightly as she drew the girl into the car and ordered the chauffeur to drive straight home. The two girls had been typists in the same firm, but Mabel, restless and unsatisfied and full of ideas which she thought wasted in her small sphere, had married the first man who was wealthy enough to surround her with the luxury she had never known, but which she craved, imagining that she would be entirely happy because she would be able to do as she pleased and have everything she desired. As the car sped out towards the suburbs Sheila noticed a big dress basket beside the chauffeur, bulging with packa°fiSyes, j fc > s f u ii 0 f „ew things,” Mabel explained in answer to the look. ‘‘ The sales begin next week. I know, but, having nothing to do this afternoon, 1 couldn’t wait till then. . . . Really, Sheila, life’s an awfully boring game sometimes. I get sick of visiting, and there’s nothing to do but go m for an orgy of shopping.” The car stopped at a large twostory house, and Mabel piloted her friend straight upstairs to her own bedroom, a large room with dressing room and bathroom opening out of it. Mabel threw her hat and gloves on the bed, then went over 10 a large wardrobe in a far corner, and taking out a beautiful silver-grey chiffon frock laid it on the bed. “This just came homo yesterday, Sheila. Isn’t it lovely ? I was buying shots and stockings this afternoon to mateff it.” She began to lift the parcels from her basket and undo them. “Look, aren’t they a perfect match? I wish you’d slip out of yom things and let me see how the frock looks on you. It would give me a better idea of the effect.”

Preening herself before Mabel's long mirror, Sheila’s mood was one of liigii soaring, interspersed with spasms ui envy. Here were all the things she most desired —soft, exquisite, shimmering things . . . hero at last was the alluring opportunity to look as she longed to look. Oh, if only she were like Mabel, able to buy everything she wanted, able to appear whenever _ she liked in beautiful soft clinging things of satin and chiffon 1 Mabel smiled at the sight of her. “ You remind me of myself, Sheila. How I used to long for things like these, thinking they would make me more beautiful, more desirable. I used to be always gazing into shop windows, as you were to-day, trying to make up my mind what I could afford and what 1 couldn’t. 1 realise now that there was a good deal more fun in it than I supposed. It was far more exciting, I know now, than being able to order everything that takes your fancy. That very soon loses its charm, I know from experience. Butane goes on doing it, I suppose, in the hope of catching a flicker of the old enthusiasm.” Sheila had taken off the dress to try it on Mabel, and was standing in her princess petticoat, when a step was heard in tiie hall. “ It’s Jack!” Mabel said carelessly. “ He does not know you are here, of course- Slip behind that screen for a moment. I wonder what has brought him home an hour before dinner 1” Mabel’s husband strode into the room very deliberately, his face dark with displeasure.

“Look here, Mabel!” His voice was harsh with anger as he waved a bill in his hand. “ I’m not going to put up 'run this any longer. Here is another bill for some of your extravagances. I’m just -sick to death of it, and I tell you I won’t stand it. Clothes, clothes, clothes 1 Do you ever think of anything else? I was fool enough to imagine I had married a wife. But you are a peacock. A peacock, I tell you!” He strode to the dpor as if afraid of his anger getting quite beyond control, then he cast a parting shaft of passion as he closed the door, “I’m going to advertise that I will not be responsible for any more of your debts. That’ll bring you to your senses, my lady. I’m through, so you know what to expect.” After ho had retreated Sheila came from behind the screen with a shocked, white face. “0 Mabel, how awful!

And all the time I have been envying you terribly. I thought you had everything you could wish for.” Well, you see, I haven’t. Far from it. I haven’t my husband’s respect, for one thing. You can see that. I lost it by marrying him. He soon found out it was for his money, and he resents it. 0 Sheila I I was far happier when I was earning my own living. I was iree then, though I did not realise it.” Suddenly Mabel sprang to her feet. I know what I am going to do. Let mo try on your costume, Sheila, and see if it fits me. Then we can change things. I’ve made up my mind to go back to work again. There’s always room for a good typist, and I’ll try and get a position right away, to-morrow xt I can.” Her face was more animated than it had been for years. “ I’ll show Jack that I really am worth something, and I’ll be of some use again in the world. . . . Y T es, Sheila, if you’ll lot me have this costume I’ll give you the chiffon frock and everything to go with it. It will bo the very thing if you go to the cabaret in Auckland.” “0 Mabel, how perfectly gorgeous! But it isn’t a fair exchange by any means. My costume isn’t a bit fashionable. _ It will be quite different from anything you have worn since you were married.” “ Well, that is what 1 want. I want to look different altogether. I’m sick of fashions and furbelows, I can tell you.” “ But, Mabel, what will your husband say about your going back to work? Do you think he will approve of it?” Sheila’s lace was lull of anxiety for her friend. “ Approve of it! 1 should think not! He will be simply mad about it. But in his heart I’m sure he will respect me for it. He’ll see, too, that I can give up all his wealth without a thought, and that will give him a different idea of me. Ob. I’m so glad I thought of this plan, Sheila. Seems to me it is the only way to straighten things out,”

For the next half-hour Mabel was almost silent, seeming quite taken up with doing Sheila’s hair and dressing her in all the new things. What a different girl she looked, to be sure! No wonder her heart yearned for beautiful things. , . . “I’ll have to send you home in the car?” laughed Mabel, surveying the picture she made. . . . “ I wonder it Jack will notice how changed you look!” She turned her face away. , . . “ F.erhaps he will be too angry to have dinner at homo to-night.” The words were spoken sadly, regretfully. Sheila went home in Mabel’s car, very excited at the thought of the sensation she would make when she reached there. Straight into the sitting room she walked, where her father and mother wore reading the daily paper before a dying fire, and her brothers and sisters were gathered round the table, each at a different task.

“Oh. Sheila! What a stunning frock!” they exclaimed one after another. “Wherever did you get it?” Shoes and stockings to match, too. My, you do look splendid! Look at her, mother! Isn’t she simply stunning?” Before her mother could reply Sheila had sailed out of the room and had run upstairs to her own. There was a large hanging mirror on the wall, and she stood in front of it gazing at her reflection. She was wondenpg why everything felt so fiat, why the surprise and adulation of the children had given her no thrill of satisfaction. Had she known a week ago, had she known even this morning, that she would be in possession of all these coveted things she would have been jubilant, dancing round the room in joyous exaltation. Yet here she was, staring at herself in all this fine array with not even a thrill. What had come over her? It was not long before her mother followed her into the room, her eyes apprehensive.

“ Where have you been, Sheila? And where did you get all this finery? Your father sent me up to ask you. You must tell me,”

“Why, mother, whatever are you so disturbed about? I got them from Mabel. We changed things. I meant to ring you and let you know where 1 was, but there was so much to see and talk about I clean forgot.” Mrs Lane sat down wearily. She had been worrying about Sheila’s nonappearance after the office closed, and it had made her very tired. “Your father won’t let you keep those things, I’m sure. He’ll say you ought to have earned them.”

“Oh, mother! How perfectly absurd 1 It would 1 take mo ages to earn so much.” Sheila began moodily to take the things off. “I do wish father wasn’t so silly about things,” she complained, as the chilling thought caught her that if she had lor ever to earn everything she put on, then she never would look as beautiful and finished as she might. For pours that night Sheila tossed to and fro, finding her way through a labyrinth of contending desires and ideas. The hurting scene in Mabel’s room she could not shut from her memory, and it came sweeping into her consciousness every little while like the persistent rush oi a rising tide. Also the realisation assailed her unwilling mind that, though Mabel had had everything in the world she wanted, she had been ready to give it up without a murmur, give it up, indeed, as if she were almost eager to bo rid of it. Could it be that wealth and the ability to buy all' life’s beautiful, desirable things could come in time to mean so very little? Sheila’s whole being was tense before the question and the possibilities it held of Hinging her girlish longings and desires in the dust. Suddenly she sat up, struck with a new attacking thought. Why, the lovely chiffon gown wasn’t paid for! It was the bill for it that had struck the match to the long-nursed pile of Jack Allanton’s resentments. And the shoes and stockings weren’t paid for either, for Mabel had only that day booked them to her husband’s account. A rush of red ran through Sheila’s whole body at the realisation. “If I keep them . . . If I keep them.” . . . Her thoughts kept hurling themselves against her consciousness. . . . “ Why, he will have to pay for

them.” And with the realisation came to Sheila the knowledge that everything in life must be paid for in some way or another. Even Mabel . . . even Mabel had had to pay for every year of luxurious living she had known! The reality of it was like an unexpected blow. Yes, Mabel had had to pay in boredom, in tho loss of her freedom, in the lowering of her husband’s regard and esteem, in the loss of her own selfrespect. Mabel had had to pay, perhaps, in even deeper ways. . . . Next morning, as Sheila was kneeling before her suit case carefully folding up the chiffon frock in tissue paper, her little sister came into the room and stood watching her in open-mouthed wonder. “Why, Sheila!” she exclaimed at last, unable to conceal her concern. “ You’re surely not sending the new frock back? Don’t you like it?” “Oh, I like it all right!” Sheila snapped the lid down; then, catching the disappointed look on the child’s face, she added quietly: “ But . . . •well, you see, kid, it isn’t paid for.” “Not paid for! . . Why, Sheila!” —hi childish undisguised amazement— 1 “ what’s got you? You’re getting just like father.”