Hospitality

Hawke's Bay Tribune, Volume XVI, Issue 11, 24 December 1925, Page 10

Hospitality

and Without a String

By

MILES B. HIND,

in N.Z.L. Quarterly Magazine

rHM-lERE is never such a hard workitig or greatly abused word as ■ Hospitality, it masquerades in every possible shape, form, occasion and circumstance. 1 rue hospitality such as we see or enjoy ironi genuinely nospitable folk, is one of the greatest and most- beautiful features of life. But hospitality or alleged hospiality, “with a string tied to it,” is an abomination , in the sight of decency. * “Come down to dinner with us on ; Friday next, old chap! The wife and girls have got some people coming, and will lie glad to have your. And oh! Bv the way, coihe down in your car, and you can pick up tho old mother-in-law on your way down. Always pleased to see you. Don’t iorget!”— and so on, which also includes taking the old lady back home again, together ivitli some girls who live just, a. little way down, two blocks to the right. Thon you . tumble why you were invitcd ' “One thing my wile and I thoroughIv cany out to the letter,” says Binks, “is hospitality. We entertain largely, you know. Only the best people, of < oursc, and people whom it is useful to know, don’t you know. What about coming along for a week-end? And bring plenty of songs. > ou’ve got a teuor voice, you know, and that always pleases the women folk. Heard you sing at the Town .Hall one night at Spiff o.sky’s concert. Ripping good. They’d like to have you to amuse our guests.” Blinks, it may be. ircmarked. sells hats and suits and things, and I wonder what lie would think if the tenor walked into his shop one day and said: “Ah, Binks, old boy. What

about coming over to my place for dinner to-morrow night; and, by the way, bring a couple of hats, and three week suits for me and my two boys. 1 saw Brown wearing one the other day. They’re ripping good style. Tho wife would be pleased !” “If you are not otherwise engaged next Saturday afternoon would you like to be a guest on my yacht? We will he leaving Rushcuttor’s Bay about 2 o’clock for an afternoon spin, and the outing mav freshen you up after a hard week. What?” “Certainly, old chap, with pleasure. I’ll be along.” “Good. Oh, by the way, I saw your article the other day on that preserva-* tivc paint mixture you’ve brought out. I’d like to hear more about it. It sounds as if there’s money in it. To-ta ! See you on Saturday!” Hospitality, indeed. * * * ‘•Come and have a drink?’’ “Right oh!” “Try this whisky, it’s just on the market. How do you like it?” ‘ ‘ Very good ! ’ ’ “I’m travelling for it. Can 1 send you a couule of cases?” * * * ‘T say,” said Smith, looking over the fence and addressing his next-door neighbour. “Will you come in tonight and Lave a little quiet game of bridge ?_ Only myself and the wife and my sister-in-law. Can only promise you a very quiet time, but we’ll do our best to entertain you.” “Thanks old chap, certainly. I shall be pleased to accept of your hospita ] i I y. ’ ’ “Yes, do. Ell tell the missus. Oh. by the way, wij l ! you lend me your lawn mower for an hour or two? This grass wants cutting badly. Thanks! See you to-night!” “Mrs. Swithington-Beauniarch requests the pleasure of .Mrs. Hector Blitherington’s company at a welcome home afternoon at the Hotel Australia to Mrs. and the Misses Dollington- i Boodle, at 3.30 p.m. on Thursday.” ■ Mr. Hector Blitherington’s horses are stated to have wintered well, and may be looked upon as good things for one of the big Spring races. * * * “John.Aiear, there are some new people in that big house of the S.tonebroke’s. Do yon think we ought to call? They had four largo pantechnicons of furniture, a pianola player, and drive a five-seater Vauxhall. You know, we have our reputation for hospiality to maintain, and they might ho somebody!” “I’ll look up tho house agents m hen T get to-town.” says John. “Don’t do anything till I get back. Our reputa- f tion for hospitality must not suffer i through entertaining ‘nobodys.’ you know, and everybody seems to have a big house and a car nowadays.” Hospitality with a string tied to it!! New for Hospitality Without Any j “String.” “William,” said a sweet voice, “will you require tho car this afternoon?” “Well.” replied William, who was shaving,’ “1 was thinking of taking a, party up to Warwick Farm. But ' what’s up? Do you. want it?” “Well, it doesn’t matter if you've got a party arranged. It will do sonic other time.” “Oh, no!” says William. “We can gel another car, or go by tram for tliai mai.icr. What’s on your mind, old “Well, you know. dear. I thought of taking Door Mrs. Welland out for a drive. Yen know, she is practically an invalid, and they have \ery little pleasure, as they are unfortunately so very hard up. She’s a complaining old ■soul, not, 1 am afraid, half so bad as she makes out. But it is mainly on account of her two daughters, who have to work hard all day ami conic home at night and have to attend io her wants and put up with her grumblings. So 1 thought if I took the oh! lady out lor the afternoon it would do I her good, ami give the girls a chance to get. away off surfing, or something, and have a real good time on their own for once.” ‘By Jove!’’ says Williams, “that’s a great scheme, and iusL like you to think of it. Yon take the car by ail means ; I’ll make my coves travel bv train. A little discomfort will do ’em good. And what say if you bring the old lady back -with you to dinner, and tell Hie girls we’Ll look after her all the evening, so they can make a good afternon and evening of it.” “Oh. that’s excellent! [’ll ring them up right away, before they leave for town. What an unselfish old dear von

Now, what’s the'matter with that? Old Davy, the swaggie, humping ’ bluey after a hot, weary day on the dusty plains between Moree and Narrabri, in the sunny month of January, came to rest on a log, and after lighting his pipe and somewhat mournfully noting that he had a long day before him on the morrow, and that but another two pipefuls lay in his hand, , gathered a few sticks, lighted up and ' boiled the billy. His tea and sugar i were down very low, and a piece of damper represented his meal. He looked round the landscape, gave his belt a hitch, and was about to start his tea when he saw a figure coming across a paddock, making for the road where he had camped. He waited until the newcomer got through the fence and stopped, saying, “Evenin’, mate! ( Camped fur the night?” j “Yes! ’Ave a drop o’ tea and a bit o’ me damper?” ■ “Thanks. J. will.” dropping off his * swag and sitting down on the log. j •■Come far to-day?” ■ “No, only from Bclatta. Where are you from ?” “Oh, out back there,” waving his hand towards the setting sun. “ ’Ow are yer off for ‘baccy?’ Ain’t ’ad a smoke since niornin.’ ” “Oh, well,” said Davy, “I ain’t got much, but you’re welcome to a cut off whaL’s left o’ me plug.” So saying he handed over his to-morrow’s supply of weed, and tho newcomer cut off only just enough to start a smoke. “You ain’t got much yourself, ’avo yer? I wouldn’t ’ave took it, only you know 'ow :i bloke feels without a ‘pull’ and walkin’ all day.” “1 know,” said Davy, “I know only too well.”

“Goin’ far tor-morrow?” inquires the ‘ other. ' “Be travel I in' most all day. ’Avv some more tea?” They yarned and chattered for some ■ time, and old Davey, noticing his companion’s pipe was empty, handed him liis plug once more. “No thankee, mate, no more. I’ll be gettin’ along, as 1 can go well at night, and rockon to reach where I’m makin’ for by mornin’.” “Well.” said Davy. “I ’avn’t got much left, but if you want a. bit o’ tea ami sugar for the night I’ll share with ye. Oh, well, if you won’t ’ave it, all right. No ’arm done. I’m campin’ ’ere. Well, so long. Thanks • for your company, and good luck to you.” » Hfr » ! Hospitality With No String. “Daddy, there’s a buggy and pair coming up from the creek.” “Is there? Go and tell mother.” Jack Glover walked to verandah and looked down the sloping home paddock through which the road up to the homestead lay and took stock of the arriving party, consisting of two men driving a buggy with two tired horses. As they drew up at the gate Glover walked down the garden path, at the same time calling to the rouscabout. “Good afternoon. ’ he said, won’t you get down lor a bit?” Take the buggy round and give the horses a feed, Bill.” he said to his man. “Well,” said the driver, “we only called iij) to know if we were on the right road for Baergaloon. and how much further it is. The horses are pretty tired, and if we can’t make it bed ore dark we'll camp somewhere.” “Oh, get down, boys, and conic in, and we ll see if we can scare up a feed. My name’s Glover, and I’m glad you thought of coming in. Have you come 1 “Yes, right through from Smith’s, over the range ; beasvly road. This is Mr. Wilkins, and my name is Edwards. We are going through on a bit of private business, and. to tell you the truth. I’m famously hungry. We left at daylight after a very I‘ight break- • last, and the sandwiches we brought for lunch went bad. So that’s how we are.” They went and were introduced to 1 Mrs. Glover and two line Miss Glovers, sat down to a meal which to hungry men was a god-send, especially after having bad their appetites wetted with : a “wad ol the best. They told all the news and some latest jokes, and the i meal went merrily, after which out pipes on the verandah and a thoroughly I good rest. “Is it necessary that you should get on your way to-night?” said the host. “Because we could easily put you both up, you know. There is plenty of room.” “Oh. we really couldn’t think of troubling you to that extent. You I have been too good giving us such a. line feed and doing us so well. We couldn’t think of inconveniencing you.” “Nonsense, man; you just* stay where you are, both of you. Get a good rest, and we'll start you off early i in the morning.” And so they stayed all night, had a very merry evening, both the host and hostess doing all thee could io make them comfortable, the daughter conIributing muchly to their pleasure by a beautiful voice, and piano I’lnyiiig of no mean standard. Next morning, idler a hearty breakfast, preparations lor a start were the order, bul also one ol the horses proved to be very lame. “Go.-li! \ow wh.it rotten luck! He tan l travel like that.” said Edwards. “What’ll we do?” Oh. that’s easily remedied.” said their host. “I’ll lend you a horse which will take his place.' ;md von can leave him at Hie Royal Hotel stables and well get him when someone goes •b. I’ll send your’s along when he’s lit. or if you come back this way you can pick bun up. lie only -wants a “ 1 here yon are now. boys,” said (•lover, a ■ the other horse w.is hitched ui>. Ami as they both got into the liugizy and prepared io move on. the mother ;!ih| girls joining them at the i. iie. wishing them a salt' iournev and. “We shall be awfully pleased to see you again any time vou are passing. ■ Good-lee.'” were the kind words which sped them on their wav. “Bv Jove!” said Edwaixls to his friend as they rattled down the road. i “that's hospitality for you if vou like- - : and us uerfect strangers, too. Never [ even asked who we were. These bush people are simplv great.” ’ “Yes,” said his companion. “There’s no -tring tied to that hospitality.’’