"THE SEQUEL"

Taranaki Daily News, 18 December 1920, Page 1 (Supplement)

"THE SEQUEL"

FIRST PRIZE.

(By R. W. Cumberworth, Malioe.)

. 1 wag at the end of my resources. Three shillings I bad in my pocket, while my board was paid for only a week in advance. -Not strong enough to undertake manual labor, and untrained in ! commercial work,-1 had turned my band to story-writing. I had had only one Story accepted three months before, and ainee then my -expenses, consisting of board and postage stamps, had steadily eaten away the little money I had received. Always there was the editorial comment upon my M.S.S.: "Good execution; story not true to life and nature. 1 Such wag my position one hot afternoon as J was vainly trying to construct * plot. In despair 1 rushed outside to coax a "trne story" from some human mttle. As I passed down the street I •noticed Old Billy—l didn't know what was his real name N thcn—sitting on a park seat. "Billy," I said, "can you tell me a true atory f" Hp looked at me with a meditative, watery eye. "I will tell you my story for a drink." ' I fingered my three shillings. "bo on," I said desperately. . "Twenty-five .years ago," he started reminiscently, "I was a clerk in a bank heti, with over £IOO saved and as pretty a girl as ever lived to walk out with on Sundays. She was the daughter of a grocer. I was as near engaged as I could get; when a poet chap arrived in the town. He was a tall, handsome fellow with black eyes and hair, and could tun out poetry as easily as a sausage machine. tutns out sausages. He soon declared himself to be my riva:, but after several months' keen competition—during which time Jack and I, being thrown much in each other's cpmpany—Vvame fast friends—the honors were as nearly equally divided as William Teii's appie. She .would favor neither of us before the other. We began to grow desperate, and at length decided that, as siie couldn't make up her mind, we would do it for het. So we agreed to toss for thr- honor of leading her eto the altar. The one who Won the girl Was to pay £IOO to the Other, who was to leave the town immediately. I Won, and was so sure that Nancy was mine that I paid Jack the £IOO before he went away. The next few weeks, however. I didn't progress very fast with my suit. Xancy wa» still friendly, but would hear no talk of marriage. Of course, I didn't tell ber why Jack had gone away. One morning I dropped into the store at my usual hour, and was met by the old man. "Nancy has gone." he wailed; "run away with my assistant. Here I am, two hand* short." " Alter that, things went badly with me. I had neither the £IOO nor yancy to help me tip. I was soon dismissed from tbe bank. I sank lower and lower, and drifted along until—here I am. I have Scarcely a nenny in the world (T felt my three shillings lovingly). T live in that hut ju»t across the bridge, and can earn enough by digging people's gardens to live and drink on. That is mv •story, young fellow. Now, what about the drink!" I '"But the sequel?" I asked. "What is ! Hue Sequel? A story is of no use with-' «■'!t a sequel."' J ( "The sequel hasn't happened yet," he replied sadly. expect I must write my own," I said dubiously, as I handed him one third share- of that commodity, affection for Which is allegedly the root of all evil. wrote my own seonel. I bad the woman die, and the three rivals, the clerk, the .poet, and the grocer's assistant, in their old age plight their troth over the gtave of the object of their common affections. I felt tears wellin? down my •cheeks as I described how the brokendbwn drunkard, familiarly called out Billy, with twenty-five years' hell behind iujp, grasped the hand of Jack Somers — «s I called him—a man who appeared to tiave borne a great sorrow for many years, x now a successful poet (whatever that Way be); and how they both, in broken tones, -thanked the grocer's assistant for keeping her and caring for j -Full of apprehensive hope, I posted ! my M.B.S. to the editor of a prominent | literary magazine. At last I felt I had : touched a human note, and had written ; « live story. I even sought out old Billy , lift his hut and offered hi:n another drink. ' But hj%. refused it. He seemed to have i gleaned iimaelf up a bit j his eye was ;

tlearer, as if some ray of hope had penetrated his soul. i A few days later I received a letter from the editor. With it were enclosed two cheques, one for £IOO and another for £2OO. ''.Your story is ridiculous," the letter read, "but I am sending you £IOO for the absolute possession of it. Your sequel is all wrong. I paid the grocer's assistant £IOO to bring Nancy here Ho marry •me. She died a few months ago. I •have endured 25 years of hell such as Bill Olivers never knew. I want you to take the £2OO, which I owe him, to Bill Chi'•vers, and to tell him that I am willing 'to help him. I am a rich man." I hurried off to Old Billy's hut. There was no answer to my knock, so I pushed open the door. There sat Billy at the •table, with his head resting oft his arms, staring at a photograph which was propped up in front of him. There was a •smile on his face. "Billy!" i cried, "Billy! The sequel " Something in his attitude stopped me. I shrank back. He was dead. The photograph was of a girl with a beautiful face. On the back was written, "To Bill, with love from'Xancy." His was the Happy Sequel. He had died before he was disillusioned.