Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1914-02-06

genius had reared. and to right the
wrong that would cast its gloomy
shadow on his nsme-that had been
his only thought. What he had done
would have been done no matter what
the outcome of the investigation. But
now, he told himself, no one could say
the act had been wrung from him.
That, he fancied, would have been his
fathers way.
He smiled-a slow smile of reminis-
cence-for there had come to him at
that moment the dearest of all those
memories-a play of his childhood.
He saw himself seated on a low
stool, watching a funny old clock with
a moon-face, whose smiling lips curved
up like military mustachios, and wish
ing the lazy long hands would hurry.
He saw himself stealing down a long
corridor to the door of a big room
strewn with books and papers, that
through some baleful and mysterious
spell could not be made to open at
all hours. When the hands pointed
right, however, there was the open
Sesame"-his own secret knock, two
fierce twin raps, with one little lone
some n afterward-and this was I'M
failing. Safe inside, he saw himself
standing on a big, polar-bear-skin, the
door tight-locked against all Corners
an expectant baby figure with his lit
tie hand clasped in his fathers. The
white rug was the magic entrance to
the Never-Never Country, known only
to those two.
He could hear his W shrill treble:
"Wishing-House, Westinghouse,
where are your"
Then the deeper voice (quite unrec-
o~gnizable as his father's) answering:
Here ! am, Master; here l ami"
And instantly the room vanished
and they were in the Never-Never
Land, and before them reared the big
gest house in the world, with a row of
white pillars across its front a mile
high.
John Valiant felt an odd beating of
the heart and a tightening of the
throat, for he saw a scene that never
faded from his memory. 1t was the
one hushed and horrible night, when
dread things had been happening that
he could not understand, when a big
man with gold eyeglasses, who
smelled of some curious sickish-sweet
perfume, came and took him by the
hand and led him into a room where
his father lay in bed, very gray and
quiet.
The white hand on the ~coverlet
had beckoned to him and he had gone
close up to the bed, standing very
straight, his heart beating fast and
hard.
"Johnl" the word had been almost
a whisper, very tense and anxious,
very distinct. John, you're a little
boy, and father is going away"
Toto Westinghouse"
The gray lips had smiled then, ever
SO little, and sadly. mo, John"
Take me with you, fatherl Take
me with you'll"
His voice had trembled then, and he
had had to gulp hard.
Listen, John, for what l am say
ing ii very important. lou uOu I
know what l mean now, but some
time you will" The whisper had
grown strained and frayed, but 1t was
still distinct. 81 can't &c to the Never
Never Land. But you may sometime.
If you = = if you do, and If you
find Westinghouse, remember that
the men who lived in it = be-
fore you and me " . . were gem
tlemen. Whatever else they were,
they were always that. Be > '
like them, John. . = will your"
Yes, father"
The old gentleman with the eye
glasses had come forward then, hasti-
ly.
Goodnight, father"
He had wanted to kiss him, but a
strange cool hush had settled on the
room and his father seemed all at
once to have fallen asleep. And he
had gone out, so carefully, on tiptoe,
wondering, and suddenly afraid.