JILL DOESN'T COUNT

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXIII, Issue 22509, 28 August 1936, Page 20

JILL DOESN'T COUNT

Author of "Youth Takes the Helm." etc. A ROMANTIC STORY OF RIVAL SISTERS

CHAPTER IV.—(Continued)-. Do? Clear out, of course!" said Oliver. "Where?" "Anywhere," said Oliver. Ho broke off. "When I saw you there," he whis-'l pered, "I thought you'd brought a messa go fro in Viva." "She doesn't know I've come," said Jill "You mustn't blame.Viva too much, Oliver," she went on softly. "I know it seems frightfully hard. But after all you knew yourself she was an actress before she was anything else, didn't you? She'd got to follow her luck when it camo. Look at things from her point of view, Oliver! She'll bo a star. If this picture succeeds, she will have arrived. You couldn't expect her to give up all that?" "I gave up a lot for her," said Oliver. "But it's all right, Jill. I'll feel better about this when I get away from it. I'm going—to-night." "Running away," Said Jill, vei;y quietly. "Dash it, you've no right to say that!" "This was your practice, wasn't?" said Jil.l. "There's not much left of it." "But it was yours," said Jill. Oliver rose to his feet. His chair scraped against tlie floor. "It's ridiculous talking like that!" he said harshly. "If, I were still engaged to Viva it would have been different. I'd have fought then, tooth and nail! Why should I fight now? I'm tired —tired, i tell you! You've not been 111 prison, Jill. You've not looked at a cell wall till it grew dark, and looked at it until it grew light again, in the morning. You've not eaten prison food and done prison exercise, and seen nothing, nothing but the laces of fellow inmates, of warders. You've not come out, as I have, and had everything you wanted taken from you, come back to find your practice ruined by a drunkard and a slut. Running away—well, have it like that —1 am running away." "You're very sorry for yourself, Oliver, aren't you?" said Jill. "Sorry for myself?" Suddenly all the pent-up emotions of the last twelve months were too much for him. He sat down again, his elbows on the table. Utter misery and desolation overwhelmed him. Twelve months Ago ho had had everything, a livelihood, a girl, a future. Now nothing—riot even a home, not a friend tq turn to. His shoulders shook. "Oliver, Oliver dear, don't!" Jill was kneeling beside him. her arm round his shoulder.

"Oliver, don't! Oh. I'm managing so dreadfully badly. I wish I was clever so that I could say what I felt! Oliver, listen! You're not running away! Oliver, there's a chance for the practice yet! I spent the day in Charnford when I came for that cough mixture: 1 talked about you, 1 went into shops and cafes and the local pub and gossiped like any old woman! Some of them blame you, Oliver; some think you really were drunk, lots of them, though, blame Viva. There was one old woman, keens a haberdashery, said to 1110: 'Dr. Vereker saved my life, Miss! If he'd been in prison a dozen times I'd stick to him!"

"That must have been Mrs. Henderson," said Oliver. "Perforated appendix. Dashed her into hospital, just in time. You can't run a practice 011 one Mrs. Henderson."

"But there must have been others that I didn't meet," said Jill. "It isn't worth it," said Oliver. "I want to get away from it —out of it. I'm going, I say! I'm going." "Then you're running away," said Jill. She had risen to her feet, and her eyes were brilliant. "You're running away like a coward. Oliver, I tell you. if you're willing to fight you can get the practice back! Oliver, [ can help. I'm willing to help. 1 haven't told you yet, perhaps I ought to have begun with that —while you were —away—l learnt dispensing. I passed my examinations. I am a qualified dispenser now."

CHAPTER V. VOLUNTARY DISPENSER "But, good Lord!" said Oliver. He raised his head and stared at her. "I thought you were going to stay on the films, Jill." "Oh, I'm sick of the films," said Jill. "And Viva doesn't really need me now. She can afford a proper maid now that she's getting a decent salary. Oliver, listen, let me help! I always loved a fight with the odds against me. I've a little money. I have to live somewhere. I'll take rooms in Charnford. I'll como and look after the surgery. I'll do your dispensing. I'll do the bookkeeping. No dispenser," lied Jill, "gets a salary the first three months, you know. They do tho job for the sake of experience. After the three months you can pay me what you can afford." "You'ro mad, Jill," said Oliver. "Mad?" said Jill. "You mean I'm" sane. You see, dear, all these months I've seen this coming. You needn't think I'm being kind or anything. As a* matter of fact it's a business proposition first and foremost—not that I don't mean to enjoy it, but the dispensing profession is overcrowded. I'm grabbing a Job that 1 know will turn into a jolly profitable one before we've finished. That is unless you really do go. Oliver, don't, go! I'll be out of work then, as well as you. I know that we could make a success of it." "Could wo?" said Oliver. "Couldn't we!" cried Jill. Now her face was glowng. "Listen, I wouldn't be just a dispenser. We'd clear the place up between us. I could lend you a spot of money—you'd pay interest on it, of course —we'd get everything shining, efficient; paint tho outside of the house even, show that you were starting again—the establishment entirely under new management, so to speak. You wouldn't need a maid, Oliver; you know I'm not a bad cook, don't you? You'd just have to get a woman for the rough work. Whv, it ought to be fun!" "Fun?" Could anything ever be fun again, he wondered. And yet, well, Jill had a way with her! Almost, when she spoke with such enthusiasm, he thought it might. She'd be a jolly kid to work with, he'd always liked her. Oh, but he was tired, tired! She didn't know how tired he was. The look of hope left his face. He was about to refuse when Jill spoke again. "After all, that's the ono way of getting Viva back, isn't it?" she said. Sho had not meant to use this argument because secretly in her heart, she didn't think he would ever have Viva back. She had kept it as her very last means of persuasion. But in the end she had to uso it. Because sh<? know 110 musn't go now, because she knew with what was half a child's instinct and half a woman's love, that Oliver musn't run away, that his whole future depended on facing this like a man, in refusing to go under. As the effect of the argument on him was amazing, it was pain, as well as relief, to seo how his faco lit up at the thought of Viva, how even now 110 was readv to forgive her.

"Why, Jill," lie said slowly, "that rather niters tho case, doesn't it? To get the practice back for me—nothing doing! To get it back for Viva— that's different! You and T both love her, don't we? Shall we really have a go at it, Jill, my dear?" "Of course we will," said Jill. She held out her hand to him. "That's a pact," she said. "We'll make the practice the finest practice in Charnford!" "For the sake of Viva," said Oliver.

t By PHYLLIS HAMBLEDON (COPYRIGHT)

For the sako of you, thought Jill, but she did not say it aloud, * * * * * Four ladies sat round a tea-table talking, as ladies round a tea-table can talk. "Well, I call it perfectly disgraceful!" said Mrs. Jones, the ban* manager's wife. "'J he man must be brazen. The least ho could do was to sell the practice, and clear out!" "I don't imagine there's very much practice to sell by this time," said Mrs. Beaton, of the Laurels. _ * "Not many people like a gaolbird as their medical attendant," said Mrs. Grahamo. " Two lumps, please, Mrs. Beaton! May I pass you the cucumber sandwiches, Miss Croft?" The sfcene was Mrs. Beaton's drawing room, and tho topic of conversation, the return of Dr. Oliver Vereker to his practice. During the past eighteen months Charnford had become used to seeing his house look dirty and neglected; Dr. p Grahame, the rival practitioner, had found his visits almost doubled by the fact that Oliver had been sent to prison. Tho man's done for! had been tho unanimous verdict, and perhaps the Grahames had done more than their fair share of stating tho fact. And to-day even the two lumps of sugar in her tea had no power to sweeten Mrs. Grahame's expression, as tho three of them discussed the latest nine day's wonder. "New paint outside, and new curtains inside!" cried Mrs. Jones. "And the brasses cleaned for tho first time in months. Yes, and flowers in the window-boxes. It looks more as if be wee coming home from his honeymoon than out of prison." "Well, I don't think his dispenser looks much like a bride," tittered Mrs. Beaton. "A homely littlo thing if ever there was one." "My charlady says sho has been scrubbing tho house from top to bottom," said Mrs. Jones. "I wonder what the doctor pays her for that?" "I expect tho next thing wo shall hear is that 110 is in the bankruptcy court," said Mrs. Grahame. "I think you'ro all too bad!" cried a voice from the corner of the room. The three married ladies looked round in amazement. It was Miss Croft who had spoken; she was the old maid of tho party who existed on the tiniest of incomes, and whom they all patronised; to whom they gave their old dresses when they had finished with them, and sent along gifts of rhubarb and apples in season. There she was now, timid 110 longer, red as a turkeycock. " I've known a great many doctors in my time," she said in a voice that was trembling with anger and perhaps with nervousness. " As you know, I've always been delicate. I've known rich doctors who ignored me because I couldn't pay big fees; I've known sympathetic doctors and unsympathetic doctors, stupid ones and clever ones. But I've never, never known anybody ro kind and so sympathetic and so clever as Dr. Vereker. Why, he wouldn't hurt a fly if he coidd help it! The very way 110 gives mo hypodermic shows it." " But he killed a man," said Mrs. Grahame drily. " I'll never believe it was his faultnever!" flashed Miss Croft. " I still think that girl pulled his arm. If she did, why the road was up. it was the sort of accident that might happen to anybody! If it hadn't been after a party, ho wouldn't have been sentenced. And now, why it's grand of him to come hack! I guess it would have been easier to clear out, but he didn't do it. He stayed instead. It's fine of him, it's—it's magnificent of him, it's just what I would have expected of him! And what's more I am going—now—to tell him so." With that Miss Croft marched of Mrs. Beaton's drawing room and actually had the impertinence to slam the door as she went. Tho three women looked after her in amazement. " Well, she won't get my mauve georgette now!" said Mrs. Jones. "Obviously the woman is in love with Vereker," said Mrs. Grahame, and lit a cigarette contemptuously. And Mrs. Beaton who had put a basket of gooseberries ready for her —they had more than they could eat —decided that the gooseberries should waste rather than they should supplement Miss Croft's meagre diet. Miss Croft, as she walked down Mrs. Beaton's opulent drive, guessed all these things, and told herself that she did not care. Actually she knew that later she might care very much indeed. But now she was filled with the glow that comes of standing up for tho defenceless She'd spoken her mind, as she had often wanted to do, to those three hags, to Mrs Grahame, whose husband had taken most of Dr. Vereker's practice, to Mrs. Beaton who disliked him, because he had never shown a fancy for her very plain daughters, to Mrs. Jones who had always been a scandal-monger. I'm glad I said what I did say. I don't regret a word of it! Miss Croft told herself. Sho was in the High Street now, a ■ comic enough little figure in her tussore coat and skirt, at least four seasons old. with her battered hat and her neat gloves; a typical dowdy old maid you might have called her. But she felt like the defendant of the losing side as she rang Dr. Vereker's surgery bell. She too noted how beautifully polished were the brasses, how shining the paint! That's the proper way to stage a come-back, thought Miss Croft, with flays flying! The door opened; a girl in spotless white stood 011 tho threshold. She smiled at Miss Croft, as if everything in the world was well. " Good afternoon," said Miss Croft. (Dr. Grahame didn't run to an efficientlooking white-robed damsel of this kind, she was telling herself gleefully."* " Is the doctor at home?" " Dr. Vereker's consulting hours do not start until five-thirty," said Jill in a professional manner. " Have you an appointment?" " No, but 1 rather think he will see me," said Miss Croft, and she gave her name. "If you stop in, I will inquire, said Jill. Miss Croft took note of the trimness of the waiting room, of the modern magazines on the table. (Jill had brought them from Lilac Cottage.) Then there was the sound of hurried footsteps and Oliver came in. His face was beaming, he smiled at Miss Croft in the old hearty way he had had, which, as she had said in the old days, seemed to do you as much good as a bottle of medicine And Miss Croft found herself smiling in return, holding out both her hands " Oh, doctor, I'm so glad to have you back," she exclaimed. " That's the first real welcome I've had, Miss Croft." " I wanted to tell you how glad 1 was when 1 heard you were staying here!" cried Miss Croft. " It's all been so dreadful for you. You must have wanted to go away. I'm glad you didn't. We need you here. There must be plenty of us older ones who hope it will be you to help them when their time comes at last, doctor. I'm not really ill, but .1 did want a bottle of medicine for my digestion, tho same as you used to give me." " Miss Ferrand," said Oliver. Jill came. She was smiling. She's not so homely as they all said, thought Miss Croft indignantly. " Miss Croft is an old friend of mine," said Oliver as ho introduced them. " This is Miss Ferrand, my dispenser." " I'm so glad to meet you, my dear," said Miss Croft. (To be continued daily)