A LEAP-YEAR PROPOSAL

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1695, 24 August 1904, Page 9

A LEAP-YEAR PROPOSAL

(By 11. W. Durbin.)

“Peppers and pumpkins! A widoAV moved in right next door, and this leap year.” Mr Alonzo Larkins stared apprehensively out of his Avindo\A r . as if he expected to see his newly arrived neighbour flitting up on liis porch steps in search of him with a lasso; instead he really did see v small, inoffensive looking avoid an Avalking serenely from her doorway toward her own front laivu. “Oh, of course,” he continued caustically, “wants to make a good impression first, before she lets out at me. Well, ma’am, my heart is tough. But you are a neat little bundle.” he added Avith a slight change in tone; “trim as a sassafras Avhistle. That’s right—let that ruffled up pink contraption slide off yoiir head. Gum, Avhat shiny brown hair! And look at the little curl bobbing over her off ear!” Little Mrs BLjttersAVGet did not seem at all troubled bA r the orb Mr Larkins deemed it expedient to keen focused upon. her. She trotted around about her own busilier bachelor neighbour. The first time her bachelor enighbour. The first time sho met him plump and square she gave him a sweet, indifferent little neighbourly “Good morning,” which someboxv excited his discontent and ire. “Toole about as much notice of me as she would of a brindle dog,’’ ho complained to himself; “in fact, not as much. Sho nets up the old stray dogs and gives ’em

bones. What’s the matter Avitli me, I’d like to knoAV?’ He looked anxiously into the mirror as he brushed his hair. He saw therein a good-looking and fairly good-natured face, the chief defect of which Avas an exjiression tending toward self-conceit. “N’oav, ma’am,” he observed decisively, addressing the absent AvidoAv, “you’ve got to see me and appreciate me; then if you choose to take advantage of leap year privileges I don’t really know as I’ll run away.” Meantime Mrs BittersAveet’s attention had been directed to Mr Larkins by her friend. Miss Podderly. “He’s the smartest man in, Bibbville,” said she, “and got e\ r erythiiig in his house a woman’s heart could wish, from gas ranges to teaspoons, not to mention scuds of blue and white Avare saucepans. But seems like he’s afraid some woman'll marry him in spite of himself. I guess he’s too bashful to ask any one. But I belie A re in my heart you could OA r ercome the difficulty, Polly, if you’d set your cap good and. strong.” “Set a fiddlestick!’’ retorted Polly Bittersweet, scornfully. “I’ll never set my cap for any man.” “Well,” said Miss Podderly, “I wish I had tho opportunities you turn up your nose at so recklessly.” Mr Larkins finally grew decidedly discontented and a little puzzled. “I don’t understand you, ma’am,” he admitted, in one of his mental apostrophies to the Avidow. “I have so far modified my views as to give you every opportunity to signify your wish to become Mrs Larkins, and yet you’re as cool and calm as a bale of snow. I m not used to it, ma’am, and I Avon’t stand it. I’ll give yev three weeks more to get interested in me, and then I’ll take and propose to yen—that’s about ivliat I’ll dc.” Wltea the allotted three Aveeks of g:ace had expired Mr Larkins, m desperation, executed his threat and received a plump “No!”—the result of Miss Podderly’s championship and a streak of contrariness in the AvidoAv’s disposition. He accepted the sentence with \dsible disappointment, but bore it with manly fortitude. • “I’m sorry, ma’am,” lie said, frankly, “very sorry. I’ve taken more of a shine to you, somehow, than I ever did to anyone, and I’d be good to a t ou, you can bank .on that. But if you can’t like me, you can’t. There, now, ma’am, don’t go and cry, don’t. I Avouldn’t hurt your feelings for 40 farms,” for the AvidoAv’s heart all at once had smitten her sharply and some subtle pathos in Mr Larkin’s simple acceptance of defeat caused her eyes to brim Avith misty tears. ‘■l'm s>soo-o sorry,”- she faltered, blushing and sobbing. “I —” “Don’t mention it,” implored Mr Larkins, “don’t you be- miserable or blue about it. But if you should —‘kind of change your mind, .you knoAV, ma’am, just let mo know, Avon’t you?”

Mr Larkins dove headlong into his garden patch and hoed vigorously to distract his thoughts, and the widow sat down on the edge of her porch and swung her neat little fo:>t dejectedly. "I do believe I'm half-witted/' said she under her breath. “I dare say I've lost as good a man as I'll ever meet, and all because Henrietta Podderly told me lo run after him. I needn't have run after him, but I could have thrown him away, and I ain't half as smart as I thought 1 was. I'm lonely and miserable, woo-oo-oo.” Mrs Bittersweet ran into her sitting room and cried as heartily as Mr Larkins hoed.

After that she smiled sunnily whenever they met. He smilde genially. The widow daintily became more lonesome and more ’ convinced that she had discarded a congenial spirit. "He won't propose again in a hundred years/' she bemoaned herself, "and no , wonder he don't want to risk another snub. He did tell me to let him know if I* changed my-mind; I hate to, like fun but——" One golden afternoon when both were sitting, in an unusually pensive mood, upon Mrs Bittersweet's porch, the widow’s heart suddenly prompted her to a little prospecting. "Mr Larkins/' she said, softly, "do you ever change your mind?” "No,” returned Mr Larkins plumply, "not without solid reason/'

‘‘We-ell,” she continued, holding her breath at her own boldness, "would you v still like me to—er—er—be —be—”

Her meaning rushed through Mr Larkins like a streak of electricity. He / sprang out of his lolling attitude at a bounce. "Polly, if you're asking me if I'd like you to be my wife. I say—yes—yes —yes. I didn't dare to ask you again, but you've a perfect right to ask me, even if I hadn't toid you to, for it's leap' year—why, Polly, love, what's the matter? You're as pale as ashes. What is it, darling?” \ “Why, I've actually as good as asked 4 you to marry me/' gasped Polly, ‘just what I've always declared I'd rather die than doJ Oh. well/' as Alonzo's arm stole protectingly around her waist, "I guess lam excusable this time. But, Alonzo, listen. Don't yon ever, the longest day you'live, let Henrietta Podderly know I did it—will ! you?” "Never,” vowed Alonzo, kissing her.