A DIALOGUE.

Press, Volume LX, Issue 11511, 18 February 1903, Page 5

A DIALOGUE.

Mr Dick Tubman had called. The landlady, on handing Betty his card, volunteered him "a tahl yoong mon, wi' gauld eye-glasses," and Betty, crushing the bit of pasteboard in her fingers, rushed up to the drawing-ioom, "How do you do, Dick! In town for long? How nice you look! It's good to see you again, old fellow. Don't squeeze my hand, it hurts. Why on earth have you grown a moustache? How ?" "Enough, young woman," said Dick, looking at the bright fetching face and dancing eyes. "You're out of breath. Take a seat, and speak again when you feel as if you can talk coherently." Betty eat down, resentfully, on the lodg-ing-house sofa, and slowly smoothed the opossum rug with which it was covered. Dick perched on a piano stool, and gazed out of the window. There was a silence.

"It's a beautiful evening," hazarded Dick. "Do you think," said Betty, pensively, ' that because you're an LL.B., and all that, you know, you may moke these risky assertions with impunity?" "Do you think," responded Dick, "that because you happen, to do a woman, and a young one, that you may find fault with the tone of a guest's conversation, without being guilty of a breach of good manners?" "Manners!" said Betty, disdainfully. "I never bother "

"I've noticed that," said Dick. "Let me return to my original biht—it's a beautiful evening." "Was it a hint," queried Betty. ,"1 thought it was a platitude." "If you hadn't the wit to see it was a bint, Betty, I'm glad you didn't take it." She laughed. "Well, I'll come out if you like, but, I say, old man, how about getting in again? It's past eight, and these good people are such early birds." "Haven't you got a latch key? Whatever sort of diggings is this you've fetched up in, Betty?" "Oh, yes, there's a latch key," responded Betty, heartily. "If you'll take charge of it—? Very well, weUl go. Wait till I get a wrap-' . When she returned they went out together, and in silence she indicated an object that lay on the gas meter, just inside the hall door. In the semi-darkness it resembled a small pickaxe, and he looked at her inquiringly. "Why, you're not going to back out" said she, astonished. "Back out of what? Certainly not. Why ?" "You don't seem so keen on carrying that latch key as you were ten minutes ago." "I—yg,u don't say that implement is a latch key? Oh, Betty!" He lifted it up in both "hands, and placed it carefully down again. "Are you sure we're quite justified in taking the key?" he asked. "No one else f»

"No," she replied, reassuringly. "I have permission to take it with me whenever I expect to be out after ten. Slip it in your waistcoat pocket, Dick, and come on." "Betty," he said, sternly, "where in the whole of my sartorial anatomy is there a pocket that would contain one-third of this —this—?" , , "Well, hide it then. I usually do." And they did. "iNow, whither?" said Dick, straightening himself and glancing round. "Up the hill and through the bush, I think," she said"There's a rail to lean on, and a beautiful view from the top." So they proceeded. "And what are you doing now?" asked he. "You won't write to me, so I necessarily go newsless." "I'm taking philosophy," said Betty, "and it's very upsetting. For instance,

Dick, I'm not at all sure that you're there, or that yon exist at all, except in my mind, and it is quite possible that this beautiful sunset is a figment of my imagination."

"Well, if your imagination can conjure up that," said Dick, waving his hand towards the glowing sky, "it must be what I should call vivid."

"Do you think I am in the mood for bad puns?" asked Betty, indignantly. "Haven't an idea," responded the LL.B. "No," returned Betty, in an acid tone. "I never remember when you did have one, either."

"'Ware pitfalls, my dear girl. It's a pity to spoil a good retort by an exhibition of shocking grammar." "Flank movenrents, Mr Tubman, may be good diplomacy, but they're not very square."

"Betty, Betty woman—but I suppose it must be the philosophy—how do you arrive at degrees of squareness?'' "Oh, I'm sorry," said Betty penitently. "I wasn't thinking what I was saying/ "Is that unusual?" inquired Dick, with interest.

"No; not when I'm with you," she responded tartly. "I don't find 'it necessary." "Ah, thanks," said Dick, kindly. "You realise then, my dear girl, that I can do thinking enough for two?"

"You know that's not what I meant, Dick," she said warmly—"l meant I can talk down to your level without needing to think."

"A bit laborious," queried Dick with a shrug. "Remember brevity is " "Well, Dick," interrupted Betty, gently. "I don't know that I feel altogether inclined for a stroll to-night, after all. But don't let me spoil your walk. Go straight on until you come to the red pillar-box, tiien turn to the left along the bush road, and follow it to the top of tho hill. I'll go back by myself. It isn't far, and I have some Jeiters to write.'' "Now, Betty," expostulated Dick, "stick to your guns." I thought you had more pluck than to turn your back to the foe — and more ability, too, than to be routed so easily." She faced him indignantly, then changing her mind, laughed and walked on. "Yes," she said presently, in an injured tone, "they say I'm cleVer; a clever girl." "So you are, Betty," responded Dick, encouragingly, "a very clever little girl." "Indeed, Mr Tubman," said she sweetly, "I'm sure I wish I were only half as intelligent as you." "Well," he said, considering; "well, 1 should think you are, yes, quite half." They had passed the* red pillar-box, and were deep in the bush road. The sunset had faded to a warm pink glow, and up in tho tender zenith a shy star was trembling and blushing. Half * unconsciously Dick drew a little nearer to the girl's side, and their footsteps sounded strangely loud in the midst of Nature's* hush.

"Dick," she said, "this reminds me of Colombo. Do you remember that night— driving along the red road from Mt. Lavinia —two years ago?" "Yes," he replied. "And that wretched beast of ours upset us all down the bank, and mixed us up considerably. And 1 thought you were killed." He was silent, remembering how in anguished abandonment he had taken the limp form in his arms, mutely confessing something he had not even guessed before, and how with girlish petulance she had repulsed him. She was going to "fight her own way in the worid." Betty was thinking now of the same thing, and looked- back over the intervening two years with a note of interrogation in her thoughts. "I've knocked about a good deal since then, haven't I, Dick?" she said, aa they reached the top of the hill. "Still knocking," she added, with a sigh, resting her elbow on the rail and looking out .through the blue and silver night. A third of a moon was showing its radiance by this t:me, and the first shy star had brought many friends to its side. Dick came close, and gazed breathlessly at the little brilliant face, tender in the moonlight. "May I not open a door of refuge for you, dear?" he said, and his low spoken words thrilled her painfully. But she turned away. "No, Dick," she whispered, looking down at the lights on the water. "That wouldn't be fair to you, to marry you for—for a refuge." , "What will you marry me for, then, Betty?" said he, boldly taking her hands in his. "For always, you dear old stupid,'.' she answered, and laughed hysterically.