"George" What I'ave I'll 'old

Star (Christchurch), Volume XLIV, Issue 521, 2 August 1932, Page 12

"George" What I'ave I'll 'old

By . . .

HOLLOWAY HORN.

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. GEORGE RAWLINGS, a young barber’s assistant, wins £7OOO in a football competition. thus bringing upon himself the attentions of many friends and sharks, and incurring the jealousy of his elder brother, Stanley. The event means much also to ETHEL WAGLEY, an assistant in a sixpenny bazaar, with whom George lias been keeping company. On receiving the money .George’s tirst action is to go and interview a bank manager, who is interested in the Town Football Club, for which George plays centre-forward. The manager gives him some sound advice, with the result that George leaves £OSOO on deposit and sets aside £SOO in a current account for such expenditure as George feels disposed to indulge in. One of George's first actions is to take his Ethel for a walk, in the course of which they call at a jeweller’s shop and Etli emerges with a diamond ring upon her engagement finger. They decide to celebrate the occasion in the dining room of the King’s Head. HECTOR CHERRITOX. a local tobacconist and secretary of the football club, begins to take a keen interest in George and invites him to a tripe supper after the match. George is the hero of the hour when he next turns up at his club. He does not play particularly well, but contrives to secure one goal, to the delight of the crowd. As lie is leaving the ground a fellow-member of the team attempts to borrow £2O from him, but does not succeed. At Cherriton’s, after supper, George is introduced to a MAJOR UPEX. whom Cherriton describes as “one of the best and as straight as a ramrod.’’ In the course of conversation the major talks of a horse which has been tipped to win a race at Gatwick. but he may not disclose the name. Cherriton asks the major to put £SO on the horse. George timidly asks if he may have £lO ■on it also. At first the major refuses, but later agrees, but he will not take the money which George offers. CHAPTER VI. Pork and Patents. One of the minor difficulties that cropped up in connection with the forthcoming marriage was the selection of the guests. George made out a list. Relations yon had to have relations. Barring Uncle William, of course, who was, as Florrie insisted, impossible. There were, in all, eleven relations. To balance the party he decided to invite six of his football pals. Ma wanted two of her cronies, wherefore Mrs. Snape and Mrs. Doolittle were added to the list. “I must ask Mr. and Mrs. Cherriton," George announced, j “Why?” demand ma.

“They’ll feel ’urt if we leave them out.” “That’s thirty-four, then,” announced Florrie. “We want fifty. Tell you what, I’ll ask people I meet, casual. Thirty-four’s a start. I’m going to see Miss Minifer to-morrow afternoon about the catering So much a head is the basis she goes “She’s expensive,” commented Florrie. “But she’s good. She did the football suppers jolly well. For two-bob a nob we ought to get a slap-up tea. Sausagerolls and such like.” “There’s entire families living for a whole day on less,” Stan pointed out. j “ ’Old your row,” snapped Florrie. “Lot of ’elp you are.” • “Nothing to do with me. I’m not coming.” “Why not? To your own brother’s wedding!” “ Got no clothes. George wouldn’t thank me for turning up in these, and they’re all I’ve got.” “ They'd be all right if you put a collar on. Now, do 'old your row, Stan. There’s a time for all things. Ma’ll ’ave to ’ave h new dress of some kind though, George.” “ Course. I’m going to stand the ole lpdy one. An ’Eth’s mother, too. I bjeen wondering about drink. Miss doesn’t touch that. Tea and coffee, she does, but not drink. “We shan’t want a lot, not in the afternoon.” “ Better have some. Few bols o’ I suppose. An’ beer. Makes a thing go, I always think. Ole Eth’s getting fair excited.” “So I should think!” said Florrie, tartly. “ She’s doin’ herself a bit er godfi, if you ask me.” “T didn’t arsk you,” said her brother bluntly. “ Eth’s all right. She’s as good as gold.” MJiss Minifer’s shop in the Station Hoad was an institution in Tringstead. She was an old maid, in the ancient meaning of the phrase, and looked it. But she ruled the shop and bakehouse, which had once been her father’s, with a rod of iron. It was the shop of its kind of Tringstead, and T-offee at Miss Minifer’s in the middle of the morning was part of “ shopping ” routine. The little tables were full when George called on Miss Minifer touching the matter of refreshments to be supplied to those who were to see him married. He had a sudden vivid recollection of standing, as a small and grubby boy, on that very spot, clutching a penny, and demanding stale cakes; it made him rather nervous as Miss Minifer herself came up. “’kes?” she. said, in her distant wav.

Er . . . I m giving a party at St. John’s Hall on the tenth of ’May for about fifty people.” Miss Minifer looked him up and down. She was very short-sighted, and her scrutiny was a little unsettling. “Aren’t you young Rawlings, ” she asked. “ That’s me." “Um ... so you’re giving a party?” “ Yes. As a matter of fact I’m going to be married. So the party’ll be from two till six.” “And there will be fifty . . . er . . . guest 6 ? ” “ About that. I thought of something like an ’igh tea. Ham samwiehes and sausage-rolls sort of thing.” Miss Minifer nodded. “ Tea and coffee, I suppose. And lemonade ? ” “ That’s the sort of thing. Cake, you know. Pastries and so on. And samwiches. . . “I could do a really excellent meal cf the type you want—on the substantial side—for two and threepence a head.” “ Suits me,” said George. “ D’you want an advance or anything like that? I’m not up in these things meself.” “ That will be all right. There will be at least fifty ? ” “That’s so.” “Very good. Dear me ... it only seems a week or so ago that you used to come in for stale cakes.” “ And very good they were, too, Miss Minifer. And not always so stale either. Er .. . you’ll provide glasses for the lemonade? T mean, plenty of glasses. There’ll be a spot o’ wine o'oin", I dare sav.” “That‘will be all right. You see, anything that is wanted at the hall can he obtained in a minute or so from here.” “Very satisfactory. No ’itch at all,” as George reported io Etli that evening.

But life, even if one liad won the Calcutta Sweep, would not go for long without hitches of some kind, and George found this out an evening or so later. Ho called on his friend Mr. Clierriton to renew his supply of cigarettes. “’Alio, George! ” that gentleman exclaimed. “ I ’ear you’re getting spliced. Congrats, my boy! ” “ Thenks.” “ ’Ave a shroot! Marriage, my boythere’s nothing like it, if you get a good ’un. I gotter good ’un. You’ve tasted ’er tripe, and take it from me, her tripe’s typical of my missus.” * It was good tripe,” agreed George. “Wotchcr doing to-night ? Anything “Not special.” “Good. Come in fer a bite. Like as not the Major’ll be ’ore again. I’m not sure, mind you, but I b’lieve that ’orse is running at Kempton to-day.” “I hope it wins.” “Wins? Of course it’ll win. The Major’s a marvellous judge. And ’e gets real information—the real goods: You’ll be able to judge better when we know what’s ’appened at Kempton.” “D’you know the name of the gee-, gee?” “No. Leave it to the Major’s my motto.” The mention of the word made George thoughtful. “1 ’ad a fiver on, didn’t I?’* “You did. I’ll take it orf vou now, if you like.” “No,” said George rather doubU'ully. “A bet’s a bet.” “What a judge! You blow in about nine, George. There’ll be a bit of supper going, and the Major’ll be ’ere, I ’ope. What a gent!” “I liked him very much.” “Should think you did! What a gent!” And at nine o’clock George entered the shop again. Major Upex had not arrived, but Mr. Clierriton supposed that he might be on the nine-fifteen train, and call in on his way home.

“ ’E don’t often get down till the las’ train. And not always by that. ’E’s a lad, a proper lad. But what a gent! You go on up, George. The boy’s out to-night, so I’ve got to shut up. You'll find the missus about.” Mrs. Cherriton received George as an old and trusted friend, although she had met him but once before. She was not, she told him, too well, having a touch of “ ’eartburn,” due, she felt certain, to acid. ‘■.Personally, I can digest anything,” said George. “No trouble whatever.” “Got a bit o’ belly er pork for supper, George,” said Mr. Cherriton later, as they took their seats at the table. “S’notliing like it! If it’s cooked, mind you. But it mus’ be cooked.” “Course.” “I’ve ’ad it when it wasn’t fit to eat. Simply not fit to eat. But my missus is a cook, sir. An artist, you might Mr. Cherriton carved immense portions for George, Mrs. Cherriton and himself, and the meal began. Mrs. Cherriton helped herself to more mustard than George had ever seen one person take, and, moreover, it was the vivid yellow mustard of Enland. “There’s nothing like mustard,” she explained, to which, as a statement of fact, exception cannot be taken. “What about it?” demanded Mr. Cherriton, a minute or so later. “Fine,” said George, and conversation for awhile once again rightly languished. “There’s nothing I like better than a nice bit o’ belly o’ pork, if it’s been cooked,” announced George’s host, as, replete and at peace with the world, he sat back and lit Bis pipe. His normally florid countenance was more than normally flushed, but it is doubtful whether this was due to the succulent dish prepared by his lady, or to the copious mugs of beer he had imbibed.

/‘I feel much better for it, I mus’ say,'* liis spouse put in. “The Major’ll be here on the ten o'clock, I shouldn’t be surprised.” A few minutes aften ten brought the Major, and Mrs. Cherriton coylv withdrew, leaving the three men to their own devices and what was leTt of the beer. “Hallo!” the Major greeted them. He was apparently wearing a new suit, and George thought he looked an absolute swell. His face, too. was more flushed than usual, and he was very cheery. To George’s surprise, as their hostess left the room, the Major produced a bundle of notes from his pocket, almost with the air of a conjuror. “Aren’t they lovely!” he lauhed. “All new and crinkly. Listen . . . music He rustled the notes, which George now appreciated were fivers. “Still, I was very disappointed,” the Major went on, “an’ I’m afraid you will be. The price was awful. Awful.” “Did it win?” “Of course. But it was returned at ° 4 ■ I managed to get two’s, but only because I jumped ill the moment the bookies opened. It leaked out, I’m afraid. Still, a win at a short price is better than a loss at 100 to 1, any day in the week. Let me see, I think you had a fiver on, George, didn’t you ?” “Er—yes.” One, two. There’s ten quid, then. Pity you didn’t stick a bit more on. And you had fifty, I fancy, Hector?” ‘‘Fifty of the best.” “One, two—twenty. Well, gentlemen, I’m sorry I couldn’t get a better price, but, after all, that is not entirely in my hands. His lordship,” he added vaguely, “made a fortune* Jt was on his advice, of course, that we backed the horse.” “What was the ’orse?” George asked. “Funny, but I don’t know, even now.” “Gangrene. You’ll see it won the three-thirty, George.” “Well—£*ll I can say is—thenks! Thenks very much.” “All right., my boy. A pleasure, as between gentlemen! But backing horses, even with inside knowledge, is, in the long run, a mug’s game, I’m afraid.” “We ’aven’t found it so,” protested Mr. Gherriton. “Nevertheless, I’m afraid it is so. Thei-e are so many factors. No. Solid industrial investment is the line one should follow if one is to make real money. If one has luck and knowledge one may pick up a certain amount at horse racing, but it’s a risky business when all is said. I’ve made a packet to-day. But I might have lost. The possibility of losing should be eliminated.” “Bather,” said George, a little vague over what it was all about. “I’ve a big thing coming off. Money makes money, but money lias never made the money before that it’s going to now.” “Wha’s this? Something new?” Mr. Cherriton asked, excitedly. “Absolutely. It’s an entirely new invention made by a Russian. A new uernal combustion engine.”

“Motors ?” “Yes. Motors. Motor boats. Stationary engines. But it is driven by water. This Russian has discovered the thing scientists have been searching for for generations—how to split up the atom. A pint of water will drive a motor car a thousand miles! And the engine will actually cost about a quarter what the present petrol engines cost. Within a year the motor car, as we know it to-day, will be obsolete. Patents are pending in every civilised country. Why, the invention would be worth millions to a man like Ford or Morris.” “At least,” said Mr. Cherriton. “Look here, Major,” he added anxiously, “I’m in this with you.” “Am I the man to forget my pals when I’m in luck?” the Major demanded in a pained voice. “You are not,” said Mr. Oherriton. “You shall be in, and be in with me on the ground floor. I’ve an option on the invention, but, of course, the initial expenses of patenting and to forth require more money. I'm putting up six thousand. If you care, T will put you down for a couple.” “Good!” said Mr. Cherriton. “Look ’ere, I don’t, believe in beating about the hush. Let’s get it fixed up. Here’s my cheque.” . (To be continued daily.)