“MARY, MARY, QUITE CONTRARY.

New Zealand Mail, 21 February 1901, Page 28

“MARY, MARY, QUITE CONTRARY.

(By J. J. Bell). "Good morning, Mary,’' said the young doctor. "Hullo/" said Mary, calmly, not troubling to give him her hand. 1 ‘Bound%or the village?"" he remarked, cheerfully. She glanced at the string bag Itfi-nging from her wrist as much as to say, ""What a heedless question. 5 ". : ; "It"s going to. be a lovely day;"" he continued with a yiew tOr prolonging the conversation, one-sided though it was. - • " r M,” said the girl, looking about her with an expression which being translated meant "Any fool can see that." "It"s wonderful weather .we"re having,"" ©faserved Dr Maxwell. r TEt"s really delightful to be out on a morning like this." 5 “T wish it would rain/" said Mary. "Rain?/. Why?"" "Oh, I just wish it would.;rain. But I must be going. Good-bye. 5 " ' ' "May I walk with you ?"" asked Maxwell, watching her face : in a rather anxious manner.. / ‘;/. >, . /. .■■ ■. ••• : "Oh, if you like/ 5 came the somewhat ungracious reply; "But I’m in a hurry.""

They proceeded together a. hundred yards or so 'before the doctor spoke again. "Did you enjoy yourself last night ?” he asked. . r ’ "Oh, yes. It was a sx>lendid dance,” she answered in a tone; which her companion took to be enthusiastic. "I was sorry I couldn’t be there, Mary,” he said, regretfully. "You missed a treat,” she remarked carelessly. "I'm glad you enjoyed it/’ he said, with an attempt at cheerfulness. "But, of course. you always appreciate that sort of thing.” "Oh, I’m just like other girls.” "I wish you were,’’ he said under his breath. "What?” "I wish you were going to the concert to-night.” .. . . "I don't. I hate amateur concerts; they are so dreadfully stale. Beg pardon; I forgot that you were going to sing, Dr Maxwell/’ "Don’t apologise. But why 'Dr Maxwell r ” "Isn’t that your name?” "You used to call hire—er —-Teddy.” "I used.to do a lot of things,” said Mary, with the air of one who has reached the summit of wisdom, and looks complacently down on childish follies left below. "Do you think you have- improved ?” inquired Maxwell, considerably ruffled. "Certainly,” returned Mary, with conviction. "Don’t you think I’ve improved, Dr Maxwell?*’ she asked, in turn. "I—l’m not quite sure,’’ he rejoined, feebly. "Of course*, in the matter of appearance ” "Poof!” said Mary, 'contemptuously. "I’ve no small change. ’* There was a fine opportunity for a snub here, but the young man was too far gone in love to take advantage of it. He glanced at the girl’s face and sighed. "Dear me!” said Mary, with mock sympathy. "You’re an ill-used man, aren’t you . . . Teddy?” Maxwell brightened at once. "No; I’m only an idiot. But, I say, Mary, won’t you come to the concert to-night?’’ "Couldn’t dream of doing such a thing!” she returned, lightly. "Besides, Tommy Denver is coming to our house to-night. I might bring him to> the concert, but he can’t bear music.” "But I’ve heard him rave about your singing.’’ "Have you?” said Mary, sweetly. "Perhaps he niakes an exception of me. He’s a nice boy, and has been so successful. Fancy having a gold mine of one’s own.” Maxwell groaned! in spirit. "Did I ever show you the bangle he gave rpe—all made put of little nuggets?” continued the girl. "No? Then, I must show" it you some day. It was awfully good of him, wasn't it?” "Very,” said the doctor, stiffly. '‘Was Mr Denver at the dance last night?” he asked, as an afterthought. ;"He was the best-looking man there, aijd he was in such demand,’’ said Mary, smiling at some recollection. "He’s a lotely waltzer, you know.” ;!*Were you fortunate enough to have a wMtz with him ?” inquired the doctor from the depths of his torment. l|"Ohly seven,” returned Mary, modestly, "Only seven !” echoed Maxwell, hopelessly. "Well, it may have been eight.” "Mary!” "What’s the matter now?'” "Do you know what you’re doing?” "Going to the village, of course.” "Don’t prevaricate. Do you know what you’re doing to me?” "Mary turned her blue eyes upon him, and stared in calm innocence. "What am I doing to you?” ' "You’re you’re oh, hang it!—nothing!” "What an extraordinary speech!” ‘ Pale with his. mingled emotions, the doctor remained dumb until the village was reached a few minutes later. Then he took out his watch. "I must get back at once,” he said, awkwardly. , „ ; - "Thanks so much for coming so far. Dr Maxwell, said Mary, with crushing politer ness. "I hope you will enjoy the concert to-night. I’m ente your songs will be delightful. Miss McTavish plays accompaniments so-beautifully, does she not? Goodbye.’’ She smiled charitably, and went on her errands. "Serves him right,” she said to herself ,

as she waited ioi- some parcels at. the- grocer’s. That odious Miss McTavish, too! If it had been anyone else, I shouldn’t have minded. Goodness me! I should think not! The worst of men is that they imaui p.e they can have any girl to amuse themselves with. It’s all very well for Teddy to say that he had to go to the McTavish’s every night for three week’s to practise his songs. Why, at the concert last year, I played his accompaniments without any rehearsals at all—■ hardly any, at least. But what does it matter ? I used to- like Teddy as a friend, but now I ” "Your change, m’m,” said the grocer, interrupting her reflections. Mary set out on her homeward walk, her string bag full to overflowing with groceries. “I wish you -would bring them with you, Mary, 3 ’ her mother had said; "we can’t wait till the van comes in the afternoon.” And the girl had dutifully agreed. But it was warm •work trudging under the blazing noon and over the dusty road/ '‘What a pig Teddy was not to have waited for me,’ she observed, inwardly. "Poor Teddy!” she sighed a moment after. "How I hate him,” w r as her still later remark. But she had not proceeded much further ere she caoght sight of the object of her hatred advancing towards her at a swinging pace. "Dear old Teddy,” she said to herself, "I won’t b : e nasty to him any more. Fancy the boy coming back to meet me over this long road after the way I have behaved to him. I’m a wretch.” On his approach, she greeted him with a : bewitching smile, which froze on her lips, as lie tramped past her with an easy, "Awfullyhot, isn’t it?” Mary was perfectly stunned, but only for an instant. It flashed through her mind that she could not afford to be beaten with her own weapons—that, after all, she could not bear to lose Teddy. She promptly dropped her c bag of groceries and uttered a little cry of appropriate dismay. The doctor heard the faint crash and exclamation, but did not even turn his head. "Doctor Maxivell!’’ Still, affecting deafness, he strode on. "Teddy!’’ The tone was distinctly imploring, and Maxwell quickly retraced his steps:

Mary was standing looking down on a conglomeration of provisions of which eggs were obviously an ingredient. “What a mess!” said the young man, unable to restrain a smile. "It's nothing to laugh at •” said the girl, offendedly. “What did you do that for ?” asked Maswell, as he turned the contents of the bag ont on the road. “Do you think I tried it?” exclaimed Mary, flushing with what was meant to be indignation, but which was really the knowledge of her guiltiness. “I suppose you'll have to trot back, to the village again,” he remarked. “If you. hurry up you can have xny company.” Mary choked back an exclamation. The impertinence of the man! But she said “Thank you,” quite humbly. The undamaged goods were returned to the bag, and the twain proceeded villagewards for the second time that morning. There was a, dearth of conversation at first. Mary felt uncomfortably shy—a new sensation for her; and Teddy had made up his mind to accept the lesson he had received an hour before and to bow with the best grace to the inevitable. “You’re- surely very busy this morning,” said the girl at length. “Oh, just as usual. But, at the moment, I'm- on the way to try to procure a substitute for Miss McTavish. She's- got) the mumps, and, of course, can't appear at the concert to-night.” “Poor thing!'' exclaimed Mary with gentle sympathy. “Yes, it's rather hard lines. She might have waited, for a. day or two,” he added. “Oh, how unfeeling you are !'* said hie companion. “She's such a nice girl, too.” “Well, but she's upset all our arrangements, you see. Goodness knows how w© are going to get anyone to take her pla-ee. I'm going to try the minister’s wife. In. fact, she is our only hope.” - “Mrs Macgregor is away for this week. I met the minister this morning.” “Then the show can't go on/' said Maxwell, tragically. “Don't be so despondent.' “It's all very well to say that, Mary. But if you were running the show-—oh, confound it, I wish I had never taken the thing in hand.” “Suppose,” began Mary. ‘'Haven't time/’ said Maxwell. “But suppose I—“You?” “Took Miss McTavieh's place.'” “You don't mean it, Mary?” “Of course, I only said 'suppose.' "But you will.' You will—-won't yen, Mary? I didn’t dare to ask: you. yon know.' “Well, after all, I think I'd better not,” said Mary. “I was forgetting about Tom Denver/’ Maxwell bit his lip. "Why did you let me hppe?” he asked> reproachfully. ■ f “Dunno,” she' returned lightly. ' 1 ■ - “Oh, Mary, Mary, do you ever knowyour own mind for five minute® at a time?” ; k • “How rude you are, Teddy. I always know my own mind. That's no reason why I shouldn't change it now and then, is it?” ■ . ■ ■ ■■ ; "

“Oli, you torment me. Do you Know, Mary, I once imagined I cared tor you.” “How funny,'-' said Mary with a laugh on her lips and a suspicion of moisture in her eyes. “Fortunately,” began Maxwell, maddened by her flippancy. Fortunately ” “Oh, Teddy,’’. she exclaimed involuntarily. “What is it?” he inquired abruptly. “Oh, it’s just—nothing,” said Mary, turning her head away. “Fortunately for me,” he went on steadily; “you showed me my folly in time.” “In time,” echoed the girl in a strange voice. “Yes; I’ve got the better of my folly, and since this morning, at any rate. I’ve felt ” “Oh, Teddy, Teddy, how can you speak to me like that?” “I thought it better that you should know. But there’s nothing for you to be sorry about. Fve got over it.” “Gif, Teddy, how mean and horrid of yon':” she cried, with her face in her hands. “What?” Mary halted by the roadside and turned her back upon him. ‘'Mary!” said the doctor in amazement. “Go- away,” came the reply in a muffled voice. “There are sure to be some people coming, May. I’m awfully sorry I’ve offended you, but do let us move on.” She paid no attention to him. “Don’t cry, dear./’ sahl Maxwell, tenderly. “I’m not worth it.” <! “I’m not crying,” said the girl, giving him a glimpse of rosy cheeks and wet blue eyes. “I can’t help it,” he sighed, taking -her face between his hands and kissing her mouth. “Don’t, Teddy,” whispered Mary, without stirring. “No, dear,” said Teddy, doing it again, whereat she sighed contentedly. '/How Avell you seem to have got over it,’ 5 observed Mary, screwing at a button on the doctor’s coat. “You’re quite sure you care for me, Mary?” asked Maxwell with a tender anxiety. “I didn’t say so, did I?” This with a radiant smile. “Well, say it now.’’ he cried, drawing her closer. “No, Mister Teddy, I shan’t.” “But what am I to believe, dear?’ “Whatever you like,” she ventured, with sweet meaning, still twisting the button. “Oh, Mary, how wonderful it is!” “It’y funny, isn’t it," Teddy?” ‘'You’ll never be serious.” “Oh, yes, I shall—some day.’’ “It’s strange how things come off in this world.” observed the doctor thoughtfully. “Yes, :sn’t it?” said Mary, holding up the Tflitton.—“Glasgow Weekly Herald.” In Londonderry in 1895 every voter with “life in him at all was taken to the poll, one being even carried there in his bed.