“WILD GRAPES”

Waikato Times, Volume 121, Issue 20255, 26 July 1937, Page 4

“WILD GRAPES”

SERIAL STORY.

By THEODORA WILSON-WILSON.

A Ghasmlng Story with Delightful Appeal,

SYNOPSIS* Sir John Hammond, tho famous nervespecialist, is disturbed by fcbe thoughtless extravagance of his wife, Marie. The twins, Paula and Robert, sense there is something wrong, and an alarming heart attack which Sir John has in their presence, Increases their anxiety. It is generally rumoured that Paula is engaged to Lloyd Manners, a young barrister. Robert has an “understanding” with Olive Maitland, but for some years yet he must devote himself to his singing. He is the possessor or a rich baritone voice, inherited rrom his father’s sister Claudia, who in her day had been a famous singer. Gordon Tate, Marie’s artist brother, is going quickly on the downward path through drink. Coming to borrow money from Marie one night, he is too druna to return to his lodgings, and sleeps in the summerthouse, where he is found by Robert. Gordon persuades Marie to send him two famous Corots, ostensibly to be cleaned, but really for him to make copies from, for practice. She Implores him to send them back before the fifteenth, for on that day there is a big comlng-or-age party for the twins. CHAPTER XV.— (Continued.) Marie laughed, and the headache, if it had ever been there, vanished. She rang for her maid, told her the arrangement and ordered her to pack. Parrer, the maid, was discreet, and carried out her . lady’s wishes without expressing surprise or comment. When she told the servants downstairs the news, tjiere was a general acclamation of relief. “We’ll do ten times better for Sir John than for her ladyship,’’ announced the cook. “If you ask me, she’s about the limit I” But J,here was somethings of importance to attend to before even the irresponsible Lady Hammond could take herself off. She locked up her bureau. The aooounts and accounts rendered could moulder away, so far as she cared. But what of the Corot paintings? She must certainly have one of them paoked up and despatched. Strange enough, Marie cared less | about letting down her husband than her worthless brother. One of the Corots must go. Yet as she looked at them, undecidedly, she made up her mind to send both. 'Gordon would be pleased. So she called a housemaid to help her to t>ack the Tambourine Player and , the Beech Nymphs. “They are to go by registered parcel post, to Mr G. Frenoh, as addressed.’’ “Yes, milady,” said the maid. “They are to be cleaned, and the other picture, Oliver Cromwell, will be coming back to-morrow. See that it is hung in its right place.” “Yes, milady,” she answered. “If your ladyship cares, I oould put this screen aoross that corner, to hide where the pictures have been.” “A good idea—excellent, do,” said Lady Hammond lightly. The Gorot-s might return before anyone missed them. So having settled the matter so satisfactorily, Marie rang up Sir John. “That you, John? Marie speaking. I am feeling terribly rotten and out of sorts this morning, so I’ve rung up the Nursing 'Home. Mercifully they can give me my 6peoial room. I really don’t feel equal to facing 1 the party and all the fuss over the engagement. Paula ought to be equal to things by this time.” “Quite I” came the answer. “I hope the rest will do you good, Marie.” “Thanks I” and she rang off. “Oh, how I detest that even voice!” she murmured. “Why can’t he get into a rage for once 1 If only he would get into a rage!” It was on the following morning that the postman mounted ninety steps and knocked with a registered parcel for Mr French. “Thank you,” said Gordon Tate, as he took in the parcel and signed the receipt, “G. French.” CHAPTER XVI. 8.0.8. When Miss ITammond received an S.O.S. call from Paula, imploring her to come to the rescue of the birthday party, she accepted, made no fuss, and arrived competent and ready. She took over with quiet ability, and everyone from Sir John downwards was relieved. Certainly Lady Hammond’s vagaries had thrown her Into the category of a woman who did not matter. But Robert was struggling under a burden of increasing responsibility. His father’s condition had shocked him inexpressibly, and he could not deny that his mother’s action was bewildering if not actually alarming. As for himself, he recognised that a door had been slammed on his old irresponsible life, and the outstanding fact was that Ills father and his father’s wealth could no longer be counted upon. The immediate reaction to all thl9 concerned Olive. For Olive Maitland was the “sometime” in Robert’s life. The intimacy, now taken for granted, would, of course, Issue one day in marriage. He was “well off,” and so was she. The secure prospect had shone out as under morning sunlight, and clouds had very considerately taken other directions. But now—suppose his father died? Suppose that funds dried up; and he found himself an unemployed bepigar? Olive would remain a princess out ot reach. For what kind of trade could he follow to bridge the gap? Olive would he coming to the party, j radiant, and her own gallant self. Ho had been working himself tip to make a deflintc move, even to suggesting an engagement ring. But now, a cloud was looming too domincerigly over the morning sky for any such thought. And Olive, who played the efficient housekeeper to an invalid father, had also wondered whether Robert would make something happen shortly. That she loved him, she did not deny. She felt she understood him, and that life with him would become j very wonderful. j Rut she had a clear-minded temperament and hated muddles, as she hated a fluffed golf stroke, and at the back of her mind she was haunted, by a sense of doubt and frustration which might develop to real dislocation. She had been disturbed to annoyance when her father had asked her too poinaedly what Robert Hammond was aiming at, in life. “Mo. father!” she had said with a pulling-off laugh. . “The woman comes in, my dear, 3 after the man has become a man, and not before,” he had answered. “There is too much loose cash flowing round The Grange for perfect health.” * 'You flood me with cash, father,” Olive retorted. u ‘ You are a woman,” he excused I himself with a smite, i “I fancy that is what Lady 11amI mond thinks. K

•Oh, my dear child, don’t mention that female! She is beyond hope. I wonder Sir John sticks out at all.” “Well, it’s a meroy she is away at her Nursing Home,” and Olive laughed. “Miss 'Jlammond and Paula will run the show far better." And then Olive sprang up. “That’-s Robert’s bike I” she exoralmed, as she heard a motor cycle jock-Jooking up the drive. “Get him to stay to tea and sing to me,” said the invalid. “I’ll try!” and she rushed off. “A last visit as a child!" said Robert lightly, as he greeted Olive. “Welcome!” she responded. “Let’s go into the orchard." “To swing the oldd ays away,” and he laughed. But they were both nervous, and though they wandered off as usual, a sense of strain prevailed.

“Are you quite fit?” she asked, as they took the queer rustic seat. “Oh, rather; only I’m worried about my father. 'He’s have some nasty heart attacks.”

“I’m sorry!” she exclaimed, startled, “I knew you would be. You see suppose anything were to happen—” “Oh, but you don’t mean ”

“Yes, I mean that. My mother doesn’st know—at least I think not, and father and Paula and I* are, well, keeping our ends up. We’re sort of bluffing one another.” “I s.ee,” said Olive.

“And I wanted you to know, Olive,” he went on hurriedly, “because at any time this might mean a big difference In my own life. I’ve discovered I’m a saloker—hopeless—l’ve never done a stroke of real work in my life.” “Why do you tell me that?” “Because you ought to know,” he said sharply. “I’ve lolled baok on my father, taken him and his for granted, and as a result I shall have to face things as I deserve. And. there’s one thing about It, I don’t intend to drag down anyone else into my slough.” He lighted a cigarette, and offered it to her, as though that part of the converastion was over. Olive understood quite clearly that this was Robert’s odd way of turning her down. All was over between them. It hurt torturingly. The man she loved was In dire trouble and, need of sympathy, yet she was not near enough to him to share. To protest was Impossible—even to remonstrate. So Olive nerved herself to speak lightly of other things, as she reduced the cigarette to ashes. , She gave him her father’s mesage, but Robert excused himself. He had to get back to The Grange, and besides, he could not sing. "So that’s that, you fool 1” murmured Olive to herself, as at last the sound of the motor*sycle died away. Then another thought sprang forward.

“I don’t care if he does snub me, I shall stand by!” .

CHAPTER XVII. Mr Matthew Morris is Puzzled. Gordon Tate was working as he had never worked before, for he realised that the fifteenth would be upon him before he had finished the task he had set himself. The Corot copies grew in exquisite beauty, and there were moments when the sheer fasoination of his own art laid hold upon him with alluring appeal. Even the passion for drink subsided to some degree, and the artist found himself making the usual resolutions that as soon as he had worked this Job, he would go away somewhere and get himself cured of his hideous vice. Marleh ad always taken advantage of her rest cures to do anything she wished, and she had continued her sittings for Lady Teazle, while her unsuspecting family imagined her safely in bed. Tiie picture was undoubtedly a brilliant piece of work, and the brother and sister were perhaps equally proud of it. Thus it came about that on the day before the party, Paula received a parcel which she naturally expected to he yet another of her innumerable birthday gifts. “Aunt Claudia, she burst out, “do look 1 This is absolutely the limit I The 'Corots —returned from that picture cleaner, French. Mother must have sent them. Daddy wil be wild I” “Then I wouldn’t tell him until after to-morrow,” said her Aunt. ‘I won’t! Poor Daddy. Well, I’ll go and hang them up,” she said disgustedly. On her way she barged into Robert, and poured forth her irritation. “See, Bob, that screen, stuck so that we should not notice I Oh, I do loathe that kind of thing!” “Same here,” he admitted. “I’ll help you. They hung up the pictures, and then Robert explained that he had asked a Clarem an, Stephen Smith, to the party. “He’s a fine chap—panting to be a doctor, the usual shortness of funds. At first he refused, and. at last 1 wormed it out of him. Wo can’t dodge it however we try.” “What do you mean. Rob?” Robert gave a rueful laugh. “Young Smith is being run at Cambridge by his sister —Madame Jasmine !” “Rob!” “And it seems that the other day he came debt-collecting to father.” “It really is loathsome!” said Paula. “Of course, after that, I* pressed him all the more. So Just look out for him and give him a friendly word. After all. he and his sister are the injured parties. His father was a shockingly paid Parson.” Tiie party was going with a swing, and Sir John, always a delightful host, was now at his happiest to both old and young. Curiously the absence of Lady Hammond had sent, a wave of tranquility through the house. ett‘“dhJße whil gRO RNherselmfftYA Presents had poured in upon the lucky twins, and Paula and her lover were happy in the gonrl wishes and congratulations which they received. Stephen Smith appreciated Sir John’s ready welcome, as he completely Ignored any awkward business 1 Miss Hammond, resplendent, in velvet and laeo. was here, there and everywhere, and was voted “too delightful for words.” Mr Matthew Morris had turned up. feeling that a future trusteeship laid Ihis responsibility upon him, and he was jovial and Pickwickian, and provided unnecessarily handsome gifis. (To Be Continued).