"The Melody Girl"

King Country Chronicle, Volume XXVI, Issue 3443, 15 March 1932, Page 6

"The Melody Girl"

By RUTH D. GROVES.

CHAPTER XXXIII. The morning following Irene's wedding day was beautiful. It was one of those crystalline mornings when earth and sky seem to call to all living creatures to be joyous. The ho'use was strangely quiet when Beryl opened her eyes after a night of fitful sleep. She glanced at her watch. Her mother would be about the house soon. She thought uncomfortably of the day that was ahead of her, dreading conversation with the family. Yet if she said nothing she would be thought sullen.

Beryl arose and picked up a hand mirror. What it told her stirred her sense of humour until a faintly mocking light showed in her eyes. There was her excuse. With a throat like that silence would be forgiven. She would not need to discuss Irene's marriage when she did not know what- she thought about it. Beryl possessed that rare faculty of being able to laugh at herself. She knew it was best for Tommy not to marry Irene and yet she couldn't help feeling bitter toward her sister. She knew that in any conversation concerning Irene she would rail against her while at the same time she must admit Irene couldn't have done a kinder thing for Tommy Wilson than to become Mrs Prentiss Gaylord. Mrs Prentiss Gaylord. . . .

Beryl turned to the window. What a day! She supposed the bridal couple would drive to Oakdale in the black and chromium roadster. What a morning to start on a honeymoon journey! It wouldn't be necessary to travel in a black and chromium roadster. A slim boy beside you .. .

the words "man,and wife" still ringing" in your ears ... a boy with the brown of woods in his eyes and the touch of the sun in his hair ... a laughing boy . . . "Listen!" Beryl spoke aloud and whirled from the window. "I'm paging you, Old Trapper I want yon to swear for me. And swear good and plenty. Swear hard." Angrily she dashed the tears from her smarting eyes. But she couldn't dash the picture that had called for stout words out of her mind. It was the picture of a once laughing boy in helpless collapse on a wet beach. It had flashed into the day dreaming like an evil threat. flShe put a hand to her throat . . .

pain . . . But she must know how Tommy was. She must go out and find him. Beryl started to dress hurriedly lest the pain in her throat frighten her into staying indoors. It was a terrible thing to be so afraid, she thought. But what would she do without her voice? She needed the money she earned, but there was more. There was the release she knew in spirit when she sang. She. could pour her longing out in song. She could call to Tommy. She could scold him. She could plead with him and pray for him. Because his name was not on her lips but only in her heart, people would praise her and talk to her about the power of the artist to express universal human emotions.

The solace she found in singing meant much to Beryl. She felt she could not do without it.

How stupid she would be to go out to-day. She knew that wetting her feet in the dew and bringing Tommy back to normalcy at the beach had started her trouble anew. The doctor would be furious if she went out at this hour.

Beryl was dessed now. Where would Tommy be? She did not And Tommy. His uncle told her that Tommy had left the house after receiving a note sent to him by messenger. "And I haven't seen him since," he added worriedly. "Why didn't you stop him?" Beryl flamed. "Don't you know he might do something reckless?" "How could I stop him? I hurried home after you told me what had happened and found him acting natural enough." "What do you mean, natural enough?" "Well, he wasn't doing anything—just lying on his bed. You didn't expect he'd be doin' a tap dance, do you?" Beryl ignored the sarcasm. "Then what happened?" she snapped. "Then the messenger boy brought the note and I took it up to Tommy." "Did you stay there while he read it?"

"No. I came down to think about something for supper and while I was doing it Tommy left. He didn't argueabout it. He just left?" "Who was the note from 9 " "I don't know, but I guess it was from Irene."

"Yes," Beryl agreed, and he- voice grew more caustic. "I guess it was. Irene would do a thing like that." She went home then ,and sent for the doctor.

"You might as well have come in to see me," he scolded her. "I saw you driving around in your fresh air bus."

The doctor's tone was good natured, but there was graveness in his eyes. His voice changed as he decided to tell her the truth.

"Seriously, Beryl," he said, "I must warn you that .your condition is one that you must not neglect. I'm going to put jou to bed for a few days at least. And I'm going to call Dr. Auguston from New York. He's a throat

(Copyright.)

specialist—a good one. I want his opinion." Beryl looked at him, suddenly really frightened. "Do you think it's anything really serious?" she asked quickly. "Anything . . . permanent?"

The doctor hesitated for a moment. Then, "Beryl," he said suddenly, "you're a sensible girl. That entitles you to hear the truth. I hesitated about alarming you, but I think it best to warn you that you have some of the symptoms of a rare throat malady. Little is known about it. I have never encountered it in my practice, but I believe Dr. Auguston knows as much about it as any man living." The shadow in Beryl's eyes deepened. "Is it—dangerous?" she breathed.

The doctor shook his head. "We do not consider it incurable," he said, "but it can give endless trouble, especially to a singer. Until I have Dr. Auguston's advice I want you to stay io bed."

Beryl stirred impatiently. "But I can't stay in bed," she protested. Then seeing a look of annoyance on the doctor's face, she added quickly: "Could you get Dr. Auguston to-day?" "Possibly," the doctor said dryly, "but I expect you to understand that we will be fortunate to get Auguston at any time at all. His fee, by the way, may seem exorbitant but he's worth it; every penny."

Beryl sighed. "Yes," she said. "I've heard of famous specialists." The doctor got up to go. "I'll send for him at once," he said. Beryl stopped him at the door. "You haven't," she said, "seen Tommy Wilson to-day, have you, doctor?" The doctor, on the strength of long years of practicing in the family, spoke frankly in reply. "Yes," he admitted, "I saw him, early this morning. The young fool was in trouble with the Larkin boys."

Beryl sat up with a jerk. "What kind of trouble?" she cried.

"The kind a guy like Tommy always gets into when a girl throws him over," the doctor replied. "It's a pity girls like Irene aren't all born in China."

Beryl flashed him a faint smile of gratitude for placing the blame where it belonged. But his implication of weakness on Tommy's part needed refuting, she thought. '•Tommy's all right," she protested. "All his bad luck came at once."

"H'm," the doctor returned dryly. "Someone had better dig him out pretty quick." "Yes," Beryl agreed. "Someone had." The doctor shook his head. "Not to-day," he said warningly. "You stay right there in bed until Auguston sees you. If you don't," he added gravely, "the consequences may be serious for you."

"Will you let me know if Dr. Auguston is coming to-day?"

The doctor promised and departed. Mrs Everett, who had been on an errand during his call appeared to ask Beryl what he had said. Beryl did not tell her all the doctor had hinted at. Instead she asked a question of her own.

"Do you know what Irene said to Tommy in that note she sent him yesterday?" she demanded. "Who told you she sent him a note?" her mother evaded. "If she flaunted Prentiss' wealth in Tommy's face —" Beryl began heatedly, but her mother out her short. "She did nothing of the kind," she declared. "It was just a sweet little note to ask him to try to forget her." "I can imagine," Beryl remarked bitterly: "So sweet it would drive him to drink. He probably thought he'd lost an angel. ..." "Irene is a good girl," the mother asserted, "you ought to think of all she can do for you I" Beryl did not answer for a moment. Then, "If you mean my career," she said slowly, "I may not have one. Our old medico is sending for a genie to find out."

(To be continued.)