OUR EXPECTATIONS.

Northern Advocate, 18 August 1888, Page 3

OUR EXPECTATIONS.

BELGBAVIA.

"How very unfortunate ! " " flow confoundedly annDjdng ! " The above remarks were made by my wife and myself respectively one bright September morning as we sat at breakfast in the dining room of our iiny oldfashioned cottage at Lowthrope. Before us each lay an opened letter ; and it was the contents of these letters— individually and collectively — which had called forth the remarks set down above. To be more explicit Ella's letter was from her uncle, Gregory Catper, signifying his intention of paying us a visit on the following Tuesday. My letter was from my uncle, Simon Finieker, saying he intended paying us a visit the following Tuesday. Nothing particularly alarming in that, you think? Wait a little. Old Gregory Carper was a most eccentric and irascible individual of reputed fabulous wealth* who had more than once distinctly stated that it Was his intention to make his only niece (my wife his heiress. Old Finicker, my toother's brother, was also rich in this World's goods, and it was generally Understood that I, Charles Danvers, was to be his heir. And between these two old mentherewasadeadlyfeud. Thequarrel had taken place six months ago ; and each uncle (after giving us an exhaustive catalogue of the enemas) had sworn in turn that if we, BUaaod Charles Danvers, exchanged words, letters or visits with the said enemy in future we should be ostracised by the remaining uncle for ever, n Now, for more reasons than one, Ella and I looked upon this as a serious contingency, and I regret to say we had recourse to duplicity. We gave each uncle to understand that we held the Other as the scum of the earth (if we didn't exactly say so we implied it), and so far we had kept on tolerably friendly terms with loth. "We called our baby— we had a baby — Gregory and Simon by turns. He had been christened Gregory Simon in the presence of both uncles just a week before the fatal quarrel took place. Poor little soul I used to shudder when I thought of his debut with such a name at the public school, where his mother already talked of sending him. I offer no excuse for our unpardonable conduct. I acknowledge that I played the part of a mean, abject sneak. But I trust the reader will see that under existing circumstances the projected simultaneous visits of these two uncles was, to say the least of it, awkward. However, there was no help for it. To write and put either off would offend the put-off one almost as mortally as to allow the dreafed meeting to take place. / " There will ac a fine scene 1 I observed grimly, after a short silenoe. "By Jove \ there will! " Ella Btbred her coffe abstractedly ; and 1 stuck my eggspckmrgndictiveiy through the shell of my third egg»-with a vague ■wish that I were inflicting coporal injury on either. ojbiectipn&blft relative. Tj ■ ~4| Cn^rue.^TEamy wife, in pitgW toneV, when some few minutes hadJHHF ed, l£ \ what shall we.4p?" w*-> '„ - -'•''Ask iuw-u-nething easien- to yß* r ." I replied, gloomily. T "It is so awkward in every way} she went on. "jane does not return from her holiday until Wednesday. (Jane was our housemaid). And cook's being so deaf makes her so stupid. And your uncle is so fidgety and particular, she added. -,*.■%_•, ±. I do not reply, but re-read both letters silently. No, there was no mistake, both uncles were coming on Tuesday, Mr Carper'proposed a three days' visit ; Mr Finicker, intended startingearly on Wednesday morning to attend a cattle show some twenty miles frem Lowthrope. He wonld come down, he (my uncle) said, by the 5.15 from Waterloo. " As usual, Mr Carperdoes not mention the train he intends coming down by," I observed dryly. " Th ere onl y remains, as a climax, that they should both elect to come by the 5.15." " Oh, Charlie ! Surely not ! " " I think it is more than likely," I returned, with the calmness of despair, as I proceeded to unfold the newspaper. I had just ten minutes to read and digest it before catching my train up to town. " Charlie, how can you sit there coolly reading the paper !" exclaimed my wife, almost in tears. "My dear," I remonstrated, " there are five day to come before Tuesday. We don't know what may happen in that time. One of the old fools may — cr — ahem! We can talk it over when I tome home to-night," I concluded hastily Then, with what I have told is the innate selfishness of the masculine mind, I ptunged into the news of the day. When I came home at night, Ella met me with a beaming smile. «' Charlie ! " she began gleefnlly, as I divested myself of my hat and overcoat, I have thought of a plan." "A plan I echoed vaguely. Beader I give you my word I had forgotten all about .those two fiendish old men. " Oh, the uncles ! " I groaned, after a moment's reflection. "Let us have dinner first, and indigestible relatives afterward." "Ella, as all well-drilled little wives should do, obeyed her lord and master, and dinner proceeded as usual. When I had lit my post-prandial pipe I stretched myself upon the sofa, f olde« my arms behind my head, and intimated that I was ready to hear the " plan." My wife came and seated herself upon a low stool beside me. "You see, Charlie," she began, with round, solemn eyes fixed upon nune; "I have thought and thought all day, and this seems the only thing to be done." , "Well," I said expectantly, as she paused. , Well," she went on, " I am confident that TJnde Simon will arrive first on Tuesday, and he shall have the pink room. 1 ' _ •• I have no objection," I observed, as she paused again, " but I fail to see how that can help us." "Charlie, you are so stupid, dear. You know there is something, the matter with the lock of the pink room door." I looked— as I felt—bewildered. • • Yes," I said helplessly. "Well, Charlie," in impatient tones, "don't you understand P " "I confess to being still at sea, mj dear" I said, with abject humility "But go on. Unfold your plan, and m 3 ieeUer intellect will try to follow. Th< uncle who appears fiwt upon the sceneTTncle Simon. I you said— is t< have the pink room, and there is some thing the matter with the look of th< «fak room door. I *Mnk * ha 7' mastered these two important details Andopra?" " Don't you see ?" vaf wife went on with growing excitement. " The loci has often stuck-fart before. Don't w TfuemberP So what more natural W»

lit should go wrong on Tuesday ? " And she looked at me triumphantly. " But, my child," I murmured, it won't * go wrong,' as you call it, on Tuesday. Things never do go wrong when they ought to. It's only when they ought to," I concluded vulgarly. ' "Of course, yes, 1 know all that ; but ' then, you see I will make it go wrong." "Make it go wrong, I repeated ; what 1 do you mean." 1 Ella regarded me witWingly ; then ' said :" Reaily, Charlie, you seem as if 1 you were being stupid on purpose. Why, of course, when Uncle Simon goes up to 1 get ready for dinner I shall simply lock the door. Then we can pretend that the ■ lock has stuck fast again, and that we can't 1 get the door open. When Uncle Gregory 1 has gone to bed — you know he always goes quite early— we can let poor old Uncle Simon out, and give him a splendid supper to make up for the loss of his dinner. He is very good-natured, you know. And then,' she concluded, "he will be away in the morning before Uncle Gregory is up. Ho there you are ! " I gave vent to alow, prolonged whistle, " You are a most Machiavellian young woman, Nell ! " I said graveiy. " What a diplomatist you would have made ! '' " Yes," modestly. " I think it is rather a nice little plan. It came into I my head this afternoon while I was putting baby to sleep." " There are two rather serious objections, however," I observed, after puffing at my pipe for some second in silence. " Well ? " rather sharply. « Well— it seems an uncommonly sneaky kind of thing^ doesn't it, even for us ? " with a grim smile, " Oh, no, " promptly ; " not when you get used to the idea. I thought so myself at first, but it soon wore off." " Ah ! " I murmured, lost in admiration of this remarkable and easy code of morals. " You said two objections, Charlie," resumed his wife. "What was the other?" " How are you so sure that my uncle will arrive first ? " I enquired. If it should - dhance to be yours I wouldn't • give much for the success of your plan. : Mr Carper is a very respectable old gentleman, but I think you could hardly call him sweet-tempered. He^ — " " Now, don't make objectsons, dear," interupted Ella decisively. " I know your uncle will come first, because he always comes early in the afternoon, and uncle Gregory never comes until the last train he can possibly get before dinner sime." " Besides," I said weakly, " there will 1 be no opportunity for the lock to stick fast, I imagine. I don't think my uncle locks his bed-room door. Men don't generally. I never do." 1 " Oh, it dosen't want to be locked, 1 boy ! If I left the key inside how could I fasten it outside P Really, Charlie, you are much less intelligent than I thonghtyou were." ALLMBjhis accusation meekly and in I what a f earf ul^tt| I t^H^BHHßh[£^M^ugi)risOQ^^^^^M£ W " No, by Jovi"" \ exclaimed, rising ifrom the sof aa^ taking up a position on [the hearth*-^? ; " I won't consent to any^ . .. suchplrf* It'seertaia to xaisa fire «ome- ' how,,* and then we'll be in a nice scrape. Let lhe two old fellows come, and have done with it. If they disinherit us both, and ignore our son's fnture, it can't be helped. I'm heartily sick of all this pretence and underhand nonsense, and I won't have any more of it." But Ella, after a dismayed pause wept and entreated bo, and, in short, cajoled me in the way women do cajole us when they like, to such purpose that lat last m gave in and consented. Whereupon -»• hypocritical letters were written to both uncles, expressive of our pleasure at their projected visit, etc., and I permitted myself the luxury of being in an exceedingly bad temper for the next few days. The fateful Tuesday arrived in due course, and by Ella's special request I came home by a much earlier train than usual. The afternoon had passed without bringing Uncle Simon. Our evil star was evidently in the ascendant ; for at half-past five a fly from the station drove up to the door, and from it stepped— Uncle Gregory. « I looked at Ella witheringly. "Never mind, dear," she wad, in hurried tones. "It can't be helped. 11l manage. Just leave everything to me!" I muttered a few maledictory remarks under my breath, and went to the door with wreathed smiles to "greet our rela- X tive. 1 saw at once, by certain infallible JL signs, that he was in one of his most aggressive moods. He swore at the flyman; condradicted me flatly and radely when I mentioned the usual fare ; and snubbed poor Ella so viciously on the subject of a new velvet dress she wore that I sa-w the the tears with mortification and I myself crimsoned with rage. However, we pressed him to take some refreshment — sherry I think it was — and after two large glasses of the same he became somewhat mollified. I At this point a telegram was handed J in. It was from my uncle, saying we might expect him by the 5.50. p . " Wouldn't you like to get ready for j? dinner now, uncle?" Ella said after el some time, with a nervous glance at the timepiece (I had shown her the telegram It was a quarter to six, and uncle Simon's m train was due in five minutes. " Plenty of time, plenty of time," said the old gentleman, helping himself to another glass of sherry. "You don't dine till six, do you ? " I saw that Ella was quite pale. " Pray, don't hurry," I observed calmly As I spoke the whistle of Uncle Simon 8 train was distinctly heard in {he distance. b Ella disappeared from the room, and in another moment the dinner bell sounded c vigorously. Old Carper rose after imbibing a final t glass of sherry. a •« I hope yon have something decent k for dinner," he growled. "I'm as hungry as a hunter. Hadn't time for £ than a bite at lunch." w I smiled a painful smile, and murmured something to the effect that 1 r. hoped he would have something he could » enjoy. The old fellow plodded heavily up stairs, where Ella was waiting to usher him into the fateful pink room. In s, another moment, my wife, flushed and breathless, joined me at the foot of the l y. "Have you done itP" I asked iy gloomily, feeling as I imagine Macbeth he must have done. — " Yes," she answered, showing me the to key, preparatory to slipgng it into her c- pocket. * And Charlie, Ttook'dDwn the ho CeU-rope to-day ; so all iM* But, oh ye dear ! hew very uni ortoitfte thit Unate Is. Simon didn't come first. I suppose ftej will be here directly," »n, Just then the door-bell rang loudy, m ck was Uncle Simon. jj£ (To & Cwtkm&J

political career. In an article oil the Otago Central debate, the Wanganui Herald says : — " The Auckland members, it appears, were most active and most effective in the art of stonewallingi and spoke through the long hours of the night of Thursday "with much humour and good sense, and with more or less relevance, on the phases of Mr Pyke's audacious Bill. The palm in the "debate" must be given to one of the silent members of the House, Mr E Thompson, the member for Marsden, a hard-headed North of Ireland man, who for three long hours addressed himself with point and fluency, and imperturbable good humour, to the aspects of the most monstrous job that had even thrown its murky shade on the walls of the New Zealand Parliament. That speech is not reported, and -totll be lost to posterity, and this is a pity, for it was a very remarkable essay." This is the opinion of strangers and of unbiased minds, which must be flattering to both Mr Thompson and his friends, and lead them to conclude that at least they are as well represented as they ever have been, and that they may hope for results pregnant with good.