TEN YEARS NEUTRAL

Te Awamutu Courier, Volume 25, Issue 3760, 25 May 1936, Page 7

TEN YEARS NEUTRAL

(By

Mabelene MeRoche.)

It was market day in Hamilton, and the bridge was being renovated. Men clung to rope ladders and crawled over scaffoldings, while hammers clanged noisily. Speeding cars were brought up with a round turn as the traffic policeman raised a warning hand, for right in front was a gingerhaired youth leading a wayward little bull that seemed to prance in four different directions at once.

Leone Meredith giggled softly, and the giggle was answered by a peal of laughter from a tall, unshaven man near her. For the lad, on reaching the open roadway, grimaced impudently at the lagging queue behind him, then pulled his indignant charge aside to allow the exasperated motorists to pass. “One can get a vast amount of amusement by just looking on,” remarked the man, as their merriment subsided.

“Yes, indeed," agreed Leone. “Those cars looked exactly like a procession of enormous black beetles following a dancing bull. And the expression on that boy’s face! Wasn’t it funny? But he seemed rather to enjoy holding up the motor traffic."

James McLeod glanced sharply at the dainty lady beside him. Her face was vaguely familiar ,and something in the low pitched drawl of her beautiful voice woke a memory .that he had endeavoured to forget—the memory of an ivy clad church in an English village, a small group of spectators, a grave-eyed priest, and a slip of a girl who, after thanking him graciously for his generous help, was whirled away in a luxurious car, while he walked resolutely in the opposite direction. , Bound by an oath of secrecy, McI«eod returned to New Zealand, with a stern resolve to wipe out all recollections of that little drama. He had accepted the conditions, impulsively, though with no regrets, and now —. He steadied his wandering wits, for his companion had drawn closer, and in a friendly manner was asking eager questions concerning the town, and the river. Preparations for the annual regatta were in hand, and beneath the span of the railway bridge could be seen the glint of paddles, and bobbing heads as enthusiastic oarsmen put in some strenuous prac'tice on the shining water. Only a laugh together over a humorous incident, and a ten minute chat, but the chance meeting—was it Chance? was already altering the course of these two lives. The attitude of Leone was that of a complete stranger. But McLeod’s heart, on hearing her speak, gave a physical jerk from which he had barely recovered when he arrived at his "Hermitage.” ’ “She doesn’t recognise me,” he thought, “and what on earth has brought her to New Zealand.” Puzzled, he reached for the scrap of mirror on the mantlepiece and carefully studied the reflected sections of sunburned manhood. A week old beard was hardly an improvement to his looks, though it might easily prove a disguise. McLeod, who usually was particular about personal details, could have kicked himself for presenting such an unkempt appearance. Leone never gave a second thought to McLeod after he left her. She was far more' interested in the Soldiers’ Park, and the touching sentiment surrounding the simple name plates of the gallant lads who never returned. The place appealed strongly, and she decided to spend the week in Hamilton instead of travelling straight on to Rotorua. McLeod, on the contrary, was disturbed, and though admitting the possibility of a mistake on his part, he wanted to be sure of his ground. Leone was choosing books when he saw her again. There was no embarrassment in her manner towards him. With easy charm she discussed authors, and asked advice about some holiday literature, and McLeod was beginning to think that, after all, it was a case of mistaken identity, when genial Allan Rowlands joined them. “Good- morning, Miss Meredith,” was his breezy greeting. “I have a brand new car outside; do come and try it.”

“With pleasure,” answered Leone, bestowing a bright farewell smile on McLeod, who cussed silently and deeply as his friend tucked the lady into the gaily painted two seater. “Blast him!” muttered McLeod, find his heart pounded again. “So she is leone Meredith, but how the devil does Allan come to kndw her so well, and why is she here?” Mystified, he went home, savagely slammed the door, and got the scrap of mirror once more.

“My face must have changed, and evidently for the worse, but surely it cannot be past all recognition after only ten years. Oh damn that Rowlands blighter! Why couldn’t he keep out and mind his own business.” And all this time the “Rowlands blighter” was entertaining Leone with quite a lot about James McLeod, who, according to his glowing accounts was one of the finest chaps in the Waikato.

“His past is nob a murky one," continued Allan. “I know only the barest outline of what took place during his visit to England, but he seems to have a sort of sentimental regard for the silly young flapper who landed him into a hole, and —” “Did he never mention her name?” interrupted Leone. “Heavens, no! Jim told me only enough to explain the position fairly as it were, and he was awfully annoyed at me calling the girl a brazen little hussy. She was, anyway.” And Allan rattled on with his story, well punctuated with caustic comments on irresponsible females, while the woman at his side listened guiltily, with a wild desire to charter an aeroplane and fly to the South Pole. “Well, something would have to be done now,” mused Leone, but the trouble was how to go about the business. She looked at Allan. Should she take him into her confidence? It seemed a pity to spoil a nice drive with the risk of an astounded driversending the car careering up a telegraph pole, but the pleasure of the journey waned long before it came to an end, and the subdued voice that bade Allan au revoir seemed to belong to another person. On entering the lounge of the hotel Leone caught sight of McLeod. She retreated hastily, then returned. McLeod must have sensed her indecision, for he stood up and waited. “Just what a man would do,” thought Leone rebelliously. “Leave a woman to make the first move. Why doesn’t he say something?” “Good evening, James Hilton Me-

Leod," she said, pointedly, wifh”lhe courage born of desperation. “Good evening, Leone Dorothy Meredith,” replied Jim, gravely, with equal emphasis. And Leone, instead of explaining matters as she had intended, fled upstairs to her room, and stayed there. Next day she left for Rotorua, and a month in geyser land gave ample time for serious reflection on the past, present and future. A fellow guest at Waiwera House proved a most comporting companion, for her calm philosophy of life in all its complicated phases was a revelation to the younger woman, who, hitherto, had given scant ’ consideration td any but herself. Allan’s tirade of abuse levelled at “the brazen little hussy” scorched badly. The conversation of Mrs Montgomery, which covered a wide range of interesting personal experience, just as unconsciously, but with more kindly discernment, succeeded in showing how selfish conduct could react on and mar the life of others.

Leone began to view many things from a new angle, and gradually, there came a feeling of sympathy for the man so closely involved in the hairbrained escapade of her careless youth. She felt rather like a schoolgirl learning a difficult lesson, and .after much self-examination made up her mind to end the intolerable situation by returning to Hamilton and facing up to it properly. The Hermitage was some four miles from the town, so Leone engaged a taxi and went out to interview McLeod at his own home. It was a pretty place, and the visitor was welcomed by a blundering puppy which led her to a half-finished summer house. Jim, who heard the car stop, was craning his head inquiringly through the top of it. His astonishment on seeing Leone nearly caused a catastrophe. The step-ladder wobbled ominously, and a tin of nails crashed to the floor.

“You!” he blurted, awkwardly, advancing to meet her. “Have you any objection?” was the half-apologetic retort. The warmth of McLeod’s handshake was sufficient answer to the question, and , Leone felt braver, though coming straight to the burning topic for discussion was harder than anticipated. Jim stubbornly ignored every opening, and was far more concerned about a couple of deck chairs in a shady corner of the garden than argument. He. was really a delightftil host, and leone was enjoying the unconventional interlude when she remembered the waiting taxi. “What will the man thin,k?” she gasped in dismay. “I have been here for ages and not once have you given m-i the chance to say/what I came on purpose to talk about.” “Of course not,” grinned McLeod, shamelessly. “Suppose we have it out to-morrow instead?" “Why?”

“So that I may have the pleasure of seeing you again; it is only a square deal after ten years of patient neutrality. By heavens! woman," he exclaimed with sudden passion, “what the deuce do you think I am made of?” and rising abruptly, Jim McLeod walked away. A whimsical little smile flitted over the face of Leone, but she was thoughtful when McLeod rejoined her a few minutes later. “And if I do not come?” “Then I must bear my disappointment.” “That poor taxi driver must be asleep,” was the irrelevant answer. “James Hilton, come and help me out of this chair and we shall go and rouse him.” • * * * * Three times had James McLeod rearranged the blatantly new cushions that softened the severity of his living room—gay plump cushions he hurriedly purchased early in the morning and carried home in triumph on the pillion of his motor cycle. Three times had he tried to while away the hours among packing cases in his workshop, but his mind refused to concentrate on hammers and screws. Now he was haunting the road, followed by a puzzled wistful eyed puppy, and wondering if he were the biggest fool God ever made. From afar Leone espied the tall figure pathetically lonely in the distance. She appreciated the courtesy of his being on the watch for her, though she was somewhat taken aback when McLeod promptly paid the fare and sent the chauffeur away.

“But he is quite a dear,” thought as they- paced once more to the sheltered corner of the garden. “Now then,” said James, settling his guest in the easiest chair. We shall get on with the conference. You first.”

“Who put me off yesterday when I could have said lots?”

“Can’t you say it now?” “No, it is different.” “Good! Then I have made a favourable impression.” “Don’t take too much for granted.” “Well, when you asked me to marry you—” “Pardon me, but it was your companion I asked, and when he refused you came in of your own accord.” “Dear old Ted,” chuckled Jim, reminiscently. “He was engaged to ' a jolly fine girl, and your proposal startled him. It certainly was unusual.”

“Never mind rubbing it in,” answered Leone, shortly, “for the row' that followed was dire punishment for every sin I ever committed. Now listen to a belated explanation, for you heard only half the story.” “My guardian, kind as g.uardians go, was silly enough to choose an elderly widower as a future husband for me. He had three lovely daughters, one older than myself, dozens of servants, and a pompous old heirloom of a family butler, who always scared me. I never did like large establishments, anyway.” McLeod leaned forward and dropped his cigarette. Leone picked up the puppy and cuddled it on her knees.

“I was wealthy enough to please myself, but my wishes were the last consideration of these two old schemers. They persisted in arranging my private affairs to their own satisfaction, then said it was for my special benefit. The matrimonial net was . being tightened. You may not think it, but these well meaning folk are very hard to deal with. They have only one point of view, and that is theirs. Do you understand my position?” McLeod nodded.

“You are free to get legal advice In the matter if you wish,” went on Leone.

“I don’t want legal advice!” shouted McLeod. Leone put her hands over her ears. In a quieter tone James continued. “My feeling of pride at being the means of preventing an un-

happy marriage is still pretty strong. I would do the same again without the lure of financial bait, and be quite joyful about it, too.”

“How much of that chivalrous speech do you mean? “All of it, and lots more.” “Um, Isn’t there any woman you like better than myself?” ’“No, and there never will be.” .“Then the way being clear, we can proceed with —” “Yes?” said McLeod, eagerly. s “Some tea, my good man. Am I not to have any after my long journey?” “I am not your good man,” growled McLeod, who was in no humour for trifling. “Oh, really! Well, my silly Jimmy then. But I am hungry, couldn’t I help you cut a sandwich or something; then you could show me your house from the inside. “My best things are packed up. I move out at the end of the season,” was the ungracious retort, as they entered the Hying room. “And I can't be mistress here after all,” hummed Leone, provocatingly, strolling towards the window. “What a gorgeous view, and you haven't ask ed me to stay.” McLeod seized her by the shoulders and twirled her round. “What do you mean by that?” he demanded, harshly, his eyes blazing, though not in anger. “You started this game; are you going to play it ri'ght to the end?” Leone thrilled at his touch, but could not resist the temptation to tease him further. She raised her hand as if playing the piano, and beginning with the thumb, counted, “Yes, no, yes, no, yes! The little finger wins,” she crooked it in his face. “And there are visitors coming up the garden path.” “Damn!” exploded McLeod. Leone perked her head and frowned.

“I beg your pardo,n. Tom Hardy has bought this place. He and Allan Rowlands are coming to tea, and I had forgotten them.” “How lovely,” murmured Leone, “I am going to enjoy this party tremendously. “Because of Allan?”

"Because I shall pour out the tea at our table, but perhaps you would prefer me to get underneath. You look like a thunder cloud.”

"Are you afraid of the truth?” rapped McLeod. “Certainly not! Are you?” "I should like it written in letters of gold where all the world might see it.” I . ‘Well, suppose you introduce me properly, and just as if you were quite used to doing it, too.” “Stand by like a dear and keep your head,” whispered Leone to Allan as they shook hands, "We are making a fresh start.” Rowlands looked from one to the other. In a devastating instant he realised the position, and a dream castle in the air that he fondly cherished, crashed, never to be rebtiilded.

Tom Hardy was frankly astonished at meeting “Mrs James McLeod.” “I always thought McLeod was a bachelor,” he mumbled later on. “How' long have you known of this, Rowlands?” ’

“For years,” answered Allan lightly. "You see, they are both old friends of mine.” The End.