"Say It With Songs"

Matamata Record, Volume XIII, Issue 1108, 24 March 1930, Page 7

" Say It With Songs"

SYNOPSIS.' ■fr TOE LANE, ex-pugilist and star songster, of QRSA Radio Station, discovers that Arthur Phillips, his manager, and best friend, is trying to take Katherine, his wife, away from him. Becoming enraged he hits Phillips, and in falling the manager strikes his head and dies. Joe is serving a year in prison Jor manslaughter. Unwilling to disgrace Katherine and their son, Little Pal, Joe tries to force his wife to seek a divorce by accusing her of intimacy with Dr Merrill, the physician for whom she works as nurse. On Christmas Day at Dr Merrill’s home the surgeon asks Katherine to marry him. Little Pal, lonely for his father, tunes in on Station QRSA. CHAPTER VIII. TITTLE PAL jumped. His tiny mouth fell open. He clutched eagerly at the machine, trying to look inside. .. “ Muwer! Muwer! ” he shrieked at the top of his lungs, jumping up and down. “ Daddy’s singing on the wadiol ” He bolted . for the door where he had seen his mother go into the next room, standing there, his face flushed. “Muwer! I got daddy!- Come in!” , Katherine and Dr Merrill jumped up, puzzled. Joe couldn’t possibly be singing over the radio, they told themselves/ J'unior had probably Been so anxious to hear his father’s voice that he had mistaken someone • else for him.. - They followed/ the. child running on'ahead, to the cabinet. And then she heard the announcer’s voice: “ Station QRSA.. The Voice of the City. Ladies and gentlemen, I want to interrupt only a moment to tell those of you who have not heard the first part of our programme, that this hour is being brought-to you from the various state institutions of New York State. We have, arranged an extensive hook-up ' and each institution is contributing J its share of the entertainment. II will now turn the microphone back again.” I As the man had begun to talk, | r Katherine’s face had gone white, j She caught Dr M&rHH’s arm for support. State institutions! That meant state’s prison, too! Not a word was spoken. Katherine and Dr Merrill waited breathlessly for the programme to continue. Little Pal climbed up on a bench near the radio, and settled himself, his right ear glued to the cabinet. He had heard his daddy’s voice once. It would be there again. They could see the long, bare mess hall of the prison where serried rows of men in grey filled the benches on either side of the long tables—men with the pallor of confinement on their faces, the stamp of their punishment in their features. ' 4But the walls of the mess hall werje ; not quite so naked and cheerless a’s> they usually were. Long streamers, of coloured paper festooned their dull sides and led up to a big Christtoes tree on a platform erected at the further end of the room. Stage folk and some of the charity organisers who had sacrificed the day to come to the prison and do their share toward lightening the burden for the inmates were seated on the platform. While some of the convicts, who were noted for their talent, were there with th When Little Pal had turned 'the dial that had brought his daddy s voice sweeping full and. powerful into Dr Merrill’s living room, Joe had been standing at the microphone pouring his heart out in the Christmas carol. As he finished the applause crashed out. The warden rose as the singer left the microphone and waited until the station announcement should be made. . '• “I think you’ll have to give them another, Lane,” he said, calling Joe "by name, which was rare in the prison where men were so many numbered robots. He turned again to the microphone as he received the People of the radio audience,” he began, “ you know most of the entertainment here to-day is being •generously furnished by professional talent, who have given up their Christmas Day at home to maxe things jollier for others who are less fortunate. We have, however, some talent of our own. You have just heard one of our singers, and since

BY ARLINE de HAAS

the applause, is still continuing, I’m going to ask him to sing another song for you.” Joe stepped forward, signalling the pianist to wait a moment. He turned to the warden and whispered: u May I say a few words first, sir? ” he enquired eagerly/ The warden hesitated., This was certainly not according to rules. He frowned thoughtfully. The prison head always had to be careful how he permitted his charges to communicate with the outside world. He had to guard against that terror that lay always in the back of every warden’s mind —a prison. mutiny i with prearranged outside aid. But J Joe, he felt was safe, and this was * Christmas — “All right,” he assented finally. “ But remember, Lane, you are on your honour! ” Joe understood what those stern words meant. He smiled his thanks and then leaning closer to the microphone, he began: “ I want to dedicate this number to my little boy—my Little Pal—somewhere out in the world." He paused. “ And I want him to know that his daddy still loves him and is coming back to him some day soon.” And with a sob in his throat the words rolled out—-words that he had sung in those happier hours when Little Pal’s head snuggled against him. “ Little Pal, now. daddy’s gone away ... Promise you’ll be good from day to • day.” “ See, muwer! ” Junior interrupted. “ It is daddy! ” His head went back against the cabinet as though he feared to lose even the slightest intonation of that voice. Katherine nodded. All the old, lost days were brought back to her :n that moment. It was the. same Joe, j only not quite the same. There was a new timbre, a richness in his voice that had not' been there before. Dr. Merrill was watching the mother and son with grave understanding written on his face. He knew how'this made Katherine feel, and Junior’s rapt expression left nothing to the imagination. It made him feel infinitely sad that j i things had to be the way they were. ( He wanted Katherine, but he wanted j her on his own terms. He would wait until she came to him freely and gladly. And if that time never arrived—well, he didn’t want to think about that to-day. “If some day you should be on a new daddy’s knee ... Don’t forget about me. Little Pal. The voice trailed off into an infinite silence. “ Joe! ” Katherine stretched out her arms, and repeated that name aloud, not realising that she had said it. She gathered the child to her, sitting there with him on the bench, her head against his. “ Daddy! Daddy! ” The cry of 'anguish came from the baby as he realised that his father was no longer there. “ Where are you? Where are you, daddy? Come back to your Little JPal! ” , As Joe walked from the microphone his face was turned away, so that the others might not notice the tears that welled up in his eyes. But down in the audience his cellmate saw, and he'pretended to be very much interested in his hands. ‘ Joe, his shoulders drooping, his arms hanging loosely at his sides, stumbled down the steps from the platform and went back to his seat beside his cellmate at the long table. “ Do ya think th’ kid heard ya ? The singer raised his head, smiling brokenly, but there was an inner, spiritual glow that illuminated his face. “ I know he did,” he said simply. He put his hanfl to his heart. a I felt it—here.” So the great iron gates had clashed shut behind Kim, and Joe had stepped back into life once more. The state had presented him, as it does all discharged convicts, with ten dollars and a suit of clothes. “.It’s not so much money, and not such a good suit, but at least it’s more than I had to start on I was born.” Joe reflected half humorously. At any rate, there’d be enough to take him to Little Pal. Dear Little Pal! He was all that was left to him now. Katherine was gone for good out of his life. Perhaps some day he’d be able to forget her. Maybe in venrs to come that dull ache

around his heart would fade into nothing but a tender memory. He swung aboard the train that puffed in alongl- - the platform and hunted an inconspicuous seat in the rear of the smoker. He was going to his baby! At last he reached the suburban station that was his first destination. There was little trouble finding the McKinley School for Boys in such a small place. Joe paused inside of the gate. Perhaps he shouldn’t go in after all. If he could only steel himself not to do it, maybe it would be better for Little Pal never to see him again and forget his gaolbird father. He stared hungrily, hoping that the child might see him, and come running to him, making him forget all his resolutions.

His first act was to find Little Pal. Where was Junior? Where was he? Away over there on the lawn stood several grown people—probably teachers. In every corner were children. Then a huge football came, bounding in his . direction, and behind it ran a sturdy legged little fellow, in a-jersey sweater. The child fell upon the ball which was so big it almost slipped from his arms. But he clung to it, scrambling to his feet. And then as he rose Joe recognised Little Pal! Looking about him guardedly, Joe tip-toed up to the preoccupied child who was preparing to send the ball bouncing off again. “ Little Pal! Little Pal! ” he called softly. He wanted to be alone with his boy. He didn’t want a lot of teachers standing guard. The child raised his head in amaze : ment. That voice was so familiar. And yet it couldn’t be—it couldn’t be! His daddy never came to see him. Often he had heard that voice in his dreams, and when he sat up in bed, calling out in answer, there was only a dark emptiness about him. And Joe, watching.him, saw a wide smile overspread the face of the boy he loved. All his doubts were set at rest. Little Pal hadn’t forgotten him! With a swift movement the child faced about. “ Daddy! Daddy! ” he called. ‘ “Where are you?” Joe could stand it no longer. He ran forward, his arms outstretched. And Little Pal fell against j him, clutching at him. He seized the child, kissing him again and again, holding him close, afraid to let him go for fear it would be only a dream. “Daddy! Where you been .so long ? ” the small voice was questioning eagerly. t, ■.# » “Little Pal! My Little Pal! Joe could scarcely talk in his excitement. .'“l’ve been away on business. • And how’s my Little Pal UppTl ? “ Oh, I been swell, daddy! How vou been? ” , . That familiar question, answered in -the familiar way, brought the tears starting to the radio singer s eyes. “ I been swell, too. Are you bem to a good boy? ” he asked. “ Yes, daddy,” the child nodded vigorously. He reached ,up his hands and patted his father s ( face, just as he had always done. Daddy, you won’t ever go way no more, W Any resolutions Joe might have tried to make about slipping quiet y out of his son’s life.had, begun to crumble away at first sight ofhin , and now, after that question, he- had no more resolutions. • , So busy had the two been with their meeting that they notice the. approach °f the 1? Mother, whose duty it was t generally supervise the welfare of each child. She Was a tall, severely tailored women with slightly greying hair. Her face looked severe, too, like her clothes, but people who knew her well had discovered that this look was assumed only for the sake o discipline. As a matter of lavished affection on her little ch3T£T6S. “ Who are you ? ” the woman snapped, taking in Joe’s rough looking

clothes and gaunt features in .a glance. : . \ Joe rose to his feet, holding Little Pal’s hand for comfort.. “Why, I’m Mr Lane.” He glanced down at the. boy. “ I’m Junior’s father.” “ Oh, that’s Miss Hinman,” Little Pal interrupted, his eyes dancing. “ She’s not weally cwoss. She gives me cookies. My daddy has been ’way for a long time.” Miss Hinman extended her hand as Joe added, “ Yes, I have been—out of the country.” He hesitated. .“ Business,, you, know.”; . . \ , , , The man was probably a trifle eccentric, Miss Hinman thought as she shook hands with him, considering those clothes and that cropped hah*. But a lot of eccentric people put their children in school and then went off about their -work, or- play. •; “ Yes,” she nodded, “ Mrs Lane told me you were in Europe.” Joe smothered a sigh of relief. Katherine had been true to him, all right. She had kept up the deception even after he had driven her away from him. But he didn’t like to think of Katherine. He mustn’t —it hurt too much. “ It will be all right for me to visit with my son for a little while, won’t it? ” he questioned carefully, evenly. Miss Hinman actually beamed “ Certainly, Mr Lane. I know Junior’s glad to see you. He often talks about you. You two can have a fine time together until supper is called. He must come in then.” “Thank you,” Joe replied as the woman walked away. . .. Now at last he was alone with his boy. This was the moment to which he had been looking forward through the weary hours of his imprisonment. “ Let’s play horsie, like we used to, daddy!” Little Pal’s voice brought him back to the delicious present. That dark year that had just passed was already growing, hazy. He would be able to forget it with Junior’s help. He was sure of that n °“All right, big boy!” he laughed. “ Come on! I’m the meanest, lopeared, bob-tailed bronco you ever saw. Come on, ride him, cowboy! Joe, on his hands and knees, and Little Parastride his back. Joe trying to buck him off, but Little Pal keeping his seat. He had his father by the ears, and there no throwing him. It hurt delightfully, the grip of those strong, tiny hands, Joe the long afternoon wore away in sheer, lyric happiness for the two. They took no notice of the other people about them. Childie came and went, ran and played, tried to join their games, but neither wab aware of any outside presence. Until at last both o2 them, tired yet happy in that rare and deep attachmentwhich sometimes exists between father and son, just lay on the grass and talked. . ~ (To be Continued.)