PENSIONING OFF THE OLD GATE.

Auckland Star, Volume LX, Issue 307, 28 December 1929, Page 3 (Supplement)

PENSIONING OFF THE OLD GATE.

Daddy, worried by the many repairs to be done in a new bouse, said tbev simply, couldn't afford to paint tbe gate. Not a penny could be spent on it, yet there it hung, slightly askew 'on its hinges, , and such a dirty' blue-green col our! It was so deserted-looking. Tom wanted to take the thing and journey over with it to Ireland, and put it at the entrance of a very old avenue he knew- leading up to a moss-grown, empty house. Martin, just a little younger, was vexed that you couldn't with an easy mind swing on it to and fro, for the timber was rotten, and in he had broken a bar. Terence was always the one whom daddy called to when he wanted to take the car out of the garage, and couldn't because of the gate. Terry had to manage the prop which held it open. Minnie, the only girl, couldn't help wondering how many families the gate had worked for, and dreamed about the Grays and the Featherstonehaughs and the Bowlbys —and all the rest of the clans that had once lived in Firtree House. Somebody once, in a very hasty temper, had used the old gate and banged it crossly, so that it suffered. The whole family, so delighted with their new home, were bothered about their gate,, which seemed to grow more sideways than ever as the drive got tidier inside and became gay with snap-j dragon borders; and when the electricians arrived to crown the two gate pillars with wrought iron lights the gate seemed all unworthy of them, and creaked sadly. Minnie, aged twelve, the poet of the' family, was passing in that evening when the spick and span new lamps were in place, and heard the gate moaning. "I'm tired, I'm so tired!" it seemed to say. Minnie was seized with an idea and rushed to her father. "Daddy, you must take away the gate altogether!" she cried. "Ifs very weary. The. entrance will look so nice without i't. We can drive straight in then, without hopping out to get props and pushing the gate back. And it will seem more welcoming to visitors, too." Mr. Martin stopped his busy sawing of bookshelves as he digested the idea. There was nothing against it. "Bravo, Minnie," he cried. "That's not a bad idea!" The old gate was tenderly lifted off its hinges that very night, and placed up against the sand bank in the kitchen garden, where it leans restfuliy. And everyone is satisfied.

NIGHT. Just a peep of moonlight, Just a breath of night, Just the song of the night bird In the soft twilight. Oh, for the winds of midnight And the lapping on the shore, And the stars shine out from heaven On the stillness that comes once more.