THE Novelist

Otago Witness, Issue 3870, 15 May 1928, Page 8

THE Novelist

GOLDEN FLOWER.

A NEW ZEALAND STORY.

By

DULCE CARMAN.

(Copyright.—For tiie Otago Witness.)

SYNOPSIS. CHAPTER I.—Chrysanthe — “ Golden Flower ” hears from her invalid mother that her rich society cousin, Ailsa Hilton, is coming to stay with them in their little country home. She decides to spend the £2O which Ailsa's mother, Aunt Millie, has sent, tn renovating the house. She has two men friends—“ The Hawk,” a stranger, whom she had found hurt in the bush ; and Jim, a childhood pal, who lives w.th Sunshine and Denis, his well-loved step-brother and sister—and a housekeeper, Miss Donnell, whom Jim feels is not as good to the children as she ought to be. She tells both of them about her cousin’s approaching visit, without, however, mentioning the girl’s name. CHAPTER lI.—THE COMING OF AILSA. A cheek tinged lightly, and a dovelike eye— And all hearts bless her as she passed by. ' —Mary Howitt. A rosebud set with little wilful thorns. And sweet as English air could make her. —Tennyson. Flower stood in the doorway 7 pulling on her gloves, and her mother’s eyes dwelt lovingly on every detail of the fresh blue gingham gown and wide strawhat, with its simple swathing of blue Japanese silk. “ Doesn’t everything look perfectly’ sweet, mummy? I have fallen quite in love with my home; haven’t you? We have certainly worked hard, but we’ve made a big success of everything, and we have enjoyed doing it, too. Really, w-e have moved mountains.” “ You have, my’ golden girl—you and Jim.”

Flower’s bright f»e3 clouded, and a troubled look crept hit-j her clear eyes. “Poor Jim! He has got what the Americans call ‘ a man-sized job ’ to tackle. I am not at all satisfied with that household just now, mummy’. When we have got our society’ butterfly safely netted and settled down we shall have to try and nnrawl that very hard problem. You notice, the children have not been over all this week. That means that Miss Donnell would not let them come, because I specially told Jim to send them over, and there is nothing they love more than coining, poor mites. If I were to complain to Jim because they, did not come, and he were to ask Miss D. the reason she did not let them come, I am sure she would answer sweetly that she was sure we would be too busy to want to be bothered with children this week, and you know that would completely crush Jim. She is first cousin to dear old Mother Eve’s serpent, that same young woman.” “ There is a patient look about little Shirley's mouth that one should not see on a healthy child’s face,” agreed Mis Gerard. “Perhaps if von were to go over and see them, and* be a little friendly in a tactful sort of way, you might be able to find cut what is wrong. I can see that Jim is much worried about it.”

Chrysanthe shook her bright head with a rueful little laugh. “ Worse than useless, mother mine. The fair lady does not approve of me for some reason. She would think I was poking my classic nose in where it had no business to be, and the result would be that I should do more harm than good.” “Perhaps,” hesitated the mother, “it seems really too absurd to credit, hut perhaps she is jealous of your influence with the children, and—Jim. She mi»ht even be thinking ” c “Of course she is. How stupidly blind we have all been. Jim is the dearest old boy living, and she is alwavs there, making herself indispensable. Oh. just let us get Ailsa settled and Christmas over, and I will put a spoke in Miss Agnes Donnell’s wheel, I can assure you. Heavens! There is the train at the crossing. Sure you are all right? I won’t be gone a moment longer than I can help, but I shall have to hurry now. We. can’t let her arrive without someone to meet her.”

Chrysanthe ran down the little path, slammed the wicket gate behind her, and’ raced down the grassy hillside, over the small creek, and across the flat hav paddock that was her sho-test cut to the station.

The week of preparation had flitted by like so many winged minutes, and the little white bungalow nestling amongst its Foses by the Kiwi-side looked very inviting in the bright rays of the summer sun.

To the invalid whose couch had been drawn up to a window overlooking the road, Flower seemed to have wrought miracles with the limited time and materials at her command. Gone were the faded cushions—the darned curtains —the stained wallpaper—all the little blemishes that had so offended Chrysanthe’s beauty-loving eyes. And if the gay cushions that rioted everywhere were

all of cretonne and sateen, instead of richer fabrics, and the curtains that stirred lazily in the soft river-born bi eeze were but of muslin, who would cavil at it. when bowls of exquisite roses stood about everywhere, and baskets of growing native ferns crowded the long broad shelf that had taken the place of a picturerail ?

A shadow fell along the sunlit floor, and the mother looked up to see Jim Dene’s cheerful grin. “ I wondered if you would want anything while Flower’s away at the station. How jolly this room looks; some girl. Flower!”

“She is!” agreed the mother fervently, “ but even Flower could not have managed anything like this without your help. It is a case of ‘ some bov,’ too, Jim. We have blessed the fates for those two wet da vs.”

“ Well, they certainly seemed to come from nowhere—to descend from a cloudless sky, one might almost say—and to depart to the same place, didn’t they? Rummy thing, the New Zealand climate —horribly temperamental, and so on. I say, aren t the ferns topping? I never saw anyone so good as Flower at coaxing wild things to grow. They never seem to miss the bush when she gets hold of them.”

“ And you got her such beauties, too. I noticed sevei al quite rare ones in the collection, Jim. Really, dear boy, 1 can hardly thank you for all you have done to help us.” “Please don’t try. I’d much rather you didn’t. I shall never be able to repay half your kindness to me, and to the youngsters. And it is always a pleasure to do anything for Flower.” “ We have never been able to do very much for any of you, Jim!” said Mrs Gerard sadly. “Not half so much as we should have liked, but you have amply repaid us for that little.” Jim stirred restlessly. “ You are sure there is nothing I can do while Chrysanthe is away. Put the kettle on, or take it off, or any little trifle of that description.” “ No. There is nothing, Jim, thanks. Flower has thought of everything, and left everything ready, as usual. Won't you stay and have some tea with us’ She has made cream puffs—and I know you love them!”

“I do! And I will sneak one out'of the dish as I go out, thanks. I hopb she has not counted them. Anywav you can always blame the cat.”

‘ I do not think they have been counted—but I am sure there are enough for you to have as many as you like.. Sit down and wait with me. They cannot be very long now.” In this rig!” with a humorous glance down at his torn shirt and stained and patched “ blueys.” “ Oh, scarcely, thanks all the same. Let me introduce Jim the Dustman—the Duchess of Bloomsbury! ” “ Silly boy!” laughed Mrs Gerard. She had a very warm spot in her heart for this honest-eyed youth whose sole inlieritanee had been a small homestead with a crushing mortgage, and a little step-sister and brother to bring up from babyhood as decently as might be. Bad luck dogged Jim Dene's footsteps as faithfully as his shadow, and yet he somehow managed to keep much of the gaiety of heart and smile that had been his birthright. Yes, decidedly Jim’s problem must be solved for him, and that speedily. It was in pursuance of this train of thought that she presently said, “And how is the mortgage, Jim?” “Well, lady mine! I have 10 more steers fattening on the lucerne, and with what they fetch, and what I got for my wool, I tliink I shall be able to pay the last of it on Christmas Eve. It will be a scrape until this season’s wool is sold and there won’t be any Santa Claus, I’m’ aid—but oh, to think of being free after all these years!” ° “Oh, Jim! How glorious! I never dreamed that you were so close.” “ No. I’ve kept it dark. I was scared of that hoodoo of mine. But everythin" seems fairly safe now’. I haven’t even told Sunshine yet.” “ Dear little loving heart. She will rejoice more than anyone. Shirley’s is a rare nature, Jim!”

“ It is—and she has never had a dog’s chance so far. But after Christmas—” “ After Christmas—” repeated Mrs Gerard. “ Then we must all—oh, Jim. there’s the train! I shall see my? only sister’s girlie in a few minutes now.” “ Holy smoke! And Jim the Dustman will bo caught. Good-bye, Mrs Gerard. I’ll come in for the cream puff next time I’m passing. Keep it dark about the mortgage,”

He walked quickly down the little path, vaulted the wicket gate that Chrysanthe had slammed so joyously behind her ten minutes before, swung his axe across his shoulder, and struck off over the brow of the hill towards hit? home.

Meanwhile, down at the little station, Flower’s heart was beating high with excitement. This unknown cousin meant such a lot to her. Always she had longed for a girl companion, and nowhere was one coming nearer and nearer with every minute that passed. What would she be like? They had never seen a photograph of Ailsa since she was a tiny girl of three years old, but Flower knew that she was considered to be a beauty.. How- would she fit into the unpretentious home and quiet uneventful life that she herself found so full of interest? As the train swept into sight round the bend of the track, andclattered noisily along the straight into the station, she felt as though she could scarcely breathe, her heart was throbbing so madly. There came all the bustle of arrival, and for a moment Flower’s eager eyes could not see anyone who could possibly be the cousin she sought. Then they rested unbelievingly upon the only figure on the station who answered to Ailsa’s description at all. “Slender and fair” Aunt Millie’s letter had said. Flower had wondered many times what she would be like, and just how the newcomer—the only child of wealthy parents—would be dressed; indeed, it had been with much inward dissatisfaction that she had donned her own simple attire this afternoon. But never, in her wildest imaginings, had she pictured this girl—slender and straight, with corn-gold curling hair, and vivid forget-me-not eyes—-with a white, tired face and pathetic droop to the corners of a mouth that was meant for smiles and kisses. And this unbelievable cousin—■ Flower never doubted that it was her cousin—was clothed from head to foot in unrelieved, filmy black. With a woman’s lightning-like appraisement of such things, Flower noted the dainty suede shoes and gleaming silk stockings, the cobweb fineness of the dress with its tracery of beads and silk thread, the long necklace and armlet and girdle of jet, the wide hat of georgette and lace. It seemed as though Ailsa must be in mourning for somebody—almost she might have been taken for a girl widow —but that, of course, Flower knew she could not be.

With a few quick steps she crossed the platform, and paused in front of the slender black figure. “ Oh! ” she said breathlessly, with a rose-flush of excitement on her checks, and a queer little catch in her voice, “ Are you—l am sure you must be my cousin Ailsa! ”

The stranger looked up with a faint dawning of interest in her forget-me-not eyes. Beside the taller Flower she looked very fragile and weary, but there was a flicker of interst in her eyes, a little quiver of animation in her face, as her low voice answered languidly: “ I am Ailsa Hilton—yes. And you are Aunt Helen’s daughter ? ” “ Yes! I am Chrysanthe. Come along home and have some tea. I am sure you must be dreadfully tired. It is so hot to-day for travelling by train. Your luggage is checked of course? If you will give me your checks, I will give them to the carrier. Smithers is a very good man, and will see that everything is all right. Then we will walk home. It is barely half a mile from the station —not worth taking a taxi for. And I never like leaving mother a moment longer than I can help.” “Oh, no! I can quite understand that!” agreed Ailsa. “Aunt Helen is quite an invalid, is she not? I suppose you do not feel that you can trust her to any of the maids.”

The sweet rose-flush on Flower’s face deepened, but she was fully determined that everything should be put at once upon its proper footing.

“There are no maids at all! ” she owned frankly. “ No doubt it will seem odd to you, who have so many, • but I do all the housework myself. It is not by any means an unusual thing out here. Labour is very hard to get, extremely dear, and very seldom satisfactory. So you see—” she concluded bravely, “ mother is quite alone in the house when I am out, and I never stay away a moment longer than I can possibly help, of course.” She glanced up, half dreading the look of disdain she expected to see in the blue eyes of the older girl, but was surprised to find instead a decided gleam of interest in their vivid depths. “How busy you must be! ” said this feted beauty amazingly. “ I have always wanted to see how things were done. Perhaps you will let me try to help you sometimes. And you will not be so tied now that I am here, because I can stay with Aunt Helen when you go out.” It was then that Chrysanthe first fully understood her cousin’s great popularity, and another name was added to the already long list of Ailsa Hilton’s admirers. “ Of course I will. I think it is perfectly dear of you to want to help,” Flower answered heartily. “ We were so afraid you would rather not like it, you know. Now for your luggage checks.” “ There are seven of them,” Ailsa said. “ Three trunks, two suitcases, and two hat boxes. I’ve got oceans of clothes. Mother made me bring everything I owned, because we didn’t know just what I should need. It is just as well I did now, because I could never work in this sort of thing, and she touched her filmy skirt lightly. “ The

coloured things will come in useful after all.” “ Of course they will,” agreed Flowe? a little shyly. “ Black is an impossible colour to work in, I know. But it suits you beautifully.” “ Oh, yes!” indifferently. “It suits lne —most colours do. But that is not why I am wearing it.” “Aunt Millie said—have you—are you in mourning for someone perhaps?” A steely look crept into the blue eyes, hinting at a. spirit and temper that 1' lower would never have guessed the fragile girl possessed. “In mourning? Yes,” she answered with curt brevity; “in mourning for three things—for my fiance, who died in agony in a German prison camp; for my ehum, who is dead to me; and for my faith in my ideal.” “ I am so sorry,” murmured Flower vaguely, scarcely knowing how to answer.

*’ Some day I may tell you all about it,” Ailsa went on, “but I must know jou better first. Let’s talk about something nicer. Is it great fun doing your own housework ? I should think it would be in America, where they have the mpdel kitchens, and all the lovely little fiddly pyrex dishes and things.” “Me don t have model kitchens here, worse luck,” Flower laughed. “No, it often isn t fun, and a lot of it isn’t pleasant work at all, and there alwavs seem to be dozens of things needing attention at the same time. The days are not half long enough. But you just have to keep plodding along, and it all gets done sooner or later.” “You must be frightfully energetic. And it doesn t sound half so enticing as I should have imagined.” Chrysanthe laughed. “ No, it is very often humdrum. But there are compensations. The very air itself helps you along. It is like wine some days—everything sparkles. And the views! Do you love scenery? Of course I know England is wonderful, especially in the spring. We don’t get a real spring here, because nearly all the native trees are evergreen. But we have the purple heights and blue mists of the ranges, and our blue, blue seas, and mountains, rivers, and waterfalls. We have snow-capped peaks, and we have active volcanoes. Rotorua is one of the wonders of the world with all its boiling springs and mud pools and geysers. I could go on for ages, like a guide book, telling you of all we’ve got in this tiny corner of the world, but you will have to see them all for yourself.” “ They sound most entrancing,” assented Ailsa languidly. “ Even the little things are most enjoyable,” Flower went on. “ You’ve no idea what a lovely place the world is at 5 o'clock on a perfect morning when yon go out with a basket to gather fresh mushrooms.” “ I’m afraid I shall have to alter the habits of a lifetime,” Ailsa said. “ I have very seldom seen the out-of-doors world at 5 o’clock on any sort of a morning, but I could imagine that it would be very nice—and I adore mushrooms.” “-We get plenty here. And then there is the bush—always the bush,” Flower concluded breathlessly. “ I must confess it is the bush which draws me most of all,” Ailsa said with animation. “ Tropical and semi-tropi-cal foliage have always had a lot of fascination for me. I have never been near any bush or jungle, but I always imagine them as an immense hothouse; and here you have no wild beasts, or snakes, or anything dreadful at all to take the glamour off.” “ No, we are very fortunate,” Flower agreed. “ And Maoriland is a very lovely corner of the earth. Of course we have one or two poisonous insects—• the katipo, for instance.” “ The—what? ” “ Katipo. It is a little red spider that lives in rotten wood, and its bite is deadly poison. But it is not very frequently met with —mostly on the seashore, I think.” “ Then I am not likely to meet them here,” Ailsa laughed. “Is this the way home ? ” “ Yes, and we must hurry, or mother will begin to be afraid that we have been run over, or run off with, or some other fine thing. I’m so glad that you have come. I think we shall have a ripping time together.” (To be continued.)