“WILD GRAPES”

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 83, Issue 4, 6 January 1939, Page 5

“WILD GRAPES”

j New Serial Story

By

Theodora Wilson-Wilson

“He Is. rather marvellous.” she replied. “Of course. I shan’t have to be Jealous of Olive.” “Olive is miles away,” he said seriously. “Don’t let's talk of Olive.” “She’s a dear!” persisted Paula. “I shall adore having her for a sister!” CHAPTER. XV. Lady Hammond Withdraws Herself. Sir John always felt a delicacy as to letters, and took particular care not to notice any addressed to his wife and Bobert and Paula. i Yet on the following morning, he could not avoid noticing that his wife had a letter from the bank and from Madame Jasmine. He had worn his chains for so long, that it Syas no use to drag against them, so he sent his wife's letters to her bedroom, and shortly afterwards went off to Town with Paula and Robert, who had set their minds on hearing a Law Court Case In which Lloyd was taking part. Lloyd assured them that the case would be extremely dull, even though it Involved big money, but their keenness set aside the warning. Lady Hammond received her letters on her breakfast tray, and left themlying for the moment. On hearing the car go off, she looked the, letters through, and tore open one from ! Madame Jasmine. “She wants money'.” she muttered with an oath. “Why can't the, woman have the sense to wait. She knows I'm her best customer.” Then she, uttered a further exclamation as she drew out, a receipted account, with a slip conveying Madame Jasmine’s compliments and thanks. Lady Hammond leaned back against her embroidered pillow, and her face was not pleasant to see. Enflamed with wrath—impotent wrath—she clutched at the sheet as though for support. Madame had had the impertinence, to go to her husband. Sir John had paid this bill, without saying a word Io her—four hundred pounds. Then she laughed out hysterically. John could not be. on the rocks if he could find four hundred pounds at a moment’s notice. However, the bill was paid, and she would feel free to ft herself out in some perfectly necessary directions. As for the bank letter, Marie turned it over undecidedly, and then opened it petulantly. She might as well know the worst, before she •settled down to a quiet morning in bed with the latest library thriller. The, bank letter was short and to the point. In indicated her present overdraft—startling enough, even to Marie—and intimated that no more credit could be allowed, and that the overdraft must be reduced immediately. That meant that she could draw no more cheques, her cheque book was so much waste paper. Yet. that was sheer nonsense! The bank was bluffing. They could not possibly dishonour cheques issued by Sir John Hammond's wife. But doubt assailed, her. She wa<= not clear as to what a bank could or could or could not do. Her mind was made up. and the morning in bed scheme faded. Marie decided that her head ached monstrously, and that she felt utterly unequal to life. She raised the, telephone receiver at her bedside, and rang up her Nursing Home. Yes. they answered, it was quite convenient for Lady Hammond to have her usual room. It would he ready at mid-day. Lady Hammond sighed with relief. No one would dare to bother her with stupid business at a Nursing Home. 11. would serve John right to have to pay the bill. She had a. right to board and medical attendance. There was Thursday—but they must manage without her. She had already done most of the planning. John must call on that terrible sister of his if necessary. Marie laughed, and the headache, it It, had ever been there, vanished. She rang for her maid, told her the arrangement and ordered her to pack. Farrer, the maid, was discreet, and carried out Her lady’s wishes without expressing surprise or comment. When she told the servants downstairs the news, there was a general acclamation of relief. “We’ll do ten times better for Sir John than for her ladyship,” announced the cook. “If you ask me, she's about the limit!” But there was somethings of importance to attend to before even the irresponsible Lady Hammond could take herself off. She locked up her bureau. The accounts and accounts rendered could moulder away, so far as she cared. But what of the Corot paintings? She must certainly have one of them packed up and despatched. Strange enough, Marie cared less about letting down her husband lhan her worthless brother. One of the Corots must go. Yet as she looked at them, undecidedly, she made up her mind.’ to send both. * Gordon would be pleased. So she called a housemaid to help her to pack the Tambourine Player and the Beech Nymphs. “They are to go by registered parcel post, to Mr G. French, as addressed.” “Yes, milady,” said the maid. “They are to be cleaned, and the other picture, Oliver Cromwell, will be coming back to-morrow. See that it is hung in its right place.” “Yes, milady,” she answered. “if your ladyship cares, I could put I his screen across that corner, to hide where the pictures have been.' 1 “A good idea —excellent, do,” said Lady Hammond lightly. The Corots might return before anyone missed them. So.having settled the matter so satisfactorily, Marie rang up Sir John. “That you. John? Marie speaking. I am feeling terribly rotten and out of sorts this morning, so I’ve rung up tiie | Nursing Home. Mercifully they can give me my special room. !• really don’t feel equal to facing the party and all the fuss over the engagement., Paula ought to be equal to things by this time.”

, ' “Quite!” came the answer. “I hope '.he rest will do you good, Marie.” “Thanks!” and she rang off. “Oh, how I detest that even voice!” she murmured. “Why can't he get into a rage for once I !•( only he would get into a rage!” ■ It was on the following morning that the postman mounted ninety steps and knocked with a registered parcel for Mr French. “Thank you,” said Gordon Tate, as he took in the parcel and signed the receipt, “G. French.” CHAPTER XVI. s.o.s. When Miss Hammond received an 1 S.O.S. call from Paula, imploring her 1 to come to the rescue of the birthday ' party, she accepted, made no fuss, and 1 arrived competent and ready. 1 She took over with quiet ability, and 1 everyone from Sir John downwards was relieved. ! Certainly Lady Hammond's vagaries 1 had thrown her Into the category of a woman who did not matter. But Robert, was struggling under a ’ burden of increasing responsibility. ■ His father's condition had shocked ! him inexpressibly, and he could not > deny that his mother's action was be--1 , wildering if not actually alarming. As I for himself, ho recognised that a. door 1 had been slammed on his old irres- ! ponsible life, and the outstanding fact was that his father and his father's 1 wealth could no longer be counted upon. The Immediate reaction to all this , concerned Olive. ! For Olive Maitland was the “sometime” in Robert's life. The intimacy, now taken for granted, would, ot : course, issue one day in marriage. He was “well off,” and so was she. The . secure prospect had shone out ns un- ■ der morning sunlight, and clouds had . very considerately taken other dlreci Hons. But now—suppose his father died? Suppose that funds dried up; and he found himself an unemployed beggar? Olive would remain a princess out ot reach. For what kind of trade could lie follow to bridge the gap? Olive would be coming io the party, radiant, and her own gallant self. He had been working himself up to make a deflinto move, even to suggesting an engagement ring. Bui; now, a cloud was looming 100 domineeringly over the morning sky for any such thought. And Olive, who played the efficient housekeeper io an Invalid father, had also wondered ■whether Robert would i make something happen shortly. I That she loved him, she did not i I deny. She felt she understood him, ■ Sand that, life with him would become ; . very wonderful. . I But she had a. clear-minded tem- | perament end hated muddles, as she i j hated a fluffed golf stroke, and at the i hack of her mind she was haunted by ; a sense of doubt and frustration which might develop to real dislocation. - She had been disturbed to annoyance whan her father had asked her 100 pointedly what Robert, Hammond i was aiming nt in life. “Me, father!” she, had said with a puHing-off laugh. ? “The woman comes In, my dear, Uler the man has become a man. and I not before.” he. had answered. “There / s too much loose cash flowing round i The Grange for perfect health.” t “You flood me with cash, father,” ; OHvq retorted. “You are a woman,” -he excused • himself with a smile. ' j “I fancy that is what Lady Ham1 mond thinks.” I Ol], my dear child, don't mention ' i that female! She Is beyond hope. I f I wonder Sir John sticks out at all.” ’ ■ “Well. H's a mercy she is away at i : her Nursing Home,” and Olive laughed. , “Miss Hammond) and Paula will run I Hie show far better.” ji And then Olive sprang up. ! ‘‘That's Robert’s bike!” she pxn claimed, as she heard a motor cycle ; jock-jocking up the drive. ’ Get him to stay to tea and sing to ) i mc .’. . SQ ,nva lid7' 1 ' ,ryl ”. nn(i slle rushed off. ; i A last, visit as a. child!” Raid 1 • he greeted Olive. welcome!” she responded. “Let's % go into the orchard.” .! “To swing the old days away,” and ! he laughed. 41 BUt i t z! ey Avere bo,h nervous, and ■ ! sons? n h 7 '' andered off as usual, a | sense of strain prevailed ! thev 700\ OU f >, nUite s,le as ’ ied ’ a ’ I ‘ Y r», J queer rusfic seat'I my Mh/r er; H°p' ,y h’ m "° rried abo,Jt j I heart attacks.'” ha '® SOme nas| y ! ‘'l knVJV ' She e,!clalrn ed, startled. I I knew )nu would he. You , keeping our^end^up 1 "sorFof ! buffing one another.” :, "f see," said Olive ! he'?"* 1 , 1 ' Va . nletl 10 know, Olive” I he went on hurriedly, ‘'because at any 1 i Xiv own W ll T'* a big dirf eeenc'e mmy own life. r ve discovered I’m a ’ i s rok e eV OP ? CSS - rve don? a I ! of leal "onk in niv life ” , „”hy do you tell me'thai? ' 1 ! cni , Gccaus e You ought to know ” he Umv faffie? Hi ' ol,ed back on jmy latfiei, taken him and his for to ra flce’ thin/ S a 7 5,,1t 1 Shall have . la , ce as I deserve. 4 n d . there s one thing about It, I don't in eonverastion was over. olive ' honstood quite clearly that this was lloberts odd .way of turning her down. All was over between tho. It hurt torturingly. The man she loved was in dire trouble and r> S of sympalhv, yet she . eed . enough to him "to share. '" 1 " ear To protest was impossible—even in remonstrate. So Olive nerved her self to speak lightly of olller () der as she reduced the cigarette to ashfs’ She gave him her father's mZ . but Robert excused himself He hTd to get back to The Grange, a d be- . sides, he could not sing. I .(To be continued.)