THE MOCKER.

White Ribbon, Volume 36, Issue 432, 18 July 1931, Page 2

THE MOCKER.

CHAPTER VIII - Continued. Neither brother nor sister moved until the echo of Anne’s determinedly departing footsteps died away, and then Ralph turned and faced his sister. Something in her sad, j>ale fuce stirred him to a sudden impulse, and he came across to her. Putting his hund on her shoulder, he said, "She’s right, Phyl. I'm a damned waster, hut if you’ll stand by me. I'll take a pull. I’ve boozed bemuse I liked it. and thought it smart, but last night has put the stopper on. I know I can do without booze, but, Phyl. Billy can’t. I must speak, even If I hurt you, dear,” as Phyllis moved restlessly'. “Look! Olive Billy up, Phyl. He is not good enough for you. I would not say it if I was not sure. I’ve knocked about with him a good deal, and he is one of the best if he keeps off the booze, but, Phyl, the Mocker has got him fast, and will never let go. Give him up, or you will ruin your life.’’ Phyllis looked up, her eyes full of tears, and shook her head.

“Ralph, I’ve given my promise. Billy w ill keep straight for me. I’m sure.’’ “I know he is mad on >'ou, hut, believe me, your influence over him is not as great as the Mocker's, and you will And it out if you marry him. However, you know what you think it right to do, and I must not interfere any more. I just felt I had to warn you. Well, I must be off. Anything you want in town?" he asked as he went to the door. “No, thanks. I’m going to meet mother, and can get all I want then.” she answered, following him into the hall. She went with him to the front door, and drearily watched him down the drive. As she turned indoors again, a strange depression settled on her —a strong premonition of coming evil, which, strive as she might, she could not succeed in throwing off. CHAPTER IX. True to her word, the Waddler arrived at lunch time with Joan and John Chilton seated beside her in the car. She lifted Joan carefully out and carried her into the warm, cheerful diningroom. where Phyllis and Mrs Moore were awaiting them. Anne placed her burden down upon the cushioned win-dow-seat in the warm sunshine. She then took off the children’s hats and coats, saying: “There now, nippers, I have done my duty by you. It’s great to see you home again, Mother Moore. I’ll be ready for lunch in two hits,’’ and she vanished lat broom-wards.

Phyllis sat down by Joan and took her hand, while, with her other arm. she drew John close to her. Both children started to talk at once, expressing their pleasure at having Phyllis ail to themselves for a few hours. Joan, however, soon t>ecame listless, and seemed heavy and drow’sy. At intervals she was shaken with a harsh, tearing cough, and when they sat down to

lunch, she took a mouthful or two of food, and then pushed her plate away. “Oh! come on, Joan! Eat up, chicken!” Anne urged her. “Joan t’ant, nurse, fank you. Make Joan sick. Want a d’ink of water, p’ease.” "Poor Joan wus sick at breakfast this morning,” said John, in his sedate way. Anne looked grave, but merely said, “Never mind, John. Eat your lunch. Joan will soon be better.” Immediately after lunch, Anne beckoned Mrs Moore into the hall by a slight, backward nod of her head. “Now’, mother,” she said quickly, “I don’t want to frighten you, but you must watch wee Joan carefully, and don’t take her out of the warm room.” “What ttlmut her afternoon nap?" inquired Mrs Moore. “Would it be alright to put her in Phyl’s room if I have a fire lit there and warm the air thoroughly first? No need to alarm Phyl unnecessarily, und I can Just say the room wus chilly.” “Alright,” answered the Waddler, taking up her gloves and bag. “If you think she Is getting any worse, ring the doctor at once, and he can get her idiot of a mother if he thinks it necessary.” Anne departed for her afternoon’s work, and Mrs Moore gave orders straight away for a Are to be lighted in her daughter's isniroom. Returning to the dining-room, she found Phyllis and her two small guests deeply engrossed in a game of “ludo.”

Presently Mrs Moore suggested to Phyllis that she should take Joan up for her sleep, explaining that she had had the room warmed. “hhe will be better for forty winks, Phyl,” she finished. “She looks very weary.*’ So Phyllis picked Joan up in her arms and carried her upstairs to the bedroom. Tucking her comfortably up on the small bed, which was always ready in her room for Joan’s visits, Phyllis said "Now’, have a good sleep, dear, and thei Phillimore will come and dress you, and we will have a good game before teatime.’’ (To be Continued.)