THE GRIT THAT WON.

Southland Times, Issue 16842, 19 September 1911, Page 6

THE GRIT THAT WON.

(By Florence Thorne Ring.) Lieutenant - Colonel Ensor had married late In life, and from the hour that his wife had presented him with a son. the Colonel had but one thought ITI iif e "The Boy.” His extraordinary devotion to the child indeed provoked many a good-natured smile from the men of his club, and was a source of admiration among the ladles who called upon his wife. "Such a devoted father, Mrs Ensor,” sighed the Vicar’s helpmeet, the despairing mother of live plain unmarried daughters, "my husband never took much Interest in the children, but then, of course, parish affairs occupy all his thoughts.” "Naturally the Colonel is wrapped up in the child,” commented Lady Throckmorton, who was vainly struggling on reduced means to bring up a family of eleven lusty boys and girls in a manner becoming their father’s position. “its your only one, Mrs Ensor, you know.” Mrs Ensor admitted the fact, and invited her visitors to take tea on the terrace, as it was on the shady side of the house, and from there they could watch the tennis in comfort. A rather exciting set was drawing to a close ; the Colonel and a nephew of ills wife’s, both excellent players, against Sir Geoffrey Throckmorton, who tw.o years ago had been champion for the county, and a youth, who with his mother had recently come to the neighbourhood. They rented one of the Colonel’s new cottages, and were evidently very poor. Voting llallam was understood to be a Junior clerk in the bank at the small market town near; but the Throckmortons had taken a fancy to him and ho had boon invited to make up a four in an informal Saturday afternoon game. He was a fine player, and he and Sir Geoffrey, after a close contest, finally won the set. Colonel Ensor threw down his racket; "I’ve had about enough of it,” lie said, anil he strolled towards the ladles on the terrace. “Where’s the hoy?” was his first question, as lie looked round for his five-year-old son. “Oh, lie lias probably gone to look at ills pigeons,” replied his wife; shall we have tea, dear?” “Tea for fair ladles,” said the Colonel gallantly; "hut whiskey arid soda for ns, after that stiff game, in tills hot sun.” The man-servant brought iced drinks but when the spirit was offered to the young hank-clerk he modestly refused: “May I have tea?” he asked shyly. "Ob, nonsense, er. what’s your name, Hailam,” said the Colonel; "what, teetotaller! sir, are you? bh, or, of course please yourself.” Edward llallam became aware that ills host was annoyed, and fell, very uncomfortable; Ills discomfort was increased by the fact that the other young man present, Mrs Ensor's nephew, who had mixed himself u stiff glass of whiskey and soda, turned and favoured him with a well-bred stare of astonishment.

•'■Oh, 5 any"’ he cried, ‘'i thought all' that sort of thing was voted bad form, nowadays," lie was first cousin to Lord Stafforde, and suhtley conveyed the impression that he felt it was rather good-natured of him to play with an unknown bank clerk; but of course as Throckmorton had brought him Hallam rather awkwardly began to apologise. “Oh, pray please yourself,” said the Colonel, “but from long experience I can only say. young man, that when a fellow-sots up teetotalism. non-smoking and all those er, cranks, you know, he isn’t much good in the service—unsociable generally, a hit wanting in manliness, and not up to the scratch when the time comes, you know." .Sir Geoffrey felt lie must stand up for his protege. "Oh, let him he, Tsor,” ho said; "I daresay he is above a good cigar; and well, you know, they say some of the doctors are running down whiskey for the young folk.” Hallam, lifted his head, his shyness seemed to have vanished suddenly. “I don't smoke, either, Sir Geoffrey, ' ho said, quietly, hut firmly. His friend shot him a quick glance; "the boy lias grit, anyway,” he thought admiringly. But the Colonel was much annoyed: he had caught his nephew’s shrug of the .shoulders, and flushed angrily. His invitations were much sought after by the young people of the district, and this whipper-snapper from no one knew where, apparently thought lie could behave as if lie were at some miserable Temperance restaurant : he must tell Throckmorton not to bring him again, even Informally on a Saturday; It would he quite easy to drop the fellow. Meanwhile a gentleman must be civil to his guests, even while inwardly deciding to forget their inconvenient existence In future, “Well, every man to his taste.” he said as dismissing the subject, "but you will not be up to the scratch, sir, when the time comes." He had scarcely spoken when a piercing shriek from the Vicar’s wife attracted everyone's startled attention; the butler, who was carrying a tray of tea things, dropped it with a crash. The time had come. Right up above the terrace, at a dizzy height near the roof, ran a tiny Iron balcony with a single low rail in front of It, which ended where a handsome gable rose from the eaves to the top of the building. 'Here was perched a snowy pigeon sunning itself In the golden "light; and creeping towards the bird, carefully balancing itself on ttie narrow ledge formed by the miniature balcony, could be seen a little figure In a light blue suit. It was easy to see bow the child had got there, disused attics looked on to the balcony, and of one of tlie.se the window was open. “Go back, Lionel, oh, go back!” But apparently the child did not hear nor could anyone help him; the narrow window would let no one through at all bigger than himself, and the frail little balcony, which was merely an ornament running from gable to gable, would support no weight bigger than his. Hatloss, Intent, cautious. the little figure crept along while the band of watchers stood below frozen with horror. They decided that it was better not to call again, as they might startle him; perhaps, God only knew, he might get safely back again the way he had come; If he fell he must be dashed'to pieces on the marble terrace at their very feet. He had nearly reached the bird, be had got to the end of the balcony—ah! his little arms were too short. Unconscious of the mischief it was causing, the peerless creature preened’ Its snowy plumage under the radiant blue. ( And now the child steps, the better to reach It, outside the low rail: holding on with one hand he stretches out his arm, when suddenly the pigeon spreads Its wings and flies off, unconcernedly. The child sways on his insecure perch.; both hands are now on the rail but there i t s no purchase for the little feet; the Colonel’s breath comes in hissing gasps, the women are kneeling, all except the mother, who stands like a statue In stone, rigid, silent. A peacock screams by the lake, nothing else breaks the deathlike stillness, unless It is a low moan from the butler, who, with chattering teeth, is huddled in the midst of his broken tea cups. Then the child slips and falls downwards. A mist swims before the eyes of the watchers. Mrs Bnsor sinks like a log on the terrace; and Sir Geoffrey catching her as 1 she falls, lays her gently down In merciful unconsciousness. But the child Is still there; with his little hands he Is clinging on to the rail, hanging now as a man hangs from a trapeze. ‘Ah!’ the father grips Sir Geoffrey’s arm in a vice and points upwards. With naked feet young ' Hallam is rapidly nearing the little boy; lie is walking backwards down the sloping roof. Just above the row of attic windows runs a little stone ledge; It is almost the height of a man above the balcony. Hallam reaches It, sits on It, and then lowers himself backwards, supporting himself on the stone ledge only by the knees. Head downwards he hangs and Immediately his strong hands close round the strained arms of the child; slowly, with bursting veins and cracking tendons, he draws the child's body up into Ills arms, and then, once—twice —tries to raise himself to the stone ledge. There is white foam tinged with blood on the Colonel’s lips, Mrs Ensor still half swooning, opens her eyes, and Sir Geoffrey promptly covers them with his hands; great silent tears are streaming down the faces of the other two ladies, the Vicar’s wife Is praying aloud. \ Young Hallam makes a third attempt and succeeds", with the child in his left arm he cautiously makes his way up over the roof again, and in a few minutes presents himself on the terrace and sets Lionel, now beginning to cry, on his feet. The child runs to his mother, and there Is a scene of confusion and tears. Afterwards.no one. could remember what happened until suddenly the Colonel was seen holding young Hallam’s two hands in ills own. The young fellow stood looking supremely ashamed and embarrassed — his feet were bare, and his tennis shirt soaked with perspiration, one of the sleeves was torn and a tiny stream of blood, from a scratch on his arm, was dripping slowly on to the white stone floor. The Colonel’s face was red and white In patches, and his voice was husky:— “It was a, gallant deed, sir, a gallant deed—and I said you would not be up to the scratch; forgive! I was a prejudiced brute ; God bless you! God bless you!” At length Hallam managed to make good his escape In the direction of the bathrooms. When he came down again he found the party having tea at last, on the lawn under a tree and out of sight of the terrace and the gabled end of the house. With the self-control of the well-educated, Mrs Ensor was making tea and the Colonel was handing the cups—albeit with a trembling hand Lionel was munching cake on the grass, and the first cousin of Lord Stafforde strolled down from the library whither he had taken refuge from the youth of had form, and had apparently beguiled Ills solitude with more whisky and soda. Mrs Ensor gave Hallam some tea with a little tremulous smile ; she was a woman of perfect taste, and made no reference to the event that was in every one’s mind; but the visitors very shortly took their leave, and left the shaken parents alone with their little one. The following day Mrs Ensor called on Mrs Hallam, and in the evening, Edward went to see the Colonel at his particular request. “I should be a fool to try and thank you, sir,” said that gentleman, in the interview that followed, “hut do I rightly understand Hint your father is dead?" "He died when 1 was an Infant,” said young Hallam, simply. “Alt, and left you nothing, I fear," said the Colonel. The boy’s eyes shone proudly:— "Sir! lie left me the stainless honour of IBs name.” “Er, yes. of course. Will you mind telling me why you don’t drink anything or smoke?" “My mother doesn't wish it,” was the answer. “Gracious!” said the Colonel, hoys of your age generally please themselves.” ”1 guess, sir,” Edward said, “it depends on the sort of mother they’ve got." The Colonel was silent a moment, then he said abruptly;— “I congratulate you and yours,” The hoy's face flushed, and a tender smile played round the young mouth. "I hear,” continued the Colonel, "that

you aren’t keen on banking, and would like to be a doctor like your, father.” The light faded-from Edward’s face—“lt out of the question, sir,” he said quietly. “Er, well, Mrs Ensor and I would like to give you the chance.” “If you think, Colonel Ensor, that I want to be paid—for—for yesterday; that I would, accept— ’’ “Good heavens ! No !” roared the Colonel. “Don’t be such a consummate ass, boy; Mrs Ensor and I have a profound respect for your mother. It seems it is her dearest wish for you to follow your father’s profession, a profession I may say, which.—next to the service—l have the highest admiration for. You could do a lot of good, spread your temperance notions, etc., and my wife and I have means, ample means. It is churlish, my lad, to refuse. If—er —even if yesterday had not happened, I know of no young fellow I should like to give a helping hand 'to. so much as yourself. Your mother did not say so ; but I gather she has, that noble pride which strangles mere petty pride out of existence.” They were generous words, tactfully chosen, and with a white face and eyes that resolutely blinked back the tears, Edward spoke his broken thanks. Some weeks after, young Hallam was dining at the Ensors, after an evening at tennis. , “Where shall you take out your lectures?” asked Sir Gleffrey Throckmorton, who was also of the party. "At Edinburgh, where my father qualified,” was the eager, answer, with a look of joyful gratitude in the direction of. his host. “And you really think that teetotalism helped you In that recent extraordinary gymnastic feat of yours?” “Well.” said the hoy, modestly, “not alone, perhaps, I am keen on‘my work in the Gym.; but I do think a fellow’s muscles must be stronger and his nerves steadier without constant doses of alcohol and nicotine.” “And his brain clearer,” grumbled the Colonel. The first cousin of Lord Stafforde was his ward, and he had just failed a second time In his Army Exam. “Yes, and his brain clearer, I think.” said Edward. “My mother used to show me when 1 was quite a little boy, that my cress seeds wouldn't grow, and my tadpoles died, if I put alcohol In' the water; and she used to make little drawdrawings to show me how it Injured the nerves and brain cells.” “But how did she know all these things?” asked Sir Geoffrey. “Oh, she was a member of a society called “The British Women’s Temperance Association.” Colonel Ensor rose. “Gentlemen,” he said, “to the health of Mrs Hallam; and if you don’t mind, we will drink it in water.” Mrs Ensor looked at Edward when the toast had been drunk ; "I want you to tell your mother from me,” she said, smilingly, “that Lionel is going to be brought up a teetotaller.”— “White Ribbon.”