PAID IN FULL

Waikato Times, Volume 127, Issue 21192, 15 August 1940, Page 12

PAID IN FULL

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CHAPTER I (Continued)

There was an air about that girl—i her scornful glance and her high- ; handed way of talking—that David j did not like. She was not the type iof girl he wanted Harry to get | friendly with, however much money 1 she had. But David was wise in his ; generation. He knew that it would j not do to say too much to Harry. ; Pals! That had been their motto. ; Give and take—each trying to unj derstand the other. They got back ‘ about ten o’clock. The old woman who came in each day to “do” for ; them had left their supper ready, j After this, there was a final smoke | before retiring. j “You’ll be going with Viola to ! choir practice tomorrow, I suppose?” j the elder man asked, j “Of course,” Harry replied. “I j promised the vicar I’d be there, j He'll expect you as well, Dad. They j want a bass badly for Sunday. Mr Fraser is down with the ’flu, as I expect you’ve heard?” David nodded. “IT! get along as soon as I can,” lie said. “But I’ve got a visit to ! pay first.” i “What sort of visit?” “Never mind!” • Then Harry remembered. His ! lather was going over to put down | the fee for his final examination. He j jumped up, walked across the room, and put his hands on his father’s arms. “I know!” he said. “I’ve just remembered. I’m just beginning to wonder whether I ought to let you do it.” ! David turned quickly. ‘‘What do you mean?” he asked. “You’ve got no say in the matter. We’re pals, aren’t we?” Harry gripped his father’s hand.

“I don’t think any fellow ever had such a pal as I’ve had in you, Dad,” he said. “You’ve been mother and father and everything else to me! I’m grateful, too —I’d like you to know that. I’m grateful, and one day I hope to repay you.” “You don’t have to talk about repayment, lad,” the elder man stated quietly. “I’m glad to do it for you, and I’m proud, of the progress you’re making. I’ve got a real, clever gentleman for a son, and no one could ask for more than that! No son could make a father happier than you have made me.” Neither of them mentioned Carrie Lucas again, although perhaps David 1 would have been more relieved if his son had done so, When the elder man was in his own room, ana the door shut, sleep did not come to him immediately. He sat on the edge of the bed i-hink-ing. Curious, that cold sort of presentiment that had come to him! A feeling that Harry was in danger of some sort—danger associated with that girl, that stranger from London at whom his son had looked with such admiring eyes. There were portraits of Harry all round the room. Photos of him at the age of two,, at five, at twelve, in a football jersey at fifteen, at eighteen, on his twenty-first birthday—the last taken with his father on one side and little Viola Winn on the other; a happy group! “O, God, keep him safe! Protect him from all harm! Above all, keep i us still—pals!” was David’s prayer, and it came not only from his lips, but from his heart. A Daughter, Perhaps? Viola Winn, a pretty, fair-haired, ■ blue-eyed slip of a girl, had just turned her twentieth birthday. She [ had known Hairy Preston from childhood, and she was passionately ; in love with him. There never i had been any other man who had held any place in her heart. She had l looked forward eagerly to the holidays, when Harry should return home, and they would take long ; rambles together. No one had ad- ■ mired Harry more than Viola; no - one had been more pleased at the • successes which had come his way. But she had noticed the change

that had come over him just recently. Yes, she had noticed it, even though Harry’s father had not. There had been something subtle about the change, something not easy to define, yet it was undoubtedly there. Harry was not quite the same. He appeared to be detached, and his thoughts seemed to wander when they were together. Viola had tried to put it down to his work; to his anxiety to pass his final examination. As usual they stood talking together before the choir practice, and they were like that when David Preston came in. The practice lasted until ten o’clock, when the organist expressed himself as satisfied, and the vicar himself came up and congratulated David. “I’ve never heard your voice in better trim, Mr Preston,” he said. “I can depend upon you for Sunday, can’t I?” “I’ll be here, sir, if I’m fit and well,” David answered. “That’s good! I like the idea of father and son singing in the same choir,” the vicar replied. “And perhaps” with a glance towards Harry and Viola—“there’ll be a daughter as well before long—or a daughter-in-law, to be precise. I’m just wondering when we shall be hearing of the engagement. David followed the vicar’s glance. “Between my son and Miss Winn, you mean?” he asked. “Well, Harry’s on the young side yet, sir ” “So were you when you got married, I believe.” “Ay, that’s right, sir!” David admitted. “I shouldn’t put anything in the way. Don’t think that for a moment. So long as they’re happy and love each other, that’s all that matters. But I reckon my boy will be waiting till he’s passed his final examination. Then he’ll come and talk it over with me, and I shouldn’t put a thing in the way—for she’s a fine little lass, is Viola!” “I agree -with you,” the vicar said, and he might have added, “And you’re a fine man, David Preston,” for he had the greatest admiration for the grocer. He liked, too, the fine spirit of comradeship that seemed always to exist between David and his son. (To be continued)