"Say It With Songs"

Matamata Record, Volume XIII, Issue 1110, 31 March 1930, Page 7

"Say It With Songs"

SYNOPSIS. ex-pugilist and star 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 gets one year for manslaughter. Realising the position in which he has thus placed his wife and son, Little Pal, Joe decides that Katherine must divorce him and marry Dr Merrill, for whom she is a nurse. To force her to leave him, he accuses her of being too friendly with the doctor. Joe is released, and goes to see his child in school. CHAPTER IX. steady clanging of an electric gong brought Joe and Little Pal to their leet with a jump. They looked about and saw the big playground had .emptied, and the windows of the school building were aglow in the twilight. “ That means you have to go, sonny hoy,” said Joe, sadly. It seemed as though he would never have strength tor courage to leave him. ‘‘Yes, daddy.” Little Pal nodded reluctantly. “ But I’d rawer stay wiv you.” His eyes were pleading. Joe cleared his throat and tried to he .firm. “No,” he shook his head. “ You’d better hurry or you’ll miss your supper. I’ll be back to-morrow at the same time,’ he promised. “It will only be a little while. You have your supper, and then go to sleep, •and then just an hour or two after you get up daddy’ll be back.” Walking backward, so that he might not lose sight of his father toqjjuickly, the child started hard for the - school, trying to keep the tears from his eyes. And Joe, just as sorrowful as Little Pal, waved, and then turned a stalwart back and started for the gate. It seemed to him that his legs and feet were moving automatically as he stepped bn to the gravel path and moyed slowly toward the street. How foolish of him, he thought, to feel this parting so keenly. It was nothing. He would be back in no time at all. And he must look for a job—a night job—so that he could be with his son. Suddenly something launched itself like a smalL cannon ball at his legs. He jumped, frightened. There stood Little Pal, his face streaming with tears. “ Daddy, daddy ! v Take me wiv you ! ” he was crying. Joe’s heart was going to break—he knew it. He couldn’t stand this. “ Junior, you’ll get into trouble for running away like this. They’ll punish 4 you. Maybe they’ll take away your visitor’s privilege. Then I couldn't come to see you.” Joe never noticed that he had gone back into using the prison terms. He was too distressed to realise what he was saying. “ Your mother wants you to stay here,” he tried another tack. “ She knows best. This is the right place for you to he. They’ll make a big, fine man out of you.” Unconsciously he was repeating the sentences he had said over and over again to himself while in prison. Desperately Junior clung to his father’s legs. “ But, daddy, we could have such a swell time togewer.” Swell! The word Little Pal had picked up ffiom his father in those care-free, happy d*ys that seemed so far over the horison. Joe was beginning to waver. He glanced about. The street was deserted and silent. It was partially dark. The school grounds were cut off from sight by the high hedge. Just to take his boy in his arms and go—and go—and not come back 1 It w'ould be so easy. He reached for the boy, taking him and holding him close. ° No, darling.” He shook his head and set the boy down. “We could have a swell time, I know, but daddy must think of you first. You must listen to what mother says, and be a good boy and stay at school. I want you to do that.” Something about his father’s change in attitude made Little Pal stop crying.; He nodded his head and turned manfully toward the path that led to the open door. “I’ll be back to see you to-mor-row, Little Pal,” Joe called after the boy.

“Aw wight, daddy.” The short, chubby legs bore the child' away. Joe watched until the* tiny figure disappeared in the evening dusk, and then turned back and into the street, his chin quivering suspiciously. As he walked the hooting of automobile horns, the light rush of suburban traffic, never reached Joe’s ear. His head was bent, and even people who passed him never caused him to turn or look. A heavy truck glided out of a narrow street. He never ! noticed it. And perhaps that was the reason he did not, hear a small voice calling after him. He didn’t hear a patter of tiny footsteps, that trailed behind him. He did not even raise his head when a shrill screeching of brakes, the cry of a woman, tore the usual stillness. People began to brush against him, all seemingly bound for some object that stood rakishly twisted against the curbstone of the cross street behind him. A police whistle shrilled. Joe stopped. He half turned as if to follow the crowd. Then he turned back again. Once more the whistle screamed. Then the words of the people brushing by caught his ear. j “ Accident ! Acdfaent ! Child hurt I Accident ! ” For some unknown reason Joe was urged to take his place in the crowd. He moved forward like one in a daze, the words beating on his brain. A child was hurt. There had been an accident. Slowly he edged his way along, pushing through, he didn’t know why. The great monster of a truck loomed before him. His eyes roamed the streets, searching for the gruesome object that was probably lying there, drawn to it by some unaccountable fascination. i “Oh, my God i ” Joe’s hoarse voice ■ rent the air. With one bound he had ; shoved the onlookers aside and was ; kneeling on the ground. j Before him, his arms flung out, his legs twisted, his head lolling to one side, lay Little Pal. | “My baby 1 My Little Pal ! Oh, j dear God ! ” In agony Joe caught the 1 child in his arms, rocking him back j and forth. # ; A policeman thrust the curious to i one side and tapped Joe on the shoul- 1 der. . | “ Leave him alone!” the radio j singer screamed. “ He’s my baby! : Mine ! Help ! Get a doctor ! My baby ! My little Pal ! ” i The policeman, a burly man with , a round, kindly face, knelt beside the | father. “Here,” he began gently, j “let me help you. It’s your kid, Ij guess, he ain’t dead. We got to get ' him to a hospital quick. The ambu- I lance’s on its way.” Joe shook his head, moaning. He could feel the baby stirring in his arms. He wasn’t dead—then he was not dead ! Would the ambulance not hurry ? Little Pal’s eyelids flick- j ered. He was regaining conscious-j ness. Down the street the clang- j clang of an ambulance bell jingled. j That ride to the hospital Joe never j remembered. All that he could think of was the length of time it took them j to get there. Suddenly Joe was halted by one of the nurses who had numerous little cards in her hand. “ You’ll have to fill out this card,” the woman informed him. “ Right this way.” Down the hall the nurses were disappearing with the baby. “No ! No ! ” Joe’s voice rose in a shriek. “ I’ve gotta be with my kid.” He pushed.past the nurse,and at last came to a dimly-lighted desk where several nurses were grouped about, buzzing in low conversation. I want my baby ! ’ he announced to the nurses at the desk, breaking in upon their talk. “ He hasn’t filled out the card yet,” came that persistent- voice, and the first nurse appeared' at Joe’s side. The white-clad girl sitting in front of the desk looked up at Joe. She tvas a younger woman, and her blue eyes held some look of sympathy. “That’s all right, Miss Higgins,” she nodded to the older nurse, and rose hastily. “That c&n be done later. I’ll take you down to the operating room,” she added, turning to Joe.

“ Thank you.” The man’s voice trembled, even as his body was trembling. He followed his guide through a maze of corridors, up on an elevator, then through more corridors.

“You see, I—l’ve been away for a long time,” he tried to explain to the nurse, “ and I hadn’t seen the child, and then this had to happen.” “ I see,” the girl smiled sympathetically. “ That’s too bad. But I’m sure Dr Johnson will do everything he can.” The two walked in silence through another corridor and then the nurse pushed open a door that led into a white tiled room.' She pointed to another door. “ The doctor’s in there with your child,” she whispered. “ I’ll wait here with you until he comes out. I can’t go in while he’s busy in there.” “ You’re very kind,” Joe mumbled. It was intense agony, waiting—waiting—for that door to open. When the doctor did appear it meant that he would know something, Joe told himself. A wave of • nausea enveloped him. If the news were bad! No—no! He didn’t ‘dare to think of that. It couldn’t—it wouldn’t be bad news. “ How did it happen ? ” the nurse asked in a gentle voice. “He was in school*” the radio singer began to explain. “ I’d

Joe’s Little Pal is victim in an accident. A scene from the Warner Bros, attraction*, “ Say It With Songs.” been up to see him, an’ I left. He wanted to go with me, an’ I guess he followed me, because when I turned around all I saw was a truck, an’ then I found the kid there—” His voice broke. “Yes, I know,” the nurse nodded. “ Here’s the doctor now.” She got up to meet a white-clad, middleaged man who appeared from the inner room. “ This is the child’s father.” She motioned to the doctor. “ I’ll go now.” She turned, leaving the two men alone. “You’re Dr Johnston, aren’t you?” Joe questioned, remembering the name the nurse had told him. “ I’m the boy’s father. I’m—” he hesitated. He was going to say: “I’m Joe Lane.” And then he remembered those days in the prison. Perhaps he’d better just let it go at that. “Is he—is the boy—?” he hesitated. But the doctor had been through many like cases before. He clasped his lean, long fingered hands behind his back. “ He isn’t going to die, I can assure you of that.” He even smiled a little, his thin face lighting up. - “Thank God! ” There was a world of reverence in Joe’s long, eonculsive sigh. “ But—but what about him? ” “ The case is a serious one, though,” the doctor continued. “The child’s spine has been injured and his nervous system has had a terrific paralytic shock.” “ Aw, that can’t be right, doctor! ” Joe exclaimed, catching hold of the white. coat sleeve, pulling at the physician’s arm. “ It can’t be, I tell you. You gotta cure him. You just gotta, doctor! ” “ Well,” the doctor was saying slowly, evidently pondering the matter in his mind, “ I know that we’ll try our best, you can rest assured. But in a case like this a specialist Is needed. Not only a specialist In the ordinary sense of the word, but a great specialist who can work miracles. As I said, the child won’t die/ but we want to cure him completely, if that is possible.” Joe hesitated thoughtfully. “Who are some of the specialists,” he said finally. “ I’ll get one for him.” No ITO\ ter what was needed he’d get It for Little Pal, he swore to himself. “Well, there’s Dr Keller, of Berlin,” the physician counted off the names on his fingers. “ There’s Dr Windsor in London, and there’s Dr Merrill, right here in bjew York.

Any one of them might be able to help. This isn’t a case where one can make promises.” “Dr Merrill!”. Joe. exclaimed „sharply.' “Dr’ Robert Merrill 1 ” Why that was Katherine’s friend, the doctor for whom she worked. “Yes. Do you know him?” Dr Johnson glanced at the man’s rather shabby suit and wondered. “ He’s a very expensiye man, you know,” he suggested. “Yes, I know,” Joe returned bitterly. “ But I can’t help that. My boy’s gotta have every chance. I don’t care what is costs. He’s gotta have the best treatment there is, and I’ll get it for him. He’s all I got in the world. You don’t know! I’d go through hell for that kid.” His eyes blazed. “ There, there,” the doctor soothed, laying his hand on Joe's shoulder. “ I know. You calm yourself. I’ll help in any way I can, but if you know Dr Merrill yourself you’ll stand a lot better chance I’m sure. He’s a busy man, and hs ..'uly takes exceptional cases of this sort. I’d advise you to get the boy to him right away. The sooner the better in this instance. Now, do you want to see the child? ” “ Thank you, doctor,” Joe sighed and turned to follow the physician into the next room. The persistent clamour of a telephone bell brought Katherine to her senses with a start. She sat up> ih; bed, gazing about sleepily. Again the ringing. She put her feet on to the floor, stepping into a pair of slippers and then' went over and picked up the receiver. Automatically she glanced at the clock. Seven o’clock. She could have slept another hour. Probably Dr Merrill wanted her on a case. She assumed her professional voice. Then suddenly she gripped the telephone, clutching it until her knuckles showed white beneath the skin. “ The McKinley School for Boys ? . . . Yes, Miss Montgomery . . . What . . . No . . . No, I haven’t seen him! What’s happened? Has anything happened to Junior? ” Her voice was frantic. She could scarcely understand what the Head Mistress was saying. She only knew that she was repeating words. Slowly Katherine put the receiver back on the hook and stood there, here head whirling. Junior was lost. They couldn’t find him. Quickly she picked up the receiver and dialed a number. She waited as the buzzing sounded in her ears, telling her that the other phone was ringing. “Hello!” At last the answer came. It was Johnson, Dr Merrill's butler. She recognised his voice. “ Johnson! ” Katherine began quickly. “Is Dr Merrill dressed ?. . . He isn’t? . . . I’m terribly sorry, Johnson, L- this is Mrs Lane calling and I’ve got to see Dr Merrill right away, . Yes! - Will you please ask him if he can come right over? Yes, Johnson. That’s all. Good-bye.” Once more Katherine put the receiver back on the hook and then sank into a chair, trying to think. Junior was missing and Joe had been to see him yesterday. That thought kept recurring in her mind. Could it be possible that Joe had taken the child? Would he do such a thing? He had just got out of prison she knew that. She had kept track of the days. ('lo continued. 1 )