My Little Pal

Te Awamutu Courier, Volume 53, Issue 3846, 16 December 1936, Page 32 (Supplement)

My Little Pal

A CHARMING STORY

of a Necklace and Kawau Island.

(By

Mabeline McRoche.

Heedless of the gay young voices around her, Jessie Marriner smoothed cut her Art Union ticket with almost loving tenderness. She was building a fairy castle round the little scrap of paper, and her thoughts had flown far beyond the cosy living room—at the moment, resounding with excitement and eager discussion over holiday plans. The Marriner younger set were born gamblers. Usually, they “pooled” in every lottery of note, but on this occasion Jessie had played a lone hand — “And actually got away with it” chuckled Dad; who always had objected to any game of chance. “Come! wake up Jess!” cried Len giving his sister a gentle shake. “We are all dying to know how you are going to spend that twenty pounds.” “On a month of laziness at the “Mansion House*. Kawau.” drawled Jessie. She* knew what the family would say, and after two seconds of stupified silence they said it. “Darlings all,” she smiled, as the chorus of disapproval and satire came to a full stop through lack of breath. “It is my money and my holiday which I shall enjoy in my own way, so why worry.” “You might just as well stay home and divide your winnings among us,” scoffed Given. “Far more interesting than vegetating on an island.” “Fancy making your brand new plutocratic bow to a mere dot in the harbour,” exclaimed Dick sarcastically. “If that little money bag were mine, I should be on the way to Sydney by now.” “I’ll fetch back an oyster shell for you to play with,’ laughed Jessie. “That will be the next best thing to a teddy-bear but you can all hang up your stockings on Christmas Eve, I shall sail for the enchanting isle of Kawau afterwards, and enjoy every minute of the journey too.’ “Won’t it be lonely without a companion?” asked Mother anxiously. Jessie kissed the top of her mother’s head. “If it is too dull, you will have me back on your hands by the return boat, will that satisfy mother mine?" Jessie did not add that she had no intention of returning before the month was out. Neither did she tell the family about the dream that had influenced her decision.

Beside a very blue sea, she seemed to be sitting on a huge nautilus shell waiting for a mer-man to draw her to an island. The man was in distress and signalled her to row towards him, but the shell was heavy and the paddles broken. He started to swim across, making a great splash in the water. Then Jessie woke up, rather disappointed at not seeing the man’s face distinctly. It was a silly dream, but there was a whimsical strain in Jessie. She decided to follow up the “Will-o-the Wisp” phantasy and see what would happen. “Can I have your necklace jwhile you are away?” asked Given suddenly. “It won’t look right with shorts and sun-tan.” “No, my child, if I can’t wear my precious beads, I can at least look at them every night. They must be rather good pearls though,” Jessie added thoughtfully, “for an old gentleman who sat beside me on the ferry boat said they were worth a fortune, and advised me to keep clear of dark roads and crowded tram cars. What de you think of that, Daddy?” “The man is crazy!” murmered Dad from the pages of the “Courier”. But the old gentleman on the ferry had spoken the truth, and Jessie Marriner left for a summer holiday, blissfully unconscious of the startling fact that a two thousand pound string of pearls reposed peacefully beside a jar of face cream in her suitcase, and that one perhaps two reputations were liable* for criminal brand in the stern eye of the law, because it was not forthcoming. - Father Christmas had not left Kawau Island out of his itinerary. The Mansion House seethed with lively cider folk, and romping younger folk who still treasured the ridiculous paper caps of the day before, and meal-time was a hilarious gathering of all ages bubbling over with mirth and high spirits. The one exception was Jessie’s table companion, a gloomy young man who surveyed the chattering assembly with an antagonistic scowl. They ate their first dinner in silence. Breakfast the following morning, in silence, and luncheon would have been just as unsociable ;f the girl had not asked for some bread to be cut, then some salt to be passed. “Like being waited on?” asked the man moodily. “It isn’t that,’ replied Jessie flushing scarlet, “but during two meals you have not said a word, and we are the only ones at this table. Everyone else is talking.” Jessie was shy, but she had the young modern’s fearless outlook on the world. The hot colour spread over her companion’s face right up to the roots of his tumbling brown hair. “Your pardon! Well here is the butter, and the salad, and the milk jug—nothing in it, but no matter.” and Jessie’s plate was encircled with everything on the table, even down to the man’s empty cup and saucer. A humourous twinkle in his eyes revealed friendliness, and Jessie following up her advantage remarked flippantly. “Now that you are more human, I don’t feel so nervous. Could you forget the load on your mind and—l am not a Nosey Parker” she broke off, slightly embarrassed at the way in which she was being regarded. “Who said there was a load on my niind ? Are you—O, I am rude, please forgive me. My name is O’Brien, and' to make it worse they christened me Michael. Will you take pity on a lonesome chap and walk with me this afternoon?” O’Brien was nettled at his lapse and made a pretence of interest he was far from feeling. For he was troubled and worried in mind, and had come to Kawau more to think out problems than ?cr mere idling. Much time had

been spent wandering alone in secluded byways. Christmas Day, he afterwards confessed, had been spent in depressing solitude on the hills. The coming of Jessie was like a tonic to Michael. Together they explored every little bay on the Island, and from sheer enjoyment of sunny days and exhilarating atmosphere, they sang little snatches of song to suit the occasion. Then they goose-stepped along a rough winding to a shady knoll commanding a glorious view of rippling sea-and distant islands. “What a wonderful old world this would be’ remarked Michael, “if we could only glide through it without blundering.” “So that’s the trouble,” answered’ Jessie slowly, “Well, can’t you remedy a blunder?” “Look here, Miss Mariner,” said O’Brien, sitting up suddenly and banging his hat on the ground. “It is only fair to say that sooner or later, I may be proved a thief or something equally vile, and you would be ashamed to think we had ever met. My blunder is a missing two thousand pound necklace, disgrace and the sack for me if it can’t be found. A distastrous business! and God knows how it will end.” Half ashamed of his heated outburst, Michael buried his face in his hands, while Jessie stared at the huddled figure in blank astonshiment. A missing necklace! A queer half-formed suspicion clutched at her heart, and her thoughts raced back to the episode on the ferry boat. There had been other incidents after that—all vaguely disquieting, but all brushed aside as imagination, now they returned to her mind in full force like so many links in a disturbing chain of complications. What was the mystery? How did father come to be in it? Surely there was a tangle somewhere for certainly none of the Marriner’s suspected the value of her birthday gift. “Could you tell me a bit more,” pleaded Jessie, “I may be in this, for my— Please do tell me more, for till you explain, I can’t say anything.” O’Brien raised his head hopefully. ‘You in the muddle,”, he began. “What the— Perhaps I had better make a clean- breast of the story, so here goes— ” “Mrs Collingwood had brought a valuable pearl necklace in to be restrung. We were comparing it with some good imitations on the counter, when Collins was called out, and several people came in. Fool that I was, I just put the heirloom aside instead of locking it up at once. The second assistant got it in with some others he was displaying for a customer who wanted something choice for his daughter, and it was sold to him for three guineas—a two thousand pound neckla.ce for three paltry guineas! I have had nightmare ever since. Collins made me responsible of course and gave me leave without pay, in order to try and recover the thing. I have been a regular Sherlock Holmes in following up clues, and have chased 1 every old buffer who wore a pointed ' beard and shiny blue suit. You see,” he apologised. “I caught a glimpse of the man who bought the necklace, but up to the present, my luck is out.” The idea of her dignified father being classed among old buffers in this downright fashion brought an amused smile to Jessie’s face, but her sympathy for this very likable young fellow was keen and warm. One by one she recounted the various significant little occurrences, ignored as imagination at the time. The date of purchase coincided with the disappearance of the pearls, and Michael’s delighted amazement ended in a whoop of joy as he pieced the fragments of evidence till they all fitted in. “Littl Pal,” he said with deliberate emphasis, gripping her hand very tightly, “I won’t tell where I have been this last month, but you have pulled me right out and set me on the road to Heaven. Know the feeling?” “Better see the necklet before being too sure. Let’s hurry back and I’ll show it to you.” “Do you mean to say you have it here!” shouted Michael springing to his feet and dragging Jessie with him. “Cave man!” she snapped. “You nearly wrenched my arms off.” but with a charming little grimace the girl sped down the cobbly track, and only allowed Michael to join her as they came into view of the Mansion House. After dinner, like a pair of conspirators, they quietly disappeared into Jessie’s room, and behind the bolted door, the nearly treasure was produced for professional inspection. “The missing heirloom all right,” said O’Brien in an awed undertone. “Run to earth in a girl’s suitcase. Whew! but I feel limp at the sight of it.” “Well, take charge at once for I am scared of it now, though I could weep over parting with the lovely thing.” “Never mind. Say nothing to your people, but come in and see Collins as soon as possible. I guarantee he will be only too glad to give you the very best exchange that can be procured.” Michael hesitated, then took Jessie’s slim brown hands and held them against, his breast. “Maybe outfriendship ends here,” he went on sadly, “for your world is not my world, and I am only a plain man who works in a shop.” “Poor plain man! What is wrong with your stupid world ? Isn’t it unkind to push me off it?” Jessie edged a trifle nearer. “We have had _ marvellous holiday,” continued Michael, his eyes true and steady resting earnestly on the piquant little face so near his own. “It will be a fragrant memory to cherish till the day I die. When we meet again it will be different, but to me, you shall always, always be ‘My Little Pal,’ Don’t forget that! Good night.” Kawau lost its charm for Jessie after the departure of Michael. She was lonely, also irritated in a most

unaccountable manner over Michael’s frank admission of being a plain man, who worked in a shop. Why did he deem it necessary to say such a thing, and what did it matter anyway. For the first time in her life Jessie felt a tinge of resentment over the length of the Marriner’s family tree. “Well,” she fumed rebelliously addressing the sea-gull meditating quietly on a rock. “What is the use of a family tree if someone you like very much can’t share the branches.” The wash from a passing launch reminded Jessie of her dream. Was it Michael who signalled her as she sat waiting in the Nautilus Shell? The whimsical thought soothed, and the girl counted the days for her return home. It was Collins himself, all attention and gratitude, who, a week later, fastened a string of gleaming pearls round the neck of the fair young visitor. “They were made for you” he said admiringly, “and they are the very best of this kind.” Michael loked positively murderous, but the envelope Jessie left for him contained a visiting card from her mother, one from her father, and one from herself. Beneath the formal “Miss Jessie Marriner” was written very distinctly “I like to be called “Little Pal.”