“WILD GRAPES”

Waikato Times, Volume 121, Issue 20266, 7 August 1937, Page 10

“WILD GRAPES”

By THEODORA WILSON-WILSON.

SERIAL STORY.

CHAPTER XXXI. — (Continued.)

“She can’t stay In Beok Cottage tonight,” said Miss Graham In a great quandary.

“Why, no,” and a young -woman, in charge of a handsome pram came forward. “You must stop with us at the Vicarage until all poor Miss Graham’s mess is tidied up. We shall be delighted.”

‘‘Eh, now, Mrs Desmond, you’re a proper godsend!” exclaimed Miss Graham.

“That’s most kind of you,” said Paula quickly. “And Doctor, you’ll explain to the London lady, that Miss Graham doesn’t generally have her house in such a state—neither here nor there, nor in nor out I”

“Miss Hammond,” said the Doctor, “Miss Graham is the perfect housekeeper of Gowthwaite —and we all know that we could eat our food! off her floor 1”

‘'Eh, Doctor, you’d say anything,” expostulated Miss Graham, “but we must stir round and get them Are engine lads something for their Insides, or they’ll be telling queer tales of Gowthwaite, when they get back!”

“Do come along with me. Miss Hammon,” said young Mrs Desmond. “You will be tired. There will be a great co-operative feed presently, over which Miss Graham will preside. So we will leave them all to it.”

Gowthwaite had inspected the newcomer or “foreigner” with interest. They had noticed 1 that she could handle a bucket, did not mind muddying her shoes, and had a fine laugh. It was probably the laugh and the sharp jest that did it. for the cautious opinion went the round that the Vicar’s young lady from London was off the worst. This was quite as far as the dalesman could go.

So Paula went off with Mrs Desmond, and the pram and the baby, past the ancient and square-towered church, and up a lane which led to a somewhat modern Vicarage.

She was glad to accept the pleasant hospitality, and incidentally to learn more about Gowthwaite and her expeoted duties, and the young Vicar and his wife were ready enough to explain their scheme.

“There is quite a surprising population round about.” said Mr Desmond,

"and the quarry work is developing, but we are keen on supplying leisure oooupations—something that will fill the minds and occupy the hands of those who care. It’s an experiment, and Gowthwaite may turn us down with scorn, but we want to have a shot for it i”

"I’ll do what T can,” said Paula jagerly.

“And there’s the music—we didn’t isk whether you were musical?” “Oh, well, I think I might say that I im. I have a twin brother who is going n for being a professional singer. We lave always done music together.”

A Charming Story with Delightful Appeal.

So they talked, and as Paula wished she smiled. “I had been thinking, In the train, that I was coming to a sort of a Pool of Peace, but I seem to have got It all wrong.” ‘‘You have!” and Mr Desmond also smiled. ‘‘Things happen—even in Gowthwalte.” That night, Paula went to bed In a room fragant with the scent of cocked hay, and even the monotonous chant of the corn crake could not keep her awake.

CHAPTER XXXII. An Impelling Impression. At Firlands, Miss Hammond' had shared her first raoy letter from Paula, with Robert and Olive. It seemed clear that Paula was taking hold, and butting in courageously on this new Gowthwaite experiment. Robert had shared a letter from his mother. It was light and almost gay. She had gone off to Monte Carlo, and hoped to get strength and life from the glorious air and sunshine.

And neither Miss Hammond' nor Olive liked to suggest any doubt as to the frankness of the letter.

But a little later, as Robert and Olive wandered off Into the depth of the AT wood, not yet cut up for building sites, Robert opened out uneasily. “Olive, help me. I want to know whether 5 am a fool.”

“Go on,” she said seriously. “Well, I can’t somehow get away from an Impression that mother wants me—or rather needs me. That I ought to go.” “To-night?”

“Yes, it’s absurd, but the Impression has been with me all day. I’ve tried to shake it off, and' I can’t.”

“Your father, what would he have done ?”

“That’s the very help I wanted,” he said eagerly. “I know what he would have done. After all, she is my mother, in my charge, though she doesn’t admit it. 1 could catch the night train to Dover.”

"Then do,” she said readily. "I’ll spin you along into town.”

That was like Olive, always ready and practical, making no fuss. So they returned to the house, and told Miss Hammond what they were going to do.

“I expect, Aunt Claudia, you think me rid’culous,” said Robert.

“I can only hope you are. my dear boy,” she said seriously. “But don’t wait to talk —catch the train.”

Except for the continuous discipline exercised upon her by her brother Gordon, Marie had taken her way through life with almost complete imperviousness to warning or outside direction.

As Sir John soon discovered, what Marie wished to do, she did, twisting the circumstances to suit not only her wishes, but her whims. She tanked

over life’s obstaoles with hard cruelty. 1

In Gordon, she had found a rough blookage, which she had never overcome, and to which she bowed.

But now that she felt herself stranded in life, without her husband’s support, and without even the domination of her vanished brother, Marie, never a deep thinker, had been forced to think.

Her husband’s hints and warnings had materialized. Not only had he died of sheer worry, but the eternal reservoir of income had dried up before her eyes.

She Btill refused to believe all that Robert and Mr Morris told her, as to the serious position of affairs, but with an uncanny acuteness, she had realized that something must be done, other than what her children proposed . She could not sink down, unclassed, as a widow on such a trifle of income as it appeared possible to produce. She knew that her more worldly friends would desert her as she would desert them, unless she found courage to make a bold attack upon life. There were ways, and she must And them.

Besides, there was always Gordon—the sword of Damocles which might descend upon her at any moment. Why she retained her almost abject devotion to him, she could not have explained. But that it still existed, was part of her make-up.

As she sat in her handsome room at the Hotel Royal, Monte Carlo, she felt annoyingly tired, and a sense of grudge rose within her against her long-suf-fering husband. He, a nerve specialist, had never understood his own wife. As for Robert and Paula in their blatant health, they could not perhaps be expected to understand.

It was ridiculous that Paula should turn into a village teacher, and If only her Aunt Claudia had done her duty It couldn’t have happened. As for Robert —there was more reason in his scheme, and she could not object to being the mother of a famous singer.

She had not come to Monte Carlo penniless, for she had raked together a considerable sum. Not that she Intended to gamble at the Casino—at least, she maintained, that she did not Intend to do so. She had come to Monte Carlo for her health and the sunshine.

And then she received an amazing letter from Robert, saying that the •Corots had been returned, and that the Interest on the capital for which they could be sold would be a pleasant addition to her income.

The news pleased her, yet It scared her. Why had ‘Gordon done that? Evidently he was In some tight hole. Yet It was a relief to realize that her brother had not actually committed this theft, which as things were turning out, was a theft against his own sister. She hoped he would also have the decency to return Oliver Cromwell and Marie Antoinette. (To be continued.)