(SHORT STORY.) ONLY A HALF HOLIDAY

Auckland Star, Volume LXVIII, Issue 30, 5 February 1937, Page 13

(SHORT STORY.) ONLY A HALF HOLIDAY

(By L. E. LEAPER.)

DAPHNE was awakened by the sun shining into her face through her bedroom window, and force of habit caused her to jump straight out of bed. She was 10, and attending High School. And, therefore, for some unaccountable reason she always felt depressed as soon as she awoke. The same dull routine, day after day, got terribly boring until' the week-ends, when she had a temporary respite. This morning her despair vanished as she remembered it was Saturday, and therefore a half-holiday. She went through the Mine routine in a more joyqu3 spirit; she washed, had breakfast, and cleaned her teeth to the accompaniment of "Goody Goody" and its fellows on the radio. Then she collected her schoolbooks from various parts of the house, and promptly a sense of the real invaded her dance music dreamland. Three angelebra equations to solve! The previous night she had played tennis from six until eight o'clock, and then talked her way home until nine. Then she endeavoured to write an essay on the adventures of Cleomene, and none realised better than her that it was only an essay. Two equations had been solved, but by then she had been packed off to bed. It is these little bits of unfinished homework, or homework inadequately done, that make or mar the life of a schoolgirl. But with the ingenuity of her sex, and perhaps the deceit, she raced off to school hoping to be able to copy them out before algebra lesson. • » • # She achieved in 10 minutes a distance which normally took her half an hour. Not very many girls were at the school so early, but to her relief she saw Barbara, her special friend (at the moment) reading a film magazine. "Hello, Babs! What time did you get home last night?"

"Oh, about nine. Why?" "Well, look here. I hadn't time tp do my algebra. Can I borrow yours, please?" Barbara shrugged her shoulders and fished in her schoolbag for an exercise book, which she passed to Daphne without a word. "Oh, thanks!" She opened the book, and through a haze of smudges and ink-blots could faintly be discerned figures and symbols that "might be anything from calculus to geometry. To Daphne they conveyed ■ meaning that was perfectly lucid, though she failed to notice that the right answers were not arrived at by correct working. The morning passed in the same'old way. Miss Hedgington found fault with her English essay. Miss Orping.field found even greater fault with her algebra, 4, and for one dread moment Daphne thought she was going to compare her book with Barbara's. Tha moment passed, and she breathed again. French, the last lesson of the morning, cheered her up a bit, for she was good at French. Unmistakably good, but then she had a flair for languages, as Barbara would admit, somewhat jealously. Finally, the whole morning had gone, and she could look forward to almost two days of uninterrupted relaxation. Promptly she forgot the scoldings of two -- old maids (they were such in her private | opinion), and even forgot the praise of one nice woman, who, in fact, was unmarried and older than the other two. "Are you going anywhere this afternoon, Ba bs ?" "I don't know. How about another game of tennis?" "Oh, but how my arm aches after last night! Still, perhaps wel'll try it Shall you be seeing Ron and Allen?" "Yes. I'll tell them to turn up about three." "Righto. Cheerio." And as she walked gaily down the street, Daphne felt that life was worth living if only for Saturday afternoon?. Ah, joie de vivre! The sniiJe on her face encouraged a ,boy who had been nervously lingering near her to get his task over. "I say—er —Daphne!" i "Oh, hullo, Tom. Nice seeing you,haven't been round lately." ' "Er —no, fact is I've not been very *"ell. But look here, I've got a present for you." He took his hand from behind bis back and produced a small birdcage in which were two prettv coloured budgerigars. "Oh, love birds!" cried Daphne, with pleasure. * She took the cage from Tom's hand and looked oSgerly at the pretty birds, billing and cooing in perfect harmony. 'Oh, Tom, how good of you! Have thi/ got names?" Totn shuffled a little nervously, arid Daphne,-' with the shrewdness that Sue sex have, irrespective of age, when dealing with boys, she Lnew what was coming. "Well, this one's called —er —Daphne, and this one—" "Tom?" suggested Daphne.

Tom nodded nervously, very nervously. "I say, you don't mind, do you?" Daphne laughed. "I think they've very pretty names. And thank you ever so much for giving them to me." She laughed again. "I've got to go no#, but 111 be at the end of Parkway at 7 o'clock." She turned and ran. Tom waved hi* hand, and a smile broke over his fane as he realised the import of her words. Ikeu he, too, turned, and went home in a dream. When Daphne got home «he ound the vicar talking to her parents. The vicar eyed the budgerigars with something hardly pleasure in his eve. After the preliminary greetings weie over he took the golden opportunity and talked to Daphne about "the wrongfulness of keeping birds caged." ° . "These birds onc e enjoyed God's own air, and lived free to come and o- 0 a« they chose. They could revel m the sunshine, and they could fly over <r»en nelds and sunny lakes." ° • With the eloquence that only vicars seem to possess, he painted so glowin" a picture of freedom, and contrasted it to well with the dull drabness of beinZt n/ t, " y ca - e > tha * by the end Daphne felt really very sorry for the two love birds. When he had gone, her father turnsd to Jrier. thZ la £ be i . he ' S T, ri " ht ' Daphne. Give them back to Ron, or Tom, or whoever Fnt V \£ 7 0U ' No ' SO with him into the fields behind th e houses and l«t them free. Then you'll be doing everybody a good turn." Daphne agreed, though she wondered how Tom would take it. She did not want to hurt his feelings. Tennis that afternoon seemed very uninteresting, and she played terribly. She was a very player usually, but the thought of the 1,1 occu P ied her ®ind, and she watched every sparrow that flew near the courts. She also realised she was spoiling the game for the others. They realised it, too, and were none too kind to her. The afternoon had gone, and she had so far experienced none of the pleasure to which she had looked forward. When she Went to meet Tom at seven, she took the love birds with her.

Tom was pleased to see her, but surprised to see the birds. "Daphne, don't tell me you don't want them ?" • » • •

Then Daphne repeated the vicar's talk, but she put it less eloquently and far more sincerely. Coming from her, Tom found it very beautiful and very sad, and felt the feelings which people now consider a hundred years out of date. Tom took out Tom, the budgerigir, and Daphne took out Daphne, and thpv both held them for a moment in their hands. Then they released the birds, and within a few seconds they had liaappeared over a hedge. Daphne glanced at Tom, and perceiving his inward despondency, she leaned towards him and gave him a light kiss. They both felt very serious and very much in love.

But the birds, they were light-hearted, and greatly appreciated their newl?found freedom. Over the fields they flew, perched on twigs, and chattere'd gaily to each other. No happiness lasts very long, and theirs was no exception. Their first inkling of danger was wa?n a group of sparrows flew up and regarded them hostilely. It is difficult' to say why they attacked the budgerigars. Perhaps because of their colour, which made the sparrows jealous. Or th«|ir ness, j,which made the sparrows distrustful.

The love birds flew away in. fright, but the sparrows gave chase, and others joined in the pursuit. Over the fields they flew again, and into the streets of the suburb. There the sparrows caught up, and by sheer • -ight of numbers forced the love birds ' > the . . I. Thousands of greedy sparrows struggled among themselves to reach the loee birds.

Meanwhile Tom and Daphne, having lived for a few moments in an idyllic world of love, were returning home. The/ felt that the releasing of the love bird-? had brought them nearer together, nad given them something in common. Neither spoke; for they lived in that state of silence which most of us discover for the first time when we are about 10. Tom was the first to speak. "What are all those sparrows doing there on the ground?" At approach the sparrows flew awaj r , leaving the two dead birds on the pavement amidst a mass of scattered feathers.

That night Daphne cried for hours.