Menage a Deux.

Auckland Star, Volume XIII, Issue 3704, 24 June 1882, Page 3 (Supplement)

Menage a Deux.

A Domestic Tete-a-Tete,

[CharliclfunHngfordrmdClaralFuntinaford on their Honeymoon. He is raiding the paper in an Easy-Chair; She is Working at the Tabic]

Clara—lsn't it pretty, Charlie? (holding up work).

Charlie (without looking up from paper) —Yes, very.

Clara—What colour do you think I ought to use here? Shall it be peacock blue, or a sort of dull Japanese red, or a pale, pale

green ? Charlie—o, npale green decidedly (turns over paper without looking up, aud begins to hum a tune )

Clara—Yes, perhaps that will look best; it is quiet and pretty.and .'esthetic. 0, I'm afraid I haven't got enough of it; will you go out and get mc sonic, Charlie dear? Charlie—(reading)—O. I say Clara listen to this ; " One of the newest feminine inventions is called a palpitating corset, which enables the fair wearer, by an easy mechanical contrivance, to add to the fascination and charm of her figure." Well, I wonder what you women will come to next! What an infamous sham female beauty and attractiveness arc I

Clara—(quietly)—Don't read such horrid things, Charlie. You ought to bo ashamed of yourself for rcadiug tho "Ladies Column." You don't understand the fashions, you know.

Charlie—Yes, but I think I can understand this at all events. I cannot think how girls can demean themselves ■ Clara—Won't you get mc the pale green, dear?

Chailie (going on reading)— Yes, I'll go out presently. (Looking up)— What arc you working at so busily ? Clara—lt is a tcacloth for the bazaar. (Charlie resumes hia paper.) I don't believe yon arc the least interested. Charlie - Yes I am, I assure you, By Jovo, I wonder if it will be the Dark or Light hluc this time ? Clara—Charlie (reproachfully), you don't even listen to inc.

Charlie (putting down paper) —Yes I do really, little woman. You said yon were making some slippers for me. didn't you I

Clara—No; not I, indeed 1 Does it look like slipporn ? It's a piece of work for the bazaar at home—tlie bazaar in connection with Mr Ambrosius's church, don't you know. We want to provide him with surplices and ca'socks. Charlie—What, hasn't old Ambrosius got a surplice yet, Clara—How stupid you are I And he isn't old, either. Of course the surplices and cassocks are for the choir. It's so horrid to see the men and boys with their different colouredcoats,and their check trousers, and their green ties, when they arc singing in church !

Charlie--Why, I thought I was to go out and get a green tie or something. Didn't you ask roe just now ? Clara—o, I sec you don't care a little bit for what interests mc ; you never have.and I suppose you never will. And, what's more, you don't care whether the choir looks decent or not in church 1

Charlie—Well, it strikes mc that they would look still less decent without their coats and their trousers, would they not ?

Clara—How irreverent you are ! Don't you know that variegated and bright colours look very unseemly (as Mr Ambrosius says) when you are engaged in divine sorvice ? Charlie—Very, of course. That is why so many girls go te church in pink dresses, I suppose. Clara—o, you are horrid! Charlie—No, I always go in a black coat and a tall hat when I visit church.

Clara —When you do visit church. And lam sure that isn't vory often. When did you go last ? Bo sincere for once. CharUc (thoughtfully)— Well, I certainly went when we were married, didn't I.

Clara—You couldn't help yourself then. Charlie (softly to himself)—No, by Jove, I couldn't help myself then. Clara—What is that you are murmuring to yourself? It is a had habit of yours, talking to yourself. You must get out of it. Charle (mildly) —I was only agreeing with what you said, dear. Clara—Well at any rate, I don't think you are a bit—what shall I call it ?—devout. I wish you would try to come with me sometimes. It is so hoirid to go always by oneself.

Charlie—The fact is, Clara, you understand about aU these things, and I don't. You know all about choirs, and what they ought to wear, and cassocks, and all that sort of thing. And you always seem to comprehend what old—l beg your pardon— young Ambrosius is talking about; and, for the life of me, I can't make it out. _ He is so delightfully mystical and romantic. Clara—Mystical and romantic I Weren't you mystical and romantic onco—before we were married, I mean ?

Charlie (smilingly)—O, yes; before we were married, of course. It's the right thing to be.

Clara—Am I to have nothing of that afterwards? Am I never to have any romance and sentiment because I happen to be married ? Is all the sunshine to go out of my life now ? (Tears in her eyes ) 0, Charlie, I never thought it would come to this!

Charlie—My dear child, it is women's business to be religious. It is more, it is their duty. It is their duty and their privilege to keep before their husband's and their children's eyes a beautiful ideal of devotion audemotion, and true and sincere sentiment. And 1 am always sure that that is what ray littlo wife will do (going close to her).

Clara—o, Charlie, don't 1 Cliarlie(with fervour)—l am sure she is all sincerity and truth and pure emotion, And when I married her, I felt that she would keep before my eyes a beautiful picture of what a true loving littlo wife would be. Clara—o, Charlie, you really mustn't You will make mc ciy. , Charlie—No pretence, no sham, no hum- 1 bug ; but clear, simple and unaffected, like purest crystal (embraces her). Clara-0, Charlie, you must be careful, Charlie—Have I hurt you, darling 1

Clara—No, no ; you haven't hurt me; but I am sure you will damage-

Charlie—Damage what? Clara (blushing) —My palpitating corset. Tableau. Scene closes. — World.

A woman may always judge of the estiniaion in which she is held by the conversation which is addressed to her,