THE USE OF A COUSIN.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1249, 6 February 1896, Page 15

THE USE OF A COUSIN.

By M#s E. M. Field, Author of ' Ethned.' Scene. —The Smoking Room. Jack, Madge, Cousins. Jack: Yes, I quite agree that it's bard upon you. Especially if one considers how you've improved in looks. Madge : Really ! Just the sort of thing a brother might have said. Jack (rolls a cigarette) : "Well, the relations between cousins are anything you please, or that destiny pleases, from distant acquaintance to equality and fraternity. Now, you and 1, seeing too much of each other in early youth, grow up in a sound spirit of natural dislike. We always quarrelled Madge : And made it up again Jack : Well, yes, so we might be able to quarrel again. How many times did we swear eternal reconciliation upon alternate bites of the same jujube ? It's a pity, too. - : : Wby ? Jack necti'velyTV real 1 y believe if 1 saw you now for theirVst iiine" I should be—bowled over. That hair, now —it used to be red. Madge: Either change that subject, or I go. Jack :An empty threat! You'd be back in five minutes. I know your penchant for my society. Madge: How atrociously I must have spoilt you to make such a remark oven possible ! Jack: I grant the spoiling. But as the process gave you such intense pleasure Madge : Gave me ! Could there be blacker ingratitude ? When I think of the miles of kite tail I have tied, the birds eggs I blew —always addled, too Jack : And the tears you shed when the rudimentary bird blew out. Jack, dear! do put it in again! You can't? I don't believe it. Oh, you horrid, horrid, cruel boy! 800-hoo ! Madge: Yes, I dare say. And how unfeelingly you scoffed at my disgust, which was merely human, after all. Jack: Hum! Well, you know a schoolboy generally is Madge: A link between man and the lower creation. No, I don't believe a schoolboy is human at all, judging by these experiences. Jack: A nice statemert, considering the first remark you made when we met again (imitates her tone)—' Why, Jack, you really haven't changed a bit since those dear old days/ Why don't you speak, Madge ? Insults used to rouse you. Madge: I'm too much occupied with my own grievances to be roused. Jack: Grievances? Oh, ah, I am sorry I forgot. Well, let us review the situation. Here I come home after five years, and find that the days of sharp elbows and lanky legs under out-grown frocks are past Madge: Jack! at worst I never knew you vulgar. Jack: And you have turned oiit really an uncommonly pretty girl, ready to go forth and conquer. And now a tyrannical father refuses the needful armour. Madge: Armour ? Jack : Yes, armour. Corselet, any white shiny stuff. Helmet, a flowery or twinkly something; sword, a fan. And so on. Isn't that fighting gear ? Madge: Coarse, but possibly not quite untrue. Jack: Well, it's a shame to send you to the rear or into the reserve. Madge, there's a way out of it. You let me find you in armour for this one battle—ball, I mean —and I shall be proud. You needn't be. You said I was just like a brother, so it's a kind of matter of course. Madge : You dear old Jack! But, of course, you know I couldn't possibly accept such an offer ; even if it would not need a perfect trousseau for all. Oh, Jack ! I've an idea. Jack: Her first! This excitement is pardonable. Madge (sitting on the arm of his chair): Jack, you must propose to me. Jack: Eh? Madge: Propose to me. We will be engaged. You won't be refused at headquarters; you're an eligible, aren't you, Jack ? Jack (modestly): I understand that the title might be applied to me. Madge: Then I shall be given a trousseau a whole trousseau, Then wo break it off. I return your presents (which will do for next time), and the world understands that our tempers —no, our dispositions—proved uncongenial. How lovely, isn't it ? Jack: Seems easy. But—Madge! Madge: Well?

Jack: You're sure you wouldn't take a mean advantage and marry me? Madge: As if I could possibly want to!

Jack: Oh! And my reward? Some temporary privileges, at least. For instance

Madge: For instance, the reward of an approving conscience. Besides, the pleasure of proving that there's some use in a cousin—a fact you have spent years in doubting. Jack (places two chairs) : Sit down there, and we'll arrange the rules of the game. First Madge : First, we won't quarrel. Jack : What, never ? Madge : Hardly ever ; it wouldn't be worth while, would it ? Jack : Ah, true, I forgot that. But you mustn't allow yourself to—a —get fond of me, you know. Madge: Do yo*' think there's any danger ? v°-^ I don't knoVfeings) :

Many maidens ere this haVfe" mo, and another maiden may. j

Madge : May ? Oh, I dare say ! A little goose like May Mandeville. Well, of course, you know your own business best, Jack, but I should, I really should, pity you—and her. Jack (piqued) : Why her, pray ? Is thy servant a dog ? Madge: Well, of course, you don't like giving into any one. Men don't; it's not their nature. But with a temper like hers

Jack : Oh, that's always the way with you women! I shouldn't have thought you'd have been such a mean little cat. Can't bear to hear another woman praised. Madge: Can't I —when there's anything to praise! Jack: I detest that carping, fault-finding spirit.

Madge: I trust you may never find it in your May Mandeville. (Pensively) I can't fancy her blowing eggs.

Jack: I shouldn't want her to. She might blow up the cook if they weren't properly done. Madge: She'll do that, I know—with vigour.

Jack: Besides, you forget that it doesn't matter to you if I do marry a May Madge: Oh, dear, no! Marry half a dozen, if you like Jack: That's illegal. Madge: And be as unhappy as you please. It doesn't matter to me. (Bursts into tears.) N —not a bit. Jack (takes her hands from her face): Who forgot that it wasn't worth while to quarrel ? (Puts his arm round her.) There, now, how is that for a purely temporary arrangement ? (Draws her head down on his shoulder.) Now we'll go on with the rules. Rule Second: Till I break it off

Madge (starting wp): You break it off ? I like that!

Jack (aside) : I don't believe you will when the time comes. (Aloud) : Of course I must break it off ; that's only fair. You broke it —to me—so it's fairly my turn. Madge : How absurd you are ! Think of the stigma upon a girl when a man gives her up. All her dearest friends are certain to make the most odious remarks. No ; I need merely say that your abominable temper Jack (jumping up and pacing to and fro) : My abominable temper! Well, I never did ; and people will believe it, I suppose ! Madge : I dare say they will; but you needn't mind, I shan't.

Jack (stopping before her in his walk) : No, madam, I dare say you won't! Give a dog a bad name and hang him, do. Get a man to help you in a mean little plot, which only a woman would have invented, and then set him up for a laughing stock to the whole world

Madge: Oh ! I dare say it won't be in the Peruvian papers. Jack: And you pose as the injured innocent ! Oh, yes, ma'am, a charming story. I like it. I enjoy it. I—l Madge: You show how false the accusation is, I must say. Jack: But I'll be even with you. I'll break it off now, this moment. No, I won't, by Jove. I'll go on with it. I'll watch you like a dragon. I'll have no more smiling at that perambulating pair of tongs with a tow moustache, that oaf Oh, don't look as if you never heard of him —that idiot, Forsyth ! Madge : His waltzing is heavenly ! Jack: Possibly. His language when roused is—the other thing. Madge (hotly): He's a very nice, gentlemanly fellow, and papa thinks a great deal of him. In fact, I don't believe he'd mind if Don't trouble to kick that footstool, Jack; that's not Captain Forsyth. Jack -. Well, all I have to tell you is that he's nothing at all to you if our bargain is

going on. You don't dance with him ; in fact, you don't dance with anybody Madge : Oh ! Jack : No, you don't. I don't trust you a bit.

Madge: I never heard such a thing. Not —dance—with—anybody ! What am I to do, then ? Sit out, I suppose ? Flatten my back against the wall, and have my toes trodden on and my dress torn (Walks to and fro.) Jack (sits down): By Jove! how pretty she looks like that ! It- was worth while to rouse her. (Aloud.) Oh, well, you can dance with me, you know. Madge: With you, indeed! No, thank you. Remembering your performances at the dancing class, I should prefer the tongs.

Jack: With the tow moustache. So you won't have my conditions?. Madge: Certainly not. You pretend to want to help me, and then you add on a condition that makes the whole thing impossible ; so that you know I'll have to Refuse. (Walking up and down.) I wish I'd new?*vhiown those eggs Jack: Oh, blow -ulAv? §_srgs! Look here, Madge (they face each" oeliter in the centre) —I'm off to catch the next tram— Madge: Shall I pack for you, as I used to do ? Jack: Don't add insult to injury. Madge: I should call it a kind action. Jack: What, to drive me away from here ? ! Madge: I drive you away? Jack: Yes, you. Do you suppose I can i stay and see you and Captain Madge : And Mrs Forsyth, playing j tennis, did you say ? We shall want a fourth. I Jack : Mrs Forsyth ? I Madge: Why, yes. My old friend Lottie, ! you remember her ? i Jack : Married, is she ? Now, why . didn't you tell me that before ? (Sitting j down.) Well, perhaps I needn't hurry, after all. | Madge: No, I don't think you need. Slav a week, and I'll ask mamma to have May Mandeville here. (Going.) Jack: Madge! Madge! come back. Look here, I may have a brute of a temper, and be a link with the animal creation, and all that, but I love you, Madge, upon my soul, I do ; and I've been an idiot not to find it out before. Madge, darling! have the trousseau and put mo in. I dare say you could find a use for mo. Eh ?

Madge: I always was inveterately truthful, and so Jack : You'll own that you've found out the use of a cousin.—New Budget.