MATCHMAKING—AND MARGARET.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXI, Issue 18861, 8 November 1924, Page 5 (Supplement)

MATCHMAKING—AND MARGARET.

BY MARY STAIR.

(Copyright.) The story refused to go properly- the hero declined to fall in love convincingly with the heroine, who on her part showed every sign of deciding to elope with the young lawyer intended to be the villain of the piece. Margaret Rivers frowned over her typewriter as she inserted a fresh sheet of

paper, and typed at the top the number " 5 " with the emphasis of great dissatisfaction. By this time she should have been starting the tenth page at least, and be well on the way to finishing the story. It must catch to-night's post, and already it was nearly seven o'clock. Furthermore, Dorothy would be home soon aft-er seven, which meant an interruption for an evening meal. Margaret tapped the typewriter keys resolutely, forcing out sentences which she realised were unforgivably turgid. She hadn't got half way down the page before tho door opened. Her frown melted as though by magic. Dorothy always brought an air of radiance with her, no matter how long her day at the office had been or how crowded the Tube journey home.

" You're earlier to-night, aren't you ?" she asked, . glancing at the clock. " Dorothy darling, come and tell me the latest romance, right away, before we think of supper. I've been trying all the afternoon to conjure one up for the editor of ' Happy Homes,' and the result is as dull as—as I should be if you didn't home," she ended, affectionately. " Dear silly old thing," laughed Dorothy, caressing Margaret's dark hair for a brief instant with her cheek. " I'm

going to do better than tell you about romance; I'm going to take you to see one. Look Margaret, four tickets for ' Women's Wiles ' at the Pall Mall tonight. Let's just have an egg, or something quick to eat." Margaret's frown came back, and she looked at her typewritten pages. " Oh, Dorothy, I can't possibly. I must get this finished to-night. You can ask someone else to go with you can't you?" " I have," said Dorothy, airily, but there was something in the tone that made Margaret look at her searchingly. " Dorothy," she said sternly, " who is it this time ? Have you discovered another budding poet, or a reformed Bolshevist, or is it just a plain young man ? It sounds like something startling if you feel you need a duenna." " It isn't a bit,'' said Dorothy, in a defiant tone that didn't quite conceal a trace of telf-consciousness. " It—well, I've asked the young man on the third floor to come with us. You've often said how lonely he seemed and what an interesting face ho had." " And he lias accepted?" queried Margaret, incredulously. " Dorothy, how.did you get to know him, and where? I don't believe for a moment that you just met hitn casually in the passage, offered him a theatre ticket, and that he accepted. Oh, Dot, it's no wonder I can't give my m ; nd to writing when I have you to be responsible for. Or are you just making fun of me?" " No, he's really coming," said Dorothy, cheerfully. " And his name's Richard Stephens, and he's trying to be a writer. Also, he's a dear, and you will be one, too, and come along, won't you?" she finished coaxingly. The older girl did not answer at once, but regarded Dorothy a trifle thoughtfully. Dorothy was somehow more in earnest than usual; it was unlike her to take any of her extensive and varied circle of masculine acquaintances and admirers at all seriously. Margaret made rapid calculations; if she sat up very late she might, finish the story after she came home and take it round by hand to the editorial office in the morning. Perhaps the evening's entertainment would freshen up her ideas. Anyhow, Dorothy wanted her and that, after all, was what mattered most. " Ted and I are in the same boat, aren't we?" she asked teasingly. "Very useful to tag round just where and when we're wanted. Well, I suppose I- had better come along and cheer his drooping spirits .while he watches you spend your smiles on the newest young man." " Pig!" said Dorothy, inelegantly, with a little grimace. " No, you're not; you'ro a darling, and you're going to do your hair nn the pretty new knot, and put on your blue-grey taffeta with the jolly little frills. No, not your old black evening frock that makes you ( look at least forty; anyhow, weve got upper circle tickets. Run along and get dressed while I boil some eggs." " But this is your party, not mine," protested Margaret. "It doesn't matter what I look like. Ted won't mind," she added, with a twinkle. " But I -shall, and anyhow, I want my friends to make a good impression," insisted Dorothy. " You shan't come looking like an elderly aunt. I don't want Richard to think I need chaperoning as badly as all that. He'll get scared." "'Richard' already?" questioned Margaret, but Dorothy had vanished into the tiny kitchenette adjoining, and the only answer she vouchsafed was a gailv-hum-med snatch from the " Dancing Honey-

moon." Margaret, hardened by now to Dorothy's erratic choices in the matter of acquaintances, was for once quite satisfied. On closer acquaintance Richard Stephens fulfilled the favourable impressions she had gathered from occasional chance meetings on the stairs. There was just a shade of embarrassment in his greeting that did not displease her; he was not taking it for granted that they were the sort of girl who would pick up any chance young man and invite him to the theatre. But his manners were easy, and very pleasant; he did not talk much, but then, few people did when Dorothy was of the party. Of the romance enacted on the stage it must bo confessed that Margaret saw little; she was much more interested in that nearer at hand. There was undoubtedly something in Dorothy's manner towards her cavalier that Margaret had not noticed in any of her previous friendships, and there could be no mistake about Richard Stephens' interest in Dorothy. Margaret felt a load lifted from her mind; her self-appointed task of guardian to Dorothy Westgate had caused her many an anxious moment. She was so gay, so popular, and had a circle of masculine admirers so wide that Margaret felt herself constantly on tho alert to prevent an imprudent engagement. But she thought that Richard Stephens was to bo trusted, and that if this incipient romanco developed into something deeper sho need have no fear for her little friend's happiness. He was older than Dorothy, and there was a pleasant gravity about him that would counterbalance Dorothy's butterfly temperament, and yet ho possessed an evident sense of humour which would prevent him from ever becoming ponderous. Dorothy needed somebody like that. Margaret decided. Suppose, as sho had sometimes feared would happen, Dorothy had taken Ted Masters seriously—Ted, who was a dear boy. but as irresponsible as Dorothy herself. Vt hat a scatterbrained couple they would have made. Margaret gave a sigh of relief as at the thought of a danger escaped. Then lier conscience gave her a sharp 01 she realised that Ted himself sittmg beside her, was trying to attract her attention. She looked round with an apologetic Sm, second act finished five minutes a E o." protested Ted "So you can t oretend vou were absorbed in the pla>. '•Poor old Ted. was ho being neglectcd, TW. >•»*>?£ vou if vou'll onlv do some more neglectMire,. F» » spoil. trrab that fellow's attention on the wav home I haven't tin*' a sin fi lc lyorcl wlth he ?" -U M ?. r Ko f T k— iov talking to him. Margaret. Hes keen on all sorts of book-y things, like y °"'Nit altogether an unbiassed Ted/tat, J™*" it's rather

unfair asking me to compete witljH Dorothy." . B "Fitting!" retorted Ted. "You're;!® brick Margaret, and I'll do au| much for you someday.". " I haven't promised anything," Mar*® garet warned him; nevertheless, she mad<B no effort to circumvent his taking posses' if sion of Dorothy as they came out of thffl theatre together. It would be just asg well, after all, to get to know this Mhfl Stephens better before making a. final de<| cision as to whether his attentions t<ifl Dorothy were to be encouraged. Oven! coming her usual diffidence with she set herself on to draw the young man on to talk about himself. She began hj talking about her own work, even to th< j length of describing her struggles with ro* mance that very afternoon. " Mine act like that, too," said Richard sympathetically. "My trouble is that 1' can't draw a decent hero. The heroinewell, she's much too fine ever to look at the sort of chap I manage to write about, so the story never gets finished." " And you should draw your heroinl from real life," laughed Margaret, " not from an ideal person." ] " The trouble is that she's both. Of course, she isn't a hundredth wonderful asij the original in my description, but—well,® one just can't describe her adequately. 1 " I wish you'd lend her to me," sug*l gested Margaret, speaking more lightly than she felt. "My heroines are all per* feet sticks; it's small wonder my heroel are reluctant to fall in love with them." Richard Stephens looked round at hel with a sudden sunny smile. "I say, Miss Rivers, I wish you'd lei me come and talk to you about her som& time," he said, earnestly. By this time Margaret had quite mad« up her mind about him. This young man should have all tho help she could giv< him. " Please do," she invited him, warmly, Before many weeks had passod Margarej found herself wondering whether she had been wise in extending her cordial invita# tion. _ - " Romance in real life is very bad fos romance in fiction," she decided, as sh< opened and read a letter reminding hei that the next instalment of her serial foi Cosy Corner was overdue. " I should have finished that instalment yesterday-il Richard hadn't come in early. Why can'l he and Dorothy settle matters one way o> the other ? Then perhaps I might get mi time to myself again. I expect I shall him though," she admitted thought* Villy. She glanced at the clock. It waj hardly worth beginning a fresh chapter; Richard was coming in to supper, and shj had specially reminded Dorothy to gej home early. Dorothy's office hours seemea to have "become longer lately; several times Richard had had to wait quite I long time before she came in, and Mar garet's work had suffered in consequencj while she played hostess. She was forcei to admit to herself that she enjoyed thesl interruptions; she had so much in commol with Richard, and the fact that they werf interested in the same kind of worl created a special bond of sympathy bo tween them. All she had come to know of tho younl man since their first meeting had increase! her liking for him. She had never im agined there could be anyone to whom shl i could so willingly trust Dorothy's future ; Dorothy' 3 own feeling she had never ques tioned. They had never discussed thl 1 matter together, but this very reticence i in one usually so frank about her affairt j of tho heart as Dorothy, spoke for itsel! I Dorothy teased him less than she did most ' people; seemed gentler and more syrm pathetic, and on more than one occasiot , Margaret had noticed a quick glance ol - understanding between the two. i A knock at the door interrupted het 0 reverie; her guest had arrived first, afteJ 1 all.

" Dorothy seems to be lato again," Mar garet apologised, leading the way into tlii cosy sitting room. " Nice Dorothy," said Richard amaa ingly. " She has a wonderful amount oi tact for one so young. Look here, Mar garet, I can't stand not knowing anj longer. Is there any chance of a fellow'j story having a happy ending? I know I shall never be good enough for you, but 1 love you an awful lot, my dear. Nobody'! hero is ever going to catch up with me oi that part of it." Margaret looked at him incredulously; almost with dismay. Her castles ii! Spain fell about her with stunning completeness. " I know it sounds awful cheek," ha went on, desperately, " I might hava guessed I didn't stand a chance, but Dorothy—" The name seemed to break the tension for Margaret. " What are you talking about?" she demanded. " I'm trying to ask you to marry me, Margaret," said Richard. "Is there no chance at all for me?" " No, oh, no!" exclaimed Margaret, almost wildly. " How could you think of such a thing ?" " It was presumptuous, I know," said Richard. " But if I waited, Marga*et— if. . ." " Oh, no!" repeated Margaret. " Pleasa please, don't say any more." The sound of footsteps came to her rescue. There's Dorothy; I must hurry with supper," anc she fled precipitately to the little kitchen She moved round among the preparation for supper as if in a dream, and only ; well-trained housekeeping mind acting sub consciously saved her from seasoning th soup with vanilla and the custard wit' carbonate of soda. And gradually, throug her indignation and her feeling of utte treachery to Dorothy, came the remerr brance of the expressions of Richard' eyes as he had pleaded with her, and th tone of his voice. The question force itself upon her—could she, if it had nc been for Dorothy, have said, " No, ol no!" in that emphatic manner. Into the kitchen like a whirlwind bur! Dorothy, cheeks aflame and eyes shining. "Margaret, what have you done t Richard ? I met him going out like a coi demned criminal, and he's talking son nonsense about not staying. Have yc been quarrelling?" " Certainly not," replied Margaret, wit: out looking up. Dorothy seized her t the shoulders, turning her round so thi they were face to face. " Margaret," si said searchingly, " you haven't—yc couldn't have refused him." " Couldn't?" echoed Margaret, stupidl; , " But, Dorothy, it isn't me—it's you ?" For a second or two Dorothy just lookt at her in silence, then broke into a pe r of laughter. i [ " Margaret, you dear, foolish old goosl you never really believed that nonsens • did you? Oh, yes. I know I didn't ui . deceive you the first' night, because , \ thought if you knew that Richard hii most shamelessly scraped acquaintan< . with' me just to get an introduction 1 you, you would probably have turne • him down on the spot. But afterwarc } —well, if vou couldn't sec he was hopi , lessly in lo've with you, you haven't eve r ordinary intelligence. And here have , been wasting precious leisure time hangm round the office night after night to giv him a chance to see you alone, and whe he does get his courage up to stickm point, you turn him down. And now, Dorothy's voice rose almost to a wall < [ despair, " Ted and I meant to announc • our engagement at the same time as jour; and have a lovely party to celebrate, an i you go and spoil everything! Why, thought you liked him!" tt _ " I do," said Margaret, quickly. -t>u t L never thought—" • Dorothy regarded her shrewdly tor < • moment, then turned away, giving e shoulders a little shrug. . . " I mav as well go and break the bac news to Ted," she said. " be congratulated. Shall I sen • to the occasion enter ed, however, He came in hesitating » jj oro thy's to believe the encourag << Turn again, smile and - her whispered, iurn K h The snppor «'»s P°' ifSnflS? c? did„'t mailer.