“WILD GRAPES”

Waikato Times, Volume 121, Issue 20269, 11 August 1937, Page 4

“WILD GRAPES”

By THEODORA WILSON-WILSON.

SERIAL STORY

A Charming Story with Delightful Appeal.

■CHAPTER XXXVI. — (Continued.)

"Clear without that I” he muttered ‘Fools, fools, oh, the fools 1"

Then he turned over the leaves of the sketchboook. The man was an artist, he could draw. Drink so often played hell with the artists.

He might have passed by “on the other side," but he was neither a Levite nor a Priest. This man had fallen among thieves, or perhaps he was his own thief, who had stolen his own brains.

What matter —the Samaritan task was his, obviously; besides, these cases interested him.

For besides ibeing the Dale doctor. Dr. Benson was Increasingly reoognised as a worker of miracles amongst victims of alcohol. He often had a gentleman visitor staying with him, and the dalesfolk respected the position, and made no sign of knowing the truth. The Inns for many miles round realized that they could not do worse than serve one of these same visitors.

This man was comparatively young, and was worth saving.

So Dr. Benson squatted down besldo him, as though eternity was at his disposal, and started whistling as gaily as a throstle.

At last 'Gordon opened his eyes, stared round, and then sprang up unsteadily. Who are you?" he demanded.

"I’ve been waiting for you to wake. I’m a doctor, and there’s a bed at my house ready for you."

Gordon swore, as he could swear. Then laughed weakly. "Now you’ve got that off your chest, shall we make a move on?" asked Dr Benson coolly. "I’m good for some hot tea and buttered scones, and so are you I"

"My way’s the other way," he said hesitatingly.

"Your way is my way," said the dootor. "There’s no reason why you shouldn’t be the gentleman you might be, for the next best years of your life."

Gordon staggered back, and his face was ashen.

"Why did you say that? How did you know?"

Dr. Benson didn’t know, but this agitation was hopeful. The man’s soul was still alive.

"We shall have plenty of time to talk over the tea-table,” said the dootor. "And' Gordon, only half himself, allowed himself to acquiesce. "By the way, what’s your name?” asked Dr. Benson, as they passed along. "Jack Brown," said Gordon, after a hesitation. "A fine common-sense name," said the doctor. He met a good many Jack Browns in his profession. “Oh, Mummy," exclaimed a little girl, catching hold of her mother’s arm, "loook, there’s that lazy man who was trying to make a picture of me without any camera." And Madeline Tate looked, and drew the ohlld hastily from the path. "Quick, Dolly, I smell violets under those trees," she saLL CHAPTER XXXVII. The Surrender. After tea and scones and delioloua scrambled eggs at Dr. Benson’s, Gordon struggled hard to pull himself together, that he might consider the next move. Dr. Benson knew that his quarry was about to make a spring out of hia reach, for he had had great experience, and remembered the empty bottle he had noticed on the fell. “You are an artist, Mr. Brown," he said 1 pleasantly. "It is a great gift. I expoot that when you see anything that will help you in your artistio work, you go for it, ruthlessly." "Well, 'I suppose so," answered 'Gordon suspiciously, wondering what this domineering doctor was getting at. "I’m something of an artist, too," he replied with a laugh, "An artist in : human nature 1 And when I meet anything that Is likely to help me in my creations, I go for it ruthlessly—very ruthlessly." "You are trying to warn me, sir?" "That’s only fair. But I am a blunt man and I’d like to put it bluntly." "I’m your guest," said Gordon uncertainly. "Mr Brown, will you put yourself into my hands for three months, and allow me to use you as I ohooso—for sheer experiment? You would be doing me and humanity a very great service." "You’ve diagnosed, sir, that I am what is known as a drunkard?" He could say no more, for he felt his lips trembling. "That Isn’t a refusal, though it’s as blunt as I could be!’’ and Dr. Benson 6miled. “So now we can go ahead, That’s a great relief to me. Now, the first thing I must do Is to rest you out —thoroughly— upstairs in one of the most rooms round about. Will'you come? Will you lot me help you? It may bo your last chance." It was as though Gordon did not see Dr. Benson but only Sir John looking at him with those great kind eyes. Was the Hound of Heaven so closely on lifs track, that he could almost hear his panting?" "It’s going to be a great tTght," went on Dr. Henson, innocently using Sir John's words, “but you have a fine hit of life ahead of you, if you choose. Gome l” And Gordon, still bewildered and not altogether himself, followed the doctor into Ihe surgery. "Tnko off your coat." Again Gordon felt as though some voire far away was speaking. The examination proceeded, and the doctor was cheerful enough. "Not too bad. af all," he pronounced. I "You’re good stuff for me to work on. ’ Your mom is ready, and T'll send for 1 your things. Meanwhile, take a bath, i and I’ll supply you with my best j pyjamas! Luckily*7’m a big man! Then, i in the morning, we’ll see where we ; are." "But,. Dr. Benson," protested Gordon, ! "you are proposing a ten guinea a week I job. and I—" "No cure, no pay I You’re my experiment. If we win through, you’ll pay me when I send In the hill." It was all extraordinary and unbelievable, yet in a very short time Gordon was in bed. and the doctor was pricking his arm. "But I don’t take drugs," he remonstrated. "Do give me some credit for knowing my business. But I’m not drugging you. I am taking a short cut io give you back some of the strength you have wasted. (Now, off you go to sleep, and if the starlings wake you in the morning, throw a hoot at them I" The doctor was gone, and Gordon lay back on the hard narrow hodi. Somewhere a lark was carolling high up In the blue. "And a Voice beat

More instant than the Feet—‘All things betray thee, who betrr.yest Me.’. " And when Gordon closed his eyes, the heavens swam before him, and through the clouds he caught sight of the Hound of Heaven, chasing—relentlessly. On the following morning, Gordon waked bewildered. The starlings were certainly chattering, but he had no wish to throw anything at them. Let them chatter. There was a tap at the door, and, Dr. Benson entered with a glass of hot milk. "I thought you would be awake," he said. "Lovely morning I” He set down the milk, and to Gordon’s amazement he set down a bottle of brandy beside It. "Brandy?" he put out his hand, as though the bottle lured him. "Brandy. I give it into your charge on one condition. Drink it whenever you feel so inclined, but when you want more, come to me for the supply." "Beoause you’ve doctored it?" sneered Gordon. "No, it is pure brandy. And now, as to the programme, come and go as you like, only I should advise you to •stick to my garden for the first month. You'll find wonderful views for all you want to paint from the sunset seat at the top of my ghyll. If you can paint all the clouds that fly past, and every sunset you see, I shall begin to believe In youl” "And this—lsall the programme?" “Almost I But once a day I shall Inject Into you a power and strength which will, I hope, unless you are a very obstinate fellow, make you want to pitch the bottle away. Only when you feel like that—let the bottle stay. "You will feel rotten—and down, and when you do you will always find milk in this room. There's a pan and a gas ring. Hot milk Is the cure we have i learnt from our mothers." I He put out his hand and smiled. | "Good luck, Jack. I’m interested in j you,’and I’m bent on earning my feel I Oh, yes, and you said something about wanting to illustrate the Hound of Heaven. It’s a mighty subject, and would need a great artist to do it. But hero’s the book," and he tossed it on the bed, and was gone. •CHAPTER XXXVIII. Paula Receives a Letter. Paula was feeling her feet, and genuinely enjoying the dale life, and i when the news of her mother’s death I had come, she had refused the Viear’s [ suggestion that she should break oft her work. "it is very kind," she Bald, "but it will be better for me to work.” Robert was not able to get north for some time, but when be did come, be received a great welcome, wbicb touched him to the quick. Paula had evidently been more sad and lonely than he had realized. "You can stay over Sunday?" she asked. "Oh, yes," he said readily, "What’s the scheme?" Paula laughed. "I can never keep schemes back from you. Bob. But I though you might sing our Anthem solo. I’m a sort of a choirmaster, and organist." “So they've roped you in for thatr" "Yes, and we’re practising hard already for Christmas—ages ahead, but I’m going to do a big thing." "And you’ll want Olive and me to come along for Christmas?" "Rather, and Aunt Claudia. She'g a dear. She writes me such sensible adorably letters." "And wh'at’s the Christmas subject 7" "The Messiah—as much as we can manage. And you’ll take the baritone solos, of course.” "Well, I like that I My boss will be furious if I sing solos In public." "Gowthwaite isn’t public,” she said happily, knowing that she would get her way. “I’ve been wondering whether Miss Smith would care to come for Christmas. I had rather a quaint letter from her brother after poor little mother died." She brought out the letter and read it to him: "Dear Miss Hammond. (To be continued.)