Our Serial Story

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume LXXXII, Issue 19462, 23 November 1925, Page 10

Our Serial Story

HER DAY OF ADVERSITY

By

MRS PATRICK MACGILL.

(All Rights Reserved.)

FOR NEW READERS All the characters in this story are purely fictitious. CAROL OLIVER returned to the poor homo in Bermondsey which she shared with her mother to find her —dead. Realising she hadn’t sixpence in the world with which to pay funeral expenses, she went to a moneylender. JACOB STONE, struck by the girl’s unusual beauty, saw possibilities of exploiting her, and lent her £lO on the understanding she worked for ten weeks in his office, leaving Carol convinced of his generosity. On the first dav a voung man DAVID MURRAY,” arrived, knocked Stone senseless, and told Carol that her employer was a shark who ran poor people into debt through m tally business, then took everything from them. Carol refused to believe the story. David Alurray called on Carol at the Y.W.C.A. where she was living, which was against the rules. Lottie, the little maidservant, smuggled him out, but he was caught by the principal, Aliss Bilton. Without answering her questions. David jumped into a taxi and left her. She cross-examined Lottie without avail, but overheard Chrol and Lottie talking after bedtime. She demanded the truth. Although Carol told her about David, she made it plain that she did not want Carol in the house again. Next day, Carol was horrified and amazed to find that Jacob Stone kept finding mistakes in her work.

Chapter V. (continued). MESHES OF THE WEB.

Tt was cold and hard as flint. He cleared his throat, and, in making an effort to overcome the excitement that was causing the blood to riot hotly through his veins, he sounded as passionless as a judge sentencing a criminal to a well-deserved punishment. “I’m sorry, Aliss Oliver, but you havn’t been altogether a. success in my business, and I shall have to replace you —and at once, he added, with a slight frown. Carol’s heart gave a terrified leap and seemed to bound up into her throat and stop there. .lust for a fleeting second it darted across her perturbed mind that thi.N was a stranger speaking to her—a totally different being from the man who consoled her so kindly when her mother died, who had taken flowers to lay upon her grave . . .

“ You know, my dear, you arc not cut out for a business career,” he was saying, leaning back in his chair, and placing his thick, soft white finger tips together. Carol felt ashamed, as he had meant that she should. Her voice was choked as she pleadingly asked for another chance.

“Honestly, I can’t think how I made those stupid blunders, Air Stone. Don’t send me away this time, please! Let me at least stay until my debt is paid. There are. seven pounds still owing.” she said, miserably. “I know,” said Jacob Stone, noncommittally. Thon be became silent.

He. was silent so long that Carol, to prevent herself from going off into a lit of hysterical laughter, forced her mind to dwell once more upon the pressing problem of where she was to sleep that night.

Out of her salary of two pounds ten she paid Jacob Stone one pound, which left her with thirty shillings for her-' self. Out of this she paid twenty-seven shillings for her cubicle, breakfast, with a relish every other morning and cold supper. The first week Carol had got up early and walked to the office, I and spent fourpence a day on her lunch, but she had walked a hole ! through her shoes by the. end of seven • days, so the rest of the time she had taken the car—threepence each way — I and had gone without her lunch, her ravenous young appetite being quite capable of eating ten suppers on her return “home.” She had been hoping to keep Jacob Stone’s job indefinitely—had even hoped for a rise in six months or so. But now—’ “As I was saying, you are not fitted for a business career, but that is not to say that you are unfitted for any kind of a career. Far from it.” Jacob Stone infused just the- right amount of friendly warmth into his voice to bring the colour flooding back to Carol’s cheeks, and the light of hope danced once more in her eyes, sending the blood rushing like a ! mighty river in spate through the body I of the man who sat watching her. ; “Then you will let me stay on? You will give me another chance, Air Stone. ' “No, I won’t keep you on here, Aliss ! Oliver. It wouldn’t be any good. But ' 1 *\ e a delightful post vacant for sonic | lucky girl, and I believe that you are the very girl for the job. How would ' you like to be a social secretary?” • " Carol looked interested. “What is a social secretary, Air I Stone?” she asked. The term was ! new to her. Jacob Stone look some trouble in ex- ! plaining. i “It’s a residential post—in my i house, to be correct,” he said casually. ‘ He looked sharply at the sweet ! young face to see if it changed in its I earnest gravity. I But it did not. i “I am —er —a bachelor, Miss Oliver, i and I live with a housekeeper, three 1 servants, and my own man—Bundy. I You remember Bundy? He opened the door to you on the occasion of our—er | —first meeting.” j “I am a companionable sort of man. , Miss Oliver, and I am fond of young ; people —like to have them round me in i dozens —can’t have enough of them, j that sort of thing. Well—er —doing a I good bit of entertaining as I do, I need j a bright young woman to help me with ' the —well,” Jacob Stone laughed a i little—“the more feminine side of it

j shall I say? Flowers and sending out j cards, and making the shy ones who come for the first time feel at home. ' All that sort of thing. Jolly nice job, lfeha.lt” he finished, stretching h's lips

Ihe entire length of his set of .false teeth, but never for a moment Jetting his eyes wander from Carol’s face. ‘‘lt sounds delightful— too much like a fairy tale to be true," agreed Carol willingly, and yet, such is the natural desire of youth for pleasure that in her heart she had already accepted the tempting offer, and in imagination was arranging flowers—a task she loved, but she had never been able to gratify her passion in London, where even simple field daisies are sold at so much a bunch —and in the evenings, clad in pretty frocks she was dancing and sharing in all sorts of delights with her kindly employer's young friends. "Of course, such a post would carry hardly any salary?" she ventured to suggest after she had gratefully accepted the job. "Well, not such a large one as a non-residential post, of course. But pocket-money—oh, yes—let us say a pound a week shall we?" "Oh, you arc too kind!" breathed unsuspecting little Carol, ecstatically, following her exclamation with a deep sigh of pure, youthful unalloyed happiness.

"That’s all right, then. Now. what about the pretties? You’ll need clothes, of course. ’ ’ A tiny cloud scudded across the blue

sky of Carol’s bliss, and revealed itself in her eyes. "Yes, and I have no money at all—only one and eightpence," she confessed ruefully. “Then I will advance the first six month’s salary—that’s twenty six pounds—which with the £7 from the I other loan, will make thirty-three that you owe me." Some of Carol's new-found joy departed in contemplation of the enormous debt which she now owed her employe r. But what could she do. she asked herself, desperately, as she watched Jacob Stone draw paper towards him in preparation for the IO I which she knew would have to be signed. Her first venture into the business world had proved a distinct failure, and she had sufficient experience both of the difficulty of obtaining a living wage in an over-crowded market and of the gnawing pangs of actual hunger to be terrified at the prospect of being out of work ami penniless. She argued, logically enough, that if she turned down this pleasant, wellpaid job, there would be hundreds of girls only too ready to jump into her shoos. "In consideration of the sum of £33 (thirty-three pounds) being paid to mo by Mr Jacob Stone, I, Carol Oliver, undertake to remain in his employ for thirty-three weeks from the above date." (Signed). Carol put her signature to the agreement with a gay little flourish, with no more thought of evil than a bird who trills his song into the sunlight. (To be Continued.)