A CONCESSION TO PRIDE

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1675, 6 April 1904, Page 10

A CONCESSION TO PRIDE

■ It goes without saying that the ladies who make up the board of the. Old Ladies’ Home have a largei social acquaintance. Indeed, a number of them may be said to be society itself. So quite naturally on the day of the annual reception at the homer there is a press of carriages in front, ancl within the usually quiet drawing-room the froufrou of many silken skirts and the insinuating perfume that belongs to society a perfume compacted of violet, orris root, rice powder, and mere humanity.'

The old ladies who are the beneficiaries of the ladies who come in the carriages are allowed—nay, expected—to be present 011 these occasions. And, if thenpride, rises a.t the affectionate patronage bestowed upon them, they must, with the politeness of hostesses, conceal the ihet.

Carolin'e Hardin had the distinction of being the oldest of this sheltered and privileged community, where all were old. It is not necessary to mention the exact record of her years. Let it suffice that, superannuated ag she was, she was not yet old enough to bet oblivious to custom and fashion. In fact, she had a, Keen desire to. be in touch with the manners of her time. This fact might not nave been discovered but for an accident.

The day of the. annual reception arrived. The rhythmical thunder of the carriages was heard on the street. The odour of coffee permeated everywhere. The old* ladies were in a great flutter, and. conscious of freshly starched frills in the Sunday gowns, assumed expressions of conventionality and hauteur suitable to the occasion. None -was more pleasantly austere and correct in her deportment than Caroline Hardin. Her thin grey locks were plastered down upon each side of her wrinkled brow. Her neck ruffle, was so stiff that it chafed! her chin. She wasi propriety itself. But no sooner had the ladies .begun to arrive than a suspicion fell upon her which soon became a fearful certainty. At an .afternoon reception it was the"custom to wear a bonnet. At first Caroline tried to hope that the matter was arbitrary, and that a_ lady might, if she chose, retain her head covering. But as the parlours filled with bonneted guests the last remnant of nope perished, and, overcome with chagrin, she fled to her roam, where sliei ~>at crouching over her steam radiator, and wiping tears of mortification; from her faded old eyes. Someone missed her after a time. “Where’s Mrs. Hardin gone P” was asked. One of the old ladies undertook to find her, but Mrs. Nelson Ward—one of the board —interposed, and went in search of her. She knocked at her door and obeyed the tearful injunction to enter.

The old child sat feebly weeping, and after much urging, she made her confidence.

“Alf of the ladies was a-wearing bonnets save excepting one,” she sobbedr" “I never wanted to look pecoolar when I was young, and I don’t want to look peooolar now!” “But you were a hostess,” urged Mrs. Ward. “Thi« is your home. It would not have been proper for you to have worn a bonnet.”

“I looked pecoolar,” moaned the old creature. f TTI not go. back to be laughed at. I caught some of the ladies laughing, and I won’t go back.” All endeavours to persuade her were •fruitless. She sat in her room and sighed the long afternoon away while the cheerful hum of conversation arose to tantalise her loneliness. The next day Mrs. Ward; called, bringing with her a bandbox. She sought Caroline’s room. “Caroline,” she said, “I have brought you a bonnet, and I hope it will be becoming.” . , ' It was not a. plain and appropriate bonnet. Mrs? Ward did not believe in gratifying a heart’s desire in a plain and appropriate manner when poverty was tli© thing to set the standard. It was a glorious bonnet with, glittering black stuff on it, and a fluff of white lace and two bunches of purple violets. Anyone might have been glad to have worn it. . As for Caroline Hardin, she looked at it with incredulous eyes. , “Mine ?” she gasped. “That mine? “Let me tie it on, Caroline. See, you must tie the bow a trifle at one side, 6 o! The old lady gazed at herself m the “I look as if I had! come in a carriage, she commented, tearful with joy. _ And she sat with it on her head till bed tame, and could with difficulty he induced to 6e N„w er it°™aß'an unfortunate fact that Caroline Hardin never went out upon the 4reet She was quite too Lame and 1 too bewildered and too unfit Bo he bonnn cfond no chance of being nsett xiu me day of the annual reception should come abound again. And, indeed, it Was. tor fhaf dav only that Caroline Hordm desired L Blm looked forward to that day with unspeakable anticipation Sheigotout the bonnet, laid it on the table be tore her r.nu regarded it with eniaptuied eyes She nut it on her head, and sat

solemnly before the mirror, blinking and content. , At last the day for the reception drew near. Once more the house underwent a cleaning extraordinary, and the frill of the best frocks were starched. But Caroline Hardin did not take the interest in it that might have been expected. She drooped and dozed almost continually, and at la<st took to lior bed and stayed there. A lethargy settled upon her. She slept, and her breathing was so heavy that it uisturbed the nerves of the other old ladies. The day of the reception arrived. The roll of the carriages andi the murmur of the voices—those well-remembered sounds —penetrated through the mist that clouded poor Caroline’s brain. She sat up in bed!. “Where ig my bonnet?’ she cried wildly. “The ladies have come.” Someone brought her the bonnet. She fumbled it with stupidity, then, with a childish laugh put it on her tumbled witch locks. She tried to speak again, bui failed, and sank back speechless'. A strange, hideous noise cams in her throat. Then it ceased’. Caroline Hardin wore her bonnet, but she no longer heard the roll of the carriages and the murmur of tide voices. Mrs. Nelson Ward helped to lay her in the bonnet,” she . directed, “and tie the bow a litle at one side. I know that is what Caroline would like.