Short Story

Hawera Star, Volume XLVI, 28 May 1927, Page 16

Short Story

CENSORIOUS SUSAN. The doctor’s four daughters had been left well provided for—indeed, ip the little country town they lived in they would have been regarded as heiresses in a small way had it not been for the well-known terms of the doctor’s rather eccentric will. Dr. Ross never Jiad made a secret of it. “It’s not logical,” he used to tell everyone, “neither is it just. I hold that as long as we men allocate to ourselves all the best educational advantages, and therefore all the most lucrative opportunities and methods of moneymaking, we do so on the assumption that we support the women. I’m the father of daughters. I intend to support them until they prefer another man’s support. But not after that — no. I’m leaving my daughters equal shares, but as soon as any one of them marries, her share goes to her sisters — for why should she have a man to support her, and her sisters’ share too 1 ’ It’s a sort of financial bigamy.”

And so, whoever went to woo at the old stone house just beyond the end of the High Street, standing be-, hind its big rubble wall, with its side gable turned to the road, and its front bow window facing the flower-garden, went to woo a dowerless bride. But wooers had not been lacking. Ada, the eldest, had married at the age of 23, and gone with her missionary husband out to India, fearlessly intent on converting the unknown Hindoo. Her father had been alive then, and had given her away with tears running down his honest cheeks and into his grizzling beard. And it is certain he did not let her go from home emptyhanded. But then Ada did not come under the terms of his will. Censorious Susan, 21, and chief bridesmaid, disapproved of the marriage, and said so. She thought everyone concerned very much to blame. Two years later the doctor died, and a mild widow aunt came to the house to look after the bereft girls. Susan thought her weak. It was the Established Church minister’s son, who went to Oxford with a bursary, and came home for the first long vacation wearing a red tie, and with no respect for* God or man, who grave the three daughters the nicknames that clung to them Censorious Susan, Blighty Flo, and Plain Peggie. People said he had been refused by all three, and felt it. Flighty Flo, the third daughter, and the beauty of the family, after a series of temporary eugagemeuts, the earliest of which dated from her school days, married the eldest son of a- neighbouring coalowner, and vanished in an opulent Rolls-Royce, with suspended coloured airballs waving distractedly in the breeze, and a small slipper waggling along behind. And she was seen no more at the village tea-parties. Flo’s marriage, by the terms of the doctor’s will, left her portion of - the -family income equally divided between her two unmarried sisters, and the mild widow aunt, whose nerves had suffered greatly under Flo’s flightiness, ond by the censorious eye of Susan watching all her doings, had rejoiced in the return of a widower brother from China, with a liver that demanded careful and sympathetic housekeeping, and had betaken herself to preside over his establishment. Censorious Susan and Plain Peggie continued to live together in the gabled house that turned its side to the road and the traffic, and faced the south and the flower-beds.

Peggie Avas plain—it was quite true, though it Avas not the adjective, if you were allowed only one, that you would have chosen to best describe her. Her nose had no shape or character; her hair awis sandy—not golden and frizzy —not curly; and Avheu she laughed she screAved up her merry blue eyes till they almost vanished into her little round face. Susan, on the other hand, was tall and handsome, with a figure and bearing like her father’s. She Avas always well-dressed, A\ r liereas, Avliatever Peggy put on, she always looked untidy; but somehow the elaborate neatness of Susan’s coils of hair and the immaculate lines of her severe fashions, convoyed reproach, and criticism of all other women present, which idea the expression of her face when she listened to them did little to dispel. By priority of age, and in right of intellectual superiority, she held the position not only of head of the house, but of dictatorship in all matters, practical and theoretical, her own or Peggie’s; and Peggie, not minding, grinned till the merry blue eyes vanished into her little round face.

The breakfast dishes were still on the table, and Peggie was eating toast and marmalade very contentedly, whilst Susan, who had pushed back her chair, was reading the daily paper with an expression ot the deepest displeasure. Presently she raised her eyebrows, sighed ostentatiously, turned the sheets of the paper, refolded it, and began at another page with a grunt of scornful surprise. “Susan, dear,” Peggie said presently; “I’m going to have him.” _ “Well, you know my opinion of him,” replied her sister, without lowering the paper. “Yes, dear, perfectly.” Peggie laughed a little, gurgling laugh full of pleasure. “He isn’t worthy of you.” “So he has told me—told me so himself.” “I am not laughing about it,” Susan remarked, again beginning to read the paper. Peggy finished her toast, and marmalade and got up. Her sisted watched her severely over the top of the paper. “It would be wise of you to reconcile his faults and reckon with them; but, of course, you are blind to them. Now I ” “Oh no, I see them ail, and love them. And lie sees mine.” “I daresay! They are pretty patent to anyone, thought what he - . There was a pause, during which Peo-gy hummed happily. Then .Susan noisily crushed up the paper, and cast it on the floor beside her. “Does that young man —does Dr. Clement Ogilvie —know the terms ot our father’s will?” she demanded. Peo-gie stopped short in her humming, and looked at lier sister, her face growing puzzled. “Father’s will?” she asked. . Oh, you mean —we lose our money if we marry. I've never discussed it .with 1

him. You see, Susan dear, he hasn’t exactly asked me yet.” “No, and he won’t.” “Hm!” said Peggie, her eyes twinkling. “Then he’s a gay deceiver. “Peggie, you behave and talk lilsn a child. It is obvious to me that The young man has heard about the money, and ft has given him to pause. Otherwise, why should he be so procrastinating? I am sure you have made it quite obvious to the meanest understanding that you are willing to accept him.” , Peggie leant over the back ot her sister’s chair and kissed her. “Cross old Susan!” she said. “You needn t mind! It’ll all come to you when we marry, and you’ll be ” “Margaret Ross, your remarks are in the worst of taste! ” Susan got up and swept out of the room. Peggie looked after her with a sobered face. 'Poor darling—that’s what is worrying herb she told herself. “For, of course, she can't really think thai/ Clem ~ and then her eyes softened. ~J

Clement Ogilvie sat at his rather untidy writing table, in the little parlour of his lodging over the grocer’s. The table was littered with papers and notebooks, a microscope stood in front of him in the centre, and half a dozen books of various sizes, some open, lay on the floor at. his side. He was absorbed in some calculations and diagrams, and did not hear a knock at the door, nor look up when the door opened and his landlady entered bearing a tray. But Mrs McTavish had no respect for learning. “Here’s your dinner,” she announced, and set the tray on a chair while she swept some more books oft a smaller .table, pulled it forward, and proceeded to cover it with a coarse cloth. - _ ~ Clement Ogilvie looked up dreamuy and stooped again over his Avork. “Now, then! I’ll ask you to eat it while it is hot, sir. I’ve done you a chop and a potato. Yesterday you left your steak till it was cold.” OgilA’ie rose amiably and _ stretched himself. He Avas tall and thin, Avith a good, boyish face, deep-set eyes, a humorous mouth, uud ruffled brown hair. He ate his chop, and as he did so he looked round the room. He had occupied it, and the tiny bedroom beyond, for nearly a year now, and there had been times —this Avas one of them—when it had occurred to him that it would be happy to have a home of his OAvn —a home, however small clem and dainty, and with a woman’s presence to make it home. And then in his mind he had pictured—he pictured it now—a little merry face opposite him—a face he loved.

After all, it had not been a bad year, this last, while he had been assistant to Dr Saunders. He had liked his chief, liked the place and the people, and there had been interesting cases besides the usual round and lie had met her, -and—and he managed to write his -tehsis. There it lay, typed and readv. That packet, addressed to the Dean of the Medical Faculty, held his thesis for his M.D. —all his laborious, careful Avork —his fate —and hers! He could not ask her to read; his thesis —it was rather too technical. But he thought he might just drop in on the happy chanec of finding her alone, and tell her before he posted it. He Avould like to see the sympathy and kindness in the little face lie loved, and she would understand all it meant, without his saying a word. Of course he must -not say a Avord. He must put a great- constraint upon himself. He must await the verdict on his thesis before daring to say anything definite. He took up his hat und creaked down his private stair and out at the door at the side of the grocer’s shop, and Mrs McTavish, ascending with the burnt bread pudding, found, his room untenanted.

It Avas a delicious fresh day tOAvards the end of March, and Clement, coming out of the rather stuffy atmosphere of his lodgings, threAv back his head and breathed, deep of the nimble air, and listened Avith delight, as he strode along, to the blackbirds, and noted tlic rich Avine— colour of the trees, full of hidden sap for summer. He reached the old house with its gable to the road, and, gently .opening the gate, crunched up the gravel path and found Peggie among the flower beds. She drew off a muddy glove, and him a little hand. The other held a big three-pronged gardening fork. “I’m loosening the earth round my bulbs,” she explained, “and'l’m afraid I’ve uprooted several.” “Yes,” he said, “there’s one impaled now on your fork. ’ ’ They both laughed. “Susan is out,” she told him. “I’m sorry—at least —avcll, it was you I wanted to see. I’ve finished my thesis.” “Oh, Dr Ogilvie 1 ! Hoav splendid! Really finished? Ready to send?” “Yes; I’ni on my Avay to the post uoav, but I though I’d like to tell you. You see, it means—that is ” “And Avhcn av ill you hear about it?” “Before the July Grad.” “And then y.ou’il take your M.D.?” “If I’m lucky.” “Oh —but of course!” “Well, if so, then I’ll come back

here —3 —” “When do you leave here?” “I had a letter from my mother yesterday—she made mo promise to go home as soon as this spell of Avork was over, and Dr Saunders says I can be free hoaa' at any time. He has his other man coming. It is perhaps better that I have to be away till I hear—till I can—what do you think?” He seemed very nerA'ous, and looked at her imploringly- Did she understand? His spirits fell to zero. He Avas tired, much overAVorked. And Peggie seemed to be absorbed in the contemplation of a naked, reproachful bulb, which she was gently pricking with her fork. “Oli, yes, I’m sure you need a holiday,” she observed in an absentminded A’oice.

“Miss Peggie,” he said. Something in his voice made her look up, and something in bis eyes made her look down again as quickly. The natural instinct of woman made her put up her defences, to postpone what .die was longing for. “It is getting very cold out here,” she said. “Oh, here is Susan.” Susan approached them, looking more than usually censorious.

“Dr Ogilvie has come to say goodbye,” Peggie told her. She could not. help looking a little self-conscious under Susan’s eye. “H’m,” said Susan. “Good-bye, Dr Ogilvie.” i..

But at that, and at Clement’s blank face, Peggie giggled, and that broke tiic dec* “You see I Avas right,” said Susan after the young man had gone. ‘ £ He’s going away. Procrastinating.” < < He’s coming back —when lie gets his M.D.” „ “His M. fiddlestick!” replied Susan. “You’ve seen the last of him.” “I’m afraid not,” said Peggie, demurely. “Do you believe that?” “I do—and you’re a perfect pig, Susan.” And she ran out of the room trying to laugh. But that night Plain Peggie cried herself to sleep. #

Very shortly after liis return home, Clement Ogilvie was offered a billet as ship’s doctor, in place of a man who had fallen ill. It meant a voyage of several weeks. His mother could not understand his reluctance to accept it. “It's the very thing you need, Clem. You have been cooped up in that dull little tOAvn, and I can see you want a change and to be roused. This offer is a godsend. It aaull just fill up -the time till you hear about your thesis, dear—and take your thoughts off that.” “I daresay you’re right, mater,' Clement said, and Avont upstairs and Avrote to Peggie, sending with his letter, as an excuse for it, a copy of a book they had beeu discussing. He wrote his letter several times, dismayed by the length and discursiveness of his first draft, and afraid of a Avord that seemed to take her interest in his affairs too much for granted. And SO he toned it down till there Avas neither blood nor feeling left in it, and it was a formal, stilted note, bearing evidence of constraint that Avas liable to produce misconception. ~ The letter, and the book that was its chaperon, arrived when the sisters Avere sitting together over the drawing room fire. Peggie flushed a little as she took the letter and the book parcel off the trav, and SusaffiT glanced up suspiciously/ Peggie nervously tried to pull the string off the parcel, leaving the letter unopened on -her lap. Then, murmuring something about scissors, she rose and Avent to the work-table and read her letter there. 7 “Well, what does Dr Ogilvie say?” asked Susan, as she returned to her place by the fire. “You may read it,” Peggie answered, and began turning over the pages of her book.

Susan read it. “H’m,” she commented. “As I thought. Procrastination.”

Peggie said nothing for a minute or tAVo. °Then: “Susan —you don’t understand. Clement Ogilvie and I ” “You have no proper pride, Margaret Ross. I always told you that young man was procrastinating. The moment I told him about your father’s will Peggie looked up sharply. “Ho knew about it. I told him.”

“Yes —so did I. And he cooled off. And noAV ho is going this voyage. Ho will probably remain out there —fine openings in tho colonies. And -a ship's doctor usually becomes engaged on the A r oyage out —it’s part of his duties to organise all -the sports —deck golf and dances and theatricals, and all that silliness, and of course to flirt to his heart’s content. Moonlight nights.” Peggie laughed till her blue eyes vanished into her sweet little face. But they were not merry eyes when they emerged—they were rather a misty blue. And the note she sent, after seAmral days’ interval, to acknoA\dedge Clement’s letter and thank him for the book, was as cold and formal as. his own. Clement felt chilled and miserable when he received it, but he had already “signed on,” and all he could do Avas to send a big box of violets to Peggie, and console himself with the thought that he should see her again in few welies, and then ” Spring ripened into summer, and the wild roses wreathed the hedges and scattered their petals on the muddy lanes, but the course of true not only did not run smooth, but did not seem to be running at all. At last it was July, and all Nature rejoiced, aud in the country the grain was ripening, and in the town the lists were out, and groups of students stood in the old grey quadrangle and learnt their fates. And Clement OgilA'ic was met at the sdkport by his mother,, who brought with her the letter from the Dean of the Medical Faculty.

“ Three stars and a gold medal, mater! How’s that?” And then he told her about Peggie, and the mother knew her day was over. 7*- 4C- * * *

The maid told him that Miss Peggie Was in the garden. He looked about and could not see her, but presently he heard her crooning -a little song, and she came to\A-ards him along a pergola of rambler roses, her hands full of flowers.

“Peggie! My darling! At last! You know I love you, don’t you?” “Oh, Clement, how could I? No, I don’t! ”

An hour later, Clement sat opposite Censorious Susan, and smiled at her broadly. “You see, Susan ” ‘ ‘ Young man! ’ ’ “Well, of course I’m going to call you Susan —I’m going to lie your brother-in-law.”

“H’m. Can you support a wife? For Peggie lias no ” “Oh, I knoAv. I’m taking my degree

“He’s got- -three stars and a gold medal, Susan, and we ’ll both go to Edinburgh to sec him recede it.” “I congratulate you, Dr Ogilvie —“ “Thanks. I knoiv I’m not Avortliy of her ”

“On your University lionours. What do you intend to do next?” “Build up a practice.” “And Peggie is to wait?” “Yes, I’ll Avait, ” said Peggie, cheerfully.

“Please understand I do not intend to circumvent our father’s AA r ill in any way. Don’t count on that.” “Susan!” cried Peggie, and turned apologetic eyes on her lover; but Clemeut only laughed. “No, I don’t count on that. But I really think I can make my Avay now, if Peggie frusts me. Perhaps I ought not to have spokc-n so soon—l really have tried all this time not to say anything definite.” “Idiot!” ejaculated, softly but acrimoniously. “I beg your iiardon.” ‘ ‘ Procrastinating! ’ ’ “But when I saw her!” “She’s not- much to look at.”

Peggie broke into a gurgling laugh. “Oh, Susan, what a darling you are! Give us your blessing!’' “Oh, you can. have my blessing—and I’ll give you the big silver teapot — it’s mine. Peggie won’t lose her income till she is actually married to you, so she can buy her own trousseau, and if she’s wise she will get plenty of everything, and not have nil her dresses made up, for she probably won’t be able to afford any now ones for many a year. ’ ’ “I’m not sure of that,” Clement answered, showing signs of gatheringwrath at last.“Well, father made his wishes quite clear, and I shall consider it my duty;

to sec that they are carried out. - ’ Susan rose, gathered up her work, and left the room. “I trust you will—that is what we wish,” Clement said as he opened the door for her. “Susan’s bark is worse than her bite,” Peggie remarked, rather nervously. “I don’t think she likes me,” Clement answered ruefully. “Susan doesn’t like anybody,” Peggie said cheerfully. He put his arms round her. “Oh, my little darling, my Peggie, my queen! ’’ She put her bauds ou his shoulders and looked gravely into his eyes. “Were there many very beautiful girls on board your ship?” “Lots!” “Did you flirt with them?” ' 1 ‘On and off. ’ ’ 4 ‘ ‘ Moonlight nights ? ” ’ “Rather! Peggie, how soon can we be married?” “Sir, as you seem so susceptible, and as I am not to have all my dresses made up—l should say the sooner, the better.” ‘ , * -S' * ■£. The wedding- was a very quiet, simple affair, because, as Susan explained, the young couple were both penniless, and

had their wav to make. She duly presented Peggie with the teapot, and Clement with a fitted suitcase.

But Censorious Susan’s bark was worse than her bite, as Clement and his wife realised after the wedding, when ■they opened their first- letters and found Clement’s contained a cheque m four figures, “To buy Dr Saunders’ practice —I have learnt lie wishes t& sell it.” And Peggie’s letter told her that the old home with the gable and bow window was hers by deed of gift, and so was all the War Loan they had purchased together, and Susan hoped, she would not squander it, and remained her affectionate sister. “I feel I am carrying nut the real intention oi father’s'will,” she added in a postscript, “for what he obviously -wished was to preserve us from fortune hunters. I have taken the precaution to hud out that Clement is not that, whatever else lie is, so you are safe. And Providence has seen fit to save me. I am going to travel. I have never been able to enjoy myself, having had you to look after. Clement Ogilvie will find it no' light task. And you will have your hands full with that procrastinating young man you have chosen. It is wonderful how few people have any sense.” —Rosaline Masson, in the < ‘ Australasian. ’ ’