A GIRL TO LOVE.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 9081, 4 May 1908, Page 2

A GIRL TO LOVE.

CHAPTER XL-Cunlinued,

"You —you!" spluttered Kennedy, nearly mad with rage. "What is sha to you?, Why, you haven't knuwn htr live minutes, whilj I I Oil, I could strike you ! Don'; you cross my path, Mr Leslie Giant, with your fine talk, and lordly wajs Who are you, really, that's what 1 want to know? What are you masquerading here for? Have you boen doing time, you out on ticket of leave, or what? Now, you take my tip, sir, and keep clear of me, or you'll rue it! I'm ail honest, hardworking man, and if I fancy a girl I've a liafht to pay her my honourable attentions. I'm as good as a poor music-teacher, any day!" He swung round, but a grip of iron closed upon his arm. CHAPTER XII.

THE DAWN OF A NEW PROBLEM. <■ A half-hour later Victor wasjjeated in his own room with John Rutherford. The window was thrown wide open, for the night was very warm. "Kennedy resented my interference at first," he was saying, "but when I told him that Miss Craig had threatened to resign on account uf his conduct, his reasoning powers were put into operation. He is genuinely infatuated; but, there—toe very absurdity—it passes comprehension. A cigar, Rutherford?" "Thanks, no; I prefer my pipe." He shook his head. "I am afraid of some sort of scandal. Kennedy is a violent man when thoroughly angered." "I will have another talk with him to-morrow. If he persists in annoying Miss Craig, we must invoke the aid of the law. The man is quiet enough when sober." "But he is never sober—or very rarely ! I wish that we could get rid of him. The parents of the young choristers object to his inclusion in the choir." Tom Kennsdy repulsed Victor's advances the next day. "I sna'nt' talk with or anybody else about my concerns," he said. "Perhaps I've been a fool, and perhaps I haven't. I've written t.) Miss Craig, and my future depends upon her answer. I shall either reform or go to the doga; and between you and me there can never be the merest semblance of friendship, Mr Leslie Grant." "That is honest, at any rate." Victor turned away, and Kennedy looked after him with a scowl of hatred. That day was one of the longest Victor ever remembered. He dawdled about for an hour or so, and then he decided to go back home, glad that he was master of his own movements. Already life at the factory was becoming rather tedious from its very monotony. Acting upon a sudden resolution, ho went to Mr Nuttall's office, and he managing clerk received him with a great show of servility. Mr Grant, the successful writer, and Mr Grant, the invoice clerk, were not the same thing. "I've had enough of this, Mr Nuttall," he said. "Your people are all of one type. I am going to work the slums with a clergyman." Mr Nuttall shrugged his shoulders, and smiled complaisantly. "You will soon tire of that, also, Mr Grant. There is little to learn.

One never hears of the really puor, ■>* until they are dead, and then only occasionally. Look down the inquest columns of the newspapers." The office win«*v overlooked the factory yard, and he waved one hand comprehensively. "These men —a thousand of them —are all in regular work; they earn good wages, and their lives should be a perpetual song. But they are thriftless and reckless of the future. If the works were to shut down to-day, nine hundred of the thousand would be begging within a week, and within a month they would be socialists or anarchists. Only a martinet can keep them in order; only a martinet can save his firm from being robbed every hour of the day." Victor smiled reminiscently. He shook hands with Mr Nuttall. "Good morning, Mr Grant. I hope you will drop in for a chat sometime?. And remember me when your book is published." Victor went home, and after lunch worked hard for a couple of hours. Oh, how hot and stifling the air was! He longed for a breath of the sea—the woods—the green fields. "It is habit," he told himself. He was half ashamed of his .selfishness. "The people here thrive upon poison. Pure air to them would be as injurious as their native element is to inc." The clock struck five, and he rang a bell. Miss Kennedy herself appeared. She was very curious übouc her "star" boarder. Why was he not at business to-day? "I should like a cup of tea, Miss Kennedy-a special brewing, strong, with plenty of: sugar and cream." He spoke cheerfully, and smiled. "I am going out this evening, and shan't ba bacic to dinner." "I was surprised to see you come so early, sir," was the tentative remark. She lingered. "I've lift the fictory, Miss Kennedy." "Oh, ei.% I'm so sorry. I know that Mr Nuttali id a haru man to get on with. ThtM you will be leaving me?" "Not yet. I discharged myself. I have better work to do. By the way, I have quarelled with,.your brother, but don't let that disturb you. It's a shame that you should be

By BERTHA M. CLAY. Author of " Thrown on the Worl'," " Her Mather'j Sin," Beyond Pardon," " The Lost La.ly of HaLbn," 4< Don Thome," "An Ideal Love," etc.

burdeneJ with him." "Tom's a sad ttia! to me," she said, wiping her eyes with the corner of tier apron; "but, after ail, he's my brother." •' Unfortunate accident of birth," '.hought Victor. "Such loyalty, anil .;u?h a man!" Ho drai.k tea and ruminated, with :in uye upon the clock. How very .lowly the hands moved! Fifteen minutes past five—twenty minutes past five. It seemed an age until six o'ciock. And the church was only a stone's throw away. "1 hope Miss Craig won't disappoint me," he thought. "I am so .passionately fond of good music." H'i surveyed bin,self in a mirrior, and looked annoyed. His cheap suit hung upon him limply. | The trousers bulged at the knees, and the coat drooped mournfully. "I must see a tailor," he decided. "Now thhat I have left tie W.ccory, there is no reason fo 1- wearing these things. It was an insane idea." Five minutes to six! His heart bounded. He ran down the stairs, two steps at a time, and Miss nedy gave him a note as he was passing her sitting-room door. He recognized the bold hand. It was from John Rutherford, and it ran in this way: "MY DEAR MR GRANT: I made the necessary arrangements for this evening, and the verger will attend to the rest. Sermon day to-day, so 1 sha'n't he able to impose myself upon you! Sincerely vours, JOHN RUTHERFORD." Victor was gratified, and mumured :"What a genuine fellow he is!" At two minutes to six he entered the churchyard and the verger hobbled from the vestry his ancient face wreathed with crinkly smiles. Up went a finger to his cap. "Warm day, sir. Summer seem to have coom all of a sudden, sir. And Ibe mortal dry. Sixty-sevtn years, sir, man and boy, have I been here. IVIy father before inc were sexton, he were, and not a grave but what I've helped to dig, sir. Here cooms the young leddy, and a bonnier lisss my old eyes have never seen. Thank you, sir, very kindly. 'Tain't often I see silver in these hard times."

Up went his crooked forefinger again, once for Lhe shilling, and once for Miss Craig, who had approached to within a , few paces of Victor. Then the old verger hobbled way, a laugh in his throat like the crackling of dry sticks. Isla Craig [jwas regarding Victor rather shyly, and he advanced tu meet her, a glad smile of welcome on bus face. He took her extended hand looking into her eyes the while and audi beautiful eyes they were—as brown and soft and tender as a fawn's. "You are warm and tired Miss Craig?" "1 have had a busy day, and the weathsr is rathvr oppressive."