SHORT STORY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LI, Issue 15554, 11 March 1914, Page 13

SHORT STORY.

THE LAST SHALL BE FIRST.

Hk was a. big. awkward fellow, a great football player, and there had lie-en deeds of his that, were still worth talking about in the younger college circles. There was no thing, apparently, in the way of crude strength that he could not accomplish. Nobody thought of him in any other way but as one without fear—fear, that is to say, o; anything except a woman.

His friends used to joke about it softly to themselves. They called him *' Buster." Tho idea of Humor knowing what to do with a girl, or what to say—that was always supremely comical!

And she'; Nobody ever had seen her under the slightest embarrassment. She had a certain touch, a rare combination of taste and tact. Someone had said that she was a born flirt, and nobody contradicted the statement. It seemed self-evident.

It was almost inevitable that they should meet. He had been away on a camping expedition in Canada. She had been over in Kuropo somewhere—it doesn't matter where. Mrs. Kibbling, their common friend, was giving a house-party, and had invited them both. Mrs. Kibbling had done it. .unconsciously—she did not realise that she. was onlv an instrument of Providence. "There's Buster 1" she had said to herself, nibbling her pen. Of course. Buster I There'.' Margy Wolson—she's simply splendid! She always knows how to bring certain people together and to keep other* apart." It must be confessed that Mrs. Kibbling ■was thinking of herself when she asked them both. .Selfishness sometimes creates its own compensation. It was morning when Buster arrived. lie had insisted upon walking from the station. He needed the exercise, he had explained to the chauffeur. As he camo through the gates and up the wide path the girls had a chance to get a good view of him. They knew he was coming, and gathered in the second storey, where he would not be likely to see them, with their heads clustered together, like a bunch of interrogation points, taking in Buster. "Isn't he grand?" said Daisy Small. "Jiut. too lovely for anything 1" whispered Milhccnt Van Berther. And the rest sighed in unison. Besides Margy Wolson, there were six of them. Down below Mrs. Ribbling was greeting her guest. He had almost crushed her hand as he took it. Suddenly, as she looked up at him, the great truth dawned upon her. Strange that she had not thought of it before! Of course, they were precisely fitted for each other—Margy, with her certain assurance, her capacity for flirting, and Buster, with his absolute incompetence in that direction. How could it be otherwise! ' What happened during the next week it is not necessary to recount. Let us pass it over in silence. Suffice it to record that on a certain tveuing they were alone together. While the others were playing bridge Buster i had wandered out on the piazza. Suddenly |he heard the swish of a gown; a form was speeding around the corner Buster, strange to say. did not wait. He followed. . The piazza was paved with tiles. His rubber-soled shoes gave forth no sound. At the extreme west end was a pavilion. He found her there. The moon -was at the full and they could see each other very well. Buster came in and put his great form gently down in the corner. Somehow Margy's assurance had left her. Instead of saying just the right thing she was silent. Buster felt the silence, but said nothing; and so they sat, speechlessly looking at each other. Finally Marg7 spoke. There was in her voice an undoubted note of netulence, and of something else—could it really have been embarrassment? "What did you come out here fort" she The question took Buster so much by surprise that he did not answer for an instant. Then he said slowly—Buster was alI wavs truthful: "Why, I thought you wanted me to! "Thought I wanted you to?" t>he repeated. "Why, what do you mean?" Buster had recovered himself now. He wore a resigned look. There was no diplomacy, no tact, in his nature; it would i have been unnecessary; he was just big and j brave and awkward and irresistible, and his experience had given him that feeling of resignation. . ' " Why, I came out here to kiss you, he said. "Isn't that all right?" Her face in the moonlight flushed with anger. This passed away as suddenly as it came, and she laughed. Instinctively she knew that she must tell him the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. "You've made a mistake," she said. "Let me explain. lam quite different from what I appear to be. It has always been easy for me to talk to everybody—to say the right thing, to put people at their ease. I am not boasting of that—it has just come naturally to me. Somehow I get up sympathy for the person I am talking to. Well, the result of all this is that I have a reputation that I don't deserve; and, of course, the other girls are always ready to make the most of that. They say— because I never seem embarrassed —that I am a flirt. But I'm not It makes me feel awk- ! ward and. miserable to talk about it. You've j made a mistake, that's all. I'm not that | sort!"

Buster got up. . "I'm awful sorry," lie said. "I've kissed all the rest of 'em, and I thought you wanted me to. They always expect it wherever I go. I just do it as a matter of course. Didn't mean to leave you last, but

it just happened so." He got up to go, and then stopped and turned around, filling up about all the moonlight there was in the pavilion. There was no dissimulation about Buster; he was as innocent as a baby. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to be kissed'.'" ho said. "You see, it's like this, —you're the only girl I have ever really wanted to kiss. Maybe it's because you don't want me to." She blushed. Their positions had been reversed. "I've—l've never been kissed by any fellow before." she stammered. Buster gat hered her skilfully in his great arms. Wei practised in the technique, this was the firs', time that his he-art had been in his work " 'Well, vcu're going to be now!" h? said grimly.— Thomas L. Maason.