THE MAN WHO GAVE

Evening Star, Issue 23770, 28 December 1940, Page 11

THE MAN WHO GAVE

A SHORT STORY [By W.H.T., for the ‘ Evening Star.’] He strode down the gangway of the ocaan liuer from ’Frisco, a tail, broadshouldered, breezy iiuuviduai tue Kind of man we, in New /icaiuiul, would call ‘‘ a Westerner ”; the type of man with a broad mind under nis big felt hat and a virility that spoke of an open-air life in the vast expanses. To use an American expression, the newcomer was “ full of Deans ” ; and he was, too, in more ways than one, as the story will show. On his arrival Peter Mill bank —for that was his name—went through the usual Customs examination anil then hailed a taxi for the best hotel in the city. As the taxi bowled along from the wharf Peter could not help giving vent to his feelings. “ Gee. it’s great to be back in good old Noozeelaud.” The taxi driver nodded his head with his eyes on.the car in front. Been long away?” he jerked out, as he passed the car on his left. “ Just over a'quarter of a century.” answered Peter. “ And here I am back again to the prime Canterbury lamb, green peas, and noo potatoes.” " Not to forget the mint sauce,” interrupted the taxi driver. ‘‘Christmas is coming, boy! Only four weeks! The old burgh looks O.K. too. Plenty of improvements, but the same old lirms. What a lovely country ! ’ ’ “ But everything isn’t O.K. here. We’re in the midst of a slump and everything seems to be going to the dogs. There are a lot of starving people about even in New Zealand. You wouldn’t believe that, would you?” “Yes I would,” said Peter, “ ThSro’s a slump everywhere just now. It’s world-wide —universal.” The taxi driver looked with wonder at Peter when a pound note was pushed into his hand and he was told to keep the change. “ A merry Christmas for you and the kids.” It would be that all right! Without having to dip too far into his wages for Christinas week he could now buy the missus and the kids something really nice for once. After booking in and having a bite of lunch Peter went along to see the banker. He was not going there in fear and trembling like the man'with the O.K. There was no inferiority complex about Peter. When Moxhani Green, the manager, saw Peter’s letter of credit and * credentials lie literally opened his arms to the stranger. “■you are opening an account for twenty thousand; its a big sum to play with.” “ It may be in Noozeeland, but it is only a ’trifle where I come from. Men make and lose sums like that in a day and think nothing of it.” ' “ Well, how much do you want to go on with?” asked Moxham, pressing the electric button. “Guess I want five hundred £lO notes.” , “Gsesaf!” said Moxham. '“I thought you would want a temporary accommodation while travelling, but live thousand pounds in notes is a lot of money to carry about. . Are .you thinking of going into business, Mr Millhank?” Peter sat back in the chair and laughed. It was the laugh of a man of confidence who could afford to keep a bank manager guessing. Few could afford to do that. Moxham Green ceased putting out feelers. That big-hearted laugh was too much for him. But. as Peter placed his handbag on the table to gather in the notes, Moxham tried again. “ If you are going into some lino of business in the city the bank will be only too glad to render you any assistance or supply any informatibn you need.” “No, I’m working this stunt on my own,” said Peter, as he threw the packages of notes into the bag without even counting them. “It will be a bulky lot to look after, but there are not many crooks iu_New Zealand. We never have any highway robberies and that kind of thing here.” “ It will soon melt away. It will go like the snow on the hill tops in the summer.” “ Are you paying cash for the business?” asked Moxham, curiosity getting the better of his resolve. “ Business has no call. I am on holiday, and I am sure going to enjoy myself in a way that I have never tried before. Always it has been business. business, business with me. Gathering in the ducats! Now I am going to reverse the order. I am going to see what kind of a thrill there is in giving it away. >1 am out to give this wad away.” “Giving it away!” cried Moxham. “ Giving it away!” Was the man mad? Perhaps he was eccentric. “ Guess it seems strange to you, but that’s exactly what I am going to do, and I am making a start right now.” Placing a couple of £lO notes before the manager, Peter told him to take the money to his wife and tell her to give it to some poor family in the name of “ The Man Who Gave.” As Moxham opened the door for his extraordinary client to leave he felt he would give a lot to know what exactly was in his mind. Peter locked his bag and handed it to the hotel proprietor to place for safe keeping in his strong room. Then came a stroll through the busy thoroughfare of the city after an absence of over a quarter of a century. It was a remarkable period of his life, those 25 years or more, in the open spaces, where he had become bronzed in the skin and healthy in mind and body. How many times had he been with “Dickens In Camp?” And how often had he seen the roaring camp fire, with rude humour, painting the ruddy tints of health on haggard fare and form that dropped and fainted in tho fierce race for wealth? And now what changes he saw in his own country. It was brighter and busier, but, behind it all, there was a depression eating the heart out of many a good citizen and producer. Tieturning to the hotel, Peter went to his room arid spent an hour placing crisp, new ten pound notes in envelopes addressed : “ To One Tn Need, From An Fnknown Friend—The Man .Who Gave.” Peter waited till next day before setting out on an adventure, fhe prospect of which was already providing him with a fascinating thrill. Wandering without any definite plan down the main thoroughfare, he stopped before a large emporium where there was a window laden with Christmas toys. The festive season was approaching, and one little mite was tugging her , mother’s dress asking for a doll for . Christmas, hut the mother drew sadlv awav. with the remark. “ Daddy’s nut I of work, dear.” Peter overheard the I remark, and. while the mother was ] gazing longingly herself at the summer

dress material in another window, with a quick movement he thrust an envelope into the hand of the eldest ol three children, disappeared in tho crowd, and crossed over to the other side of the street. From there he saw the girl take the envelope to her mother, and was tickled to death when ho saw tho mother open it in utter bewilderment. “ That’s number one good deed,” said Peter, “ as the Boy Scout would say.” Peter was beginning to enjoy fife. He was realising that there was something in the old saying, “ It is better to give than to receive.” Peter's next adventure was at the waterfront, where he sat down beside two shabbily dressed men who were discussing the hard times while they shared a bag of peanuts between them. Peter joined the conversation and tried the peanuts. They were not to his liking, and he suggested grapes, giving one of the men a dollar to buy a pound or two. So there they sat for half an hour, eating grapes and throwing the skins into the harbour. Peter waited the opportunity, and. before leaving, managed to drop an envelope into the coat pocket of each man, and there they went on talking away, little knowing the good fortune that awaited them. On a scat in one of the citv parks Peter next had his attention fixed on a decent-looking young man with distress written all over his rather intelligent face. He was in a desperate plight, out of work, and with interest overdue on his house mortgage. He was selling his furniture at a loss to keep going. A genuine case, thought Peter, as he drew five envelopes from his pocket and handed them to the young man, saying, “ these might help you.” The young man took the envelopes and thrust them in his pocket, remarking to himself “ more tracts.” but Peter, hurrying out of the park, imagined what rejoicing would be in one home in the suburbs when the “ tracts ” were examined. One adventure after another kept Peter busy all day. He never felt happier in his life, and was singing like an Englishman in his bath before dinner. The following day Peter went early to the city library to see if any enterprising reporter had been busy. All ho could find was a brief paragraph to the effect that a number of persons had discovered envelopes in their pockets on arriving home, and were amazed to find that the packets contained in every case a ten pound note. There was some mystery as to how the envelopes found their way into the recipients’ pockets, and there was a mystery about the donor, who called himself “ The Man Who Gave.” In the library reading room Dick saw numbers of shabbily-dressed men eagerly scanning the “ wanted ” columns of the daily newspapers. They had empty irockets and empty stomachs; many of them were genuine out-of-workers. Dick was becoming quite expert at his new-found job. He was finding it quite an easy matter to dispose of his pay envelones unknown to the recipients until they reached their dingy lodgings or happened to feel the right pocket and make the discovery. The second day’s work saw a large sum of money distributed, and, when Dick looked inside the morning paper next day he found he was beginning a first-rate sensational story. To use a hackneyed phrase, the reporters were tumbling over one another in their efforts to trace . the. .“Man, Who Gave.” They had etdry after story of men and women who had been down to their last coin when Dick’s envelope had come to them unexpected like manna from heayert. But who was the “ Man Who Gave ’• ? Dick would have to go carefully next day or some smart reporter would be on his track. They were now all haunting the likely places where the eccentric donor might be dishing out his notes. It was a story not to be missed and the public mind was becoming intensely excited. Indeed, the public were joining in the pursuit, suspiciously peering into the faces of every strange man on the streets. Meanwhile Peter made another call on his ” lana K er - Moxham Green was delighted to see his eccentric client again. “ I notice you are causing a great sensation in the city, Mr Millhank,” remarked Moxham. “ That's O.K. to me so long as they fail to discover my identity. ,r “ They are working hard on it. As a bank manager 1 have had numerous inquiries from Press people and others, but mum’s the word with a banker. We never let a client clown.” “ I thought not,” said Peter abruptly. “ Ity the way.” said the banker, changing the subject, m “ that 20 you gave me to hand to my wife for ‘the poor hag given her no end of a thrill. She is buying hampers of Christmas groceries and toys for 20 genuinely hard-up families, and she is just as curious to know the ‘ Man Who Gave ’ as the rest of them. Of course, she knows that I know, but she never 'probes too far into the bank’s business. My wife is sensible in that respect.” “ Good. If Mrs Green is having such a wonderful thrill out of that little distribution of wealth, what do you think I am getting out of my lot? I want want some more dough, banker,” “ How much?” “ Same as last. I should give the reporters a few sensations with big headlines before I am through.” • • * « Treading warily next day Peter once more visited the public reading room. He guessed some shrewd newspaper men would be around, so he merely contented himself with hunting up an address in a directory. It was while Peter was running his finger down the column of names under the letter “ G ” he felt the skirt of a young woman brush his leg as she passed him, and here began the greatest adventure of all. Beauty in distress he called her. A girl above the ordinary type forced by the depression into a lower station of life. What a shame it was to see a young woman of her Station so humiliated by want. When the young woman left, Peter, drawn by her magnetic influence (he could not account for it in any other way), followed her into a tram, and discovered the apartment house where she lived in a cheap suburb. Then he went back to his hotel to think. * • • • Throwing herself into a shabby settee in a dingy sitting room, the young woman cried: “ There’s no hope, mother. I’m afraid we’re in for a rotten Christmas.” “ Never mind, darling, something will surely turn up.” “ Mother, you are too optimistic. Why should we suffer like this? Dad was such a fine man, too.” “ Yes, Dolly, poor father was one of Nature’s gentlemen, but he could not foresee the slump any more than scores of others. Poor dear, he thought he had left us well off; but. never mind, conditions may improve.” “ If I could only get work, mother, we could shove along till your shares improve; but what a duffer T am at anvthing in the wav of business.” Tim turning point is generally when the tide is at its lowest: in all matters. The landlady came to say that a gent had called on her and he was then in her office. He came in a flash motor

ear, and said lie wished to engage a private secretary; could she recommend anyone? The landlady hail told Peter ol the retiring Mrs Brown amt tier beautiful daugnter. Flow independent they were, amt yet how awfully hard up. The daughter had nut been brought op to business work, and was finding it ditlieult to hold a job. So that was how Dolly Brown oauio into the “ cushy ” job us private secretary of Peter Millhank. Kno told Peter bow totally ignorant she was of business technique, but lie brushed all her fears aside by telling her she would only have to answer the phone and type a lew letters. Dolly was provided with an office in the city, whore there was plenty of reading matter to pass tho lew hours a day that she was expected to work, and she often wondered why the salary was so high for such a simple job. Peter could have given her plenty to do in filling up his Christinas gift envelopes, but lie preferred to keep his identity as the “ Man Who Gave ” that it might bo known only to himself and the banker. A low days aftei Dolly had been installed in the office Peter said; “ i want vou, A 1 iss Brown, to type a letter to the Mayor of Golden Bond, a mining township in Central Utago, asking Jinn if he can supply me with information regarding the whereabouts of Dr Grayson, who was the medical officer of that district about 25 years ago.” At the mention of Golden Bend ami Dr Grayson Dolly’s heart seemed to miss a few boats, and she paled, but she bent over her task and hid her feelings. In the course of a week word came from the Mayor of Golden Bend that Dr Graysou was dead and that his wife and daughter had left the district, not having been heard of there since. Dolly observed that the news seemed to be a great shock to Peter, her employer, and she consulted her mother on the matter, A week before Christmas Dolly had an acute attack of influenza, and Peter hurried to. her mother’s apartment to offer the services of a medical man, bub Mrs Brown said there was no need for this. Talking over a cup of afternoon tea with Mrs Brown, Peter confided in her about his early life. He told how his parents had died at Golden Bend when ho was a youth. He had come of a family of diggers, and he was full of tho gold-minor’s optimism. It was in his blood. He was eager to go to a faroff goldfield in California, but had no money. He called on the family physician, who was inclined to speculate in raining shares, and Dr Grayson bad agreed to finance him, which he did. Tlie doctor had laughed at Peter’s optimism, but Peter had told him he would come back and share half a fortune with him some day. A quarter of a century had passed, and it was a bitter disappointment to find that his best friend had died in his absence, and so far there was no trace of his family. Mrs Brown went to the mantel and brought a framed portrait. “ Do you know who that is?” she asked with curiosity. “Why, that is Dr Grayson!” exclaimed Peter excitedly, rising- and walking up and down the room with the photograph in his hand. “ He was a fine man ! He was a fine man!” he kept repeating, “ He was that,” said Mrs Brown. “ Ho was the best in all the world.” ! “ Strange—was he your physician too?” “ Yes; he was'my husband.” Peter sat down. ■ “ Then you are hot Mrs Brown, you arc Mrs Grayson! And half of my huge fortune goes to you!” “ Dolly and I had fallen on evil days, so we changed our name and kept r ight away from friends.” * * * * Peter tendered a wonderful Christmas dinner to Mrs Grayson and her •daughter, and anyone they cared to invite. Dolly knew of a number of girl friends she had made in business who were living a drab life and having a struggle to help their parents and families thi’ough the depression. It was a happy party, and it was another thrill for Peter to see the sunshine coming back into the hearts of some who had been near the verge of despair. When Dolly’s ignorance of business was apparent, some of these girls had befriended her in ways that she would i never forget. Peter noted their addresses, and in a few days they were among the wondering recipients of a gift from the “ Man Who Gave.” Immediately after Christmas the wedding bells wore ringing and Dolly and Peter motored to Rotorua for their honeymoon. On the way Dolly asked Peter what he thought about the newspaper stories of the mystic person known as the “ Man Who Gave.” What a remarkable sensation he was causing! The excitement of the public was becoming more and more intense every day. “ How remarkable it is that they have not discovered the man,” an-