PAID IN FULL

Waikato Times, Volume 127, Issue 21230, 28 September 1940, Page 15

PAID IN FULL

NEW SERIAL STORY

by H. S. Sarbert

CHAPTER IX.— (Continued.) “God bless you. Mr Wyman!” he cried. “You can tell your son that I wasn’t thinking so much about him.” the other man said. “Tell him I have done this to show my appreciation of the straight, fine man who is his father. I’m just taking a chance, Mr Preston—the chance that this boy of yours must have some of your temperament—your spirit. If he has, I know he’ll make good!” So David Preston was able to take good news to his son that night. Harry had left his own lodgings and taken a room in the house where David was staying. Naturally, Harry was deeply grateful. He sat down then and there and wrote to Mr Wyman. “I—l hardly know how to look you in the face, father,” he whispered. “After all you have done for me—and I’ve let you down like this. I’m a prodigal—‘no more worthy to be called thy son’. But I—l’ll make good. I won’t slip up the second time, I promise you that.” “I’m sure of that, son,” his father said. “That’s what I’ve been banking on all the time. And just listen! We don’t want any more talk about the other matter—see? Just let’s forget all about it.” Harry bit at his underlip. That was what made it all the harder to bear. It might have been better for his own peace of mind if his father had reproached him, for he had every reason to do so. He might have made use of the old remark about, “I told you so!” He might have been generally bitter about the way he had been treated. All the savings of his life gone, his business sold up, himself made penniless—to save his son from prison and disgrace! And yet no word of reproach ever left his lips. He just did not want to talk about the matter any more. He wanted them both to make a fresh start. He was going to stand by his son’s side. He was going to help Harry all that he possibly could—to stand by him while he rose again. / It was fine of his father! How [ many fathers would have done so much? Harry asked himself. There was still a point of contention between them, however. Harry knew that his father was hoping he would give up Carrie Lucas. But that was something Harr^ 1 could not do. And he spoke to his father about it. “I—l can’t desert Carrie, father,” he said. “She needs me more than ever now.” “Has she told you that?” “Not in so many words, but I know it,” he replied. “After all, she hasn’t run away ” “She had nothing to run away for, lad,” his father answered. “She was in no danger.” David remembered the private conversation that he had had with Mr Wyman on this point—and that Mr Wyman had said: “It’s no business of mine, and I don’t wish to interfere—but if I know anything of Carrie Lucas, she is her father’s daughter, utterly selfish, not caring who sinks so long as she swims. It would be the best thing in the world if your son had nothing more to do with her. That is my advice to you. It would aid him enormously in his fresh start if he cut adrift from all those ties.” Mr Wyman was right, but what ; could David do at the present time, when Harry was so set on Carrie, when he believed in Carrie as much as ever? David spoke of the matter Hilda when he met her in the little sittingroom behind the mission. Hilda had heard of what had happened, and she was not surprised at Mr Preston’s action. It was just the sort of thing he would do—sell up his business —everything—in order to clear his son’s name, and after that not to want to talk about it, but just want the matter dropped. Mr Preston told Hilda that he was starting again. He did not know exactly what he was going to do. He was going to get a job somewhere. After all, he was still a comparatively young man—still in the early forties, with the strength of a man ten years his junior. There was nothing to which he couldn’t put his hand—or his shoulder. But Hilda knew, and her brother knew, that it isn’t such an easy thing to start all over again when one is past forty; that it needs a fine, brave spirit to do that. And Hilda was as gentle and sympathetic as could be. “We’ve just got to hope for the ! best, Mr Preston,” she said. “You | have done splendidly. I—l don’t i think too much will be put upon | you—not more than you can bear. That’s a divine promise that has been given, isn’t it?” David smiled. “Trust you for thinking of the right thing to say,” he answered. “Yes, I’ll leave it at that. And now I’ll have to be go-

ing.” “But you’re coming back, old man?” James asked. “We’re going to see more of you, I hope? After

| all, we’ve come to look on you as a I real friend—and we don’t want to ! lose you.” j “You won’t!” David replied. “I’ll i be turning up pretty often, I give j you my word. But I must get a ! job first. Harry’s got work—now I’ve got to get a job. I’ll manage it, too—you watch me!” “You Love Him!” After David had gone Hilda stood by the window for some little time. She did not look round. She was conscious that her brother was watching her, but she would not look round, and for a good reason. There were tears in her eyes—tears that she could not keep back —and she. did not want even James to see them. But James seemed to guess, for he came across and laid a hand on her shoulder. j “Sorry, old girl!” he said, j “I—l don’t understand you, Jim. j You mean—sorry for Mr Preston?” “Perhaps,” the clergyman answer- ! ed. “Yes, perhaps I’m sorry for | him—although I’m not sure he would j appreciate that. I’m not so sure | that he would want folks to be sorry for him. He’s too strong and self-reliant for that. No, I was thinking of you, Hilda ” “I don’t understand you ” (To be continued)