BLOOD WILL TELL.

Otago Witness, Issue 3755, 2 March 1926, Page 84

BLOOD WILL TELL.

By

George Meek.

(Copyright.--Fob the Witness.) Mr and Mrs M'Sticker liad spent a who week at the Exhibition, and as they sat by the fireside a few nights after their return home Dad vividly recorded his impressions of the big show for the benefit of Dave, who had decided to delay his trip until after the holidays, when there would he no “spielers” about. After a rare description of the Scenic Railway, the band, the Quick Lunch, and the “Merry Mess-up” (as Dad called it), Dad’s memory was stirred by visions of the Motor Pavilion, and it was at this point that his enthusiasm started to whizz.

“ Well,” said Dad, his blood rising to the occasion, “ I've always swore I would never get a motor car while there was an ounce of horseflesh in the country, but after seein’ this motor show at the Exhibition I’ve changed my mind, and if we get a good price for the wool this month we’ll sell the old buggy and get, a car.” “ And even if wool ain't a good price,” chipped in Dave, “ we can get a Ford, can’t we? ” “No, we can't,” retorted Dad; “if we get a car at all it will be a ‘ Spinner! ’ ” “Well, ain’t the Ford a ‘spinner?’” said Dave. “ Yes,” growled Dad, “ but the car I mean is called the Spinner. I saw it down at the Exhibition, and it's a ‘ beaut.’ ” “ You’re not think in’ of the sewinmachine we looked at, are you, Dad ? ” chipped in Mum. “I’m sure the man at the Exhibition said it was a Spinner.” Mum’s remarks acted on Dad like a whiff of chloroform, and from the general silence that followed it was obvious that Dad was grappling with some deadly explosive matter. About an hour later, however, Dad regained consciousness, removed his boots, and stalked out of the room. “ It’s the sewin’ machine lie's thinkin’ about,” said Mum as soon as Dad’s back was turned. “ Ycrs,” said Dave,“ it must be. I’ve never heard of ’ere Spinner he’s talkin’ about. It must be the Singer he means.” “The Singer—that's it!” exclaimed Mum; “ that’s the sewin’ machine the man showed us at the Exhibition.” Any further remarks were here interrupted by Dad’s re-entry into the room carrying a huge canvas bag, which he deposited on the table. “ Goin’ to have a go at the income tax returns?” queried Dave, but from a side view of the contempt in Dad’s eye it was quite evident that Dave’s query had fallen on stony ground. During the trip to the Exhibition and on other similar occasions Dad’s canvas bag was utilised as a portable wardrobe, but during the rest of the year it served as a repository for Dad’s private papers and business documents. From the struggle Dad was having to gain admittance to the bag it was evident that something was amiss, and after several unsuccessful attempts to prize it open with the poker and the fire shovel Dad set out on a silent search for the key. “ Lookin’ for the key of the ‘ office * ” said Dave as Dad clambered on to a chair to make an inspection of the top of the mantelpiece. “ If people would only put things back where they find them,” snapped Dad, “ I wouldn’t be lookin’ for anything.” “ Well,” drawled Dave, “ if it’s the key of the ‘office’ you’re lookin’ for, there it is liangin’ on that there nail there.” “ Well, next growled Dad, “ just put it back where you found it.” “ Yers,” Baid Dave, “so I would, but it was in the pocket of them old trousers you gave me yesterday for my birthday.” Having secured the key Dad proceeded to effect an entrance to the canvas bag, and after an animated search discovered what he was looking for—the booklet dealing with the Spinner motor car which had been given to him by the agent at the Exhibition. On the front page was a coloured plate of a 1920 model of the Spinner, and after carefully spelling the name over to himself to make sure of his ground Dad proceeded to business. “Is that a sewin’ machine?” he snapped as lie thrust the booklet under Dave’s nose, and shot a threatening glance in Muni’s direction for her exclusive benefit. Dave rescued the booklet and proceeded to make a close inspection. “What wee wheels!” said Muni as she peered over Dave’s shoulder and got a glimpse of the Spinner. “ Yers,” said Dave, “ it’s a light draught.” “ It’s 40 horse-power, if you want to know,” said Dad with a spasli of authority. “Yers,” said Dave, “and I’ll bet you a fill of Juno old Dick can pull it himself.” “You drive it, you don’t pull it,” snapped Dad; “it ain’t a tipdray.”

“Yers,” drawled Dave; “but you’ll have to pull it out of the mud when it gets stuck.” “ Get stuck! ” roared Dad; “it don’t get stuck; it’s a British car made by British workmen with British material,” and then with the air of a man who had thrust yet another pillar under the foundations of Imperial unity Dad restored the booklet to the canvas bag, and the family retired for the night. When the wool was sold and Dad nearly topped the market the purchase of a car was assured, and after a lot of discussion it was decided to take a vote on the matter. Dave voted for a Ford, Dad voted for the Spinner, anti Mum voted for a Singer sewing machine; but Dad, having given his easting vote in favour of the Spinner the matter was finally settled. “And how are you goin’ to get flic car home?” inquired Dave after the result of the ballot had been declared. “ Drive it, of course,” said Dad; “ you didn’t expect it would come by whistlin’ on it, did you ? ” “Yers,” said Dave, “but who’s goin’ to drive it?” “ He, of course,” said Dad. “ You didn't think I was goin* to do the payin’ and let someone else do the drivin’, did you ? ” “ Yers,” said Dave, “ and the more drivin’ you do the more payin’ you’ll do.” “ And the less drivin’ I do the less ridin’ you’ll do,” retorted Dad. About a week later, as Mum and Dave were sitting down to the evening meal, a howling salute from the dog kennels accompanied by a wild scatter among the poultry fraternity sent them scurrying to the door just in time to see Dad drive into the yard in a brand new Spinner. “Well, what do you think of her?” inquired Dad, as lie shut off steam and stepped out. “My word,” said Mum with - beam, “I’m glad we didn’t get a sewin’ machine. ” “Yers,” said Dave, “she looks all right, but what’s got me beat is how you managed to get her away from the Exhibition without drivin’ over somebody’s face, and rippin’ some of the gear off her.” “Well, you can take it from me,” said Dad, “that them sort of tilings mostly happen in the funny papers, and the bloke at the Exhibition what showed me how to steer her said I was a good bib slicker in the uptake than some of the clever town coves he’s tried to learn. Any fool can drive if he only uses his common sense.” “I don’t think Dave will ever learn to drive it,” suggested Mum. “No, said Dud, “not until lie’s had a coupla’ more seasons on the binder, anyway.” When Dad was down buying the “Spinner” he struck a showman who sold him a dozen tins of “Speedo,” carrying a guarantee that a pint of “Speedo” added to a galloH of petrol would increase 4 he mileage by ten miles to the gallon. Dad figured it out that by utting two pints of “Speedo” to a gallon of petrol it would increase the mileage by twenty miles to the gallons, and in less than m week he had the new “Spinner” leapin like a buckjumper, and had been sworn in on the books at the local garage as a highly esteemed client. Before Dad decided on buying a “Spinner,” ihe proprietor of the local garage had tried hard to sell him a “Crashwell,” for which he held the sole agency. When Dad went past him, however, the garage proprietor lost no opportunity of pointing out the defects of the “Spinner,” and when he was not actually adjusting the carburetter he was explaining to Dad that the carburetter would have to be adjusted, and before many weeks had passed he had Dad seriously thinking about selling the British “Spinner,” and buying a Yankee “Crashwell.” With a view to showing off the “S: i"ner,” to his friends (but more particuDri'/ his enemies), Dad decided to take Mum on a holiday and visit the M'Stookov's, who were old friends, and owned a big sheep run at Ragawort. After tea on the night of their arrival, the conversation, which was mainly about the Exhibition, finally turned to motor cars, and before retiring, M‘Stooker promised to give Dad and Mum on the following morning the most thrilling joyride lliey had ever experienced. “I wonder what sore of a car they’ve got?” whispered Mum, as they retired to their bedroom for the night. “Well,” said Dad, “from the way lie’s skitin* about this spin he’s goin’ to give us, I think he must have one of those ‘Roller Royces.’ ” On the following morning, when the party was ready for the road, M'Stooker sailed up to the front door in a spiek-and-span turnout drawn by two spanking thoroughbreds, and with Mum and Mrs M‘Stooker in the back and Dad up alongside Mr M'Stooker in the front, away went the outfit with a rattle. For the first half mile Dad sat un like a man in a trance, witli his whiskers doing the “brushbaek,” and his eyes glued on the horses in front of him. M'Stooker was the first to break the silence. “Well, what do you think of them?” he naked Dad. with aa touch of pride. “The best bit of stuff I’ve ever sat behind.” said Dad. “And never been beaten in the show ring,” said M‘Stoowr, giving the pair ft friendly caress with the whip.

“And I don’t suppose money would buy them?’’ chipped Dad. “Well,” said M‘Stooker, “it might. You see, with every noodle in the countryside driving a motor car, the girls preferred to stick to the horses, but now they’ve bqen to the Exhibition and bobbed their hair, they want a motor car, and I was thinking I might just sell the *pair’ and get one.” “What sort of a car were you thinking of gettin’l” inquired Dad. “1 was thinking of getting one of these •Spinners,’ replied M Stooker. “They’re good cars, aren’t they?” “Yers,” said Dad, “how would that oar of mine suit you?” “You’re not thinking of sellin it, are you?” queried M'Stooker. % “No, no,” said Dad, “I was just thinkin’, that’s all.” After tea that night, Dad and M'Stooker repaired to the stable, and as they had not returned by midnight, Mum and Mrs M‘Stooker went to bed. Dad and Mum were due to leave ou tlie following morning, and when Mum was packed up and ready waiting, instead of Dad driving up in the “Spinner” he sailed up on the box seat steering the prancing pair of thoroughbreds—Dad and M'Stooker had made a deal “What do you think of them, Mum?” said Dad, as they rattled out on to the highway, after taking their leave of the M'Stookers. “My word,” gasped Mum. “I’m glad we didn’t buy a sewin’ machine.” When Dad reached che local township he was in hopes that his friend the garage proprietor would be about, and in this he was not disappointed. As there was no railway station in the township, and no train to see coming in at night, the crowd usually congregated at the local garage, and on this occasion there was a full attendance, with the garage proprietor in the foreground, evidently expounding on the virtues of the Yankee “Crashwell,” and the faults of the British “Spinner.” Diving Mum the office to straighten up, and sitting well up to it himself. Dad waited until he got abreast of the crowd, and then he let himself go. Nothin’ wrong with the ‘carburetter,’ is there? 5 ' bellowed Dad, .*s ho gave the thoroughbreds a flick with the whip and sailed past It was the garage proprietor's move, and while the crowd locked with merriment, he promptly dashed into his office to send a wire cancelling the order for an extra Crashwell.” which he had included m his order list in anticipation of his landing a sale with Dad. When Dad got the thoroughbreds home ho felt, under a moral obligation to preserve th* unbeaten record that M‘Stooker had established in the show ring, entered them in the thoroughbred class at the Royal Show, and was just beaten by a point for first prize. M'Stooker. who carried off the first prize, explained to Dad that the first week the girls had the car they lauded nim in a compensation claim he promptly got n v of the Spinner,” and bought another pair of * borough bred?.