PAID IN FULL

Waikato Times, Volume 127, Issue 21243, 14 October 1940, Page 3

PAID IN FULL

by H. S. Sarbert

NEW SERIAL STORT

riiiimimiiiiiimiiiiiiiiimmiiiiiiiimiiin CHAPTER Ax j And yet it was difficult—for deep down in his heart David Preston realised that his boy had had only his good, his own welfare, at heart. Harry had been afraid that something might happen to him. But he could not go on being an out-of-work, dependent upon others. Whatever happened, he could not do that. A man was standing outside a public-house, scraping out a tune on ; a fiddle. No one came out. no one 1 came near to him, and presently he moved on, sighting a policeman in the distance. At the corner he . stumbled against David. “You're up against it. old chap!” j David said sympathetically. “You're right!" came the whining | answer. “They won't let you stand ; anywhere. They keep moving you ! on all the time, and you wonder j where it’s going to end. It ain’t that i 1 wouldn’t work, guv’nor. I would, ! if only 1 had the chance, but I never get a chance! And so it’s going from j day to day. nothing to do —only this! j No prospect of any job coming along, j If you could spare a few coppers— ’’ j He did not finish the sentence, but l David Preston understood. He put : his hand in his pocket and gave the j other a few pence. And as he walk- ; ed on he had something else to think j about. Supposing he ever became like that j himself? After all, it was quite pos- ! sible. He might become a beggar j one of these days—with no one to j want him; just in the way But then—he had his boy! Only he didn’t want to keep worrying 1 Harry. He wanted Harry to have his chance. He wanted the lad to j make headway in the world. He i was beginning to get his feet firmly j planted, and his father did not want , anything to stand in the boy’s way. ; That was the unselfishness of 1 David’s love, never taking into consideration for one moment that Harry himself had been responsible i for what had happened—that but for , Harry he himself would never have been faced with this position. No, that did not matter at all. It was of the past; it was to be forgotten. That night, however, when he was alone with Harry, he asked his son why he had done his own father out of a job. He should not have done it. He should have minded ; his own business. There was a hint of sternness in the voice of the elder man, and Harry crossed ovecl and laid a hand on each of his father’s shoulders. “It was my business,” he said. j “No ” “Yes, father, my business, mine ' more than anyone else’s. The doctor said you could not stand it; and it would break you up. And if—if anything happened to you, I should j be to blame. I should have it on : my conscience for always. No, ! don’t interrupt me, please, not for a , moment or two. Let me finish first, j It’s the truth. I brought you to this pass, father. You had sell ■ your business and come down to this —just because of what I did. And now there’s one thing. I’ve got to do before all else, for the sake of my self-respect. I've got to make good. For my own sake—oh, yes, I know that—but more for your sake, and because I want to be able to look you in the face again, Dad. and know j that I’ve done everything I could to repay you.

“I’ve got to pay you back! Don't shake your head at the idea, Dad—don’t put me off it! I’ve got to pay you back for all you’ve done for me —and I’ve got to have you by m.v side. My pal—as you’ve always been my pal! I can’t do without you. And until we can get something else for you—then we’ll manage on the money I earn. It’s so little that I can do, after all you've done for me, father. Don't you understand how I feel about it?’’

There was a trace of tears in Harry Preston’s eyes as he looked at his father, who did understand. They grasped hands. “I’ll just have to find something else, lad, that’s all,” Mr Preston said quietly. Viola Returns Home John Winn was very pleased when his granddaughter returned to Shalford—perhaps more pleased than he would allow himself to say. He had missed the sunshine of Viola’s presence about the house, her steo on the stairs, her merry laughter echoing through the rooms and the shop. He had been forced to the conclusion that he was getting an old man—and that he did not like his own company so much as he had fancied. So when, on her return, Viola flung her arms round his neck and kissed him in that impulsive way of hers, old John had thought he had really been glad and happy. “Don’t tell me you've missed me, because 1 know different.'' he smiled. •You and your friends in London have had no time to think about “Oh. yes, I have, granddad! I've thought about you all the time—and ! [ haven’t forgotten to bring you j something either. Look! ' She produced a new pipe. Just the kind that he liked. When the shop was closed, and he had settled down nicely in his armchair, old John allowed her to fill it, and hold the match while he lit it. As he puffed away at it, and watched the smoke curl upwards, he agreed that it was I rather a nice pipe, and that, for a I girl, she had shown quite a lot of discernment in choosing it. i Of course he wanted to know all | that had happened to her during her j trip. Viola told him about Harry; | how he was making good at his new J job. Old John grunted at this. | “Humph! About time he did some- ! thing." he declared. “About time i he began if he's going to make good | at all!' I -Well, grandfather, he is making I good-—l've told you, haven’t IV NoW let’s hear your news.” j Viola had come back home with a 1 certain scheme ir her mind, and what, her grandfather proceeded to tell her made it all the easier for her tc open the conversation on this all important point. (To be continued daily)