"BIG SISTER."

Star (Christchurch), Issue 12061, 17 July 1917, Page 8

"BIG SISTER."

(By LAWRENCE CLARKE.) Author of "A Story of a Woman's Heart," "A Prince of India," etc.

[All Rights Reaorvcd.]

"Harry, my boy," said Sir James jM'Bane, laying a hand on his son's ghoulder and gazing. into the frank, much-tanned face, " you have given mc the proudest moment of my life!" There was a suspicious moisture in the great surgeon's eyes.

"Nonsense, father!"' laughed the boy, with, an embarrassment that, rendered him particularly attractive to the older man.

" It's a fact," persisted Sir James, in his deep, rolling tones. "To-day, when T wont into the club to lunch the members at tho big table rose all in a body and drank your health : ' To Sir James M'Bane's bravo boy!' said Lord Frenshmere, holding out his glass towards me. Lord Frenshmere gave the toast, Harry. I tell you, boy, that was tho proudest moment of my life."

There had been many proud and successful moments in Sir James's life, and his name, where difficult surgical questions were discussed, wa-s uttered in reverential tones. Without doubt he was the most distinguished, and possibly the ablest, surgeon who had ever taicen a degree at Edinburgh University. The fact that his only son had elected to follow in his professional steps had always filled him with gratification, but it was not without a certain amount of misgiving that he had seen the boy take up his duties in a, field hospital. That w;is scarcely sis months ago, and now Sir James's fel-low-members of the Garrick Club had risen and publicly toasted the lad, tho young doctor who had won a more than deserved V.C.!

"Yes," repeated Sir James, in an absent tone, "I don't, think a father could have experienced a. finer moment than that. I must think what 1 can do for you, Harry. For the moment. I'm the indulgent parent," he smiled cheerfully; " you can ask what you like of me." He touched the young man affectionately upon the shoulder, then crossed, the opulent carpet of his big consulting room, and seated himself at .his desk of state. He was a tall man of fifty, imposing of figure, with massive features, a massive head, and grey eyes that wero not unlike his son's.

Harry M'Bane looked at him for a minute, then turned and moved towards the door of the room. "Harry, I have half a dozen patients to see this afternoon," said Sir James, "and a hospital to do, but we will dine alone together at eight-, or would you rather," he went on, with a note of hesitancy, " dine with some of those scores of smart people, who will want to mako a fuss of you?" The young man looked back from the door. "J shall have tho honour of dining with my father at eight," he said, and with a smile that was good to look upon, and a salute that gave him a fine, soldierly air, went out. of the room.

In Sir James's hall a. footjhan hovered, an elderly servitor of discreet; mien.

"Hullo, Walters!" exclaimed thi young man, catching sight of him.

Tho footman, -who was also proud or Master Harry, smiled in a, fatherly way. He drew open the door for tho departure of tho young man, then the two of them halted and stared. On tho threshold .stood a child of nine—a singular little figure wearing a straw hat with a faded blue ribbon, a dress more serviceable than beautiful, and white gloves that might, have been whiter. Her boots were covered -with dust, sho Jooked weary and travelstained, and, most astonishing of all, considering tho brilliant weather, .she carried a,' large umbrella under her arm.

Sho lifted a. pinched, weary, little face, and looked from Harry M'Bane to the old footman. Her earnest brown eyes remained steadily fixed on the great surgeon's servitor. " Are you Sir James M'Bane?" she asked. "Good heavens, no!" exclaimed the footman, overcome at the supposition. The small girl turned her eyes to tho young man- " Aro you him?" " No, I am his son. "Why do you ask?"

"J want him to come and see my sister."

"Oh! "Where does your sister live?" " Middlesbrough."

Harry M'Bane stared down "at her. She was a mite, a fragment of humanity he could have blown off the step with a breath. Her umbrella even seemed too much for her.

"Middlesbrough!" ho repeated, in surprise. .Then his practised eye perceived that she. was swaying with fatigue. " Come in and toll me all about it," he said, and led her indoors by the hand. They went into a little sideroom. "So you come from Middlesbrough?" questioned M'Bane, when tliechild had been refreshed with soda and milk and a piece of cako at the lmndM of tho elderly footman. " Yes."

" And you came .all the way to London by yourself to ask iSir James M'Bane to attend your sister?" The child nodded. She was seated o" a chair with her feet dangling, and still held tightly to her valuable umbrella. "What's the matter with your sister?" asked the young man. He made a mental calculation; his father's foe for an operation at that distance would be at least two hundred guineas. "Leg," answered the child. "Can't lier doctor cure it?" The child grew expansive, disclosed her own name as Emmcline, and explained that the local doctor could do nothing. He had given it up as hopeless; her sister would be lame always. In the meantime sho was lying in bed suffering great pain. It made Emmeline sad to see her. They all loved the eldest sister Mary, everybody loved her—the three small brothers, Emmeline herself, and Jin ineffective mother; the father was dead. Mary, the young man gathered, was the single breadwinner of the family, the "shining light, the mucli-to-be-admircd Big Sister. Emmelinci referred to lier all through her talk as

"Big Sister."- "Our doctor," said Emmeline, "told Big Sister that Sir James M'Bane, of London, might euro her. hut nobody else iii all the world could; that's why I want to seo him." •She paused a minute ._ looking up thoughtfully into the "young man's eyes. "Will you please tell him lam hero?" she said.

Harry M'Bane swallowed something in hLs throat. The mi to before him had gathered o few meagro shillings from her post office account, just enough to take her half-fare- to Watford, and no further. From Watford, in some marvellous and incoherent -way, she had achieved London, Harley Street, and the doorstep of Sir James M'Bauo's house.

"Why, you are a wonder!'' exclaimed the young man in admiration. He was amazed and almost incredulous at her performance. She could not remember how far she had walked from Watford. A friendly carter had given her a lift, and she had rested a lot. Yes, she was very tired.

"Have another piece of cake," said Harry. "I suppose," he went on, with an air of solemnity, " you've gob the money to pay Sir James M'Bane for attending to your sister?" Tho child nodded in bright confidence.

"I saved it. That's why I walked the last bit," she said. It's in this bag." Ho noticed that a small bag depended, from her tiny wrist. " Sir James M'Bane requires a. great deal of money when he goes to seo patients," pursued the young man. "I have got ten shillings," said the child.

M'Bane{ laughed and turned away. He felt extremely angry with himself an that his eyes had grown misty. Suddenly he felt the touch of a small hand in his. Emmeline was pulling hirii round. Her small, pale face was uplifted wistfully to his, a sudden doubt had stricken her—after the great odyssey of her journey was it possible that at tho very last things would go wrong? He could feel her convulsive little fingers tighten on his palm. " Do—do you think Sir James would come to Middlcbrough for that?" she asked. The young man looked at her for a. moment, then suddenly snatched her up in his arms. " Why, of course he will." he said. " He'll "come to Middlcbrough to-day, and he won't expect half that!"

An hour later Harry M'Bane stepped into his father's consulting-room. "Father," he said, "I want you to come to Middlcbrough to-night."

Sir James M'Bane lifted his head and stared at him. "What in heaven's name for?"

"An operation," answered the young man. "A case that nobody but you ran handle. As far as I can gather a fractured ankle sot badly and causing trouble." Sir James frowned, and stared from the window. " I can't undertake any operations for three months." be said, rather petulantly. "Middlcbrough!" he exclaimed. "Why, '<h would use up at least three' days!" He shook his head.. " I can't-do it, Harry." Harry M'Bane leant towards him. " For my sake you must do it. dad. You said yon wanted to do something for me. Let this be vour present to me."

'ls it somebody very important?"

"Yes." said the vountr man, after a moment's pause; "somebody who is very important to four little children and a particularly helpless mother." Sir James looked at him with puzzled eyes. "She is a. book-keeper in some sort of ironworks. She is known to mo only as 'Big Sister,' but, as far as I have-learnt from Emmeline, she is the mainstay of the family, and the finest sister in the world." " Who's to pay my fee?" demanded Sir James.

•'There'll be no fee, dad. This operation's to bo your present to rn». Now for the trains to Middlesbrough," he added, and dashed out of the room.

Big Sister lay on her narrow bed beneath the window of the front room. Tho time was the afternoon following the disappearance of Emmeline, and in unsigned telegram had allayed the suspense of that young adventuress's family. Big Sister's home was one of those cruelly cell-like little houses that exist in thousands in the back streets of all large manufacturing towns. The street was a dull, grim line of sameness, a gloomy sameness unenlivened bv tree or shriib. The room (in which Big Sister lay gave evidence of Big Sister's feminine talent. In tho kitchen beyond, creating unnecessary noise, were tho invalid's two small brothers and another small sister. Big Sister's mother, a faded widow of fortv-five, sat at the fireside and brooded upon the strange disappearance of Emmeline. ' "I do wonder who could have sent that telegram?" she said for the hundredth time. Big Sister turned her eyes and looked through the muslincurtained window at the dull sky beyond. Her face was pale, her eyes, unliko Emmeline's, were blue, and had grown large with suffering. Every now and again her brows drew down and her lips quivered as a spasm of pain swept over her. Her dark, plentiful hair showed darker still against the whiteness of tho pillow. Inwardly sho was crying out against Fato that had stricken her—she, the breadwinner, "If only it wouldn't hurt so! If only I could walk!" " What a noise those children do make," bewailed the mother from the hearth. "I believe; thero is somebody at tho door, but T can't bear for the row thev are making.' She was listening with her head on one side; and this time quite audibly there fell a brisk knocking at the door. Before Big Sister's mother could rise the door itself opened, jind a toll imposing-looking man stepped inside. He was very much at his ease, very much master of the situation. He stepped into the room as though the two women had been expecting him, and with a smile and nod at the mother, he went straight to tho narrowbed beneath tho window. "I hear," he said in his easy, confident voice, " that your doctor has great faith in me!" Big Sister turned a pale face of astonishment towards the stranger, noted his elegance of attire, his masterful air. his perfect self-possession. "I am Sir James M'Bane," said the visitor. As he spoke an exclamation escaped from the. elder woman's lips, for Emmeline of the umbrella had herself stepped into the room, and was being passionately gathered into her mother's embrace.

Outsido the door a tall young man

in uniform paced back and forth. For ten minutes he waited, for twenty minutes, for half an hour, then Sir James emerged. / <■ "Well, father?", questioned the young man, hurrying towards him. "I think we can do it, Harry!" exclaimed the surgeon. '' A had compound fracture wrongly set. She's suffered agonies, poor girl. We will go along now and get hold of the local practitioner.'" Late that night Big Sister a.woko out. of a long, dreaming sleep. She was still in pain, but she knew that something had happened, that things were better with her. Sir James M'Bane, of London, had gone for a walk, as was his custom after an operation; tho local doctor' had also departed, hut. seated at the table, talking in low tones to tho adventurous Emmeline and her mother, was a young man in khaki. "My father's a very busy man," explained the young man, "and as I have fivo days' leave ho has put the case in my hands." He glanced from the elderly woman to tho fair, pale face on the bed. Harry M'Bane had learnt many things of Big Sister that afternoon from the local doctor. "She is one of those fine, bravo natures that exist in unexpected places, and lift womanhood, towards the angels," tho old local doctor had said.

Until late that night, and long after Emmeline had passed into sleep, the young man and the faded, helpless mother sat at the lamplit table. Harry M'Bane came again next morning, and the next day and the next.

" I don't, wonder Emmeline set out to geb my father for you," he said to the invalid on the afternoon of the third day, " she seems to worship you.'' Big Sister smiled. " [ don't know bow I can .-ever thank you or your father,"' she said, " but I feel so mean taking away your leave like this." She looked nv him shyly. " I feel quite afraid when l think how famous you are. Emmeline says she thought only people in books win the V.C." "Oh, sometimes quite ordinary people win them," answered the young man evasively.

When the day came for his departure he hold Big Sister's slender hands in his for a longer timo than was rendered necessary by medical exigencies. He looked into Big Sister's eyes very steadily and for a long time; then, quits abruptly, and as no one was looking, be suddenly lifted the pale hand to his lips and kissed it. A minute later he was gone, and she could hear his footsteps ringing on the pavement; outside, dwindling ajnd vanishing into the night. Then, when no further sound came to her, Big Sister turned her weary face to the wall and wept long and silentlv. Considering that in n fortnight sho would be well again and could resume her work this was a strange thing to do. But before the fortnight elapsed something intervened that, rendered work no longer necessary to the valorous Emmeline's sister. Thero came a short letter which opened heaven to Big Sister, and read like this: -

"Dear Big Sister.- When T come home again on my next leave I want you to let mo come to Middlesbrough and to ask you the following question: 'Will you.be my wife?' I can't say much more now because the Censor does not like this sort- of letter. But will you?"

" Yes," whispered Big Sister, pressing 'he letter tenderly and passionately & her lips. Then :,h<V held out her arms lo Emmeline and!gathered that young adventuress to her heart.