OUR STORYETTE.

Pukekohe & Waiuku Times, Volume 8, Issue 443, 21 January 1919, Page 4

OUR STORYETTE.

-——♦ (ixi Riasti Swim.) ' MIR'AM ": SKETCH. Her name waa "Miriam Day." But is her relation always called her 'Mir'am," that came to be recognised is her cognomen. She had thick red hair, with the acompanying complexion—pink and chite, plentifully freckled—a snub lose, large mouth, nondescript eyes, ind lovely teeth. "Mir'am" was born and brought np ti a little Sussex Tillage. She had nev;r been in a train in her life. She jossessed no knowledge of a world be--ond the green, wood-capped hills. On Sundays there was service in a lalf-empty church, where they did rithout this means of grace when artiicial light was necessary because no•>ody thought it worth the expense of lie oil. ' Mir'am" finished her education at :lie advanced age of twelve; and left school with a hazy recollection of the .hree "r's". She sought to justify her existence (being one of ten) immedinely by earning her living as a nnrseoaid. She carried heavy children about, and •otindod her shoulders and stunted her growth. But this was immaterial vlien placed against the solid facts of )ounds, shillings, and pence, in the »timation of her father, a farm labirer, on twelve shillings a week. As '"Mir'am'' grew older, shy be•ame ambitious to enter regular ser•ice. so when Dr. Harkness was in teed of a "general," she tried for and ibtained the situation. Then she developed a taste for cooking, and when heir took left, "Mir'am" succeeded to ler pi-oud position. ' "Mir'am" indulged very little in the •(■creation of ''followers." Nobody ruessed the strong love of which 'Mir'am's" heart, hidden away beteath the folds of a patched print bodice was capable. She didn't guess t herself until the "prince" passed by • the ' prince" in the form of Bill Jones, who, having just served his ime to the army, was loafing round to ind something to do. He was a great mprovement on the bucolic youths: hey always walked as if they were reading on ploughed earth. Ilut Bill lcld himself straight and put his feet lown firmly, not having hern welllrilled and disciplined for nothing. All the girls in the village were mad ifter him, and when he began to 'keep company" with "Mir'am," she •>ecame an object of envy, whereas be:ore, by reason of her dowdmess and jlainness, she was one of contempt. Kill didn't go about with his eyes shut ;,!•% lie must do, the angry maidens t.vorred, to choose "Mir'am"), and ho •ind a keen eye to the main chance. II,• liad done little sums lately on the jack of a greasy envelope with the • lump of an old pencil. Twenty pounds, multiplied by seven Answer: One hundred and forty ■joiinds. Quite a snug sum of money, [•'or "Mir'am" had told him what her ivages were, ajid he knew she had lived with the Harknessos for seven year 6 or more. But she didn't tell him that icarly all her money had always gone to help them at home. This was nliy slip couldn't dress better. Instead, "Mir'am" led Bill to believe that she was of a saving turn of mind, nnd had an account with the Post Office Savings Bank. She didn't stop to think he must find out tho truth some day. She was playing with a high st;ike—to win Bill; so what if she lost her soul in the game when she won him. One summer evening, as they walked home from church through the Sussex lanes. Bill put his arm round •Mir'am's substantial waste. ' Mir'am," he said, "you're a darling !" •0 Bill!" "Mir'am" fluttered, the ! ((1 on her cheek deepening. He squeezed her a little closer, and • he felt ready to die of happiness. 'Let's be spliced—shall we, Mir'am?" he whispered. Then •Mir'am'' said: ,; 0 Bill!'' igain, and looked up at him. her face radiant, almost pretty for once, with he greatness of her joy. How handsome# he was! And to think he loved her, and they were iioing to be married. There wasn't a man in Southian to compare with Bill, .itli his straight, square figure, and closely cropped dark head, and dear little pointed moustache. liill, somehow, had missed his vocation in life. He ought to have been a iK-trlonian, put together by a Bondsu'ei't tailor, lounging the days away in fashionable clubs and West End drawing-rooms. Only instead he was liorn a son of tho soil, with the instincts, though not the opportunity, of a man of wealth and leisure. But when ho got "Mir'am's" fortune within his covetous grasp —I ;Miiam" gave a mouth's notice. "I'm going to be married, please, aia'ani." And tho prepaiation for tho wedding went -aily forward. That is to say, liili hired a tiny cottage, and furnished it with a few rickety chairs and tables, 110 rather wondered that his prospective bride did not come forward to defray sonic of tho current expenses. Then, he lefbcted, it would be a pity for lk-r to wac-te her money, when ho going to have the full enjoyment of spending it in riotous living. So he said nothing. Mir'am's" wedding present from '(••I mist res- was a beautiful «hintz:<i\. ie'l -(.ita and ;i large clock. When hi-'. .<.•(•'e pi. • ",! in the sit''Mg room ■.here >•■' med r.o sp n e for any tiling M l am" Moe.| ju-:. o the doer gazing in admiral ioll. She had tievet dream: ol anything Hi \\ 111 ■ 11 \ . 1 e j iI: Mll a- a elllO'Z covered vif,,. a «... , leu lO'-a't... a 'id - i: i:! ■Mn'.i'iT ».i- ma 11 !••• 1 ill a brown < ' 1 ' .. I, I, • t ■ mm, .1 will, i: : ■ I. - •'.!.• 11... ; and i M il. A r ,:'••• ' I" 1 , b- I '■■.'••• :='• "ii ,i. ime 1 '■ ■ !;•• :• p ■: ler Tii" - v. v |„ a ■ r. d .1 <*r:l.-- Me am ' Tb- 'i. - : !..«• *( „:; I I l - ■ : • >" ! d-s i 1 • 1' ol ' a ! ■ .m -f ' ' ' 1 - '' i- ' : ' j |, ! - , !.! I n-,.> In i i. 'nil-nil n-lie.s >l.ll a m\tii ■ '.I. luc'l Ml

a "present which oompriaed only heraaJl and har beloved, One da? hi cam* home to din** after hi* ÜBiMU indolest queat for wafck, which, had ho found, Im> wouldn't fea»« known what to do-with. He sat do«n to the table with a sullon look on aif face. "Mir'am," he said, "ton attntj broke I Ain't got a Uortadn' atirer Wt It's time we saw the color of yw» chink. You can't arrays be 'ordfing £ up in banks an' places." 'Mir'am" put down the dish tf fOtatoes with a trembling hand. All tihf color left her face. "Why dont you speak, galP" said Bill. '"Bre, give ns 'old of your bankbook." "Ml''—she camo and pot her arm round his neck—"don't bo angry with me, dear. I—l've lost the money." "Lost it, you— —" he swore, starting up and flinging ber arm away. "I don't believe you ever 'ad any. Answer me! Ain't you been tellin' me lieaf 1 "She felt frightened of him, and shrank back a pace or two. "Bill, Bill, dear," she entreated. ' "Answer me I" he shouted. "You ain't got the money —you never 'ad it?" "No," she confessed. "It was a lie. But, 0 Bill, I thought you loved me a bit." "Wot! D'ye think I'd 'ave the likes, of you, if it warn't for tbo money, when I might 'arc married Julia Clout, the prettiest girl in the village?" Then his upraised, clenched fist came down with full force, and he struck her in the face '''.Mir'am" ran nut of the cottage sobbing, ami hid herseli in the woods. She stayed there all through the June night, among black shadow? and scurrying rabbits. But she was too miserable to feel frightened. When she crept homeward the following evening, site found the cottage empty—deserted. A gossiping neighbor stopped in the road to watch her wan dering about disconsolately. '■So you an' Bill 'ave fell out!" said the woman. "We wondered w'ero you'd gone to. "K 'as sold the chintze-cover-ed sofa an' the big clock, an' 'im an' Julia Clout went off this morning." So ended "Mir'am's" brief matrimonial dream. She went back to live at home, and did occasional jobs of charing. But Bill never returned. Months later "Mir'am's" twin boys were born. She thought she was going to be happy again. How she loved her babies, and worked and slaved for them, because they had their father's dark eyes and swarthy skin! People said she thought too much of them, and t-erhaps the Lord would see iv to take th-in away if they were made idols of. '-.Mir'am" ojjfc hugged her babies closer, with a <rwß. angry feat at her bear:. The next winter was a very severe oi 0 and work was scarce. For lack of pt per warmth and nouri-!:. inent "Mir'am's" babies sickened and died. The Lord had seen tit. But "Mir'am" held the little, starved, si;! forms in her arms, cuddling and coon ing over them as it they wore nlive. "Don't take on so, 'Mir'am,' " .saber mother, with rough pity. "I'm sur< you ought to hi' thankful. 'Ere am 1. raised a family of ten children, an' got one angel ill 'Karen, and' imw you've got two!" But perhaps ■•Mir'am" thuti jh! i! there were a few angel* less in !i and a few more on earth, it w. better for everybody, (The Fan.)