“WILD GRAPES"

Waikato Times, Volume 121, Issue 20259, 30 July 1937, Page 3

“WILD GRAPES"

SERIAL STORY.

By THEODORA WILSON-WILSON.

A Charming Story with Delightful Appeal.

SYNOPSIS. Sir John Hammond, the ramous nerve■peclallst, Is disturbed by the thoughtless extravagance or hts 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. Paul Is engaged to Lloyd Manners, a young barrister. Robert has an “ understanding ” with Olive Maitland, but for some years yet must devote himself to his singing. He Is the possessor or a rich baritone voice, Inherited from his 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. He 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 llfteenth, Tor on that day there is a big cornlng-of-age party for the twins. Marie receives a letter rrom her bank, which so upsets her that she decides to retire For a few days to her pet nursing home. \ Gordon Tate turns up at the party, unasked. in time to see Mr Morris, a friend or Sir John’s, looking at the raked Corots, and to hear him say he will get an expert to look at them to-inorrowl CHAPTER XXl.—Continued. The Matron was kind, but obviously worried. She explained that it had been entirely agayist her judgment that Lady Hammond would insist upon making excursions from the Home, and she had not known whether to report to Sir John or not. After lunch to-day, Lady Hammond had returned, Yery excited, demanding stimulants, and refusing all explanations. “I am thankful you have called,” she concluded, ‘‘and I do hope you will be able to settle Lady Hammond’s mind.” “We shan't be able to do that,” said Robert. “In fact, we have come to tell my mother come very bad news. My father has Just died of heart “And Lady Hammond may wish us to “And Lady Hammond my wish us to take her home,” said Paula doubtfully.

“We can send a nurse in attendance.” suggested the Matron. She hoped she saw a chance of getting rid of a tiresome patient without awkwardness. It was Paula who went up Into the luxurious room, In which Lady Hammond was wont to hide herself from the troubles which she brought down upon herself. “Don’t get up, Mum,” said Paula, as she went up to the sofa. “Robert has brought me along. “I—that is—we wouldn’t have troubled you, only it seemed necessary.”

Lady Hammond was more anxious about Robert’s good opinion than about her husband’s, and looked up anxious-

“What is Robert's latest?” she tried to smile.

“I-t isn’t Robert’s latest, Mum,” said Paula, as tenderly as she could. “It Is God’s latest. Daddy has been taken seriously ill in his consulting room. He—oh,- I can't!”

“Please go on 1” “Daddy is dead. He has been brought bark to The Grange.” Could Paula have made a mistake in thinking that an expression of deep relief crossed her mother's face? But it was gone in a moment, and Paula hated herself for having had such an Idea. Her mother acted quite conventionally, and wept piteously. “Paula,” and she clung to her hysterically, “then that was what he meant when lie kissed me goodbye, he knew.” “But, Mum, when did, you see Daddy?” burst out Paula. “Don’t look nt me like that, child! I went this afternoon.” ‘‘Mother! You actually bothered Daddy in -consulting hours?” Paula was dumbfounded. This visit might account for the suddenness of the attack—who knew? Why had not Norris told them? Somehow Pauia felt herself go hard and, dreadful. Norris had told them of Mr Gordon Tate’s visit—but Lady Hammond's visit was surely worse. “You needn’t look like that," said her mother. “I had to go.” “You wanted money, I suppose 1” said the girl bitterly. “Oh. yes, we have all wanted money—money, and we have kille-d, him I" It was perhaps merciful that a nurse entered, to ask whether she could help. 'CHAPTER XXIT. The Crash. The funeral was over, and Robert and Paula had to face life, not as they would like It to he. hut as it was. The death of the great nerve specialist made a sensation in a wide circle, and letters poured In upon Lady Hammand, filled with appreciations of tier husband’s work and hi§ many klndPublio bodies passed resolutions of dorp sympathy, and ill-written comTounieaiions showed the wealth of effort lie had made on behalf of the nerve-ridden and troubled poor. There was a side of Lady Hammond which valued all tills outpouring Of praise, there was another that felt injured and. exasperated. She passed the tetters over to Robert, and Paula, under the sense, that each was a personal accusation. For though Lady Hammond plaved the part of t lie* inconsolable widow with tlie skill of a Haymarket actress, she could not really deceive her children. Thcv had had experience which could not he ignored. Robert had expostulated with Norris nn not having mentioned that his mother had called, and the man had looked him steadily in the eyes. “I can’t explain, sir, why T didn’t.” he said. “Rut somehow. I couldn’t.” Miss Hammond had taken care not to Intrude upon the house of mourning. but she had thoueht of little else than her brother’s death, and what It would mean to the twins. Robert and Paula had gone over to Flrlands more than once to pour out. their perplexities, which increased daily. They were convinced that their uncle’s visit to their father had been the Immediate cause of the seizure, but what ho had said would never now bo known. All they were sure of was that, Sir John’s last words to Norris were that his brother-in-law was not. to blame. “You can’t tell anything by that.” *a!d Paula miserably. “That was Just Daddy!” Rut further, amongst Hie letters, business communications began In .our In \ rumoiun had somehow got round that some financial strain bad hastened the doctor's death. Every man for himself, and traders were scenting bad debts; so accounts flew ’own upon The Grange like vultures.

By the Will, Mr Matthew Morris and Robert were executors and Trustees, and they spent long hours in making discoveries concerning a state of affairs which grew ever more complicated and intolerable. Owing to heart weakness, Sir John had but a slender insurance, and it was -clear that now that the consulting fees could no longer act as a breakwater, the tide of creditors would rise, and the orash must come.

“All that matters,” said Robert, “Is that my father’s estate shall pay twenty shillings in the pound.” “It will do that,” said Mr Morris, “when the house and furniture is realised, but I fear there will be nothing left, beyond a modest pension for your mother." “Mother can have all there is,” said Paula. “Robert and I* don’t matter. We can take pot luck with the world,” and she laughed. “Pot luck, my dear child, is not always very appetising!” said Mr Morris. “But we are both young*,” she protested. Neither Mr Morris nor Robert mentioned Lloyd Manners, and Paula thanked them in her heart. -Lloyd had had a great shock, when he read on the evening bills: “Sudden death of a famous nerve specialist.” As he read the paragraph, telling so much and yet so little, his thought flashed instantly to the possible consequence to himself. Tlie news might mean that Paula became possessed of some very convenient capital. On the other hand, it might mean financial disaster. At the Club that evening, the death of Sir John Hammond was discussed, but the talk was disturbing. I-t was generally agreed that Sir John was one of the earth’s saints, and had been badly let down by his wife. “An extravagant wife is the devil!” announced a member. Someone had heard that Lady Hammond was discussed with anxiety in bridge circles, and a member Insinuated that after all Lady Hammond was pretty much a “nobody,” upon whom Sir John had taken compassion. It was generally admitted that nobodies had a trick of making splashes with other people’s money, when they could get the chance. Lloyd was -becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Clearly Lady Hammond was considered a distinct detrimental, and he could not afford at this •juncture, when he was Just rounded the corner towards success, to shoulder a detrimental. Y'et it was all a terrible pity, for Paula was quite charming, and as Sir John’s only daughter, he had thought he had chosen super-excellently. But tiiat evening bill was a shock. He must now move warily. Perhaps he had already acted a little hastily. Yet though unstimulated by a man’s true passion for a woman, Lloyd was proud of Paula, and on this evening, lie had no hesitation in throwing up an engagement and driving down to The Paula received him with a gratifying and possessive affection, and poured out the heart break. “You must know everything,” she said seriously. “Yes, dearest,” he said gently. “Don’t you understand, Lloyd,” she said. “This place is now terrible—hateful—unriiinkable without father. He was all that mattered in it. He was always ready to listen to us. to understand and enter into everything we did. I can’t tell you what he has been to me over our engagement.” “I think Sir John was altogether splendid 1” said Lloyd. “And I’m so glad we asked him to go that tour, even though it became impossible,” she went on. “He was so pleased that we really wanted him. I think that young people are often beasts —just beasts! We let the older generation slave and slave and think and think for us. and then—sort ->t‘— wo don’t want them. We turn them down!” “But you and Robert never!” said Lloyd, genuinely enough. “1 have always thought you two were perfect with your father.” “Oh don’t,” and her lips trembled. “In a way, I suppose we were, but we bled him—bled him to death. Look at this place, the new tennis courts, the peach house, my mother planning for a ballroom—all to be paid, for out of father! Oh. one can see when it is too late, why lie could never take time off, never resf. never go for a holiday. He had to grind on and on to pay our bills! And now ’’ Lloyd did not reply, hut put an arm about her. moved awav from his own tenterhooks to know the completion of the sentence. “And now,” and Paula sighed, “it’s all going to be an appalling muddle, which will have to be faced.” “Still, muddles get straightened out.” lie suggested. “1 don’t, see how this can—T- mean the money part. But anyhow, you and T know that it isn’t, money hut happiness that matters.” “Bui of course, dearest.” he answered. Then he kissed her to reassure himself. And through the days that followed. Lloyd, had acted the prospective son-in-law with decency and discretion, for pro tern it, seemed the least he could do. But. it soon became clear that the crash was go-rig to he a crash, ami when all creditors were met. and the i house sold, there would remain a possible four hundred a year to divide “These building accounts are so ! puzzling, Mr Morris." Robert had said, i "I know father told me that they had been paid.” Well, mv dear boy. they hadn’t, and now. perhaps, no gonrl purpose is served by asking Hi-' reason whv ” i “Mother —she’s played, a rotten game. Taken the money for what?” “It’s gone, and if may be wiser to ! leave it nt that. The estate has been j hit by the disappearance of those I Corots, and Oliver Cromwell and Marie i \nloinette being found to he copies. ! However, let us hope we get a good “I trv to thing out the job fairly.” ] said Robert, “hut it’s dimeutt. Anvj how. mother must have nil Hint ran he | scraped logo 111 or. She’ll call it boggarlv. but she has her jewels.” “You are sure of that ?” I “Great Seolt ! Mr Morris. Hang! I’m sure of nothing!" (To Re Continued>.