"SCORED."

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 884, 9 July 1913, Page 8

"SCORED."

(The Conservatory at Lady Emdale's. Mrs Martlett fanning herself leisurely, while Dick Sylvester leans against the pedestal of a statuette of Constancy.) Hi-s Martlett—-After all these years!■' - Dick Sylvester (briskly)— Well, aereu years is a to«d span. Mrs Martlett (sentirasntally)—How many things have happened ? ' Dick Sylvester (suiiliug)—Things .mostly do happen when they've time, don't they ? Mrs Martlett (gentry,—Ah, but you know what £ mean! S j van years ago you and Dick Sylvester (brightly)—Oh, don't let us so in for remini'cences! It's all very well—you don't look an hour older; but time doesn't feel called upon to be amiable to us mere males ! Mrs Martlett (sentimentally)— You are just the sam 6 Diok ! Dick Syl?eatcr : (laughing)—l'm really not quite euro whether thit remark ought to make mo proud or abashed. Mrs Martlett (dreamily) —Do you rcmero. ber it was in this very house that we met last?

Dick Sylvester—Yes, I remember perfectly. Mrs Martlett (puts her fan down with a sigh)— You haven't forgiven me, Dick ? Diok Sylvester—My dear Mrs Martlett, if I had two grains of commonsense, I should never have imagined that there wa# anything to forgive. Mrs Martlett (quickly)— But the letter— . Diok Sylvester (smiling;—A youthful indiscretion.

Mrs Martlett—lt was very oruel. Dick Sylvester—As far as I remember, it was extremely silly. Mrs Martlett (pleadingly)— Dick—l must call you Dick—you never undorstbod it at all! Dick Sylvester—Of course, that was the mischief of it. Mrs Martlett—You mean Dick Sylvester (apologetically)—l was ridi oulously young and inexperienced, and most absurdly in love with you. I took it all 'au grand serieux.' , Mrs Martlett—But

'Diok Sylvester—But as I didn't hail quite from the backwoods, that was unpardonable, wasn't it?

Mrs Martlett (playing with her fan)—lf I cou'.d have done as I choose, I'd Dick Sylvester (smiling)— Yesf Mrs Martlett—But what was I to do? My aunt had brought rae up. Could Ibe so ungrateful as to overthrow all h?r hopes? Dick Sylvester (solemnly)— Iphigenia in Ma;fair! Dsar Mrs Martlett, why should we rake up all this now ? I Mrs Martlett—Yoa have misunderstood me ail along, (pleadingly): Dick—— Dick Sylvester (it a matter-of-laot tone)— No; on the contrary, I understood perfectly. You were extremely pretty. George M»rtlett came, saw, and was cocquereri. -He had twenty thousand pounds a year ; there was only one possible epilogue, wasn't there ? No well; trained girl could have hesitated between an Australian millionaire and a poor devil who could not have kept her in gloves, so she jilted the one and married the other. Mrs Martlett (plaintively) You put it very brutally, Dick! You haven't once said you were glad I'd come baok. Dick Sylvester (heartily)— But I am awfully glad.'

Mrs Harriett (brightening) Really P (Smiles ) It wasn't wildly exciting out there you know, and poor dear Oeorge was not particularly entertaining every day. Dick Sylvester (politely)— I don't remember seeing very much of the late Mr. Martlett. '. Mrs Martlett—l always wanted him to come home ; but vou couldn't get him away from Sydney. Poor George, he was very colonial.* Dick Sylvester (cheerfully)— Well, at any rate, here you aire among your own people again, and with what some French fellow calls ' lis baton d* marechal de la femme.' Mrs Martlett— What's that ? ' Diok Bylvesttr—Widowhood. Mrs Martlett (■simpering)—Oh ! (Looks up at him coquettishly.) And how everyone is talking of you ! People say that you are the dramatist of the future. Diok Sylvoater (interrupting her) —lt sounds very ungrateful of me, but ought not we to go back to the ballroom now. I shall be torn asunder by your angry partners if I keep you h6te any longer. Mrs Martlett (slips her hand under his arm)—No, there is no day—no tuna for you. Come when you like, and as often as you like.

Diok Sylvester—But, dear Mrs Martlett— Mrs Msrtlett (tenderly)— Not Mrs Martlett for you. Call me Stella, as in the old days. Dick Sylvester (with a carious smile) —I em afraid that— Mrs Martlett—-That people may talk! Who is there to whom it can matter now ?' -Dick Sylvester (iaughiug)— My wife, possibly. I must introduce you to [He stops short. Mrs filartlett has slipped bis arm and crossed the threshold of the ballrooa quiokly, accosting the first man she meets with great volubility. Dick chuckles quietly to himself as he makes his way in the opposite direction.] —T. E. Gh