PAID IN FULL

Waikato Times, Volume 127, Issue 21204, 29 August 1940, Page 3

PAID IN FULL

= NEW SERIAL STORY =

by H. S. Sarbert

CHAPTER IV. Extraordinary “Your son?” Hilda Holden cried, with genuine surprise. “Well, that is extraordinary, isn’t it?—even allowing for the fact that Preston isn’t a very common name.” “Ay, you’re right there, nurse,” replied David. “And I expect, too you’ll be wondering how it comes that a common-place sort of fellow like me has a son like that ” “No,” she said, “I can’t say that I surprised me.” She certainly had not thought him common-place—this man who had come so swiftly to her assistance, who had displayed such pluck. He had been in a very shady part of the town, and, there had been faces peeping out at him from i dark corners; but that had meant nothing to him at all. He had dealt I with a ruffian in his own way. A man of great strength,, of great nerve, was this David Preston—a man who would be a tower of strength in time of need, who could be trusted implicitly. There certainly was nothing common-place about him. “My son has all the brains of the family,” David stated. “He’s going to make good at his own profession.” He went on praising Harry for the next five minutes. He was on a favourite topic. It was so easy for him to praise his boy, and watching him, Hilda felt her heart go out to him. He was a man who had lost his wife early in their married life, and who had devoted himself to the care of his son, giving him every chance in life, thinking of him first and foremost. Yes, she had made no mistake where this stranger was concerned. He was a fine man. “Come and see my brother, will you?” she asked suddenly. “He lives only just across the way to the mission hall. I know he would like to have a chat with you, Mr Preston, and I am just going there now.” That was how it came about that David Preston was introduced to the Rev. James Holden, a fine-looking man, in the early thirties, rather slimly built, but with a strong jaw and the same earnest grey eyes that characterised his sister. Hilda explained to her brother what had happened, and the minister rose from his desk and held out his hand. “I am much indebted to you, Mr Preston,” he said. David, feeling rather lonely in a strange city, rather in need of someone to whom to talk, was easily persuaded to sit down and have some coffee that Hilda made herself. It was net long before David was in possession of the simple facts of their lives. James Holden was thirty-two, eighteen months younger than his sister. Both their parents were dead, and neither of the children had married or become engaged to be married. James was running the mission hall, having a crowded, ! but very poor congregation, needing ! any amount of help, and his greatest assistant was his sister, who having been trained in one of the big hospitals, was now attached to a clinic in the neighbourhood. They were both of them giving up their lives to the poor and needy, studying the welfare of others; and in doing this, finding the truest happiness for themselves.

David guessed—and rightly—that they both might have moved in easier paths had they so desired. James had passed through his college with first-class honours. He was a brilliant man, a fine speaker, and he might have had a church in the West End, with a fashionable congregation—but he had considered that he could do far better work here.. “We can’t stop poverty,” he said. “But there is one thing we can try to do—fight hard to keep poverty distinct from sickness and crime. Do you understand what I mean, Mr Preston?” David nodded. “Quite well,” he said, “and it doesn’t sound so easy, Mr Holden.” A quick involuntary sigh escaped the minister. “It isn’t,” he answered. “That’s the whole problem. A man may be quite all right when he’s in work —but suddenly he loses his job, can’t find another. Food becomes scarce. He has a wife and children, and the wife will probably sacrifice herself in order to provide for the children. We’ve seen wonderful examples of self-sacrifice and heroism down in these parts, believe me, Mr Preston. Then the wife i falls ill. Probably she has kept the whole affair to herself—going about with a smiling countenance in order not to depress her husband or the children. We only hear about her when she actually goes down with some serious illness. Then —or even before' that stage—the husband becomes desperate. He decided that he must get some money somewhere. He hears of something from one of his mates —a way to make ‘easy money’—and, so he drifts into crime. That’s the sort of thing I mean. That’s our job. We can’t help the unemployment and the poverty—our job is to keep it away from sickness and crime. Isn’t it, Hilda?” “Yes, dear,” his sister said. Hames Holden pointed to the speaker. “We get a few triumphs and a lot of discouragement,” he stated, “but we get on. It’s easy for me with Hilda to help. I couldn’t ask for anyone better, and her popularity—” But Hilda wouldn’t let him go on

any further. The colour came rushing into her cheeks, and looking at her, David could not help thinking how pretty and young she looked when she flushed and smiled. •‘Spare my blushes, Jimmy'” she pleaded. “And also have pity on Mr Preston. He must be getting bored.” “I’m not,” David replied. “I’m very interested.” “Well, there’s something else in which I want you to be interested,” Hilda said. “We were talking about this building scheme, and the circular I received from your son. You see, my brother and I thought that it would be a great idea if we could take a small place just outside London, in a nice healthy suburb, close to the country, and open it as a small convalescent home. We haven’t a great deal of money, but we could manage that; and it would be so useful to send some of the folk when in need of itest —not bad enough for the

hospital, perhaps—but just wanting a rest. That’s what we had in mind, Mr Preston, and now that I’ve met you, I should certainly like to have a chat with your son about it.” (To be continued daily)