WINGED YOUTH

Hawera Star, Volume LIV, 28 March 1935, Page 2

WINGED YOUTH

by FRANK H. SHAW (Author of “ The Haven of Desire,” etc.)

CHAPTER XX. (Contnued)

“Peter, dear!” «- “Oh, hello, mother. Look here, I’ve got a ear of sorts outside. How about your gear —brought a trunk?” Modern women, she laughingly told him, had forgotten the use of trunks; a suit-case and a liat-box hold all she had. “Oh, good enough; give us hold. I say, old lady, you look pretty stout, eh?” He was nervous and fidgetty. He took her arm along the platform, cariying suitcase and box airily; a young giant. “Had a decent trip and so forth?” . I “Coming to you would make any trip] decent, dear,” she cooed. “How are I you all—and, Peter, Pm so proud of everything, you know; really .proud.” “Oh, we're all right. Well, youngMiko’s a bit off his feed, Betty says. Nothing to worry over; but, well, perhaps I’d better stop at Wichbourne’s and tell him to come over.” “Pm sorry, dear. Perhaps I’ll be able to help.” “Oh, that’s all rignt; Betty’s got him taped. Tum-tum trouble, she thinks. He’s no end of a kid, Mums. You wouldn’t believe a baby could be—so sort of human.” They were in the second-hand car by now; "and Peter was taking her into the indifferent streets of St. Conotts. It struck Mrs Craddock as being a drab sort of place; mediocre,; essentially a working-class type of town. “Is this WieKbourne your doctor?” she asked, as Peter drew up at an undistinguished door. “Yes; he’s a bit of a back-number. Good with kids, everyone says.” Dr. Wichbourne, it seemed, was out; but on his return he would be told of Peter’s call. “Peter, dear, how well you are looking!” “Oh, I feel fine. Er—everything all right at home?” Yes, she assured him, everything was. She was wise enough not to rush things unduly—plenty of time. She encouraged the boy to talk of his work, and had him instantly enthusiastic.

“Oh, this is my big chance, I tell you, this new all-weather bus we’re making; when it’s tested, I’m to take it a proper hop; I may, have a stab at the North Pole, you know.” He stopped in the middle of his efithusiasm: “There’s our roof anyl four walls —not much of a spot; but ” he drew a long breath—“l’m almighty glad to see you here.” “And I’m glad to be here, dear.”

Betty was at the door, drawn by Peter’s purposeful horn-blowing. She was rather fluttered and hesitating between timidity and bravado. Gwen Craddock drew her closer by her extended hand, and kissed her. “My dear, what a change you’ve worked in Peter —he’s wonderful!” she said. That was the stuff to give the troops, Peter exulted. He’d have lived to say something appropriate, but couldn’t think of it; so he growled: “Make the best of each other, eh? I say, mother, welcome home and so forth; and, I say, Betty, how about a dish of tea?”

Barriers melted mysteriously. Gwen Craddock had done the proper thing, sinking herself to give Betty praise for Peter’s making-over. It was simple tact and it worked wonders. Betty was flushed and pale by turns and moisture swam into her eves. The sudden wail of Michael brought back reality.

“I say, how’s the lad?” Peter asked,

“He doesn’t seem so well,” admittedj Betty. “Did you tell the doctor —?” “Perhaps I can do something; Peter wasn’t a young elephant as he is now when -he was a baby,” suggested Mrs Craddock. And before sitting in to tea, she was taken to see the Craddock hope. A couple of glances assured her that things were far from right. She hesitated to suggest, but one or two questions showed her that Betty was dealing adequately with the situation, so far as her knowledge went. “You’re on the ’phone, of course?” she asked. Yes, of course —it had been installed not long before. “I should hurry up your doctor I think,” she recommended. It may be nothing; but it is as well to be sure.” She smiled cheerfully at Peter and Betty. All lies are not from the lips alone. Peter applied himself to the receiver. Dr. Wichbourne, newly' in from his rounds, was now at -tea, but would come along as soon as possible. “I’ll nip in and run you out, if yon like,” Peter offered. Dr. Wichbourne thought it unnecessary; it would mean four journeys instead of two. He would be along.

It seemed an eternity before he arrived. Mrs Craddock kept in the background, afraid lost she intruded and spoilt a proper understanding developing between herself and Peter’s wife.

“Just infantile trouble,” she assured Peter, who was beginning to get uneasy. “I remember when you were Miko’s age, dear, you scared me out of niy life. And Betty' seems very capable.”

“Oh, she’s all that. I say', mother, fair’s fair! Isn’t she tophole? Wait till I tell you some of the things she’s done.”

They established perfect relations in that suspenseful gap whilst Dr. AVichbourne remained upstairs with Betty'. “Let me know at ten o’clock just how the child is,” cautioned AVichbourne. “Craddock, eh? A distinguished name in my profession, Sir Peter.” “AVhat, my father?” < “Is Grant Craddock your father?” Respect hitherto absent was evident

in Wichbourne’s manner. A titled youngster was neither here nor there, but a man of Grant Craddock’s eminence meant a lot. “X had uie honour of acting as anaesthetist to your gifted father, sir,” he exclaimed. “He had miraculous powers—miraculous.” “I say, mother. Doc here knows the Governor,” Peter laughed. -“Talk, to him for a bit, there’s an angel!” He hurried up the stairs. Mrs Craddock considered Dr. Wichbourne. “Just how ill is that baby?” she asked.

“It is early yet to diagnose accurntelv, ma’am. There are suspicious symptoms. If Mr Craddock is in the vicinity, I’d welcome his opinion. A remarkable diagnotician, I remember! Remarkable!” “If you think it wise, I’ll wire for him to come.” “There is nothing so far to warrant bringing him all this distance, with his many interests and obligations. • I thought that if he were here—tut-tut; jio the case so far gives me no real

concern. < ‘ Keep me informed, Mrs Craddock. You are steady; that young mother upstairs is apt to be—well, youth is youth! I’ll send a boy out on a bicycle with a mixture —-something in a bottle quietens motherly fears.” He went away; and Peter came down- “ Odd thing about Betty,” he said, “she’s got as much pluck as an army, but now she’s worrying about Miko. I wonder if you’d-—1”

Mrs Craddock went upstairs. She was needed she felt; she was glad she had come. This illness would serve as a key to unlock the gates erected between their mutual lives. The boy arrived with the medicine and grumbled about the snow; he departed, cheered by a shilling. Quietness reigned, but Peter had the impression that some shadow had entered the house to darken it. He grew uneasy and restless. But there was one thing about the mater being there —she gave a man a sort of confidence. He felt so much in- the way that he went over to the works. Mr Greene was just leaving. “It’s a pity the weather’s broken this way,” the manager said. “They’ll have that bus ready for a test to-mor-row. What’s this my wifi tells me about, your boy being seedy?” ‘ “Oh, it’s nothing; Wichbourne’s just gone; and my mater’s here —I say, the bus looks all right, doesn’t she? Let’s hope this snow doesn’t carry on.” He busied himself with the beautiful machine, and forgot for the nonce his suspense. > Back at home he found a strained Betty. Miko, it appeared, had developed a temperature. -She ran to him like a child and held up lips that trembled. “Peter, I’m scared,” she admitted. < t Baby doesn’t seem to know me the way he did.” He comforted her, patting her back. “That’ll be all right; the mater’s here, you know. Darned lucky I asked her along. I say—she's not butting in?”

“No; she’s a dear; I’ve stopped being scared of her. But, oh, Peter ! If anything happened to baby—!” “Nothing’s going to happen,” Peter assured her. But with midnight Peter found it incumbent to arouse Dr. Wichbourne on his mother’s and Betty’s joint entreaty'. “I say, Doc, I w'ish you’d come out here,” he phoned. “The kid’s not -so good as he was, and my wife’s worried. I’ll tell you what —I’ll nip in and fetch you, save you turning out y'our own bus. Oh, no, don’t worry—.” Actually he felt helpless and hated the feeling. He -wanted to be of use; and scaring through the night would make him feel he was doing something. It wms snowing pretty hard as he

went to the garage. A keen wind was howling, though in the well-built cottage it had not been so noticeable. Driving at a speed was none too easy', with the white snow blinding the headlights; but Peter knew the road and made good timing. He collected Wichbourne, who shivered inside his ulster and started back. “I heard the last news bulletin,” the doctor told him, speaking nervously', for Peter’s driving w T as a revelation in risk. ‘ ‘ They say this snowfall is more or less common over the entire country', especially' in the south, and there are fears it may increase.”

“Oh, we can get through easily' enough,” Peter responded carelessly'. “I’ll put the chains on to bring you back, Doctor. I say, honestly', is there anything likely to be bad with our kid?”

“Nothing .beyond the resources of medical skill, Sir Peter.” Dr. AYielibourne closed his eyes, and contrived to dose off a little. Peter rushed him upstairs, flind then paced the cottage floor impatiently'. He would be sick if anything happened to young Mick. There was a quality about that kid—his intelligence, his good temper, and a particularly infectious gurgle he gave when trying to laugh. Apart from his own interest in the infant, Peter fretted about Betty'.