THE PENITENCE OF PAM.

Otago Witness, Issue 3828, 26 July 1927, Page 82

THE PENITENCE OF PAM.

By

Dayle Chesney.

The Superfluous Woman, emptying the remaining contents of the thermos flask into her aluminium mug, drained it off, neat and unsweetened; then fell to contemplating two articles she had disinterred Trom her friend’s knapsack while searching for the non-discoverable milk and sugar. A fair-sized bottle, labelled Absalom’s Hair Raiser; a long plait of hair, the exact shade of Pam’s own Eton crop. Unexpected enough burdens for one who boasted of her ability to reduce hand luggage to the barest minimum! “We’ve lost our way!” came the voice of the knapsack’s owner; then Pam herself came into view. A slim, boyish figure, with the cropped head adding a clinching note of masculinity to the wellshaped calves emerging from tweed knickerbockers. “Short autumn evening! Mist rising! Not a house or human being in sight!” she added.

But of this trenchant summary of their dire situation the other took no notice, at a daring tangent remarking—- “ You and your Brian are awfully lucky in one thing at least —you both like the unconventional holiday.” Pam’s nose crinkled disdainfully. “Why my Brian, please, Han?” “Oh, Pam! You haven’t given him a final no?” The Eton crop negatived this.

“ He’s such a stuffy back number, is dear old Brian. Never, never, never going to move with the times. And I—well, I’m a modern woman, aren’t I, Han ?”

“’Pears so,” Han sighed, thoughtfully surveying her. Irrelevant, as it seemed, she recalled the tears she had shed when Pam had burst in on her one day with her glorious tresses vanished. To have beauty in abundance, feminine grace lurking in every inch of one, and yet wantonly to eliminate it! Queer! Aiid the Superfluous Woman, who had never been anything but angular, plain, outwardly most masculine and inwardly extremely feminine, gulped back an uncomfortable lump in her throat.

It was an hour later that, fagged out, damp, and famished, the two friends at last reached a lone dwelling. A solitary pine rose ghost-like from its mist-veiled patch of garden, and a cow lowed in a melancholy key from the ramshackle barn looming up in the rear. “A sinister place!” Pam shuddered, as Han reached to the knocker. “ I don’t half like it!”

“You’re hungry!” diagnosed her shrewd fi : >nd.

Spirits always sink into shoes on those occasions, I’ve noticed, and forebodings soar.”

She was about to knock a second time when Pam’s tremulous hand stopped her. “No, don’t, Han! It’s—it’s horrible’ this house!”

Just then a woman’s dour face was thrust through the narrow aperture of an upstairs window.

“ Did they find aught out at post mortiam ?” she demanded anxiously. The Superfluous Woman craned her long neck.

“I beg your pardon!” “No, don’t! Come away quickly!” 1 aan uiged, tugging at her sleeve. “Wliy!” The woman leaned further out. You wasn’t the voice of my sister’s husband’s cousin Maggie ?” “W r e are strangers, and lost in the mist,” the Superfluous Woman explained. If you wouldn’t mind coming down!” The head hastily withdrew, feet came tramping down carpetless stairs, a bolt shot back, and the door opened. The two weary pilgrims of the moor found themselves on the threshold of a commonplace farmhouse kitchen. Nothing more horror-inspiring than a few hams were hung from the ceiling. A pleasant fire blazed on the heart 17 In an armchair beside it dozed the’ most ancient and dccrepid man either had ever seen.

After a simple meal confabulation with their somewhat morose hostess discovered the fact that Maggie, for whom the spare room had been prepared on the < chance, was evidently not coming, and that, therefore, it was at their service.

,J 'rhaps,” said Han, rising thankfully to retire to it, “you would cook us th se for our breakfast?” And sjie displayed their proud gleanings of the afternoon.

“Is it mushyrooms? ” inquired the woman^ loaning over the basket. “Ay, to be sure! ” She went to fetch a candle.

It was then the friends became aware that the old fellow by the fire had awakened. Dazedly his eyes roved from one strange face to the other. Then slowly, with laborious politeness, lie pulled his forelock in respectful greeting these unknown women sojourning beneath his roof. Tremulously his IfloocL less lips framed a word, so faintly that neither of his listeners could be sure she had heard aright.

It was a bare little room to which the woman showed them, spotless as a strong tendency to damp would allow. Drawing down the paper blind and wish-ing-ther.i a civil, if gloomy, good night, she withdrew.

They stood motionless until th-' sound of her footsteps had died away, then Pam whispered: “Han! Tell mo quickly. What did that old horror say?”

“ Oh, does it matter. He’s cracked, of course. And, anyway, we’re in clover.” “In a hideous trap, rather!” countered Pam. “ Most probably we shall be ” . * ‘ Murdered for our shabby tramping kit and a postal order value £1?” mocked the Superfluous Woman, beginning to take down her lank locks. “ Oh, Pam! And after a good tuck in, too! li blush for you! ” But Pam persisted: “What was the word Methusaleh uttered?” “ Well, I fancied,” Han confessed reluctantly—“ only fancied, mind, that the dear old centenarian enunciated the cheery word, Death ! ” Pam grimly nodded. “ Exactly what it sounded to me! Now. perhaps, especially remembering that dismal woman’s curiosity about a post mortem you 11 admit there is some ground for my feeling that something’s dreadfully wrong here?” “ Tut, tut! Repletion may lead to gloomy forebodings as easily as a vacuum!” Han shrugged, producing an unbecoming nightgown from her bag. “ Han ! You aren’t going to get into that bed?”

“There isn’t any other, dear, is there?” Reluctantly Pam yielded, ami began to undress. “ Pam!” “ Well?” “ Come and look at this lovely Christmas number picture of the 1890’s! The sort of girl I firmly believe is every young man’s secret ideal!” Pam looked sulkily at the muchflounced skirt, constricted waist, floppy flower-laden hat, carefully-arranged wilderness of curly locks. “If I am right, Pam, your extraordinary metamorphosis must pain some of them frightfully!” But Pam made no answer, being very busy bedewing her Eton crop with Absalom’s Hair Raiser.

“ Offended, old thing?” the Superfluous Woman asked anxiously. There came a gasping, half-suppressed little choke, and she realised that Pam, the modern similitude of masculinity was weeping! “ There!” The Supcrflous Woman sat up in bed, an unbecoming figure, but with her clumsy features softened by real distress. “ I knew you wore keeping something back, Pammie darling!” Suddenly the Absalom Hair Raiser was banged down on the table, and the girl, running across the bed, fell on her knees, and laid her shorn little head against the solid shoulder that yearned towards it. “ Oh. Han ! It’s—it’s a ridiculous mess up ! Like—like Samson and Delilah, you know!”

“ Good heavens!” The Superfluous Woman stiffened in horror. “ I’m shaky in book knowledge, always was—that’s why I’m your sister's handy jobber instead of a bit of the teaching staff —but Delilah wasn’t quite nice, was she?”

“ Oh, Han ! You muddlehead !” Pam sobbed. “I’m not Delilah! Don’t you sec? I'm —I’m Samson!” Han's big broad right hand fell on the Eton crop, caressing it.

“ Shorn of his Arergth?” she murmured. “ Oh, Pam, dear!” Her worried eyes strayed to the mincing, frilled dams< 1 on the wall. “ I shouldn’t wonder!” she sighed. “ It's what T had feared.” “When —when Brian got back from abroad last month,” Pam sobbed on, “and I was expecting he’d propose again, you know, he—he just stared and cared, and: ‘Then my Pam is dead?’ he said, just like that, in the funniest voice, ‘ Or are you by any chance her brother, old chappie?’ ” The Superfluous Woman shook her head, and was still seeking for words that should combine consolation and wisdom, when there came a creaking of the stairs, and a man's voice in a hoarse whisper asked : “ Would you be getting rid of ’em by poison, woman?” Then there was a grunting and heaving, and more creaking, as though the first speaker and a second person were hoisting some feeble body up the stairs. ' ad above this sound rose the queer, dim, faraway pipe of the ancient gran’fer. “ I warned ’em ! I warned ’em ! Death, I says!” But the woman’s voice quickly followed with a:

“ S’hush you, gran’fer! You’ll scare ’em awake. Where've you left pig money. Sam?” “ On't kitchen table,” answered ch” first speaker. “ Safe enough. Arthur's sleeping on’t settle. He’ll give eye to’t.” The three stumbled on past the bedroom of the intently-listening Pam and Han. A further door banged, then silence followed.

“ And now,” said Pam. not without a hint of triumph tinging her terror, “ perhaps you will agree with me we're in a very nasty situation?” “No harm in heaving tl e drossing chest in front of the door, perhaps,” the Superfluous Woman conceded, and swung out of bed. “Hullo! What's this?” And she lifted up a corner of the valance, displaying a long streak of blood. The dressing chest, though large, was ramshackle, and readily permitted them to heave it soundlessly into position: the iron latch of the primitive door remained in view about it.

“ Look here!” exclaimed Han, producing a large, shabby, brown brogue shoe from the corner before which the chest had stood.

“Any blood on that?” Pam whispered, and gingerly took it Tom her to examine. Next instant she dropped it in horror. “Why—why this is a shoe of Brian's! 1 remember that heart-shaped patch on

the toe because of a ridiculous little hike, he made about not wearing his he- ri <.-i his sleeve. Han! Han! Po-.- Brian has been murdered here! Po>--ied r.oit likely!” ‘ ’ "How you do jump riismal conclusions, Pam!” the. Supi-litHHis Woman remonstrated. “And <]<• p is-rned p.ople bleed? All the same, it might be wiso to cut short our st.-j Arthur—probably a sinister accomplice—guards our exit below; so what about the window?” But drawing back the blind they discovered that only one small pane of glass opened, and that beyond it lay an impenetrable wall of mist. Pam crossed to the mirror, and stared at the reflection of her wan face. “ Han, dear,” she announced, “ I'm going to bag all your hair pins, and somehow nail on a plait of hair before I get into bed. Then if I’m murdered and photographed for the newspapers Brian will see ” Han had r.ot the heart to remind her that according to her present gloomy theory Brian had departed to the onlv ccAintry where the newspaper does not circulate. Creak ! Creak ! Creak! By the candle's wobbling flame they saw the latch of the door lifted and dropped, lifted and dropped ! It was Pam. modernity's faked masculinity, who fell back in a dead faint, and old-fashioned Han who kept her head and reached for her whalebone corsets, unpinned the postal order and held it ready as evidence of the unprofitableness of their precipitated end. But nothing further happened save a gentle thud followed by silence. * * * W iien Han. wakening from an uneasy dose, opened their door next morning stealthily she was confronted by nothing more alarming than a couple of hot water cans. Scarcely had she carried them into the room, however, and closed the door, than a cry from Pam sent her gaze back to it. The latch was again lifting and dropping, lifting and dropping ! Making a convulsive snatch at it Han drew back the door once more to find herself confronted by a most friendlydisposed old sheep dog ! Slamming to the door, she collapsed on the bed in a fit of helpless mirth. Came a tap on that portal of anticlimax and the voice of their landlady : “I do hope and trust, ma’am. Arthur hasn’t disturbed you in the night ! Takes fancies at times that dog does, to sleep on your bed. But he cut his paw bad yesterday, and I won’t have him mussing room up if I knows it ! And. begging your pardon, ma’am, but them mushvrooms ain’t no mushyrooms, it appears. I’ve broke my glasses, and is that shortsighted wi out ’em, but my husband says they’re but nasty poisonous fungus, ay, and even fold ancient gran’fer could see same.” , Oh, dear ! How stupid of us ! But never mind.” “I m thinking p’raps you and your good gentleman would like a couple o’ now laid eggs, ma’am ?” “ Oh, yes, yes. thank you. But—mv good gentleman happens to be a lady !” “Ob, ma’am! Them eyes o’ mine again ! And gran’fer s;yd so. too. ‘ A couple o’ wenches.’ says he. Declared no man body ever growed such well-shapen calves, ma’am. If you’ll please to excuse him ' Such an old ancient feller as he is and mayhappen. ’cause he don’t often says owt, says a deal too much when he does start chitteriig! But there! Ido believe I've spoke perjury in all innocence this minute agon ; being anxious to hear post mortem on my husband's favourite cow, what took sick sudden o’ Thursday and died mysterious. For a young gentleman what’s oftens lodged wi’ us when tramping, and is now staving at the White Lion in Dowdale Y r alley. come runnino- up a-carrying of a funny Tittle blue metal box.” Here Pam and Han exchanged glances. “I told you I’d packed it!” Pam triumphed. “ A young gentleman,” Han echoed hopefully. “ ‘ Mrs Bower,’ says he,” went on their hostess with conscious verbal accuracy, “ ‘ I hope to heaven you put up two ladies last night ’ And I says, ‘ Nav. sir, only one and her good man.’ Then he goes on somethink awful about yon little me* J box. Said it held sugar, and how h. fl picked it up at foot of limb Scowl 'be night afore and how he’d know it r, where, and it could but belong jo one person and her surely lost in mi.,- i ; - v . ipg dead o’ cold. And now m: ’am, if you nlea.se, he be gone tearing m i,>. Brant Topning, and. and ’’ “Nevermind. Mr s Bower'.'’ Pam thrust in. “I’ll follow him r.ud explain vour mistake. You did «a v ).f> n nne was Brian Haicrb. didn’t vou?” “ No. I didn’t, miss, but it’s all same. And humblv begging your pardon I’m sure’ Mist’s cleared proper, and Brant Topping’s straight as crow flies from our front door.” “ Pam. remember Samson !” Ihe Superfluous Woman pleaded when thev were alone. “ Wear mv tweed skirt. I’ll face 4he world in an underskirt for so good a cause I And take every blessed hairpin you can find to fix that blessed plait!” * * * So it came to pass that in less than an hour an anxious, distraught young fellow at Brant Topping’s top learnt of the demise of Pam’s vonng brother. Doubtless the fortitude with which he took the nev.-s was attributable to a further item of know, ledge*—the reissuing of that once familiar and most alluring edition of Pam herself.