A PARABLE FOR HUSBANDS.

Lyttelton Times, Volume CXV, Issue 13948, 3 January 1906, Page 2

A PARABLE FOR HUSBANDS.

$ . (By JEAN WEBSTER.) Blue Gipsy’s filly had broken two pairs of shafts, kicked a hole through a dashboard, and endeavoured to take a fence, carriage and all, in a fixed determination not to become a harness horse. It was evident that she had chosen her career, and meant to stick to it. “ Break her to the shafts if you have to half kill her,” Mr Harry had said, but there were some things Mr Harry did not understand so well as Peter. “Where’s the use in spoilin’ a good jumper for the sake o’ makin’ a poor drivin’ horse?” Peter had asked the trainer, and he had added that the master was talking through his hat. Peter had already explained the matter to Mr Harry, but Mr Harry was very much like the filly; when he had made up his mind ho did not like to change. Peter decided to talk it over once more, however, before he risked another groom. The first groom had dislocated his shoulder, and he refused to have any further intercourse with Blue Gipsy’s filly. Poor Peter felt himself growing old under the weight of his responsibilities. Three years before he had been a care-free groom at Willowbrook; now, since Miss Ethel bad married Mr Harry, be was head coachman at the 1 “ Jasper place,” with seven horses and three men under him. Occasionally he gazed rather wistfully across the meadows to where the Willowbrook stables showed a dull red blur through " the grey-green willow trees. He had served there ten years as stable boy and groom, and though he had more than once tasted the end of a strap under Joe’s vigorous dominion, it had been a happily irresponsible life. Not that he wished the old time back, for that would mean that there would be no Annie waiting supper for him at night in the coachman’s cottage, but ho did wish sometimes that Mr Harry had a little more oommonsonse about managing horses. Blue Gipsy’s filly, trotting peaceably between shafts! It was in her blood to jump, and jump she would; you might as well traiA a bull pup to grow up a Japanese poodle and sleep on a satin cushion. Peter, pondering the matter, strolled over to the kitchen, and inquired of Ellen whore Mr Harry was. Mr Harry was in the library, she ‘said, and Peter could go right through. The carpet was soft, and he made no noise. Ho did not mean to listen, but he had almost reached the library door before he realised, and then ho stood still, partly because he was dazed, and partly because he was interested. He did not know what had gone before, but the first thing he heard was Miss Ethel’s voice, and though he could not see her, ho recognised from the tone what she looked like, with her head thrown back and her chin up, and her eyes flashing. “I shall do as I please,” she said, - and she stamped her foot. “ Go. Go away, and don’t bother me. I am tired of your interfering, and I feel as if I never wanted to see you again.” Then a long silence, and finally the cold, repressed tones of her husband asked: “Do you mean that?” ' She did not answer, except by a long indrawn sob of anger. Peter had heard that sound before, when she was a child, and he knew how it should be dealt with; but Mr Harry did not; he was far too polite. After another silence, he said quietly: “If 1 go, I go to stay—a long time.” “ Stay forever if yon like.” Peter turned and tiptoed out, feeling sheepish a'nd ashamed as he had felt that other time when he had overheard. He wont back to the stables, and sitting down, with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, he pondered the situation. If ho were Mr Harry for just ten minute®, he told himself fiercely, ho would soon settle tlpngs; hut Mr Harry was slow, and did not understand. Whan it came to managing horses ho was too rough, as if they had no'sense; and when it came to managing woman, he was too easy, as if they wore all sense. Peter sighed miserably. His big, Irish heart eohed for them both; for Miss Ethel, because he know that she did not mean what she said, and would later be sorry; for Mr Harry, because he knew that he did mean what he said—terribly and earnestly. Neither understood the other, and it was all such a muddle when just a little oommonsense would make everything happy. Then he shrugged his shoulders and told himself that it was none of his business; that he guessed they could make up their quarrek without help from him. And he i fell to scolding the stable-boy for mis--1 ing.up the harness, j lir about half an hour, Tony, the | valet, came running out to the stables looking pleased and excited, with an order to get the fly ready immediately to go to the station. Tony was evidently bursting-with news, but Peter pretended not to be interested, and kept on with his work without looking up. “ The master's going into New York, and I follow to-night with his things, and to-morrow we sail for England!” said . Tony triumphantly. “I guess there’s been trouble,” he added significantly. “ Mrs Jasper’s in her room with the door banged shut, and the master is pretty quiet-like and white about the gills.” “Shut up and mind yonr own business,” snapped Peter, and he led out the horses, and began putting on the harness witli hands that trembled. As ‘bo drew up at the parte oochere, Mr Harry jumped in. “ Well, -Peter,” ho said in a voice which was meant to bo cheerful, but was a very poor imitation, “we must drive fast if we’re to i make the four-thirty train.” “Yes, sir,”,said Peter, briskly clicking to the horses, and for once he thanked his stars that the- station was ' four miles away. A great resolve had been growing in his mind, and it required some time and a good deal of courage to carry it out. He glanced sideways at the grim, pale face beside hhn, and cleared hie throat uneasily. “ Beggin’ your pardon, sir,” ho began. “I was at the library door to ask about the filly, an’ without moanin’ to, I heard why you was goin’ away-” A quick flush spread over Mr Harry's face, mid he glanced angrily at Ins coachman. “The devil!” ho said. “Yes, sir,” said Pet-el’- “I suppose I’ll be discharged, sir, for speaking, but I feel it’s me dooty, an’ 1 can’t keep quiet. Beggin’ your pardon, sir, I’ve knowed Miss Ethel longer than you have. Man and boy I served at Wiilowbrook. Her hair was bangin’ down her back, on’ she .was drivin’ a pony cart when I first come, an’ I was her groom. I watched her grow, an’ 1 know her ways, an’ there was times, sir, vrlieu sho vras nKnsfc * uiioomiiion troublesome. She’s - the kind of "a woman as needs managin’, an’ if you’ll excuse mo for savin’ bo, it takes a man to da it. You’re too quiet ■ an’ gentlemanlike, sir. An’ though _ I guess she likes to have you act libs a gentleman, when you can't do both, she’d rather have you act like a man. If I was her husband- ” “You forget yourself, Peter!” Mr Harry gasped out. • “Yes, sir,” said Pater, “as I was sayin’, air, if I Was her husband I’ti let her see who was master, pretty quick, an’ she’d like me the .better. An’ if she ever told me she would be glad for mo to go away an’ never come back, I’d look at her black like, with me arms folded, an’ I’d say: ‘You

would, would you? In that case I'll stay right here an’ never go-' away.’ An’ then slic'd be so mad she’d put 1 her head down on th© back o’ the chair an’ cry deep like, the way she always did when she couldn’t hare •what she wanted, an’ I’d wait with a frown on mo brow, an’ when she got through she’d bo all over it, an’ would ask me pardon ‘sorrowful like; an’ I’d wait a while an’ let it soak in, an’ then I’d forgive her.” Mr Harry stared at Peter, too amazed to speak. “Yes, sir,” Peter resumed, "I’ve watched Miss Ethel grow up, an’ I knows her like her own mother, as you might say. I’ve drove her to and from the town for twelve years, an’ I’ve rode after her many miles on horseback, an’ when she felt like it she would talk to me as chatty as if I weren’t a groom., She was that way with all the servants, sir; she took an interest in our troublesan’, spite o’ the fact that eh© was a bit overrulin’ sometimes, we all liked her, sir.” Mr Harry knit his brows and stared ahead without speaking, and _ Peter glanced at him uneasily and hesitated. " There’s another thing I’d like to tell you, sir, though I’m not sure how you’ll take it.” "Don’t hesitate on my account,” murmured Mr Harry ironically. " Say anything you plea-se, Peter.” “ Well, sir, I guc<S: you may have forgotten, but I was tho'groom you took with you that time before you was married when you an’ Miss Ethel went to see the old wreck.” Mr Harry looked at Peter with a quick, haughty stare, but Peter was examining the handle of his whip, and did not see. “ An’ you left_ me an’ the cart, sir, under the bank, if you’ll remember, an you didn’t walk far enough away, an’ you spoke pretty loud, an’ I couldn’t help bearin’ you.” "Damn your impertinence!” said Mr Harry. "Yes, sir,” said Peter. “ I never told no one, not even me wife, sir, but I understood after that how things was goin’. An’ when you went away, I s’picioned you wasn’t fe-slin’ very merry; an’ T watched Miss Ethel, cn’ I was sure she wasn’t feelin’ merry, for all she tried mighty hard to make people* think she was. When they mas lookin’, sir, she laughed and flirted most outrageous with them young men as wee visitin’ Willowbrook, but in between times she used to take long rides on the beach, with me followin’ at a respectful distance—very respectful I might say. Sho wasn’t noticin’ me troubles then; she had too many o’ her,.own. When there weren’t no one on the beach she’d leave me the horses an* walk off by herself, an’ sit on a Banddune, an’ put her chin in her hand an’ stare at . the water till the horses was that crazy with th© sandflies, I could scarcely hold ’em. An’ sometimes she’d put her head dawn an’ cry soft like, fit to break a man’s heart sir, an’ I’d walk the horses off, with me hands just itchm’— beggin’ your pardon, sir—to get a holt o’ you, for I knew you was the cause.” "You know a good deal too much, said Mr Harry dryly. , . t{ A groom learns co n si-dor a bio, 6ir ? without l melanin* to, an* it’s lucky his master is if lie knows how to koop his ■mouth shut. As I was sayin’, sr, I know all th© time sho was pimn for you, bat was too proud to let you know. If you’ll allow the impertinence, sir, you mad© a mistake nl the nay you took her at her word. If you'd a understood her an’ handled her right she wouldn’t a throwed you* over at ad.” "What do. you mean?” Mr Harry asked fiercely. . ' - "I mean, if you’ll excuse me speakin’ allegorical like, that she s the kind of a woman as needs a sharp bib an a stea-dv hand on th© bridle, an when eh© bolts, a touch o’ the k&h—not too much, sir, for she wouldn t stand it, but enough to let her see who s master. I’ve known many horses an’ some women sir an’ I’ve noticed as the blooded ones is alike in both. If you’ll excuse my mentioning it, Miss Ethel was badly 1 broke, sir. She was given the rein w’hen she needed the whip, but for alLthat she’s a thoroughbred, sir, an tnats the main thing.’ . . , Peter imperceptibly slowed Jus homes. "If you don’t mind, sir, I’d like to tell you a little story- Ik happened six or seven years ago when you was away at college, an’ if Mies Ethel is a bit unreasonable now, sir, she was more unreasonable then. It was when the old master first bought Blue Gipsy—as was a devil if there ever was one. One afternoon Miss Ethel takes it into her hcad she wants to try the new mar©, so she orders her out, with me to follow What docs sho do but make straight for the beach, sir an gallop along on the hard sand, close to the Vater-linc- It was an awful windy day in the fall, with the clouds _ hangup low an 5 the waves da-slim’ high, an everything sort o’ empty an’ lonesome. You can know something o’ what Blue Gipsy was from her filly. She wasn’t used to the water, an’ she was so scared sh© was most crazy, rearin an plungin J till you would a sworo sho had a dozen much of a hors© for a lady, sir, but Miss Ethel could ride all right. She kept Blue Gipsy’s.head to the wind an’ galloped four or five miles up the beach, with me poundm ! along behind, ’ haugin’ on to mo hat for dear life. , ' "It Was ebb-tide, but time for the flood, an’ I was beginnin’ to think we’d better go back, unless wo wanted to plough through the loose shingle high up, which is mighty hard on a horse, sir! But when we come to the Nock, Miss Ethel redo straight on; I didn’t lika the looks of it much, but I didn’t say nothin’, for the Neck’s never under water an’ there weren’t no danger. But what does sho do when we comes to the end o’ the Neck but turn to ride across the inlet to the mainland, which you can do easy enough at low tide hut never at high. The sand was already get-tin’ cosy,, an’ with the wind biowin’ off the sea the tide was risin’ fast. It would a meant sure death, sir, if she’d gone out an’ got caught. An 1 what with that unknown devil of a Blue Gipsy sho was tidin', there was no tollin' what- would happen. " ‘ Miss Ethel,’ I calls, sort o’ commandin’ like, for I was too excited for politeness, '* you, mustn’t go out there.’ ” Sho turns around an’ stares at me haughty, an’ goes on.

"I gallops up an’ says: 'The fid# ’s a risin’, I tell you, Miss Ethel, an* the inlet isn’t safe.’ "She looks me over cool like an* says: ‘lt is perfectly safe. I_am goin* to rid© across; if you’re afraid, Peter, you can go' home.’ "With that she whips up an’ starts off. I was after her in a minute an’ I gallops up beside her, an’ before she knew what I was doin’ I reaches out mo hand an’ grabs hold o’ the bridle an’ turn* Blue Gipsy’s head. I didn't like to do it, for it seemed sort o’ familiar but with people as contrary as they is, sir, you’ve got to be familiar sometimes, if you ’re goin’ to do any good in the world. “ Well, sir, as you can believe, she didn’t like it, an’ she calls out sharp and imperative for mo to let go. But I hangs on an’ starts to gallop, an’ with that she raises her whip an’ cuta mo over the hand as hard as she could. It hurt considerable, but I held on. an* didn’t say nothin’, an’ she raised her ■whip to strike me again. But just .at that moment a wave broke almost at the horses’ feet, an’ Blue Gipsy reared, an’ Miss Ethel, who wasn’t expectin’ it, almost lost her balance an’ th© whip dropped on the sand. " ‘ Peter,’ she says, ‘ go back an’ get that whip.’ “But by that time I’d got the bit in me teeth, sir, an’ I just laughs—ugly like—and keeps hold o’ the bridle an’ gallops on. Well, sir, then she was most crazy, an’ she tries to shake off me arm with her fist, but she might as well have tried to shake down a tree. 1 looks at the sand, an’ smiles, impertinent, to meself, an’ goes on. An’ she looks all around, desperate like, but the beach was all empty an’ lonely, an’ there wasn’t nothin’ she could do, I bein’ so much stronger.” "You brute!” said Mr Harry. " I was\ savin’ her life, sir,” aaid Peter. "An’ when she saw she couldn’t do nothin’ she kind of sobbed down low to herself an’ said, soft like ‘ Hi discharge you, Peter, when we get home.’ " I touches me hat an’ says as polite as you please, ‘ Very well, miss, but wa ain’t hom© yet, an’ I’m boss for the present.’ “ With that a great* big wav© cornea ' swash up against the horses’ legs, an’ it’s lucky I had a holt o’ the bridle, lor Blue Gipsy sure would a thrown her. An’ after I got her back on her four legs—Blue Gipsy, sir—an’ wo was goin’ on again, Mies Ethel throws a look over her shoulder at. th© inlet, which was all under water, an’ then she looks down at m© hand_ that had a great big red welt accost it, anl she said, so low I could scarce bear her over th© waves: “ £ You can take your hand away, Peter. I’ll ride straight home.’ “ I knew she meant it, but mo hand was burnin’ like fire, an’ me feelin’s was hurt so I looks at her doubtm - like, as if I couldn’t trust her, an fib© turns red an’ looks down; an’ with that I touches me ha*- an’ falls behind. “ An’ when we get back, sir, an I got off at the pater-kor-cher to help her dismount, what does she do but take me big red hand in both o’ hers, an she looks at the soar an’ then she looks ii* me eyes, an’ she says, like _as you bit straight fp>m th© shoulder, sir; Peter, she says, ‘ I’m sorry I struck you. Wxlf you forgive me?’ says she. "An’ I touches in© hat an t says; ‘ Certainly, miss. Don’t mention it, miss 1’ and was friends after that. '“An’ that’s why, Mr Harry, I.hate to see you go off, an’ hoggin’ your pardon, make a fool of younsolf. SnO lovoa you true, sir, like as Annie loves me, an I know, sir, if she took it hard before you was married, it would near, drill* her now. You mustn’t mind what qhe save when she’s angry, for she just thinks o’ the worst things she can on purpose to hurt your feelin’s, but lord I sir, she don’t mean it any more’n a rabbit, an’ if you’ll give her half a chanca an’ don’t act like a iceberg, she’ll wan* to make up. Me an’ Annie, Mr Harry, wo pulls together lovely. Im the boss in some things, an’ she’s tha boss in others; I lets her think she caa manage me, an’ she lets me _ think I can manage her—an’ I can, sir. Sometimes we have little quarrels, but ite mostly for th© joy o’ making up, an we’re that happy, sir, that we want* to see everyone else happy*” The horses had slowed to a walk; but Mr Harry did not notice it. A smila was beginning to struggle with the hand lines about his mouth. * "'Well, Peter,” he said, “You’ve preached quite a sermon. What would you advise?” "That you go back an take a firm hold o’ the bridle, sir, an’ if she uses the whip just- hold on hard an’ don t let on that it hurts.” Mr Harry looked at Peter, and the smile spread to his eyes. “ And then vrheu she drops it,” ne seked, ‘ 3 116 ** laugh and rid© on?” Peter coughed a deprecatory cough. “ Begrin’ your pardon, sir, I think if I was'in your place I’d pick it . up an’ keep it meself. It might come in handy in case of emergencies.” - Mr Harrv threw back his Head in a a nick, boyish laugh, and, reaching over, he took the lines and turned the horses’ heads. "Peter,” he said, “you may be elemental, but I half suspect you’** right.” _____________