SHORT STORY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LI, Issue 15659, 13 July 1914, Page 4

SHORT STORY.

A BUSINESS TRIP. "Wn.vr! I'm to be left moping at homo by myself again for another fortnight or more! Oh, George!" And pretty little Mrs. Carrington pouted, and looked up with a halfpetulant, half-dismayed expression at her better half, as he stood opposite to her on the hearthrug, smoking a cigar. "Yes, my dear," announced her husband," if that is the way you choose to put my peremptory business trip." " But you only came back from a business tour last week." And then Mr. Carrington took his from his mouth, and looked contemplatively at the ash-column on the end of it, whilo ho spoke in his most impressive manner. "Marion, you seem not to understand that women should not bo bothering themselves continually about the why and wherefore, the pros and cons of their husbands' movements. Let it suffico you, my dear, that affairs of importance cull me from home. I leave you a fair sum of monoy to spend, I leave you to tho society of your children, and what more should a womanly woman desire?"

And Marion actually pouted! "Mouoy isn't everything, and one does once- in a while tire of the society of a boy 1 of four and a baby of three." "My dear, you shock me!" And the lofty reproof in his tone was something simply wonderful. "But mayn't I go with you this time,

George?" Mrs. Carrington pleaded, lifting a pair of lovely bluo eyes and gently patting her husband's hand—a very handsome hand, too, with a cameo ring on the shapely little- finger.

My dear, no, you can't." "And how long will you be gone this time, George?"

"Impossible to say— longer than a week or two, anyhow; however, it will dopend upon circumstances.'' "And where are you going?" she asked, sighing to his answer.

"To Liverpool and Manchester first, then Scotland and the North generally. I've got to look up a lot ot our customers, you know; and while I'm that way I shall most likely stop a few days at Blackpool. I hear it's quite a second Biigton in its way. So don't tease me any more, but go on with your sewing or your reading, like a good little girl. I'm awfully sleepy, and this chair is just the thing for a nap."

And adjusted his handsome head comfortably on the pillow of tho chair, and betook himself to slumber, while Marion sat solitary and grave beside the window of their little house that looked over Peckham Rye towards the shining towers of the Crystal Palace, and wrought some marvellously pretty garment for baby Marion. And the next day she packed his portmanteau according to his orders, and at noon received his good-bye kiss and his parting command.

"Bo as economical as you can. my dear." he said, as he drew on his gloves. "Times are hard, and the money market grows tighter every day. Especially keep your eye on the grocer's bill, Marion, and see while I'm away if you can't cut it down. There might be a save in a good many little things, might thero not. while I am gone? However, I leave it entirely to your conscience, so good-bye, Marion. Take- good care of the youngsters, and enjoy yourself all you possibly can, my dear."

"Yes, George, I certainly shall—goodbye." And she kissed him, and watched him off, and then wont straight up to her own room, and Bent the nursery maid posfc-hasts to Mrs. Andrews, the dear lit'lle old lady, who had had all the care of the young Carringtons the first six weeks of their existence.

"I want you to stay hew, and take care of Robbie and Marion, and look alter the house for a little while—a week, perhaps two, possibly three. I have to go away, and George is absent, too. Of course, you'll do it, won't you"" Of course Mrs. Andrews would.

"But what in the world takes you away, my dear child?" she asked in surprise." And Marion answered in one word-* " Business"— set to work to pack her trunk.

And in four hours after George Cartington left by Main for the Lancashire watering-plate his wife also left by train for the same destination.

"For I mean to know for mysejf just exactly what: these business trips are?" the little lady declared. "Which is the best hotel here?" she asked the driver of the fly that a porter had put her luggage in on' arriving at the station.

" The Imperial, ma'am, and a first-class one, too. Plenty of ladies and gentlemen stoppin' there; plenty o' pure air, cool nights, and lots of balls and parties." "And a lively place for 'business,'" Mrs. Carrington thought, as she was driven to the door of the palatial-looking hotel facing the sands. But no one—not even George Carrington himself, smoking a cigar on the wide, breezy terrace, saw the quiet smile on her lips as she passed into the hotel—closelyveiled in soft grey tissue— slender, graceful little figure that everyone noticed with admiration— Carrington included. " Who is she he asked Captain Miller, the next day. _ "Who? Oh, the little woman in grey silk? Mrs. Kenneth, I believe, and my wife says she is the sweetest little thing she ever saw."

For Marion had registered as " Mrs. Kenneth," and had taken the best vacant room in the house, and ordered her meals served in her apartment, and only joined the other guests when she was positive the coast was clear. The ladies at tho hotel all fell in love with her, and the gentlemen became interested in her simply because they never saw her. "Who is that gentleman in the white flannel suit and broad-rimmed hat?" Mrs. Kenneth asked one morning, as, coming on the terrace that overlooked the sea, she looked at the party of departing yachtsmen.

Miss Delrymple, a black-eyed, beautiful girl, laughed lightly. "Isn't he handsome? He is Mr. Carrington, who is so devoted to Lila Clifford —not, the faintest show for you or me, Mrs. Kenneth." " Is he a widower " No. What makes you think 60?" "A bachelor, then?" "01 course," Miss Delrymple laughed. " Oh!" Mrs. Kenneth said, dryly. "A bachelor. And quite nice-looking, too." " Why, he's handsome, Mrs. Kennethhandsome as an Adonis! We are all wild about him—Lila Clifford particularly. And she'll get him, you see if she doesn't A sudden little flush warmed Mrs. Kenneth's cheek. " I believe he is very much interested* in you, too, Mrs. Kenneth," Miss Delrymple went on, gayly. "It was only this morning he begged me to arrange an introduction. What shall I say to him?" " Thanks for your kindness, Miss Delrymple, but I came to tho seaside for absolute freedom from society."

" He'll send you a bouquet, though— told me he should." And, as Miss Delrymple had said, so it transpired. That very evening a servant brought to Mrs. Kenneth's room an exquisite bouquet, to which Mr. Carruiglon's card was attached—a bouquet every Flower of which expressed its sentiment. And Mrs. Kenneth smiled to herself, and sent back a cluster of daisies, and that was tho beginning of a desperate floral flirtation, which before' a week was out culminated in a note full of exasperated sentiment, harmless enough as far as any actual wrong saying went, but nevertheless ludicrously absurd in the recipient's eyes.

, " There must be a stop put to it, for I want to see Rob mid Marion again," Mrs. Kenneth decided; and so she sat down and wrote a delicious little note in backhand, saying she would meet Mr. Carrington that evening in the rausicroom at half-past eight, an hour which found indoors deserted for the beach and the pier. And precisely on time, Mr. Carrington made his appeaance, in the duskiness of the room, whose only light came from the swinging lamp in the hall. At the piano, that occupied the duskiest corner, as pianos usualy do, wit a slender, whit&robed figure, and as Mr. Carington approached, she arose and bowed. " I cannot sav how grateful and delight-" He began, but stopped short staring at her as though he could not believe the evidence of his senses. " —Marion !" he stammered. "Yes, George, it is I," she answered, with perfect composure. " what—how—people told me Mrs. Kenneth was a widow !" " People say very extraordinary things. For instance, Miss' Lila Clifford tells me you are a gay young bachelor." A moment's silonco followed, and the look on George Carrington's face was simply indescribable. " Look here, Marion !" " Yes." " Let's go home." " Suppose we —that is, if your ' business' is all transacted." "We'll take the first train, shall we?" " But surely you could not leave Miss Clifford with "such cruel—" " Hang Miss Clifford!" and his face grew crimson. " You've outgeneralled me, Marion, fairly and squarely, and I'll give up. The first train in the morning, Marion, for my sake! You can afford to be magnanimous." And, as she felt she could, the visitors at the lioiel were not a little electrified to learn, at eight o'clock breakfast, that Mr. Carrington and Mrs. Kenneth had left by the six-twenty train for London gether ! And hereafter, when Mr. George Carrington goes on a " business" trip to the country, in summer time, Marion and th tots go, too, and all are made happy.