Those Lucky Pullens

Auckland Star, Volume LX, Issue 226, 24 September 1929, Page 21

Those Lucky Pullens

1 By MALCOLM DUART

THE STORY SO FAR

Mr. and Mrs. Fred Pullen in San Francisco buy a Chinese lacquered chest, and later sell it to two Chinamen. Mysterious and costly gifts begin to come to the house from an unknown friend. Mrs. Pullen is "cut" by her neighbours because of stories spread by M'.'s. Hamilton, a neighbourhood gossip, concerning these gifts. A young lawyer named Parks, mistaking the stories for truth, tries to compel Mrs. Pullen to make him her attorney, and is thrashed by Pullen. Mrs. Pullen, innocently romantic, always is interfering in the heart affairs of her pretty daughter, Julia, who likes Sam Carlile, a neighbour youth. As the last chapter ends, Mrs. Hamilton comes to the door to say, vengefully, that she "has a lawyer now." She has in her gossip connected the guileless Mrs. Pullen with a certain fat masher visiting in San Francisco. CHAPTER LII. Two days after Mrs. Hamilton's unexpected call, the lots next to her home became the property of the Pullens. On the same day a great heap of apparatus for the digging of cellars made its appearance en the property, dumped there by the contractor's wagons. Two brisk young men also came with surveying instruments, and drove stakes at various points. Mrs. Pullen, attired in her caracul coat, was on the scene early and watched the young men with absorbed interest. The house where Mrs. Hamilton dwelt was, on the left, and she glanced selfconsciously at the closely drawn blinds from time to time.

"Have you seen anybody in that house there?" she asked one of the surveyors at last.

"Nobody but some old dame," he answered. "She asked me who -was going to build here, and I told her it was a family named Bullet or Pullet, or something like that. Then she let out a funny squawk and told me I was crazy. Haven't seen her since."

"The name," said Mrs. Pullen, "is 'Pullen.' P-u-1-l-e-n. That's my name. It's my husband who bought this, and he's building the house for me. Are you the gentlemen who are going to do the work ?" "No work except to lay it out," said he, leaning on his tripod. "We mark where the house and the driveway and the garage are to go, and then we're through." His eye caught the flutter of garments in the next y-rd, and he turned to look. "There's the dame who talked to us now," he volunteered. Mrs. Pullen did not move her head, but her eyes darted to the left for a fleeting instant. She glimpsed Mrs. Hamilton coming toward her. The only sign that Mrs. Pullen gave of this discovery was a lifting of her chin as she gazed steadily at the young man.

"My daughter is to have, a lovely suite upstairs," she remarked loudly, as Mrs. Hamilton's footsteps drew nearer. "It's to be a very expensive house. We will have a special room for the piano."

''That'll be nice," said'-the surveyor, politely.

"Yes, and there'll be an electric stove and a fruit closet and five bathrooms."

Mrs. Hamilton was passing in the rear, and at this moment she said "Hum!'

"It's too bad that the neighbourhood is so run down," said Mrs. : Pullen instantly.

Her enemy halted and herself addressed the young man across Mrs. Pulleirs shoulder.

"It is very hard to keep disreputable people from moving into nice neighbourhoods," said she, with heavy emphasis. Mrs. Pullen was still searching for a retort when the other woman, with a triumphant swing of her skirt, proceeded on her way.

The youthful surveyor winked at his companion and resumed operations with his transit.

When Sam Carlile descended from his small runabout half an hour later, Mrs. Pullen still was on the sidewalk, and bristling over the late encounter. She seized Carlile firmly by the arm and related in full the story of Mrs. Hamilton's approach, the ensuing conversation and its concluding defeat of Mrs. Pullen. "I simply couldn't think of a thing to say," she told him. "At least, nothing to show how small I think she is." Sam extended his regrets. "But I'll have to be around here a good deal from now on. If I see her, I'll make faces. How's that?" . Mrs. Pullen considered this offer seriously, but in the end rejected it. "That woman would go out and tell stories about you," she said. Sam laughed. "I was kidding," he told her. "But listen—here's some news. I just got word that Mrs. Hamilton's husband has raised the wind some way. He's paid the interest on his mortgage and got it renewed for another five years." Her face clouded for a moment, but presently she smiled. "Then she'll stay in her house?" she asked. *. "Looks that way," said he. "So she'll get to see our house built and us living in it," said Mrs. Pullen with deep satisfaction. "Sam, she'll almost expire." Greatly cheered she bade him goodbye, and trotted away with dimples showing in her plump, rosy cheeks. Two other women of her acquaintance passed her on the way. Each in turn stared at her blankly. So potent was the effect of Sam's news regarding Mrs. Hamilton, however, that she swept by them with ia genuine smile curving the corners of her lips, and for the benefit of the second one she even hummed a little air. _ Her state of good cheer persisted until the moment that she reached her own dooryard. Then she halted, her lips half-open. Terror dawned in her eyes. Her hands rose and the fingers worked convulsively. The fat man—the source of .so many of her woes—was sitting on the porch railing, chewing a cigar. "Been waiting for you an hour," he said without preliminary.

Mrs. Pullen remained gaping at him, too charged with panic to move or speak.

After a brief delay, in which he obviously expected her to join him on the porch, he came heavily down the steps. "Did you or your husband send a lawyer to see me?" he demanded.

She shook her head, frightened eyes fixed upon him.

"Ever hear of this fellow?" He ex tended a card.

With some difficulty she shifted her gaze and looked at the slip of pasteboard. On it was the name of young Mr. Parks, with the legend: "Attorney and Counsellor at Law." Also, written in pencil below the name, was a brief line: "To see you in connection with Mrs.- Pullen." ■ •'

"Did you send him?" persisted the fat man. "No," she managed to say. "Do you know him?" "He —he's been to our house." Her throat was acting curiously, and she found it hard to talk. "My husband— he hit him," she added. "Oh!" The fat man tucked the card back in his pocket. "Guess you're telling the truth," he said. With this he turned his back and strolled across the street to a long grey car that sto:U there, its top up and its rain curtains in place. Mrs. Pullen revolved and watched him dumbly as he climbed into the driver's seat and drove away. As the grey car turned the corner, she caught sight of another figure, quite as familiar as that of the fat man. It was Mrs. Hamilton, standing by a neighbouring gate post, observing her with cold hostility. Mrs. Pullen ran up the steps, and after two or three nervous failures to find the keyhole, she opened the door and threw herself headlong upon the couch, leaving the door ajar behind her. Fifteen minutes passed. A chill wind from the street was stirring her skirts, and it was this that finally brought her to her feet.

"She saw me! She saw him!" she repeated, over and over, as she closed the door and slowly took off her coat and hat.

Julia came home before her father that evening. Sam Carlile strolled with her as far as the steps and stood talking a few minutes while Mrs. Pullen watched through the curtain. When he departed and the girl came to the door, Mrs. Pullen cast herself upon her daughter's bosom and burst into moist weeping, her head upon Julia's shoulder.

When the storm of tears had passed she told of her adventures, stopping to sob for a little time as she reached the episode of the fat man.

"And now she's seen me talking with him, right in front of our house!" she concluded, with a gulp.

The girl had led her to the couch and was sitting with her arm over the older woman's shoulders.

"Let's not talk about it any more," she urged. "It's just one of those awful things that keep turning up. But, mama, I've got a wonderful surprise for you."

She dipped her free hand into the bosom of her dress and drew forth a stiff envelope.

"Mr. Murty sent it," said she. "What's inside?" asked Mrs. Pullen, eyeing the white container doubtfully.

Julia drew out a document, blue and with official-looking type printed upon its back.

"It's the mortgage on Mrs. Hamilton's house," she said. "It belongs to you and papa."

"But how?" cried the amazed Mrs. Pullen.

"It belonged to a client of Mr. Murty's," the girl said. "To-night he called mo in—Mr. Murty did—and gave me this. It's a gift from an unknown friend."

The mother drew her arm tenderly around the girl's neck. "I can see it all," she said. "That's from Mr. Murty himself. Julia, has he asked you to marry him 1"

(To be continued daily.)