In Grown Up Land.

Evening Post, Volume LXVI, Issue 152, 24 December 1903, Page 11

In Grown Up Land.

AN INCIDENT. v He was ten and she was seven, and their first meeting waa at a rehearsal of tho Deep Sea, Ballet. On Boxing Night ho was to impersonate a Cmb, while she would bo a unit in n, vast army of Sea Anemones. Bub long before they were promoted to full dress tho Crab bad fallen a victim to lho ( Auemone's blue eyes aud golden curls. He lost no time in declaring his lovo, and she was graciously pleased to smile upon hit) suit, promising with due solemnity to wed him and none other what time they should attain tho far-away, mystic stato "grown vp v " Moreover, they exchanged tokens. Ho parted gladly with his most cherished possession, a pink sugar mouse with .white eyes — which, ,despito its edible properties, hnd resided for many wocks in his trousers pocket — and recfcived in return a ruddy-cheeked apple of surprisingly stony properties. From that .day onwards tho Crab and tho Anemone lived in a world of their own, a world people^ with all manner of strange playmates — fairies, gnomes, and demons — whoso very existence is unknown to the sad-faced denizens of "Grown Up" Land. Yet thero came » tiino when even, the Crab and tho Anemone stood sjdo by bide on tho threshold of that wonderful, unexplored territory, and then ensued much discussion of a certain menage a deux which was to take concrete uhapo in the ne.ir futuro. The Crab was of opinion that

he had done nothing to deserve his luck ; ho told t ho Anemone fiequcntly that he was too happy, .uuf the Anemone nhook her euilrt and haid he was a silly hoy. j j Hut the powers that be agreed with I tho Crab. It wanted three weeks to Christmas when it happened, and tli'ero weie the usual factors — a foggy night, a drunken cabman, and a superfluous pedestrian. It was a very commonplace accident, ho common that it failed to fulfl the logical mission of accidents by supplying a paingraph to tho papers. But it left tho ' Crab with hia right leg badly fiactuied ' and on<T side of his fuce bruised out of all recognition. I They carried him to the nearest hospital, 'and tho Anemone enme to see him overy visiting day, always bringing a tiny bunch of sweet-smelling flowers. The Crab lived from ono visit to tho next ; on the days she could not como ho wrestled in vain with a pall of depression. I When tho surgeon told him that one ; foot must always be shorter than the other, and that' his face would remain pounanently disfigured, the Crab took it fighting. While *ho possessed the Anemone what right had. he to complain? And »he was •sweeter and more tender than over when 'ho broko tho direful news. Ho wished he could have fallen at her feet and worshipped her. | It was when tho Anemone entered I upon her engagement at a new theatre that tho Crab became conscious of a faint, scarcely perceptible change. At first he pub it down to his fancy, but tho same intangible feeling remained at her next visit. She no longer seemed : at her ease with him — for the first time i in their lives they were both aware of 1 awkwardness. And it followed thnt as the Crab's leg mended his body wasted. The Anemone had promised to help him fsettlo in when he returned home, and he I was awaiting her in his dingy cupboard !of a room in a fever of unrest. She arrived bright and smiling, and smoothed his hard pillows and tidied up «tho comfortless place in her own inimitable way ; but she avoided meeting his eager, wistful eyes. I Then the Crab began. "He didn't think it fair to tie hor down to a child's promiso; things didn't look now as they had looked a few weeks ago ; ho was not •so selfish as to want to spoil her life ; . he would release, hef if she wished—" I Tho Crnb, being a native of Houndsditch, spoko forcibly and to tho point, , but tho dew stood on his forehead when | he had finished. 1 The Anemone murmured "that perhaps ho was right ; she should like to feel quite free, just for a little bit anyhow. Of course she would always bo very fond of him, but it was better, no doubt, to make sure — " It was foolish of the Crab, but he hnd hoped against hope for a different answer. When the door closed softly behind her, he turned over and lay with his face to the wall. Tho next morning broke in a flood of ' Bunshino, and tho Crab discovered that the world, instead of coming to an end,_ was going on tho same as usual. It was not a pleasing discovery., By degrees •he managed to got work ; he also got thinner. It- was the nights which mas- ' torcd him. He continually dreamed that she had come back, that she was in tho room ; and ho would wake with a otart and clutch at hor dress as she passed, only 'to feel hifl fingers close on 'the air. Then he would thiow himsolf back with a loud laugh, And the family in tho adjoining room would bang on the wall n,nd shout strange things at the dis- ' turbor of their rest. Tho Crab possessed more grit than most, or he would havo ', drunk himself into forgotfulness from the I outset. As it was a fortnight wore away beforo he decided there was no use in prolonging the cqnte»t. He was walking home through the crowded 7 streets as usual, seeing nothing but a mall face sot in a haw of sunny curls, which ho had once called his own. To lose sight ot that face, to forgot it if only for a ■ few hours, 4 was the craving which over- , powered him in its intensity. The Crab ■ turned his feot to wnero* the waters of JLetho flow every ready to drown the heartaches from which no dweller in Grown Up Land i« exempt, but he had walked mechanioally back to his lodgingß beforo ho realised where he was. The Crab was too limp to swear, too dogtired to retrnco his steps; he stumbled wearily upstairs. As he opened his door tho breath of flowers floated out upon jtho landing— tho Crab caught his breath ias if in pnin. , Clusters of lilies were stuck about his room, in the long disused grato a tiny fire of chips was twinkling . . . Presently a womnn's form took shape among the thronging shadows. ' "Seonw I was fonder of yer .than I knowed, Dick," said the • Anemone's voico; "loaatways, I finds I cawn't nib •along without yer." Tho Crab made no answer. Hia scarred faco hnd turned the colour of chalk, his eyes wore frozen in a glassy stare. Slowly, fearfully, ho put out his hand and touchod her. sleeve with his shaking fingers. ' Then ne staggered back with a cry : "Good Gawd ! It ain't a dream." — Westminster Budget.