JOHNSTON'S JOKE.

Pukekohe & Waiuku Times, Volume 5, Issue 135, 21 January 1916, Page 2 (Supplement)

JOHNSTON'S JOKE.

vj A Complete Shoit Wory.

8 (Copyright.) C

Lingard was .scarcely a popular person in the.big City office: he was considered dull, reserved, and too much wrapped up in his own concerns. Old Stick-in-t he-Mud was what the juniors irreverently called the head clerk, who for .so many long grey years had joggod on in a monotonous groove, giving perfect satisfaction to Ins employers, receiving due recognition of the fact in the way of an occasionally-raised salary, but otherwise leading a thoroughly humdrum existence. Not for him were half-days at race meetings or matinees at theatres; not for him were the joyous amusements of youth ; he had grown old before hi.s time, for only thirty-three years had roiled over his head-but John Lingard belonged to the type of man who seems never to have been really young. Responsibility had early in life cast its shadow upon him, he had had to think of others, to save for others, to work hi, lingers to the bone always for others. And no piece of good fortune had ever come hi.s way—he supposed it never would. and ho had given up dreaming about such things now. He had sternly put away all thoughts of love, marriage, a real home of bis own. Such things were not for him. In the old day« when she first came into hi.s life—the only woman who had ever touched his heart—every available penny of his slender salary had to igo to .support an invalid mother. So opportunity slipped from his reach : lie lost sight of the women he loved, he had to let her go in silence —ho could not, would not speak the words that might have bound her to him and kept her to a long, hopeless engagement. And now —hi.s mother was dead—his salary would warrant his setting up a home, but he could never bo content with the second-best. There could be no one else. So he jogged on. lonely, unloved, leading just that humdrum, grey life that falls to the lot of many a man. His only amusement indeed was - saving money; it was satisfactory to glance over his savings-bank book and see how the nest-egg was accumulating. One of these days he would be able to invest the money in isome good secur-ity—-he found himself studying the financial papers and taking an added interest in the fluctuations of the money market; and was it any wonder that the junior clerks looked upon the silent, prematurely-aged man as a thoroughly dull, stick-in-the-mud old follow-:-"He gets worse," .said one of them with a laugh as they swung out of the office and turned towards their favourite lunching-place. " Poor old Lingard. I wonder will he ever get sick of it all and break looser" "He wants waking up." said one of the others, a youth with a penchant for pract : cal jokes: "1 don't see why we shouldn't do it. I'm .game for a lark. ' "What! at old Stick-in-the-Mud's expense? Done! So am I. Out with your brilliant idea, Johnston." There w;us a good deal of talk and laughter over the luncheon - table, where the three junior clerks of Messrs Manson and Hastings sat that day, while in blissful ignorance of their schemes and plots, John Lingard pored over a heavy ledger and dismissed resolutely from his mind all those insidious memories called up from their graves by the magic of sunshine and light winds. It was the next morning that the letter came. He found it beside his p'ate on the small breakfast-table where fried ham and eggs, and a brown pot of tea awaited his attention : it was the only letter the post had brought him. and even that one letter was a rarity, he bad so few correspondents beyond business ones, and those people naturally addressed him at the office. But this typewritten missive was different. Outside the April sun was shining; a shower h'ad fallen, and roofs and pavements were gloaming wet, gilded here and there by the sunlight. There was magic in the typewritten letter, too I Magic that sent the hot blood to I.ingard's thin face that made the hands that held the one sheet shake oddly. | The paper was headed by the printed name of a firm of solicitors in a South of England town—John Lingard knew the name, knew them to be an oldestablished firm of famly lawyers of excellent reputation. And th's is what the firm had to say to him : Dear Sir,—We shall esteem it a iavour if you will call upon u> at your earliest convenience, when we shall have something to impart to you which is very much to your advantage. You are. of course, aware of the death of your kinsman, Ambrose Lingard, of New South Wales, for whom we acted for many years. Trusting to be favoured with an early call.—Your.s faithfully. Trentham and Garland. Solicitors.' ! John Lingard gasped as he read this amazing letter through again. Something to his advantage! Something to do with the death of his kinsman, Ambrose Lingard' What could that mean hut—a legacy! He had never met Ambrose I. ngard. He had seen hi.s death mentioned in the papers; he knew nothing about his affairs. Was it possible that the dead man had remembered him and left him something substantial? He could attach nothing else to tlrastounding letter. W, !|, | lt ,',| jr,, t :l j day off from work and go as fa.>t as the ouicko.st tram cou'd take him. and L r et tha Hiti iview over. It must be -jonie- J tiling good. | There was some exeu -e for hi- dream- ; iji.'.t morning as he hurried to work : ] tin IV was some eXei: e f,.r the liditlli ss "I b s >t,-p. the cheerfull •>. I, , j pleasant eyes as he walked into lhe ! "iiiee W lib the consciousness el the i fateful letter |\ n- in b- breast pocket. I Three pans of ey, , W at !ed his ~n . I trallci . three faces wi re raised ,rom ! ledger-, three voice-, responded with ' a-inni-siinicni to his chc"rful!y-spnkc!i I good morning. Then the chief clerk : van -bed into the inner -ami H here j lhe senior partner abode, to emerge ■ I' ■■•■ eiiMy. radiant and hurried. " I've -nt the (lav oil," was the new . | he eolunt.vr.d. "Mr Hastinc Ulllj |,| be -lad to s.o you „, om-e .Mi-Mon i I La I be back io-morrow o. (he next I da\ ,i>r certain." And i If he went, his departure w.il ' . f cd with slup,-i| ■;■,■!! I,» lhe ti,,-. ~ ,'HMiors. i ■■ i think it's -one a bit 'oo 'ar." j murmured one ol them as Johnston i vanished into the inner oilico ami .hui the door heh'nd h hi: "too bad t.i let : the poor obi chap ;-,, off like that on a ' wild-goose chase." "Pit.V to - I see|, a goo.l eke. mv '' ib ar chap. Wasn't t «,.'! done- And j didn't he fall into the trap: lie I :>; i' Visions ol legacies. I suppose. |i,;| you kit"", in anv i-a e the dav in the conn i "■> "ill do hllll land. He sticks too I >»"i'h to b■- d.-K. All the same, I j d'>ll't envy h ill when be inierview - John.ion's uncle, übo, Irom all nc- ; count*., is a fartni, and thinks tiotlum' ! < f kicking fcdlow - out ol lhe ~tf; . e"

The Mm slump spiendidly on an azui'i sea : little waves crept up and broke with ii gentle music against hi" pebble; and rugged rocks: seagulls ro>e and fill with idly-posed wings, like pieces of blown paper. All this John I,inward saw a.s tin' train crept into the quiet station. The reason was not yot come when every train disgorged its hundreds of tourists and visitors—when every house in the seaside town was tilled with pleasure-seekers. The place was sleepy and quiet on this April day. There were some handsome buildings in the principal street, and towards one ' of them—the office* ol Messrs. Trentlmin and Garland—John Lingard eagerly took his way. Later on, when he had heard of hi> good fortune, he could enjoy the delicious sea air. Good fortune was coming his way at last—a fortune from such an unexpected quarter! And here he was at lis destination. A large and bright hi'as> plate announced that Messrs, Treutham and Garland dwelt within these handsome grey walls, liebind those large plate-glass windows. He entered, to be ushered into the quiet hush of a palatial office. His feet sank into soundproof carpets. Everything was on the same »cale-quiet-vo :vd clerks, handsome furniture, an air of rich well-being. Family solicitor was written all over the person of the elderly gentleman who presently received him in the inner office, where the thickest of Turkey carpets, beautiful mahogany furniture, a bright wood fire, and flowers on the high man-tel-shelf, gave the finishing touch to the air of opulence that bung about the whole place. "Mr. —er —Lingard?" said the greyhaired gentleman, with a note of interest in his voice. His keen grey eyes were fixed on the visitor's lace inquiringly. "What can 1 do for you-" "I am a cousin—a distant one, to be sari —of Mr. Ambrose Lingard, who I understand to have been a client of yours," said Lingard. "That is so—he died some months ago. Wo have just wound up his very small estate.'' Lingard'fi hopes fell suddenly Hat. I, " Very small estate |" "And I called to-day in answer to your letter, ' he said. "Our letter:-" "Yes. Here it is. it only reached me this morning." He took the latter From his breastpocket and handed it to the lawyer, who read it slowly through, then turned back and studied it again with an odd intentness. He looked up at John Lingard with a piercing glance. "Tins letter, Mr. Lingard, is certainly written on our paper, but not ill our office. Our typist uses a black ribbon invariably—and another machine. In short, this letter is, I regret to say. n forgery: it did not come from this office at all." "A forgery? But—but I can't understand it." Lingnrd's voice was full of d'smay. "Someone must U 1 playing a silly hoax upon you. Mr. Lingard. 1 assure you that we know nothing whatever of the matter. 1 will interrogate our staff to make sure; and I should like to consult my partner also, if you will excuse me for a moment. J am sorry if this is a disappointment to you, but I fear you will find it is simply what some people would, I suppose, eall a joke." He vanished from the quiet office. John Lingard could hear his voice in another room. He stood there like one turned to stone, seeing all those diva mcastles of his fading into grey ashes. A joke! A senseless, cruel hoax that someone bad deliberately planned. There was nothing to his advantage to he learned; no one had left him a legacy. The grey, humdrum life was just to go on as usual: no wonderful happening was to lift him out of the rut into which he had fallen. Tt was a bitter disappointment. What a fool he was! How easily he was taken in '. How easily he swallowed the bait held out to him. He turned to find the lawyer standing beside him. "It is as 1 thought. Mr. L : ngard. We know nothing of this matter. 1 am exceedingly sorry that you should have been victimized in this manner. What puzzles me greatly is the fact that whoever did it deliberately obtained a sheet of our note-paper. May f ask where you come from!-" That was easily told, but when the lawyer heard that Lingard was head clerk in the linn of Manson and Hastings he uttered a stifled exclamation. "Then I think I can hazard a goes. at the truth." he said, his face growing dark. "Is there not a young fellow named Johnston in your office?" "Yes. there is—one of the junior clerks." "Exactly—and my godson. He did it. tie might so easily have got some of our paper. ft is not the first socalled joke he has carried out. Are you on friendly terms with him?" "Oh, qu'tc!" said poor Lingard. ruefully. "Hut—l'm afraid I don't make friends much with any of the younger men. I've no time for amusement. They think ;:;e dull—stodgy. 1 don't wonder." "1 see—l see: the young find it hard to appreciate real worth. They can only appreciate a perverted sense of humour. I repeat I am extremely - >rry, Mr. Lingard. 1 take it that you were looking forward to finding something to your advantage'-" L : ngard laughed rather drearily. "Yes, I was fool enough to hope lor something. I've met u th lilt!,, siillsh ne mi far. and tic- >( ennod like a rav Oi light." " Ye., y, - of eour-e. Sit down for a iiii'im nt, Mr. Lingard. There i- something in your face- in your voice ei" "iallv that s !r k, , some e] m ,d ol lie loon with n me. Is it possible that «e ba\ i' mot bi'f'i re -" "Xo not r-o far as I know . sir. It * a: any rate, my tir-t visit to tirtoWll." "Ah ' Strang.- and vet I fee! a> if I kiii « you somehow, There is .son.,- : thing about y.nir eyes, wuir nianix r. \oiir voire well, there are main •■'.an: •■ iv-embiance,. and no doubt this ■ : > one ol them, hu vou go back to I' '.hi to-dav'-" "Yes. I think 1 mum nyt a blow of -■i air lir-t, though. The place looks iiiarv.'lloieK attra-tive to one a.-ens- : totued to the grevne-s of the C iv vear ! in and \ "ut." "It uoii'il. It i> an attractive placi . and a rising one. There are some interesting things tii b" seen if vou can I i' am-ii nt buildings and historical monuments, Mr. Lingard. Perhaps ii; • 1 ttle guide-hook would be of ini 'i'est in you.'' The lawyer opened a drawer and pulled from ii : , litfl,. green-covon-d hook. As 1„. dill so Ins elbow d'-hxlg-•d from the writing-table a -mall oval •a I her ease, h slipped l" the ground, md I. nganl bent forward and picked t up : a- he did so some spi ing nn, .\ ave be 'ii ton, lied, lor the ca.se Hew 'pen and rev aled a .1

miniature of a smiling girlish fare, with -o't blue eyes, curling hair, a frock of white muslin falling off slim, white shoulders. John Lingard stared at it tor a moment amazed, confounded, while the dear familiar face smiled back at him. " Mother!" lie muttered, The lawyer looked up. "Ehr What's that:-" he,-aid. sharp. ly. "Tii s." said Lingard. "is the portrait of my mother. How comes it to be in your possession, .sir!-" The lawyer dropped the little greencovered hook. He stared at Lingard for a moment in silouce. then he drew a long breath. "You!- mother:-" he echoed. "Then -that'-; where I saw the resemblance! ! Her manner, her voice, her very eyes '. Good Heaven —her son ! But —you say your name's Lingard. I always understood that—she married a man named Mason-" "So she did, sir. My father took I the name of Lingard some years later when he came into a small fortune, wh'ch he lost. Speculated on the Stock Exchange and lost practicallv the whole thing. The shock helped to kill him.'' ' Vnd your mother?" "Died lour years ago. I am her only child. And —you knew her well, sir?" "Knew her Well? 1 loved her' She was the only woman I ever cared for—but your father stopped in first. I've often wished to find her son. and now chance, or fate, or whatever you like to call that plot of my godson's, has hi ought you to me. He little knew that there would he something to your advantage in coming here. John Lingard. I'm not going to lose sight of you again. Will you dine with me tonight? There are many things 1 want to hear, many things 1 want to say to I you." " Hut— my clothes, sir." said Lin- ! gnrd, hesitatingly. "They don't matter. We live simply. I Just 1 and my widowed sister and her i hero at six o'clock and we'll go home together. Will you do this? How like your mother you arc! Well, well!" "I shall be'delighted, sir," said Lingard. and went out of the office wondering if this was the same world in which he had puisued his grey, monotonous i career. i Xow —how changed things were! Something had happened indeed! i The room was delightfully scented j with spring flowers, great bowls of nar- ' c : ssi and pa'o daffodils stood on tables I and high mantelshelf, and on a broad j lodge in one of the windows a row of j delicate pink and white cyclamen and I freesias in pots gave out their elusive i perfume. A bright wood fire leaped on a rose-tiled hearth. Linguard was consi ions of an impression of exquisite col. ! ouring. of .softly-coloured pictures and | china, of a carpet like roseleaves, and I a view from the wide windows of the I amethyst sea. | The room was empty, i "My sister will be down shortly." said Mr. Trentham, briskly: "make ! yourself at home, my dear fellow. There i are books and papers on that table in ! the window." The door shut. John Lingard walked j over to the window and stood there ! looking out on the exquisite view, hard.' j ly seeing it. so deep were his thoughts, i What a lot he had to think about! I What a lot Mr. Trentham had said to | him during their leisurely walk up j from the office. And what wonderful i things can spring from a very small | cause! If young Johnston had not I played that joke on him ! If—if—he bad not been taken in by it ! [ And .supposing The door opening made him turn i round. He stood for a moment, turned I to stone, staring almost aghast at the j girl who had just come in. A girl with I tender brown eyes and pretty waving j hair. She was dressed in grey: a little I chain of perl and amethyst was slung j round her white throat. And at sight of liitn a warm colour suddenly flew to her face. I " You ?" tsho cried. He sprang forward. In an instant | her hands" were in his. ] "You!" he cried, in a shaking voice. I"I can't behevc it. I must lie going ■ mad! Too much has happened in one ! day . What are you doing here?" j Margaret Chester laughed. "I am living here. Do you know you ] are hurting my hands?" "I'm sorry. ] didn't know— I—it's ! such a surprise to see you here of a'l places—and to-day of all days." "And what Firings you here? I am ' just as much amazed to see you." "I'm only dining here. You say you I live here:-" "Yes. I am governess to Mr. Trentham's little niece." "You a gotorness! Margaret—what on earth does that mean-" j She laughed. It was not a very | mirthful sound. "Simply what T say. I had to do something. I couldn't dig or beg, so I I looked for work. I was fortunate i enough to get thi.s nice post. You I see. there were misfortunes. Father j died abroad—everything was found to I be m a terrible muddle, and. to make I a long story short, 1 had to fend for '■ But I thought—T believed vou mar- " Xo —perhaps you heard of Cicely's ■ marriage—my sister—she is in India. ' and is very happy, 1 am glad to say. i And now tell me of yourself." I "There is little to tell—and yet so ! much. It's such a wonderful story, ■ Chance sent in, here to find you. and Tiie door opened, and Mr. Trentham I caim ill lolhtwuif; a charming woman ill j blai k with soft, .silvery hair. yet a vouug face, with sparkling dark eves. " M\ sister. Mis W gram Mr. Lingard. You've made acquaintance, I s ,-. with Mis.s Chester." .Mi-.. Chester and I are old friend*, -:r. It was the iii"st pleasant surprise in the wo; hi (o me to find her here." ■ Is thai -'i. indeed ?" Mr. Trentham darted a shrewd glance then at the blu-hin ' face of Margaret Chester, and die h ■ own conclusion.-.. "Thai i-de-IVht.'ul : it - indeed a da\ '.I happenin--: ih. my boy'- And now-- let u- go in to dinner." Thai »:i. the p!ea.s;inte>t evening Lingard had spetii for many a year. It was o\er the port and fruit when the 1 i la- had gone that he let s|j p his hopes for the future those hopes so n i_ terly bound up in Margaret. ■■ I cared for her long ago. I was too po ir to a-k her to wait for me there were no prospects beyond a long and I ■.'• 'i' -on:., engagement: it wasn't playin:.' the game. Hut now- now I haven't much ndeed In offer her. but I can give her a modest home and ' Perhaps ..omothng more than that in ike future.' -.aid Mr. Trentham. " I have plan, plans with which you will, 1 trust, agree. I'm getting old, mv puttier is even older than 1 am. We ! w in: a man w... ,an depend upon

man of experience, youth, and yet some ambition. I believe I have found that man in—you." "Mr. Trentham!" gasped Lingard. "But we will talk of that later. Let u- go bae kto the ladies. You must come down to us for the week-end. I shall look forward to that. And you can tell that young rascal of a godson of mine that he never d d me such a good turn a* when he sent you on what he fondly believed wa.s a wild noose chase! I think.] bear Mi>„ Che.-U-r at the piano—let us go.'' Late that night Mr-. Wigram came into her brother',, study : he «a> sitting theiie alone, looking at a miniature that novor left him- framed in a small oval < ;im>. He rose to h> feet and shut It uii u itli a click. " Vou want something. Eniil\ -" "Only to s :l> good-night, Tiim, and i" say t bat I fear that nice young man "i yours is going to take Margaret Chester from us. Duh't you notice anvtlung '?" Mr. Trentham laughed. " I know ail about it - and \ou arc i|iiite right in your Mirni so. nt,\ dear. What I say is, 'Happy the wooing that's not long a-doing." This has been a wonderful day. Knitly— most wonderful of all for bun. 1 lam y. \\Y mustn't grudge them their happiness." N'or did they. Things settled themselves in a manner that seemed little ■short ol miraculous in the man who t 11 then bad been under fortune's trow , He found himself installed in the firm ol Trentham and Garland, coupled with a pretty little house fronting the s,. n a house to which he could take Maigaret, giving her a home no woman need ilcspi.se. Kvon thing shone 'conleur tie ivs,.' before him, and n<- one wa-. more astounded than young Johnston when bis band was waimlv wnni" and he heard Lingard. Stit k'-'n-the-Mu 1. yet marvellously-radiant Lingard, issur ng Jitiii that be would never forget the l'oii.l turn he bad done in setnl u - that hoax ot a letter which bad brouj ut about such marvellous things, It mad,* a good story to toll ami it was ofto'i told, indeed that ston of Ling.tr !'• :i m>il foi tune