THE PRETENDER.

Press, Volume LXIII, Issue 12896, 30 August 1907, Page 4

THE PRETENDER.

-*— Br Ore* OuvMt.

I oan shut my eyes and cc* Omi, and, for the matter of that, I can see her without shutting my eyee; but I cannot describe her. I «mW toll you hundreds of things about hwvg™ when you added them up they wouldn t make Omi. , .._«.«- She is five feet five and a Q uar^ r ' and weighs seven stone twelve. one has black-brown eyes—a lot of «?«»- and brown-brown hair—a lot of hair She has a mouth like a Cupids bow, and even, white teeth; but youi do not see tliem when she talks (that is nearly always), only when she laughs (that is very ofen). She has a funny, quick, little smile when she's pleased, and a funny, slow, little frown, Use another sort of smile, when she c pubeled; a rippling voioe that souncte as if the world aroused her; and it doe*. She has an ear for music and a taste for acting and a gift for drawing. Some people call her pretty, and some people call her charming, and I call her both, and she likee everybody and everybody likes her. But all that doesn't describe Omi. I caw her first on baord the 8.M.8. Briton. I was going out of South Africa alone, on business, and Omi was going out on pleasure, with her paternal grandmother; a stately, white-haired Juno. She was talking and laughing, with her head on ono eide, and I thought I haa never seen such a jolly girl. There were with a little eaiidy-haired old gentleman, and I was afraid that they had only come to see him off. I nearly threw up my cap when ho went ashore an<i they remained aboard. I haunted them for the next day in tho hope of finding some wey of scraping acquaintance, but without, success. Then the sea did mc n good turn by doing moet, of the other passengers a bad one, and leaving us almost alone. I had been used to yachting from the time I was a boy—l wae five and twenty then—and liked rough weather. They wore evidently hardened sailors, also, for they were the only ladies who sat out the second dinner. Alter dinner they sat on deck with rugs over their knece and talked and ltfugjhed; and I promenaded up and down, smoking a oigar. When I was passings them for' the seventeenth time Omi aimed a smile at her grandmother— so she says—and hit mc instead. The smile eet fire to my courage and £ walked up to them, and addressed the old lady. "1 beg your pardon," I said, with n bow, "but 1 thought I heard you mention the Lesters of Lothbury yesterday P" She had, in fact, related a considerable portion of their family histoiy to another elderly lady, when I was sitting close by. "I certainly mentioned them," she agreed, looking at mc in an awesome fashion. "I will take your word that you heard." "You may have heard them epeak of the GranteP ,, 1 suggested. "I am James. I wae at Oxford with Ted teeter." I had gathord from her remarks that we must have been at Oxford at the same time, though I didn't know him. "Indeed! ,, She gave mc another awesome look. "Then perbape you know his father P" "Ya»," I stated. "Certainly.* , . I did not; but I roever contradict elderly ladies. Her face relaxed into a smile, awl I felt more hopeful. "What a splendid big man he ie," she remarked, aa if she was speaking to herself. "Tremendous!" I cried enthusiastically. "He must be well over β-ii^ *"Sir feet three," eh© ''And: such a "handsome man, when Km nair waa black 1" ; *" ,'■ "Jet black!" I corroborated. "I should hardly have thought that you remembered co long agoP" she ob"l—«r—just remember, , ' I declared "You ace I lived in the neighbourhood when I was Young." "Was it at Mclbridge P" she asked. "At Melbridge," I stated. "Ah !" she eaid. 1 eeem to remember some Grants there." "Oh," grandma 1" Omi interposed "The Grants you mean are chimney■weops!" Her eyes twinlkled most wickedly. "My family were less useful," I eaid. "Wβ only had our chimneys ewept;^ "Then I.am afraid I did not inoir your people," eaid grandma. ■; vff^?. "I am sorry," I said. : "I* I might venture to introduce myeelf,H>a-.the strength of our mutual acquaintance with the LostereP This ie my first voyage; but 1 believe that a little excuse goes a long way at eea.P" . tionf, old lady pureed her lipa and glanced at her granddaughter quest-ioningly. "I am very lomdy, I added d-eeperateJy. Omi gave a nuick, little nod; and grandtaa laughed softly. one n»a j rather a pleaean* look when she laughed, and I did not fancy she wa* co aevero as she seemed. "That is almost excuse enough, ehe said; "and a friend of the Lestera should be a friend of mine. Sit down, Mr Grant. lam Estcle Rayaor. This is my granddaughter Naomi, Naomi Radnor. Her mother's family is responsible for her Christian name; ami - my family for her nature. Both responsibilities are heavy 1" Omi and I bowed, and she leaned forward and looked *at mc round her grandmother. "I suppose you knew John Lester,' she enquired," "the one with a birtamnrk on his left hand? Like strawberry leaves?" "Wo tised to chaff him about it, and call him tho ilnko," I said boldly; and •ho gave a little scream. "Oh! -, she lau;.»hr.d. "How funny!" '•Very funny!'" ;_'rnndina agreed, with a sound like v r.utcklo. "Wo must tease John about it when we write

"He didn't altogether appreciate -no joke," I observed. "So you nuistnt give mc away by mention in? my name. "Now do wo look tlic sort of people to give any one away Pi' Omi asKod. "Miss Naomi," I said. "I daren't tell you what i think of your looks. 'But you can toll mo what you think of grandma's. She's frightfully fond of admiration.''' "Use is so?cnd nature!" I eu>;gpstcd. . "That compliment ie ivorthy oP~. John! }lc is a groat admirer of grandma. That ie why she likea him.' , '\Xo.'' Eraiidmn coutiadit-ted. 'I liko John Ik-ciuuso ho is—what ho is; and never pretends to be anything else." "Of course* not!"' cried Omi. "No nice man docs!"

I began to foci a little uneasy

'Only nico woir.on?' , 1 suggested

"Of course!" said grandma. "Pretence is a poor, iveaJc woman's weapon ; and ehe needa it! A man is different. He should be above all deception. Don't you think so, Mr Grant P" The old lady looked very etern again; and I began to feel seriously uneasy about my friends the Lestera.

"Eγ—yes," I agreed; "unices lie doce it on account of a poor, weak woman.'" I thought I had better begin to cover my retreat.

"I could not excuse pretence in a man under any circumstances,' grandma aeswladu "So, if ever you deceive mo, mind th-at you do not get found out. However, it Ls not easy to deceive roe." She drew herself up. "No-o," I agreed. "No. I-er-I won't try." "And if you were a chimney-sweep,' , Omi eaid, "you'd better own it at once."

"My dear," said grandma, "y° u 6hould novor suspect other people of pretence, or they may think that you are capable of it I" "But I take such an interest in-chimney-sweeps," Omi asserted plaintively. "When I tell ray fortune — 'tinker, tailor," yon know, Jt alwave onda at 'ewoep'r

t j 1, * c hnnnet-sira«i one* n I claimed promntlv «<r mS- • , 'Amateum don't count," eaid Omi I told them about that and other adventuree; and they told mc about S B, Wo eat together tUI they Trent below; and then I oarriml their rugs nnd and we eaid good-night on excellent terms TYe continued on excellent terma for the rest of tho voyage, eapecially Omi and I. She did not eeom to objoct to ray constant attentions. Neither did grandma, einoe I was—as sh© frequently observed—a friend of the Leeters. Thay wcro alwaye talking about them, and especially about Johu. Hγ was quite a heroic young man, I gathered; a handsome giant, with di-j taloiit of a prinio minister and tho courage of a lion combined with the heart of a lamb.

"John Lester is different from any man I know," grandma would often say; and Omi ■would agree enthusiastically. I used to add that he was •very different from anyone I knew, either! That was true.

I foil head over hoela in lore with Omi from the first. I should have proposed to her at Madeira if it ha<] not beon for my deception; but I knew that I must own it first j and T foared that thoro would be an end of ovorything th<m. For though they took a light-hwirtcd view of most tliingp—grandma was not at all awesome when you knew hei , —they had extraordinarily fieriona views upon tho subject of masculine deception. Mr« Ilaynor was alwaye preaching littlo sermone against men who pretended U> bo what they wero not; and, though Omi loved to protend herself, ehe always eaid that I mustn't, because I wns a man; and friends didn't pretend to one another.

»Slip certainly did not pretend about herself and mo, aa somo girls would have done. She <lid not ooquet, or make out that she did not want to bo with mc, or try to conceal her friondliiu\w. She would give mean undisguised amile the moment that I appeared, and another when I walked up to her. Old Mrs Brown told mo that Omi didn't mind a bit when neoplo teaaed her about being so friendly with mc. "Of ooureo I am!" she toM them. "Hoe very nioe." When I let out to Omi what Mrs Brown had said, she owned to it directly. # "How can 1 expect my friends to like mo, if I am ashamed of liking my friends P ,, she aaked. And in the eveningß she used to let mo carry her off as a matter or course. Grandma seemed to take it ns a matter of course, too.

"Mr is such an old friend of stich old. friends of ours!" sho often ex plained. What evenings Omi and I had together! How wo walked and talked and danced and laughed and teased 1 And what a dear little tease she war.! So merry and mischievous and unexpected; and, above all, so good-natur-ed. She was.very fond of teasing— sho still is! —but, when it came to ti competition between fun and kindness, kindness alwaye won. I think I aad the first glimpse of tho real Omi, the Orai that I can't describe to you, wnen she found that her teasing was hurting mc.

Sho had made .mc very wretched *»y extolling John one evening, and I had grown very gloomy; and presently «u<j looked up at mo under her eyebrows "John novor geta cross whoa I tease him/ she etetea mischievously. "Hang John I" I eaid testily. Omi glanced up at mc quickly; I think it was the firet iime that I had eeen her look grave. >.;,!'! •wouldn't mind, if I wu sure that .it;.Vμ.only teaeing, Omi>" I apoloyou?" She bit her lip for a moment. Then ehe emiled a alow smilo, different from her usual one; "Let's throw him overboard,", the said, end made as if the threw earnething into the eea. "There! He'a gone for the reet of the Toya«eP ; , ! 4 "Oh J" I cried. "You wonderful Omi—" .- .',,.'. ■-.;■'■; .■.' i-v ; "Don't be edUyl You nnueto't really -» ■ ■■ /-■■ : -.- : ■■■■■' I think I should have: but earn* unnecessary people came alone and aat near us. So we feat 'down and talked reasonably. I felt in a eort ofyseventb heaven; and then she «aid eomething that cent a oold chUli over mc. "You ccc," ehe explained, "I don't like to pretend. twy<«i> beeauee I ehonWii'is li k* jpii, to pretend to me.' it'l was very' Bear confessing , my pretence then; but I thought it would be terrible'to "be' on board with her and •cc her continually, if ehe refused to forgive mo. So I decided to defer ray oonfeaeion until the end of the voyage. I kept this.resolution until the might ot> the fAncy-dresa ball. Oml wae a black butterfly. She wore » «wiey blaok dres&—it wae "one of eranny'e state frock* done up," #he told me—with gaudy black wince, and a blook lace mantilla over her head. She had three rod poppie* on the mantilla, and taiy bite of red ribbon all over vthe wing*; and I had never realised before how beautiful a woman oould be. -I was a cardinal, becatiee that wa§ the only red costume that the baroer had to let out, and ehe wanted red to go with black. Sho called mc a biehop, because "the bishop and the butterfly" fiounded better. f '• "You can pretend anything you luce at a fancy-dress ball, , ' ehe announced. "So we'll make believe it'a a court bail, and grandma's a wicked ompreee or a cruel queen; and you are the prime minister, and have all sorts of temb.« etate seorels; and I'm. a poor Jittkprincess that you are plotting against; —only you might relent a little. ! "No, I Kaid. "We'll pretend thnt. ; other people aro plotting "against you. but lam your friend in secretj ana, in love with you." j "Oh!" ehe objected. . 'Tiiehops, mustn't!" ~,„,! "Yes, they tr.ay," I contradicted, at; a fancy-drees ball. And if thw are : they arc, ard yon can't alter it; ! "Very TveH," she ""iou.sh".!! pretona what you to-night; anc Til protend wfiat I like. Only we won l believe a word that we suy, became we're only prtstoaderfi." . "What in this about pretondem." , ; said grandma, at our elbow; and Oiia . jumped. , . . ' 'We're r.Tctendir,K that this ia a. court ball, ehe oxphinod ; "and you . are a fairy queen. Such a good fairy ; qu?cn, grnndma!"' ; "A}\ !" eaid grandma. "Ah-h! I remember when I waa a fairy queen at a ball; and they eaid that I danced like "That i« how yon are goin« to dainct with mc to-night," I declared ; and had tlo dances with her, and sho danced uncommonly well. I had three dancee with Omi; and I wns t* hnvo had a fourth, but we west bevoinl th« wind-Gcrecn instead, aria looked at the starn. At least Omi looked at ihe etars, and I looked at her. 1 felt ye if I could cat her. ; "Ohr bntterflv!" I cried. "\ou ar« so lovely! May*l tell you something, prince*=3. ev 'Oh!" she cried. "I don't want to pretend—wit here. The eea seenis fio biz; and the stars—l'm not a prmceae now, enly—Omi." She looked up at the ekiee again. 'That » the Southern Cross, isn't it?" She pc-inted to the great spangle of etam, and I fert , a» | though ahe was pointing n» to better things. "It seems—such a Jong way off—to look up to." "It ie tho Southern Crceft, Omi, I M id; "and it's a way off; ai;d Oj man wante eomethine nearer to look up to I've found it, Omi, but —- mc tell you?" «Tf o t_preteTid." She cheped her hands on the rail suddenly. "Oh, Omi!" I eaid. "Not pretend. I But there's something to tell about 'preteadf first; and I'm afraid to tell y °Omi looked down at the eheeto of white fown scurrying over the green eea.

—■ .... ' **; W^3W£fc3riVsUntsl^ks^k^k^k^k^k^k^k^k^k^Hl you afrald/of whisper, *'rtiWMeri7i2HSoH^^^HP ward, 4/ / on •S l the*S«,tß( c the r«t of the cMrtriiSSHMME&fc Any other B Lrl would ClrSilMßiite T did want to!" Oml -I couldn't. You tee itffglaMlfe » «tory. You want to kwfl|B££& firsV becauee—because mi *3—JWfrS hemfie to hjmij the rig* 3ggms*?, Sao hasn t said that i]» tMHtnBDf i v ' ■• obsorved. Wo hadn't, in «538 '^f •TTU hare *' fc «ek«d hw/lf^^H ,^!';.' "If you're the right oa«. jJfBR' I * At the stars, and not eav'-tSIRB '.A; Tliov scorn to look co kind ./-'' /'Yon wonderful Omil WiBjSIJH ' ""¥s. Omi laughed a eoft; "I'll be kind now!" Rtte needn't t«U roe, becaUM~44fi9H'l t '*? "Whatl" I gate a fiun. - l that I don't know theLMUmflyEW'', " noud'od. "Fh«n you ato i She laughod Beam. "80 w»3W!' ject to protenoeP She UmS^B^P.' , "Grandma, doee," she ,- l ■ eudden look of horror. "Tli»^K'' "< •ay, wlion you toll herP" «£%9^B' ; "Couldn't you tell hcrP* I'liSH^B', "Oh, Jimmy! How nMM>«r^9H^Ef' 'Ton," I admitted i3Mfa&tt^9H|' 111 tell her—to-morrow." "'P-^^^K' "Tell her nmr," Otni ;^USH|'' "She's come to look for 9Mt^B|Kfam, grandma 1 And her* >*:ImDK|\ "The unexpected is arwftjt'JUHjl ' JTiR-" grandma remarked. /',' t ?/^aßßi,; ' "Yes. He has •omethang ; penrod to alludo to the •' °"I ,n ]sve 0r0i, ,, *I eiated. Seß ■' '' "I found that oat Yang , "I found that out, t00. ,, /"* "And—and I hope you araH ~• "Any friend d the Leatoni „• < Omi pinched my'arm. ' C\ \WBSMy, "A a *li«ht-H»r— ' i«SC about the Lretem. l<" , .V. wanted to know Omi, UM^~*i4j9|H'W '~; "Of course I" icraodna imhl', . Oroi made a funny, wppt m*A Wmm?' ,\ "And I heard you speik 1 '.' and so—l pretended that I ksfuHH } ,-«> ; "I found that oat, ak>)f #mHH ': •. ma. Omi laughed co. mneti l ;.* nearly as much. I TauAhei'.iaHH '_~ ' I felt rather a fool. ' Jf%Aimam "Then you forgiv* the JfjfWUKm ' •"> "Fretooderr' •: flatter yourself I* Omi ' ~-- terinc eound. "Tea, -1 * faW^^H' Jimmy"—we shook lunw^'-, \ you hare ncTer yourself. An for ,the M *|'9n^^H:' ' - tie faix-haircd off was Mr Lester 1" ] \Mts^m-'' •'He hasn't a «m , ' I cried. But Omi sank into a to and fro with her face ■ kerchief. Ezptotire nt ' f Nw7 ,a eaid of adrke from amoW PWW^^KwA a dull place, .nd it. miike-toliere.. Bf «> T you c*n. and s tnWke you find things that Km of—and pretend «* « like to other people l to okch other. Al»re;.t»^^e|;.:;? tond that you *re eel A ,eachVother. S<^^ a^i,lffiß|^HßVM, oomiw reality, ory. j ■ you, ! "Thani: you, I eoboa*. , , ;. Sometimet { think 4 good d«»l to thank W»Wi^HR;^ "Wcii, well," *he«ttfigg^Hßpfe each held aii arm for are two-foolifih yotin« and' Ton'n hnnre a lot thinfiyou'U be ha»py, PJ***SHHi#n'* Eire you Another five mijm ;* i She-walked away, •^:% , mK^M f % and Omi aeieed-in*. * *^|^9^«»j/' «oh, fNi'S'.iSißi' w« get into injech efl '*3*.Sra^HwVi,' # ;"fbe two (/ of ue," I ,