“THE DUFFER.”

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1714, 4 January 1905, Page 9

“THE DUFFER.”

(By Clifton Bingham.) A shout proclaimed the fall of a wicket. '‘There! I told yen he was an awiul duffer !’’ cried Harry Ainsworth excitedly, rushing up .to his sister fro his place in the field. "Why, I’in only sixteen, and I could have played that ball. And he gees and gets bowled, the silly. Can't think what the Captain keeps him in che first eleven for!" Julcie, shading her eyes with her parasol, watched the figure of the unlucky batsman who has so ingßriously, according to her brother's vigorous speech, distinguished hires-If by scoring what is known as a ‘‘duck," "Hullo. Duffer!" wa3 Harry’s polite salutation, as the unlucky one lifted his cap to Dulcie; ‘‘what on earth do yin prtrnd to play cricket for!" Martin Grange blushed —anyway, . it looked like it —but made no remark beyond a muttered "sorry," which was ineant more for Harry’s sister than for that small boy himself "You are a duffer, Grange!" ‘ln Sv-me things, Harry!" was the qui-t reply. The sjieaker was a pleasant-faceci young fellow of four-and-twenty, and the scene was the cricket ground cf Winterton College, upon the day of all days in the year, that upon which Winterton Town played the College eleven "You can't bat, you can’t bowl, you ‘muff’ cacches by the dozen," grumbled Harry, regardless of Dulcie's nudge and glance ‘‘Never mind, Harry; 'we can’t all be incipient Graces, like yourself," was the cheery rejoinder. "Come, now none of your chaff!" said Harry; but the implied compliment was dear to his heart. He turned round from his place in the field. ‘‘Hurroo!’ he shouted. "Montague has lii t a boundary !" At this moment the Head Master strolled up and nodded pleasantly to Martin Grange. luck, Grange," he said. "Bad player!" growled Harry, under his breath. Though a College boy, his sympathies, it must be owned, were with Montague and the Town. “I think we shall Mac th© College, sir," said Martin, glancing at Dulcie as he spoke, ‘ in spite of my disaster." “I am afraxu. so," was the smiling reply of Dulcie’s and Harry's father, as he passed on; "the Town is too strong for us."

“Ten of ’em!’’ grunted Harry. Then as Martin Grange went into the tent to divest himself of cricket, pads and gloves, he turned to his twenty-year-old sister: "Dulcie, if you marry the Duffer. I’ll never f orgive you!" Dulcie laughed, such a merry, ringing laugh, that Martin heard it and turned to s cile over his shoulder.

"Tell me the joke when I come ba,ck." he cried.

‘‘Don’t be so silly, Harry," said Dulcie, not without ever eo tiny a blush. But Harry was watching the game as a fieldsman should.

“There !’ he exclaimed, “Montague’s out. Anywaj% he didn’t make a ‘duck.” This with youthful contempt for his sister’s other lover. For, let me ieil you before I go further, that both the 1 “Duffer’’ and the “Captain," otherwise Ucnrad Montague, were head over ears in love with pretty, durly-headed Dulcie Ainsworth, and Harry was quite aware of the fact. So, for that matter, was Dulcie.

Montague, handsome and debonair m his flannels, came up, raising his cap, and showing his white teeth in a rather cat-like smile.

‘‘Caught in the slips," he said; "and I did hope to make my half century. Only wanted one more, I think." He shook hands with Dulcie in rather a proprietorial fashion, which she felt yet could not resent. ‘Never mind," cried Harry, "you've won the game for the Town." ‘‘Chivalrous youth.!" said Montague; "and a College boy, too. I want a few words with you, Harry," ho continued. “Walk this way with me for a moment, while Thompson, who is in next, gets ready." Conrad Montague pub his hand genially on the boy’s shoulder as they went towards the wickets. But as soon as they were out of hearing, his expression and manner changed. So did Harry’s, into one of fear and trembling. “Have you done what T told you to do ?" Mori'ague demanded; "because if not you know wliat will happen." The boy “hook himself free from the grasp of the hand that had now become move masterful than "Y eo, I have/ ho said; '"Thompson's in, I mu-t go." "G od. Co on with it, mind, or you know ‘he consequences—to yourself." “T know. You need not remind me •gain/*

"Very . well. You understand. Y’cu know what you have to—hullo, Grange, you had bad luck, • Id f 1! w!" "Yes," said Grange, curtly. He did not car.i to see his rival and the brother of the girl he loved quite on such close terms of friendship, though perhaps he would not have felt that • curious twinge cf jealousy had he only heard their conversation.

J ut, sea f ed beside Dulcie, watching the finish of the innings, he so n forgot. And Dit cie was so sweet to him, that he was within an ace of putting his fate to the test that very afternoon, only Conrad Montx-ue joined them. ‘‘to d catch!" cried the .young man. "all out 1 £0: Now then, College, beat tha: if you can!"

“J-lly sort of fellow, Montague," said Harry, when Winterton College had start cl to bat and the t wn were in thp fie d; ‘by George, didn't he pick up that bal 1 well!"

"I don't know whether I like him or no said Dulcie; ‘‘he reminds me sometim~’S of a cat, and not a nice cat either."

“You girls do talk rot," exclaimed Harry; ‘‘why, he can play every .game under the sun. He's-"

When did hi= trumpterer die," said Dulcie. ‘‘and leave vou the vacant post?" At this Harry colour cl vividly, but ho wont straight on. with boyish brav do: “I say so because I lilo him. So does the dad," he said, fee'i' g that the latter a gument was indeed a clincher. “De r old dad! He can’t sec an inch b yoncl nis mse!"

"Nor can you," retorted Harry the valiant.

‘ I m going indoors," said Dulcie, rising as she spoke; ‘‘l can't think why you a,re always praising Mr Montague so to me. One w uld think y u had a reason for doing it. I don’t like it." A reason for doing it? Tim words hit poor Harry very hard. There flashed into his r'membrane© something never very far away from it, a picture that he would have given much to blot ou? fo<- ever. A lcw-ceilinged room at the back of a din y public-house, in a lane not a mile distant, a smell of stale bet. and tobacco, a pack of dirty cards, and three or foui of Ili > scum f "Winterton—and Harry Ainsw Tih! Then he heard again, for the hundredth time since chat winter night, a knock at the door, and ho saw again that.door open, and admit—Conrad Montague !

Tint was Harry Ainsworth’s secret and the rea on of M ntague’s hold over him. "If I am engaged to your sister-1 will never tell. If she refuses me, I go at once to the Doctor. I have paid the money you lost. You can pay me when you like. Y u need never pay me at all if I marry Dulcie."

Truly a well laid plot on the part of Mi Conrad Montagu •, whose nature was not over scrupulous with respect to the means by which he sougiit to obtain his desire.

.tie, too, was in debt, and Dulcie’s moj ey would set him straight again—the incoti.e left to her by hei d ad mother. Even if he could not touch it, his engagement to and future marriage with her would keep his creditors quiet.

The Win.erton annual match between Town and College always lasted two days, so when the stumps were drawn at sLs on the first evening and the College had replied with the r spectabie score of 140 for seven wickets, the game was practically even, Harry Ainsworth having made thirty not out, in spite of the cloud that hung over him. After dinner that night, at Winterton House, Conrad Montague proposed to Dulcie, and was gently refused, though not without a little hesitation. There was a certain fascination about Montague that made him what has been, for want of a better phrase, termed “a lady’s man." Though rebuffed, Montague was in no wise disconcerted. He had not expected to win at the first attempt. "Dad." said Dulcie that night, when their guests had gone, "Mr Montague asked me to marry him to-night." Doctor Ainsworth smiled. ‘‘And Martin Grange asked me if I could ever consider him in the light of a sun-in-law I" he remarked. "So there are two Richmonds in the field." He put an arm tenderly about his daughter, and drawing her to him, kissed her “Which do you prefer, dear? T know I must give you away to someone one of these days, s ojier or later; but I'want you to choose for yourself. Montague is a handsome man. good family, and position. and all that, and I know is attached to you. Martin, as you know, is clever, steady. and a good follow, even if, aa Harrv.says, he is a ‘duffer’ at cricket, wha ever that unclassical hut expressive word may signify. You must choose for y uro'-lf my girl." . Dulcie drooped her pretty head. Both had been making love to her since Christmas. one boldly, aim st with bravado. Ocnfident of ultimate suooess, the other

with a quiet deference, almost diffidemce, yet with an undoubted sincerity. But Harry’s c nsiam-, almost obtrusive, praise ut the one had made Dulcie Ainsw rtn feel a strange, vague sort of suspicion. which was not lessened by his op nly expressed contempt for the oth r. In fact, ixarry had overplayed his part, fioor Bulcie s pillow vainly wooed sleep that night. The Doctor made liis customary tour thxough the dormitories, and, before going to b cl himself, loomed in at Harry’s own room. To his surprise he found Harry weeping bitterly on his pillow. In an instant the Doc.or was on his kne.s by the bedside, for, though he loved Dul ci • dea. ly, his son, hio only boy, the image of the dead mother, was as the apfi.e of his eye. "What is it, my son?" h© asked. , To be spoken to in such tender tones was more than the guilty b y could bear, af. r Conr ..d Montague s constant threats for the last two or three months.

Harry broke down utterly, and poured out die whole st ry. But loyal to the .man whom lie thought in spite of all to be a friend, he did not tell his name, did not even hint ‘that anyone beyond himself was aware of liis folly. I shall not attempt to paint the father's astonishment,. even horror ; but he could teli from the manner in which the story poured from liis son's lips, how greatly Harry had suffered. Draw a veil over the scene of reproach, te.-rs, remorse and forgiveness between father and son. There are some things almost too sacred to write of. It drew th; doctor and his son nearer in heart than ever, that night, bitter though it was f r both; so out of evil sometimes cometh good. Harry came down to breakfast the next morning wi.li a lighter heart than he had owned for six months, and the grip cf his father’s hand told him without a word he was f rgiven to the full. But J ul ie did not leave her own rco so she did not hear the Doctor's news until afterwards. ‘■The Town eleven will be one snort, Harry, to-day, I hear," he said, as they sat d wn. "How’s that, dad?” “xheie was a serious fire in the High Street at four o'clock this morning, and one of the town team was badly burnt while rescuing a child before the fire brigad • came " "Who w is it?" said. Harry breathlessly. He would have liked to hear it had been C nrad M ,ntague, to whom, boylike, he still clung. "The man you declare cannot play cricket —M.trtin Grange." “The ‘Duffer’!" exclaimed Harry. "I will never call him that again as long as I live!’

"Arm injured and badly burned," said the Doctor; ‘‘but he rescued the little girl." Bushing out, impetuous, after breakfast, Harry urt Conrad Montague. "You have heard?" he said. “Of course! I was there as well. But he is th'' hero of the piece, and nicely y u have don© what I asked you to do!" ""What do you mean?”

"What I say, youngster. Remember! If Duloie says no’ next time I ask her, I go to Die Doctor." "Nexi time?" said Harry. ‘‘Then you have asked her, and she has said ‘no’?" "Exactly !"

‘‘Then you can go to the Doctor and tell him all, and as soon as you please. I have no wish to do any more of your dirty work !’’ Hands me Conrad Montague stared. So the boy was trying to beard him, was he? WeJi. lie thought he could beat him at that game. If he could by playing his cards well, win over the Doctor, hi© .woo-, ing wmid surely prosper. That would be his part, mentor and friend to a misled boy of sixteen. Capital, “Very well," he said. “I shall—when I plase"

Harry Ainsworth turned and left him withouc a word. His heretofore liking for Montague had suddenly turned to scorn. And being a boy, he walked straight off to inquire after "The Duffer" ! almost the first person Conrad Montague met after Harry liad left him was Dulcie. ‘You have heard the news?’’ she said. Montague suppressed a wicked word, and commenced to eulogise his rival. But he overdid it, though, cunning as he was, ho did not know it. He press.-d her hand tenderly when they parted, and a strange thrill ran through Dulcie’s heart. Was it love —or something very different? ‘‘l’ve been down to see him." cried Harry, bounding into the room an hour la er, "and he’s as jolly as a sandboy!’’ “Who is?" said Dulcie. "Why, the Duff —I mean Martin!" Dulcie’s pretty face went pink. "And he and I have made it up, and I am never going to call him that name again, and ne's coming down to see us start at twelve o’clock." "I don’t know what is the matter with you, Harry," said his sister, "but you are a different boy from what you were last night." It was Harry’s turn to flush this time. “Perhaps I am," he said; “but"—with a laugh—“thirty not out is a serious responsibility, Dulcie darling." It was an institution at VV'interton College that no work was ever to be done on the two cricket days, so Conrad Montague, about half-past eleven, easily found the Doctor in his study. Montague had arranged his story admirably. It would be all in his favour to be Harry’s friend, to be interested in his w -ifare, and desirous that he should not mix up with company undesirable and unworthy. And he told his story adroitly. It was so bad a thing for a boy of his age to gamble—perhaps lose money. Doctor .Ainsworth would understand that, painful th ugh the task were, it was a duty which lie—Conrad Montague—had taken upon his shoulders. The Doclor sat and listen°d grimly. Conrad Mon agu-* flattered himself he was making a great impression. He hinted very neatly and delicately, at the nearer r lati n hip f *r which lie hoped. Then he r s > and strar luen-nl hiniseH as one who had performed a dutv. though

an unpleasant one. The Doctor rcse also. "Where are your proofs?” he said. "I hold,” replied Montague, “the receipt for the money Harry lost.” “Tnen you were there?” "1 found Harry there,” said Montague, a trifle uncomfortably. He did not think Doctor Ain worth w uld take it like this. “What were you, pr sumably a gentleman. doing at this place?” demanded the Doctor. Handsome Conrad Montague had no reply to this unexpected bolt from the blut..“Sit down!” thundered the Doctor. Ana Montague eat down. The game was up “I knew all this before you told me," said the Doc or quietly; “but my son did n t give me the name of the man who—pah! He did not even tell me there was a man who knew. I can name you the amount Harry lost. No, don’t speak. It was> seven p unds. There it is." He sat down at hi© desk and wrote out a cheque for the sum. “Kindly give me that receipt." Conrad M ncague han led over the paper without a wo d. Though he did not know it. a boy s tears had ruined him. "The n-xt time you want to keep a b y of sixteen from gambling and ruin, Mr -Conrad Montague, don’t wait 6ix months before you go to work to do so. I think you know the way out? And I think, also, there will now he" —with significant emphasis—“two short in the Winte’ ton eleven to-day—one gentleman, and one- —" Conrad Montague slunk—there is no other word—out of the house. * * t r Eiglity-feur, not out, Martin, old man! Not so bad for a kid, that!" Harry Ainsworth came bounding over th© cricket-field to greet "The Duffer" that af ernoon. "How’s the arm? Can’t stop. I’m g mg on to bowl when Johnson is tired. Three d wn for twenty-two!" "But wMre ie Mon ague ?" queried Martin Grange. "I haven’t seen him all day." “Gone to Lnnd n,” said the Doctor, "on v.vry important business." ‘He said ‘g ,©d-by ?’ to me .xeiore he left,” said Dulcie softly. "Yes," murmured the Doctor, ‘ geedbye! ’’ ‘ Is your arm still painful?” Dulcie inquired* of Martin. “No? when you are near," said her lov r. putting out his uninjured Bind. The Doctor was absorbed in the game, and Dulcie put her own in it. Bog before sunset Winterton Town had lost, but "The Duller" had won!