The Storyteller.

White Ribbon, Volume 17, Issue 194, 17 August 1911, Page 13

The Storyteller.

THE GRIT THAT WON. BY FLORENCE THORNK RI.NO Lieutenant-Colonel Knsor huff married Into in life, and from tho hour that his wife had presented him with a son, tho Colonel had but one thought in life “The Hoy.” His extraordinary devotion to the child indeed provoked many a good-natured smile from the men of his club, and was a source of admiration among the ladies who called upon his wife. “ Such a devoted father, Mrs Knsor,” sighed the Vicar’* helpmeet, the despairing mother of five plain unmarried daughters; “my husband never took much interest in the children, hut then, of course, parish affairs occupy all his thoughts.” “ Naturally the Colonel is wrapped up in the child,’ commented Lady Throckmorton, who was vainly struggling on reduced means to bring up a family of eleven lusty boys and girls in a manner becoming their father’s position, “ its your only one, Mrs Knsor, you know.” Mrs Knsor admitted tin* fan, and in* vi'» d her visitors to take tea ou the ter* nice, as it was on tho shady side of the house, and from there they could watch the teunis in comfort. A rather exciting

sot was drawing to a close : the ('olonel and a nephew of his wife’s, hoth excellent players, against Sir Geoffrey Throckmorton, who two years ago had boon champion for the County, and a youth, who with his mother had recently come to the neighbourhood. They rented one of the Colonel's new cottages, and were evidently very poor. Young llullamwas understood to be a junior clerk in the hank at the small market town near; hut the Throckmortons had taken a fancy to him and he had been invited to make up a four in an informal Saturday afternoon game. He was a tine player, and he and Sir Geoffrey, after a close contest, finally won the set.

Colonel Knsor threw down his racket; 4 I’ve had had about enough of it,” he said, and he strolled towards the ladies on the terrace. “ Where’s the boy ?” was his tirst question, as he looked round for his five-year-old son. ‘‘Oh, he has probably gone to l ook at his pigeons,” replied his w ife; shall we have tea, dear ?”

“Tea for fair ladies,” said the Colonel, gallantly ; “ but whiskey and soda for us, after that stiff game, in this hot sun.”

The man-servant brought iced drinks, but when the spirit was otiered to the young bank-clerk lie modestly refused : “May I have tea.'” he asked shyly. “Oh, nonsense, er, what’s your name, Hallam,” said the Colonel ; “ What, teetotaller! sir, are you ? —oh, er, of course please yourself.”

Klward Hallam became aware that his host was annoyed, and felt very uncomfortable : his discomfort was increased by the fact that the other young man present, Mrs Ensor’s nephew, who had mixed himself a stiff glass of whiskey and soda, turned and favoured him with a well-bred stare of astonishment.

“Oh, 1 say !” he cried, “ I thought all that sort of thing was voted bad form, nowadays.” He was tirst cousin to Lord Stafford©, and subtly conveyed the impression that he felt it was rather goodnatured of him to play with an unknow n bank clerk ; hut of course as Throckmorton had brought him Hallam rather awkwardly began to apologise. “On, pray please yourself,” said the Colonel, “ hut from a long experience I can only say, young man, that when a fellow sets up teetotalism, non-smoking, and all those er. cranks you know, he isn’t much good in the service unsociable generally, a hit wanting in manliness, and not up to the scratch when the time comes, you know.” Sir Geoffrey felt he must stand up for his protege. “ Ok, let him be, Knsor,”

he said; “ I daresay he is not above a good cigar; and well, you know, they say some of the doctors are running down whiskey for the young folk.” Hallam lifted his head, his shyness seemed to have vanished suddenly. “ I don’t smoke, either, Sir Geoffrey,” he said, quietly hut firmly. His friend shot him a quick glance; “ the hoy has grit, anyway,” he thought, admiringly. Hut the Colonel was much annoyed; lie had caught his nephew’s shrug of the shoulders, and flushed angrily. His invitations were much sought after by the young people of the district, and this whipper-snapper from no one knew where, apparently thought he could behave as if he were at some miserable Temperance restaurant ; he must tell Throckmorton not to bring him again, even informally on a Saturday ; it would be quite easy to drop the fellow. Meanwhile a gentleman must bo civil to his guests, even while inwardly deciding to forget their inconvenient existence in future

“ Well, every man to his taste,” he said as dismissing the subject, “ hut you will not be up to the scratch, sir, when the time comes.”

He had scarcely spoken when a piercing shriek from the Vicar’s wife attracted everyone’s startled attention ; the butler, who was carrying a tray of tea things, dropped it with a crash. The time had come. Light up above the terrace, at a dizzy height near the roof, ran a tiny iron balcony with a single low rail in front of it, which ended where a handsome gable rose from the eaves to the lop of the building. Here was perched a snowy pigeon sunning itself in the golden light ; and creeping towards the bird, carefully balancing itself on the narrow ledge formed by the miniature balcouy, could he seen a little figure in a light blue suit. It was easy to see how the child had got there, disused attics looked on to the balcony, and of one of these the window was open. “ Go hack, Lionel, oh, go back !”

Hut apparently the child did not hear; nor could anyone help him ; the narrow window would lot no one through at ull bigger than himself, and the frail little balcony, which was merely an ornament, running from gable to gable, would support no weight bigger than his. Matless, intent, cautious, the little figure crept along, while the hand of watchers stood below frozen with horror. They decided that it was better not to call again, as they might startlo him ; perhaps, God only knew, he might get safely back again the w ay he had come :

if ho foil ho must he dashed to piec es on the marble terrace at tlieir very feet. He had nearly reached the bird, lie bad got to the end of the balcony—ah ! his little arms ware too short. ITieonscious of the mischief it was causing, the peerless creature preened its snowy plumage under the radiant blue. And now the child steps, the better to reach it, the low rail; holding on with one hand he stretches out his arm, when suddenly tho pigeon spreads its w ings and flies off, unconcernedly. The child sways on his insecure perch; hoth hands are now on the rail but there is no purchase for tin* little feet; the Colonel’s breath comes in hissing gasps, the women are kneeling, all except the mother, who stands like a statue in stone, rigid, silent. A peacock screams by the lake, nothing else breaks the deathlike stillness, unless it is a low moan fiom the butler, who, with chattering teeth, is huddled in tho midst of his broken tea cups. Then tho child slips and falls downwards.

A mist swims before tho eyes of the watchers. Mrs Knsor sinks like a log on the terrace , and Sir Geoffrey catching her as she falls, lays her gently dow n in merciful unconsciousness. Hut the child is still there; with his little hands he is clinging on to the rail, hanging now as a man hangs from a trapeze. ‘Ah’’ —tho father grips Sir Gooflery’s arm in a vice and points upwards. With naked feet young Hallam is rapidly nearing the little hov; he is walking backwards down the sloping roof.

Just above the row of attic windows runs a little stone ledge ; it is almost the height of a man above tho balcony. Hallam reaches it, sits on it, aud then lowers himself backwards, supporting himself on the stone ledge only by the knees. Head downwards he hangs, and immediately his strong hands close round the strained arms of the child ; slow ly, with bursting veins and cracking tendons, he draws the child’s body up into his arms, and then, once—twice—tries to raise himself to the stone ledge. Thero is white foam tinged with blood on tho Colonel’s lips, Mrs Knsor still half swooning, opens her eyes, and Sir Geoffery promptly covers them with his hands; great silent tears are streaming down the faces of tho other two ladies, the Vicar’s wife is praying aloud. Young Hallam makes a third attempt and succeeds, with the child in his left arm he cautiously makes his way up over the roof again, and in a few

minutes presents himsef on the terrace and sets Lionel, now beginning to cry, on his feet.

The child runs to his mother, and there is a scene of confusion and tears. Afterwards no one could remember what happened until suddenly the Colonel was seen holding young Hallam’s two hands in hi 9 own. The young fellow stood looking supremely ashamed and embarrassed —his feet were hare, and his tennis shirt soaked with perspiration, one of the sleeves was torn and a tiny stream of blood, from a scratch on his arm, was dripping slowly on to the w hite stone floor. The Colonel’s face was red and white in patches, and his voice was husky : ‘ It was a gallant deed, sir, a gallant ( | PP d—and 1 said you would not be up to the scratch ; forgive! I was a prejudiced brute, sir ; (rod bless you ! God bless you!’ At length Hallam managed to make good his escape in the direction of the bathrooms. When he caino down again lie found the party having tea at last, on the law n under a tree and out of sight of the terrace and the gabled end of the house. With the self-control of the well-educated, Mrs Ensor was making tea and the Colonel was handing the cups—albeit with a trembling hand— Lionel was munching cake on the grass, and the first cousin to Lord Stafforde strolled down from the library whither lie had taken refuge from the youth of bad form, and had apparently beguiled his solitude with more whisky and soda. Mrs Ensor gave Hallam some tea with a little tremulous smile; she was a woman of perfect taste, and made no reference to the event that was in every one’s mind ; hut the visitors very shortly took their leave, and left the shaken parents alone w ith their little one. The following day Mrs Ensor called on Mrs Hallam, and in the evening Edward went to see the Colonel at his particular request. * I should be a fool to try and thank you, sir,’ said that gentleman, in the interview that followed, ‘ hut do i rightly understand that your father is dead 4 He died when I was an infant,’ said young Hallam, simply. ‘Ah, and left you nothing, I fear,’ said the Colonel.

The boy’s eyes shone proudly :

4 Sir! he left mo the stainless honour of his name.”

4 Er, yes, of course. Will you mind telling me why you don’t drink anything or smoke ?’

‘ My mother doesn’t wish it,’ was the answer.

‘Gracious!’ said the Colonel, hoys of your age generally please themselves. 4 1 guess, sir,’ Edward said, 4 it depends on the sort of mother they’ve got.’ The Colonel was silent a moment, then ho said abruptly : 4 1 congratulate you on yours.' The hoy’s face Hushed, and a tender smile played round the young mouth. 4 1 hear,’ continued the Colonel, ‘that you aren’t keen on hanking, and would like to be a doctor like your father.’ The light faded from Edward’s face—--4 It is out of the question, sir,’ he said quietly. 4 Er, well, Mrs Ensor and I would like to give you the chance.’

‘lf you think, Colonel Ensor, that I want to be paid—for—for yesterday ; that I would accept—’

‘Good heavens! No!’ roared the Colonel. 4 1 >on’t he such a consummate ass, boy; Mrs Ensor and I have a profound respect for your mother. It seems it is her dearest wish for you to follow your father’s profession, a profession I may say, which—next to the service—l have the highest admiration for. You could do a lot of good, spread your temperance notions, \e., and my wife and I have means, ample means. It is churlish, my lad, to refuse. If—er—even if yesterday had not happened, I know of no voung fellow I should like to give a helping hand to, so much as yourself. Your mother did not say no; but 1 gather she has that noble pride which strangles mere petty pride out of existence.’

They were generous words, tactfully chosen, and with a white fac e and eyes that resolutely blinked back the tears, Edward spoke his broken thauks. Some weeks after, young Hallam was dining at the Knsors, after an evening at tennis.

4 Where shall you take out your lecturesasked SirGeoffery Throckmorton, who was also of the party.

4 At Edinburgh, whore my father qualified,’ was the eager answer, with a

look of joyful gratitude in the direction of his host. 4 And you really think that teetotalism helped you in that recent extraordinary gymnastic feat of you: V 4 Well,’ said the boy, modestly, 4 not alone, perhaps, 1 am ke n on my work in the Gym.; but Ido think a fellow’s muscles must be stronger and his nerves steadier without constant doses of alcohol and nicotine.’ 4 And his brain cle arer,’ grumbled the Colonel. The first cousin of 1 ord Stafforde was his ward, and he had just failed a second time in his Army Exam. 4 Yes, and his brain clearer, I think, naid Edward. 4 My mother used to show me when I was’ quite a little boy, that iny c ress seeds wouldn t grow, and my tadpoles died, if I put alcohol in tho water; and she used to make little drawings to show me how it injured the nerves and brain cells.’ 4 but how did she know all these things ?’ asked Sir (reofiery. 4 (>h, she is a member of a Society called “The l’ritish Women’s Temperance Association ”.’ Colonel Ensor rose. 4 Gentlemen,’ he said, ‘to the health of Mrs Hallam; and if you don’t mind, we will drink it in water.’ Mrs Ensor looked at Edward when the toast had been drunk : 4 1 want you to tell your mother from me,’ she said, smilingly, 4 that Lionel is going to be brought up a teetotaller.