KIND OLD UNCLE PAUL

Hutt News, Volume 3, Issue 29, 11 December 1930, Page 2

KIND OLD UNCLE PAUL

By HARRIS DEANS.

THE STORY OF AN" INNOCENT CHRISTMAS DECEPTION THAT HAD A HAPPY ENDING. It is really very difficult to distinguish between a mother and daughter those days—especially in the half light, when the lady has her back turned to .you. Perhaps that was why Alec Graljam who was^in love with Miss Maisio Vie-, kers, kissed her mother under the mistletoe one evening, a day or two before •Christinas. On the other hand, perhaps it wasn't. '' Really, .Alee!'' cried Mrs' Vickers. "I- —I beg your pardon," stammered .Aloe; "1 —-I could have sworn you -were Miaisie. You're so slender —-you might be twin sisters." - - "From.the. back, perhaps," admitted Mrs. Vickers, who was forty, and didn't feel nearly as old. ' ♦ Oh, no,'' said Alee, '' even looking .at you." He stared at her closely. ■"•Tcha" he cried with a laugh, "you're' pulling my leg. You are Maisie." . (Mrs .Vickers, smiling despite herself ..shook a forefinger at him, 1' Alee, ' '- she said solemnly, ''you're; ■ carrying a compliment to the borders of lunacy. Besides, it's very old, the mistake you've pretended to ma we. Oh, -and that reminds me—l must remember a another's responsibilities: How dare .you kiss my daughter?" "But I didn't," objected Alec. "Yes, you did, or thought you did— right undor my very uoei. What do you mean by it ? " Mr. Graham shuffled his feet. " It's a bit parky in the hall, Mrs. Vickers," he said; "can't we go in the 'drawing room?" "It's parkier still in there," said .Mj>s. Yiekors j"-we've been turning it •out for Christmas. But there's a lire in the dining room." And Maisie was there too. ".Oli, Aiec," she cried, as the two •'entered, "whatever were you doing^in .the hall?" Alec hesitated. 11W —well," he murmured, " I —l was trying to broak it gently to your mother that we were engaged." "How did she take it?" said Maisie. "W —well, she blushed and said, 'Oh! Alec!' '» "That -will do," said Mrs. Vickers. "I won't'have you talking about me as if I weren't here. So that's why you kissed me, young man. To let it sink in ov me that you were in the habit of Itissing my ■ daughter!'? "Roughly, that was the idea," admitted Alec. "H'm," said Mrs. Vickers. "Well, I'm sorry, Aloe; you're a very nice boy, and I've no doubt you'll make a very good husband. But I'm afraid I •^on't regard you as a suitable son-in-law." ' "Oh, •well," said Alee cheerily, "you -ucedn 't see much of me when Maisie I are married." "It's not your presence I object to," said Mrs Vickers, "it's your prospects.'*' *'I get three hundred a year and I'm «only twenty-four," urged Alec. "Be reasonable, Mrs Vickers—-Rockefeller's :already married and there aren't a whole lot of unengaged millionaires -floating around." "Id-be* content with love in a cottage," cried Maisie. "I dare say you would," said her mother; "but how1 would you like having to sweep out the cottage, and to -coolc in the cottage and to scrub the •cottage? No, Alec, it's no good, you're :a nice boy, and sensible^ —you don't walk around in Oxford bags and girl's jumpers. But you've no prospects, and .you must remember that Maisie one day will be an heiress." Maisie, who -was nineteen and .cud-dly-looking, with blue eyes and fair lair, pouted at the information. "Oh, mums," she said, "you're not persisting in that idea, are you? It's so stale." She turned to Alec. "Alec," she said, "Mums has an uncle in Australia." "No, darling,^' corrected Mrs. Vickers. "Your poor father's brother. My .brother-in-law; your uncle." "'"Well, anyhow, Alec," weiled 3£aisie, "whoever he is, he's been in Australia for donkey's years and never, never 'written hone." "Dearest, don't «"& Mrs. Vickers, "you know very veUI had a postcard from him four years "Yets,** cried Maisie, "but not ori!jr

.^n,,.,m.,,, l .,n, <u ;« l «...iM.m.. !W p ! , !H u2™Suj! ! ».^^^!!'j;:4!!^!;«~i!S?H^ TOisiiiiii'iiSi™£iSii»raSuii%iii"MiSriiSuuiSiiiiH^»>&i«'^ you don't know if he actually has left me anything in/his will, but you don't even know if he's got anything to leave." "Yes, I do," said Mrs Vickers. "Instinct. Alec, when you get older, you'll learn to believe in a woman's instinct." "At all events/ Maisie warned him, "you'll have to pretend to. AIL women think they have it. Why mothq* has never even seen Uncle Paul. Admit, now, mother, have you?" "I never have," admitted Mrs Vickera reluctantly, "but your father did j once. Of course, more than once, see- j ing they, were brothers; I mean he saw j him once after we were married—just ' before you were born, darling—and he sawl if it was a girl, he was going to leave all his money to you." j "Jolly, sporting of him," commented! Alec. '' And you heard from -him —how j often in nineteen years?" . j "Four times," said Mrs. Vickers. "But he was my husband's brother—he I was a man of honour. What he said ' he'd, stick to. Your father was like that ,dear. 3sTot*mucli of a correspondent when he was away, nor very talkative when he was at home, but you v could always take his word. It would never surprise me if uncle turned up one day with bags of gold under his arm; just.eomo home to die. You know how they do, dear, on the films." "You dont really mean she's serf-; ous?"-groaned Alee, as he, put on his.? hat and coat in the hall some hour or so later. , ! ««*Absol«tely," said Maisie. "Darling, '.she's the most wonderful woman. The dearest mothey and the sweetest thiig yonconld have, but just like one of |hos© "hard jgumslropa when it cornea

iiniaMuaiinßiiii>iitißuitmtisH<>sii<ißtiiißUtM|i'>"tiiMii'iiiiHiiu>pi'i'*ii<'*|iii*'<*|a"|'!!!U f!!!!*!!1.1!1!!!!!!!!!!!'!!!!!!! illlSl^^ I^^K^lßSi^ffiiSi3SSSiSSSSigiKiS«ai^USeaSEwiSsis,;aiia s««Sm:saiias!iSiuai!ai to sticking to an idea. She's. so yielding, you think she's like a piece of plasticines—you could mould her how you want her. But she isn't; she's like a football bla-dder^ —you can punch it in here and push it out there, but it always returns to its original shape.'' They had proof of this. '' Darlings,'' cooed Mrs Viekers from the dining room, "this is just to warn you I'm corning into- the hall. Alee should have put his coat on by this time,, and much as I like him I can't have him making -love to you.'' ■! The next day was Christmas Eve, and •! Alee sat scowling at his reflection in I the mirror. At least, originally he was just brushing his hair and scowling, and then he caught sight of his reflee tion in the mirror and paused to tfb- | serve.it. !■- Conceit? Not at all. You see, Alee j was an actor.« A very promising actor, j to tell you the truth, and it was part ! -of his job to make -faces at himself I and "register" the effect. - 'As it happened, this particular scowl reminded him of an intimate, if older friend, whose, specialty was playing, "old men's : parts."! An idea flashed across Alec's mind. "By Jove," he.said, "I've got it." Alec put on his hat and dashed round to see. his pal, who lived in the next street. -; "Paul," he gasped. "Oomf" said Paul; ) "Y°ur namd^is v Paul, '/cried Alec, "so it would hardly be a deception. ; Could you play, an Uncle Paul from ; Australia?" "Don't talk nonsense," retorted Paul, "I could play< any spr^ of Paul,? from Paula Frederieics to PftdT and Virginia." V

f" Excellent," said Alee. then, could you play an Uncle .Paul Viekers from Australia who turns upsand takes a violent fancy to me, and threatens to leave his money^ to Maisie on condition that,, she marrie~d me ?," . _ "You bet I could," 'cried* Paul. "Wihat sort of fellow is this Uncle Paulf" "I've no idea," confessed Alec, "except that he ought to have a beard so that he doesn 't look like bis brother, who was clean shaven. I can give you as many details of the family as a brother who hasn't been in England for years can be expected to know. Will you do it?" j "Of course I will," said. Paul. On Christmas Eve Alee called on the Viekers and found to his great astonishment (it has been said that he was a very good actor, hasn't it) that* Uncle Paul' had arrived but an hour previously. -— r A bearded fellew was Uncle Paul, with an affectionate nature and a candid utterance. "A charming couple,'' he affirmed loudly, the -while he stroked" Mrs Vickers' quite, soft hand,- ''.'a charming couple, my dear niece, Maisie, and. that estimable young man, Alec. They must, marry young.'' ■■„.•■ "Do you believe in youthful marriage?" queried i£rs Vickers. "I do indeed," said the greybeard. "I'd have married young, if" —-he Squeezed her hand—'' if I'd been lucky enough.to have met a girl like you. Listen, young fellow," he^ suddenly roared in that rollicking tone that most actors, think Australians have, "you marty that gal; and I'll leave you "all iay vast fortune." '' Is it ; really vast I said Mrs.

Viekers. - . "Vast. I .should say, so. I Wouldn't even count it." Which was probably as near as an impecunious actor ever got to the truth. " "Well, well, well, well, well," he groaned an hour or so later, "I must be off." "You're not going, uncle?" cried Maisie, "you'll,stay the night surely? " • "Can't, "said Paul, conscious of the fact that grease painf and false whiskers fire apt to rub off on the pillows in one's sleep, "boat sails at midnight. At the moment X leave you with my blessing; but if I get a note at Sydney that you two '■■young people are married, then, by gbsh, it'll be more than, my blessing you'll geti" •IVtaisie went downstairs with him. She came back smiling. "Well, mother," she said. And while she said it she was holding Alec's hand. "I don't think I can object now, .dear." said Mrs. Viekers. "Isn't yonr, uncle a darling?" . "Alee," said Paul that night, "We ought to be blamed well ashamed of ourselves. But we aren't. And why? Because all's fair in love. I'm a cot too successful actor, but I like your future •;' iin.<sther-in-law—and she i: n't fP going ie- be your future-in-law unless you introduce her. to me as your friend . and in my right name!" / Which was probably the reason why there was a double wedding of-mother and daughter at the Parish Church. £fc the end of January. ? Three months later a firm of Aainralian solicitors wrote that a certain Mr^ Paul Vickera had died and left tk» whole of his not inconsiderable fortune to his brother's wife, and her <3augft^}r Maisie^ - ■'