JANEY!

Auckland Star, Volume LX, Issue 46, 23 February 1929, Page 3

JANEY!

(By Bessie Spooner; age lti.) I don't really know why everyone should strain their vocal chords to shout "Janey!" at me every time anything goes wrong. I'm an inoffensive sort of person at the worst of times, and you would think the same if you could see my fair curly hair and big brown eves. Besides I'm only ten. and mother says I'm quite big enough to know better. Well, the other day. I'll tell you what happened. Mother had asked Miss Peck to afternoon tea. Mir* Peek —the name sounds catty, doesn't it?—is our next door neighbour, and also an old maid. Above ail. she s got an evil cat! It kept on climbing over our back wall, so naturally I kept, throwing it back. I wouldn't have done it, only it was '"her" eat, and it had a wonderful way of landing on its four paws, whichever way 1 threw it. Anyway, on the afternoon of Miss Peck's visit she cafne, all dressed up in her Sunday best. She had her hair screwed back in a little knot and her squinty eyes looked owlishly large behind her pince-nez, that rested on the end of her turned-up nose. Oh, that awful frtfck! I must tell you all about it. It was one of those highnecked affairs, made out of print check material and fastened up all the way down her back with big cheek buttons. You've never seen such a thing, and her boots! Well, anyway, motfter politely rave her a chair, then they both sat down and began to talk. Talk! Why on earth they call these things afternoon teas I don't know. I was sitting on a rug behind our_ visitor when the inspiration came to me. One of those horrible big chqck buttons was sticking through a slit in the back of Miss Peek's chair," and without attracting their attention I manoeuvred up to it and began to pull first one and then another delicately through, until I had eight buttons decorating the back of that fateful piece of furniture. I was sitting back on my heels surveying my halfhour's work with pride, when, of course. Miss Peck had to decide that it was getting late and that she really must be going, because the cat would lie getting hungry. Just fancy! Then before I could put the buttons back—l had intended to—she tried to stand tip. Then, of course, things began to happen. Miss Peck fell forward on to the table, tilting up numerous legs behind her, the table caught my poor mother in the centre and they both landed on our nice carpet, sprawling amongst the cakes and broken china. A few exclamations and then it came. "Janey!" '•'Why ever was I called tliat; it sounded awful being shouted out so. A Ion? and boring lecture followed. Then —"now give Miss Peck a kiss and apologise. at once!" Good gracious! kiss "her," who ever dreamt of such a thing! Although I was afraid she would bite me instead—she looked so vicious—l courageously put up my cheek, and as soon as I said I was sorry —I wasn't, really—l fled to the door, pausing just long enough to display my tongue, and waited expectantly in the hall. A short silence, then a stricken voice shouted: "Janey!!"