“WILD GRAPES”

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 83, Issue 2, 4 January 1939, Page 11

“WILD GRAPES”

New Serial Story ■

By

Theodora Wilson-Wilson

“Birds In the high Hall Garden, • When twilight was falling, | Maud-Maud-Maud-Maud —• the; i are crying and calling I" | And as the song finished, Miss Ham-■ mond said drily, ‘‘that boy needs two! years hard labour I” “I thought his voice was marvel- i lous—perfect!” "Because you know nothing aboul! It, my dear," said Miss Hammond i “and I beg that you will not spoil hl:; chances by flattery. Robert mus: I discover himself as a complete failure > before he finds himself a success I’i And then the twins came, and Paul: ' gave a yell of joy at sight of Olive, i “I say, did you hear the songs?’ i she asked. “Miss Hammond forbids me to- make ! any comment," and she put out he: ; hand to Robert. "AU the same,! thanks tremendously." “It was probably the wireless yot! heard,” and Robert’s eyes twinkled ’ “and one can never thank the wire- j less." “Tea?" asked Miss Hammond. I "Oh, no, I didn't come prospectins i for tea 1" i “Then be an angel and help us to i clear up and wash up,” said Paula. ■ “Rather!" said the girl. So Youth did the work, and. middleage sat tight, , CHAPTER XII. Sir John Makes His Arrangements. On Monday, Sir John assured the i anxious Norris that he was complete- I ly rested and fit for the Consulting: Room, and during the morning he took a chance of going to the bank; and having a word with the manager.: He filled up his own current ac-! count by the sale of some sound investments, and the local manager, not without hesitation, asked whether the ■ balance was to cover his wife’s account also. "I have no Idea what my wife's overdraft is,” he said calmly. "You might drop a line to my wife and let j her know," and he rose to leave. | The manager did not wish to lose i so fine an account as that of Sir John ; Hammond, but his general manager! had been making some particular enquiries as to certain accounts lately, I and Lady Hammond’s replies had been i anything but satisfactory. She showed herself insulted that' she could not draw Indefinitely as she [ chose. And then Sir John returned to his I consulting room, to nerve his patients j to take the rest which he did not dare to take himself. Mr Matthew Morris, a fussy city man came in upon him almost immediately. Sir John liked and respected Mr Morris, and he greeted him cordially. "Haven't a moment, Sir John,” he said. "Time is money, I needn’t tell I you that!" and he sat down nervily. I "And I needn’t tell you, Mr Morris, that money cannot create time I" i "Same old lecture," said the patient will: a nervous laugh. “However, we must scrap the usual examination. I’m in a great hurry. A touch and go I board meeting in an hour. I need i ail the nerve force I can imieim- '■ i "umy we cannot admit hurry here,” I and Sir John looked into his eyes, and 1 placed firm fingers on his throat. "Come again to-morrow, when you have more time. Y’ou are nervous about yourself I" "Nervous!” he exclaimed. “I shouldn't turn a hair if you doomed me dead to-morrow!” "Sorry your life has been such a failure," said Sir John with a smile. "Matthew Morris a failure! I like that I You sit in that chair and are as ignorant as a babe of the financial strain cn us business men. Ask the city it Matthew Morris is a failure!” “My mistake!” said lie. "Failure is. after all, merely a question of values. But as your doctor, I tell you that your ambition is stronger than your nerve force. Don’t miss your reward!” “Reward?” Sir John gave a frank alluring smile. “Time to enjoy the real things that matter. Wily be like a child in a runaway car? Why clutch at everything you pass, and then look Into your . hand and find there is nothing, except, perhaps, some wild grapes?” “I didn’t come for a sermon," said the patient, with a smile. “But you mean well, and I'll try to get ott' to some deadly place for a week-end, If that will satisfy you." "It won't!" said Sir John. "Fact is, I only looked in because ! I promised my wife to come. Sho worries—women dol" "One day I shall ask you to help me about my own affairs," said Sir John lightly. "I want to' appoint a trustee for my estate." “I should be delighted—and complimented I” said Mr Morris, as he took leave. » It was a little later that Norris announced Miss Doris Smith. “That is good of you. Miss Smith,” said Sir John. "I wished to see you personally.” “I wanted to explain," she said, “that I was very thankful to have the Saturday cheque, Sir John, I had not meant my brother to go to you direct.” “He did quite right,” said Sir John, "and here is the balance. But let me say that I dislike this credit system. It binds men and women in chains.” "I know,” she said simply, as she folded the precious cheque which meant so much to her. “Your anxieties have run you down,” he said kindly. “If there Is any way in which I can advise you, help you ” "Oh, no!" she said startled. “There is nothing the matter with me. except that I have rather forgotten how to sleep.” “Quite so. Well, please allow mo to put you through a few tests,” and without waiting for a reply, he rang tor a nurse, and Doris Smith felt that she was in for It, and could not rebel. “Well?” she asked, when all was over. “Your health is far from bankrupt, and you may face years of courageous work, if you will take care ’’ “But indeed ” “Most of my patients insist that : they cannot take care,” he interrupted. "But here are your marching orders I" and he banded her •’

; card. “Show !t to your brother. 1 1 understand he Is going In for mediI cine." | And then the dressmaker, by some ! strange impulse, laid a hand on the ; specialist's sleeve. ’ "Sir John, In return for what you '• have done for me, I- must say someI thing. Take marching orders for ! yourself." ■ Sir John looked at her dumbfound- • ed, and his face flamed as though ! caught out In some crime. I "And why this diagnosis?” he ask- • ed, trying to speak easily. ; "My own father died of heart ; trouble, so I know." i Sir John hesitated an instant, then j spoke steadily. i “You are evidently one of the wise : women of the earth 1 But set your ; mind at ease about me. I have ac- ; cepted marching orders." j ."Which you will obey, sir?" i "They are so authoritative, that I i shall certainly obey.” I It was as though some great thought ■ transfigured his face, and Doris Smith, I alarmed at what she had dared to say, ! took leave. I For three more hours, Sir John ! bent his mind, his brain and his sym- • pathy for the benefit of the patients ■ depending upon his skill. ■CHAPTER XIII. Two Pictures. “Gordon," said Lady Hammond, as | she sat posing for her brother, "bei fore you start, let me tell you that i it was madness of you to come to The ! Grange on Saturday. You were : drunk —obviously." I "My dear Marie, I was obviously ■ not drunk when I took to the river ■ again. That handsome son of yours brought me some excellent coffee, and saved my life from tipping itself out of the boatl" “What’s that?” she exclaimed. "You met my son? What did you say to niy ' son?" “Why shouldn’t a fond uncle say anything he chooses to his one and j only nephew?" | "'Gordon!" and she sprang to her i feet. “You don’t mean that you i told him who you were?" 1 “Don’t kill me with those eyes!” he mocked her. "Of course, I told him. ! Why not?" i Now Gordon Tate was clever enough I when he was sober, and he had not managed his sister all these years for ■ nothing. He admitted to himself that he had ' been a fool to reveal his Identity to i Robert Hammond, but that was his drunken luck, and he must make the best of it. He calmed his sister down by urging that it was becoming absurd to keep the knowledge of his existence from her children, and then assured her that if she would stand by him now, the picture he was painting of her as Lady Teazle would be his mr.slerI piece, and raise him to the highest : rank. Indeed, he had now detorI mined to turn over a new leaf, so that she might have the honour of smiling at the British public from his canvas. I Lady Hammond ' .'as sensitive to i flattery, and greatly fancied herself as a Society Somebody, and she i yielded weakly, as she always did, to her brother’s blandishments. nut Gordon could never concentrate for long, and Marie wasn’t sorry, for posing was very hard work, as I slio discovered, and when Gordon was in full cry at his work, he became the artistic bully. : “Well, I’ll let you go now," he said 'at last. “But you'll have to come regularly. I can do the clothes without you, but I must have your own face and figure." “I’ll have to come when I can," she answered. “It may be more difficult to fit in now. You were mad to betray yourself.” "Nonsense!” he said roughly. “You’ll do it ail right. Where there's a will there's a way." Marie felt impotently irritated, and she changed the subject sharply. “And where is the Oliver Cromwell picture? Mr French has been an unconscionable time in cleaning it." "Oh, yes. I’d forgotten the old boy!" he" said, as he Hung off a wrapper. Lady Hammond stiffened. “But, Gordon, there are two!" she grasped. "Quite, and which Is which?" “You mean— —” "I mean that when French had done his Job,' he offered me twenty pounds for a copy. 'He’ll probably sell for fifty—the rascal I" ' “But he had no kind of right ” “He knew you wouldn't mind showing twenty pounds the way into my pocket. Now, which is which?" Lady Hammond looked at the pictures keenly, and was frankly puzzled. "I should have said that that one Is the original, only It isn’t signed." “Right as usual, sweet sister. Isn't it a smart piece of work?” "Oh, Gordon,” she replied impulsively, “can't you give up the drink, and be the man you ought to be? You’re simply marvellous." The passionate and unexpected outburst staggered the artist, and he turned off towards the gable window, with Its outlook on chimney pots. “Gordon," she was beginning, but he turned sharply. “Don’t be fussy, Marie," he said with unusual gentleness. “I’m not drunk nearly as often as I used to be. French keeps an eye on me." "I'm-glad," she said, trying to believe him. “Oh, and by the way, I was telling French about"those Corots —if I remember right you have a pair of them, minute paintings—six of them would make one Oliver Cromwell I" “Corot?” she repeated. "Oh. yes, lhe Beech Nymphs and the Tambourine Player. They’re in the library." "Don’t they want cleaning?” "John would never agree to have them touched." “Why ask him?" “You want to copy them?” “They would be excellent practice. I hate having to squat in public galleries, painting with the nosy public spying over my shoulder. If you could just give your John a hint to get me an invitation ” “Y'ou know that’s impossible.’.’ I “A pity. French would give me fifty for a really good copy.” ' .(To be continued.).