The Linfield’s Christmas Dinner Tragedy.

Northland Age, Volume V, Issue 16, 7 December 1908, Page 3

The Linfield’s Christmas Dinner Tragedy.

An Incident in the Life of a Self-Sacrificing Husband. By Elliott Flower in the “New Idea.” Mrs. Linfield was a most devoted little wife, and one of those theoretical housekeepers besides. She had been studying for the part she was expected to play as Linfield’s wife by reading all the “ Hints to Housekeepers ” that she could find in the various M woman’s pages ” of the newspapers, and she was impressed with the r idea that there must be no t waste. Scraps, of course, could be made over their puddings, croquettes, and such things, but everyone insisted that the really successful housekeeper was the one who so planned that practically nothing was left. “ I realise,’ 1 she 6aid to Lucius, “ that I must be very careful, for a careless or thoughtless house-wife just simply throws money away, aud we’re not millionaires, dear, are we ? I’ll show you how well I can manage.” Lucius, of course, told her that she was the dearest little woman and the best manager, and then he— But never mind that. It so happened that he wasn’t very hungry one day, and a good deal wasleft when dinner was finished. Thereupon Mrs. Linfield was greatly distressed. “ Oh dear,” she cried, “ how did I happen to make such a mistake ? ” “ But you didn’t, little wife,” he answered. It’s all my fault. I wasn’t very hungry to-day, you know.” “ It’s just lovely of you to say that,” she said, smiling gratefully at him. “ You’re so good and generous that you want to take the blame for •verything, but I know it’s my wretched management. It just shows ray awful extravagance.” Now, a man who is very much in love with an impractical little wife with a theoretical knowledge of housekeeping has only one thing to do in such circumstances —he must make things come out even. That is what Lucius undertook to do. He ate all there was, and she straightway provided more. “ Poor boy,” she said to herBelf; “j ust look how he cleans the table! I’m starving him; that’s what I’m doing ! ” And a few days later she sighed and soliloquised : “ I knew some men had big appetites, but I never knew anything equal to this. And he never used to eat so much. I remember when he dined with us at mother’s—” Here a horrible thought flashed into her mind. Love destroys the appetite. He was in love

then, while now it was evident — Oh, she couldn’t bear to think of it. The reason was infallible, but the conclusion was heartbreaking. He found her in tears when ho came home that evening, and he had to declare that he loved her no less than eighteen times before she even smiled fit him. Of course, after that he could not hurt her feelings by giving her any chance to reproach herself with mismanagement. So he ate and ate, and with what he had eaten before, every mouthful gave him a physical pang while it gave her an emotional shock. “No man in love,” she wailed when she w'ns alone, “ could eat like that. I have lost his heart. But I must be brave,” she added with sudden determination. We are bound together for life, and I have a duty to perform. Although every mouthful he takes tears at my heart-strings yet I must give him all that he craves.” Then she wept a little. Shortly thereafter came Christmas. Mrs. Linfield determined that she would prepare a dinner for her husband that would be a dinner. And it was a dinner; it would have worried a starving tramp. True, she told herself it was like driving nails in the coffin of her happy love-dreams, and now and then a dish was flavoured with a stray tear, but she was determined to suffer in silence. The world —and he most of all—should not see how her heart was w’renched aud her life was wrecked. That Christmas dinner was a veritable master-piece of selfsacrificing devotion and of untold variety. Lucius was in despair. “ Don’t you think,- little wife,” he gently suggested, as he anxiously saw the endless procession of dishes coming on the table, “ that you are providing a little more than is necessary for two ? ” “He wants to hide the truth from me,” she thought, “but I will not let him deny himself. It is enough that one should suffer.” So she insisted that she had planned it very carefully, aud he rvent to work at it. “ Bather than hurt her feelings,” he told himself, “ I would eat the tablecloth.” Now there was heroism for you —the heroism that true love inspires. He ate that dinner without flinching, every scrap of it, and when he was through he went into the little parlour and lay down on the lounge. She watched him and sighed. “ He used to bo so lively aud jolly after dinner,” she said. “Now all he wants is to be let alone. Oh, what has become of my romance ! Why, I shouldn’t be surprised if he actually went to sleep—and on Christmas Day, too ! Perhaps he’ll snore ! ” And that is just what he did. Not only did he snore, but he kicked and strangled and struggled and cried out in his sleep as well. He had dreams —horrible dreams, regular brain-split-ting, mince-pie dreams—and when he woke up, a worried wife and the doctor from the next flat were leaning over him. “ For Heaven’s sake, Doctor,” he whispered, as soon as he got a chance, “ tell her she must diet me if she would save my life ! If you have any pity for a suffering human being, tell her she must diet me.” “ And that,” remarked the doctor, sagely, “ will be no lie, either.” So Lucius Linfield was saved, and shortly thereafter Connubial Felicity resumed business at the old stand in the Linfield home.