WILES OF WOMEN.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1748, 6 September 1905, Page 4

WILES OF WOMEN.

(By Madge Barlow.)

Noreen had given six distinct yells, to. which I paid no attention. She called again. ‘ ‘Phil a-a-ander 1”

1 wondered how long her vocal chords would stand the strain. Noreen knew I objected to my full-length baptismal name, and preferred to be known as Phil Yerseoyle, yet morning, noon, and night the hated syllables assailed nay ears. iShe said she liked Philander, it had such a quaint old-world flavour. To a man of three-and-thirty the quain'fcness did not appeal.

I let Miss Ball exercise her lungs till she grew tired and flounced indoors, leaving me to the serene enjoyment of a clay pipe and a stretch on the lawn. By-and-by Pidgie rustled out to tweak my ear, and ask what had put Noreen into another of her naughty tempers. I feigned ignorance. Pidgie is my widowed twin-sister, a handsome, dashing Irishwoman, who made a love match that turned out 'badly, and who came home to housekeep for me and to chaperon our guests when six feet of churchyard clay covered her blunder. She was to remain a widow allways, and I a bachelor, as per solemn agreement-

We Verscoyles of Osier Brook have good blood in our veins, bub it would have pleased us better Shad there been more good gold in the family coffers. Noreen once told me I ought to adopt a profession and earn money instead of wishing for it. She also said I disliked exertion, and was too lazy to snatch at the blessings of life which lay around me. Whereupon I confounded her by snatching a kiss, and considered that we were quits. She sulked, and threatened to complain to Leo Vere McOlusky. I politely informed her that he was somewhere on the premises, either openly or concealed. Since Mrs Ball sent her daughter to us to cultivate country roses, and incidentally to help on Leo’s suit, Ye MoClusky haunted Osier Brook “from morn till dewy eve.” He wasn’t (and isn’t) a bad sort. He’s a barrister, Irish on the mother’s side, Soots on the father’s, and mightyproud of the pre-dominant strain. He is tall, thin, ascetic-looking, clever, and popular. I couldn’t gauge Noreen’s feelings towards him, but his towards her were read of all men. He confided to me on one occasion that) the print of her little footsteps on the ground was inexpressibly dear to him. And I stroked my cheek where the print of Miss Ball’s little fingers had tingled a week ago, and begged him not to be a confounded ass. I alluded scornfully, the same evening, to Ye Mcdusky’s cooked nose, and Noreen and I had bitter words on the subject, 'but I remained firm. The rock of Cashel was not more immovable. We argued the matter until she and Pidgie went upstairs to bed, and before slamming her door Noreen leant over the bannisters and flung a breath-

less “It is not” back at me. “Most certainly it is,” I retorted. But Pidgie cut our hostilities short by laying violent hands on Noreen and hustling her out of sight and hearing. Mrs Ball stalked him as a hunter stalks game. “Such an exemplary man; in every respect worthy of my dear child,” she gushed to Pidgie over the teapot and crumpets on the evening of her arrival. Me she ignored after a careless glance through her lorgnon, and a murmured “Ah! How d’ye do? Beautiful weather. So pleased to see you.” I, alas! am not an exemplary man. I ran wild in my teens, and people have retentive memories. In addition, I belong to the band of ineligibles. Osier Brook is a comfortable concern, but we cannot move in the fashionable circle of which Mrs ■Ball is the leading light. I hated her that day of Noreen’s introduction to our dovecot. The woman’s mercenary motives were disgusting. I went in search of Noreen who had absented herself from the teatable, and a shriek of laughter guided me to the piggeries, where I found our little lady trying to straighten the tight and curly tail of a protesting Berkshire. “Aren’t they sweet?” she shrilled, poking her lace parasol into a litter of bonhams and tumbling them about in the straw till the air was rent with porcine saueals.

‘Yery sweet,” I replied, looking at the face under the daisy-laden brim of her hat. She gave me a side-glance, and frowned. “You are Philander ?”

“Phil,” I corrected. The minx must ■have got a wrinkle from Pidgie. _ Her mouth endeavoured to keep straight. “Pet names should he for faanily use only. I shall call you Philander.” iShe preceded me into the house, apologised to Pidgie for her dil'atoriness, and gave her a most affecionate embrace. 'She shook hands with our old nurse, now promoted to be cook, petted the trio of bull-terriers, and established friendly relations with the parrot, a cross-grained and . abusive bird, who actually sidled up to Noreen and peeked gently at her rosy mouth. For a whole week we revelled in the alternate storm and sunshine of Miss Ball’s presence. Then down came McUtusky, ostensibly to fish, and spoiled all.

Pidgie explained to her crestfallen brother how matters stood. “The affair has been ripening several months,” said she, “and Mrs Ball is anxious to bring it to a happy conclusion. Keep out of their way, and assist them as much as you can.”

My reply was inward and _unquotable. I had caught a glimpse of a blue cotton frock and a tweed morning suit very close together on a garden seat. Pidgie’s smile was meditative. “He’s the right sort of husband for Noreen,” she purred. “The spoiled little damsel needs strong, kind guidance, and Leo is so* sensible and —er —solid.” The beggar’s solidity was undoubted. He had a solid bank account, a solid reputation, solid expectations, and a solid cheek to use our house as a lovers’ rendezvous —a public hotel wherein to eat and spend his leisure. Stall, he j had a. sense of the fitness of things. He j repaired 'to - the inn to sleep, and seldom disturbed us before 9 a.m. Considering that he was up and out at | least four hours earlier, I thought it ( handsome of him. | In obedience to sisterly orders, _ I effaced myself, and instead of escorting Noreen bi’ther and thither I handed : her over to MoClnsky’s care, and retired ! to the background. Noreen professed amazement, and tried to discover the meaning of this desertion by many f cunning cross-questions, which I par- j ried cleverly. Well she knew my j reasons, but when women ge>b their j •victims on the rack of sweet sorrow they ; like to hold them there. j I declined, however, to he drawn. • When her eyes said saucily, “I can guess * the riddle. You, too, are in love with » » I dimmed their triumph by re-

marking that sightseeing was a bore, and Leo’s arrival a godsend in that it left me free to follow my own pursuits. Perhaps I spoke with unnecessary bluntness. But then, I never had at love affair, and the framing of smooth! sentimental speeches was beyond me. So Noreen took me at my word, and confined her attentions to the man she was destined to marry. One day business summoned Leo to Dublin. He went, grumbling at being robbed of twenty-four hours of his vacation. Pidgie had gone for a spin in the pony-trap, and Noreen and I were, perforce, thrown into each other’s society. We ocoupied basket chairs on the lawn, Noreen trifling with a crochet needle and cotton. A 1 booklet of verse lay on her lap. For a long time I was absorbed in the view of the Wicklow mountains, looming softly purple through the haze of a June morning. - Noreen glanced at any idle hands. “Feel worse to-day, Philander?” she queried derisively. “Worse!” I ejaculated. “Didn’tknow I was ill, thanks.” “People with a chronic complaint seldom do.” She threw a fine note of scorn into her voice. “What is mine, pray?” “Slothfulness.” “H’m!You’ve thrown that in my teeth often enough.” I felt ruffled. “If I thought it would rouse you I’d do it oftener,” she said excitedly- “ But you are a mass of inertness, content to drift and dream while others do the work of life. Why haven’t you energy? Oh, why don’t you bestir yourself ?” A devil of contention entered into me. “No occasion. I’ve plenty to eat, a ■bed to lie on, a roof to cover me. What more could one desire?” “Nothing—if one were a beast of the field.’” “And to be aisy is a national characteristic.” She reddened angrily. “Besides, see what a capital foil I am to Leo Vere McOlusky. His virtues shine with tenfold brilliancy by force of contrast. I suppose you’ve heard of -my youthful peccadilloes, Noreen, how I drunk, and lost money on the turf, and was a wild lot. Some of it is true, some false, but I assure you I reformed twelve years ago, and have been a model of respectability ever since. Ask Pidgie. Ask anybody. They’ll tell you I really don’t need to be lectured.” “You are annoyed -by my rebuke, Mr Yerseoyle.” “On the contrary, Miss Ball, it amuses me. A beardless boy might accept it seriously, and be east-down, or annoyed, or grateful to his saving angel. But when you presume to dictate to a man verging on middle age, who knows his own business better than you can, I ” Full stop. I was about to use harsh language, and checked myself in the nick of time. “I apologise,” said Noreen, her cheeks and eyes ablaze, her foot tapping the sward. “I forgot that 'friendship with Pidgie did not necessarily mean friendship with her brother, the friendship thalt may presume to advise.”

f< l should not care to have you for a friend,” was my ambiguous answer. “It would he possible to hate you very robustly. Philander. ” “Why not ‘Mr Verscoyle/ as you -dubbed me a minute ago? I prefer it.”

•Noreen stood up hastily and ground her heel on the crochet cotton. I got to my feet likewise.

“Please don’t run to be rid of me. There’s an easier way. I’ll take myself off at 6nce.”

“'Where are you going?” she asked, flustered and snappish. And in mock serious vein I repeated some lines of verse from the booklet in her hand: —

"I will arise and go now, and go to And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made. [Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade. And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow. Dropping from the veils of morning to where the cricket sings . . .”

“It’s too hard to be laughed at, it’s too hard,” interrupted a pathetic break in her voice, as she fled froib the spot, and left me looking like a fool.

I saw no more of her until Pidgie arrived and we had lunch. And when my sister commenced on the slight redness of her guest’s eyelids, and that dear little fibber said she had spent most of the forenoon in her room nursing a headache. I felt a horrible weight of guilt and shame: albeit it thrilled me deliciously to think, mayhap, those precious drops were shed for me. I determined to begin a personal reformation, fired by red-hot zeal. “Wait and see, you darling,” I whispered in her ear as I opened the doer of the dining-room to let them pass out.

Talents I had none, except the talent of a gentleman-farmer who can make his land and every hoof on it pay smartly if he chooses to exert himself. That much had I. I obtained a situation elsewhere for my steward, stepped into his place, and set myself to master the details of a labour which rapidly became a daily pleasure. I turned my useless study into an office, paid and superintended the outdoor woi*kers, collected the rents of our small property, and kept my hand continually on the check-rein. Finding that my energy was equal to further efforts, I sought and obtained an estate agency, which added materially to a straitened income. /

“And good luck accompany it, Phil, ye dog,” said the retired Major who gave it to me with a hundred thousand welcomes. “She’s a jewel, and a jewel deserves a rich setting. Faith, sir, I admire your pluck.”

I changed colour modestly. He winked. He poked a fat finger between my ribs and thrust his front steps, and big jovial “Ha, ha, ha” pursued me as I rode homeward.

Pidgie was surprised and. enthusiastic. She hugged me and shed tears. Noreen offered prim congratulations, hut omitted 'the other items. She did not attempt to renew our former intimacy, and I forbore until I had earned the right to do sq. Meanwhile she and Leo McClusky walked and drove, and planned fishing and hillclimbing excursions, and I toiled among ibill-files and 'ledgers harder than ever did knight of old to win his lady's favour. And I had my reward. This was the manner of its coming. It fell upon a day of glorious summer, faint with the odour of damask roses, that Noreen and McClusky spent the drowsy hours under a huge white umbrella in the garden, reading Tennyson and combating the heat with a Japanese fan. Pidgie dozed beneath the solitary ash on the lawn, and the terriers followed her example, curled up on the hem of her skirt. I sat sweltering in my shirt-sleeves, examining a pile of rent dockets and dreaming happy dreams. I had something to say to Noreen that night. Her visit was almost at an end. A long visit, hut for me how short! A little wind of evening sprang up and tempered the heat. A humble 'bee on the window-sill awoke from stupor and sallied forth to renew his interrupted amours of the garden. I put on my coat and crossed to the window for a whiff of mountain air. Pidgie and Noreen were pacing the middle walk between the trellised rose bushes, engaged in earnest conversation, their arms clasping each other’s waists, Pidgie’s face bent downward to her companion’s, and Noreen’s raised in confiding appeal. Bjy partially dislocating my neck I could see them plainly. Leo was nowhere visible. v

They left the garden and moved towards the house, still talking. Once they stopped and looked at one another and laughed, but with the laugh Noreen Hushed adorably. I was hastening to join them when Pidgie hurst into my office and danced round me with much grace and. vigour. Pidgie’s flow of spirits is enlivening. I asked tier what had happened. “Just fancy,’’ -: she cried, and [her words were death-knells. “Leo’s affair is satisfactorily settled at last, and the dear old stick leaves for town tonight. Noreen goes in 'the morning.

Of course, I’m not glad she’s going—don’t scowl so, Phil —but I’m simply crazy over the—the things she told me. Isn’t it ripping? Isn’t it the j oiliest of finales?” She waltzed out, and sped upstairs singing. I sat down again. Life at that moment was a valueless possession I would fain have been rid of.

“Will you join us at tea?” said my volatile sister, coming back to peer at me through the gap in the door. I asked to be excused.

“I am afraid I cannot this evening. Major Landy’s accounts have to be gone through:”

And on the morrow Noreen went home. Pidgie drove her to the station, a pale, grave maiden on whom the sedateness of her betrothal sat incongruously. She gave me both her hands, and I uttered 'the stereotyped farewells, but could not congratulate her. I was not altogether a Spartan.

When the bend of the road was reached, she glanced across her shoulder and waved a last good-bye, and the sunlight followed her, leaving behind at Osier Brook a horror of great darkness.

“Mrs Ball has - written a lengthy epistle,” I observed. The letter attracted my attention, it was so bulky, so interscored with thick black penstrokes, where Mrs Ball felt the need of emphasising her confidences. “Yes,” replied Pidgie, frowning and absorbed.

“I trust her scheming soul is qujte satisfied ?”

“Heaven and earth could not satisfy some women.”

My sister seemed offended. She shrugged her shoulders, and, after perusing the letter, tucked it into her pocket. We were a badly-trealted pair. Leo McClusky had acknowledged his obligations in the briefest of notes. Evidently Mrs Ball had not displayed the gratitude expected from her, or [Pidgie would have shared the gush and twaddle with me. And Noreen, the dear and fickle—had she tricked me ? Nay. Rather would I believe I had deceived myself. Yet hope revived. The engagement period was a period of probation during which. Noreen might learn to know her own heart fully. Her short notes contained no allusion to wedding preparations or McClusky, and I had a notion, absurd or not, that her pen lost its steadiness when it wound up with “kind remembrances to Philander.”

The weeks slipped away uneventfully. Late in August another letter from Mrs Ball agitated our household. Like the former it found sanctuary in Pidgie’s pocket, but she told me brightly that “the lady was more amiable, and had invited her to town for a holiday round of gaieties. “I shall go, provided you can. spare me,” added my siser. Her eager face reminded me of the monotony which afflicted her spirit since Philander ceased to be an idler. I bade her pack, and squeezed into her hand a larger cheque than I should have been able to afford in olden circumstances. She appeared to be stricken with gratitude and remorse. If tbi*. idea were not fairfetched I "might imagine Pidgie had

done me a wrong, and that my coals of fire, as represented by the cheque, seared her conscience.

■Numerous charges were laid on me concerning the care of the parrot, the exercising of the terriers, and the means to be adopted for the pacifying of the cook in divers stages of temper and nerves, all of which Pidgie was at great pains to describe for my guidance as she hung out of the window of the railway carriage, heedless of pas-sers-by. Then did I go home and gird myself, seeking in work a sovereign healing for discontent, worry, and every ill the spirit is heir 'to. I kept my cheerful sanity, but I lost flesh, and my flagging appetite threw the cook into a state of mental depression, requiring frequent internal application of gin-and-water before it could be lifted, or even lightened. The parrot moped *—he missed Noreen. The dogs waxed melancholy. A blight had fallen upon Osier Brook with the departure o'f two dear women.

The postman’s visit cheered us. Heavens! What a wave of excitement the sight of his bag and his stolid fat face awoke in us! O'ur canine trio- tore out to accelerate his speed by won-ying his heels playfully. Our gifted bird hurled scurrilous abuse at him in an eostacy of feeling. Pidgie’s news was scrappy and gossipy. The Park was looking its best. The shops were delightful. She had bought a dream of an evening gown. Mrs Ball’s kindness beggared description, and Noreen was well, and pleased to hear of my industry (hang my industry!) They were very gay; she only wished her brother could be with them instead of slaving at a horrid desk, poor, dear fellow. (H’m! Noreen and Mrs Ball did not seem to echo that wish.) Seeing it contained nothing of a private nature, I read Pidgie’s scrawl aloud, and we were one and all exceedingly refreshed thereby. The second proved like unto the first, but the third contained a bombshell. Her previous effusions emulated Noreen’s reticence in regard to Leo and matrimony. Now Pidgie informed me that Ye Mcdusky’s Scots relative had died and bequeathed him a fortune and an estate on the insane condition that Leo married a wife within the period of one month from the date of testator’s death. If he failed to do so he lost money and lands. Oh that Noreen would pause and think ere it was too late! The fourth letter said Leo had taken the matter sensibly, and was quite willing to f ulfil the condition. I should have deemed it Noreen’s privilege to show willingness or unwillingness, not his; but Pidgie has a habit of putting things higgledy-piggledy. Ah! what was this on the last page? “Leo, therefore, has arranged to be married in less than a fortnight, and I mean to stay till the fuss is over. In fact, they couldn’t get along without me. Forgive your truant sister, who is acting for the best, and is really nob so unsympathetic as she appears to be.” “I waited in calmness for the next intelligences the calmness which comes

when all is done, the hope and dread, the longing and the despair. It came. I drew apart and scanned its brief lines slowly. A haze covered them.

“The wedding,” she wrote, “waa strictly private owing to the bridegroom’s recent bereavement, and no notice will be sent to 'the Press. Mrs Ball gave the bride away with wonderful cordiality considering the circumstances. Everybody said Mrs MoGLusky made a charming picture, and unanimous opinion cannot be far astray. I thought her a trifle distrait, and she jcertainly confessed to nervousness. Patience, my dear tried Phil. In a short time I shall win home, and be at liberty to tell you a host of things I dare not, at present, disclose.” The callousness of Pidgie’s last communication, dated a week later, aroused my fiery indignation. “Honeymoon cut short because Leo has to proceed to Scotland on business connected with the property. Mire MeClujsky does not wish to accompany him, neither is he willing to subject her to the fatigue and discomfort of travel and Highland inns. We leave for Osier Brook to-day. Noreen’s childish rapture at the prospect of another Wicklow visit amuses me and fills her mother with stony amazement. The good lady can’t understand her infatuation for the country and stagnation. Honestly, it is a little puzzling. “P.S.—-Mrs McGlusky is apprehensive of the reception she may receive from you. Be on your best behaviour, Phil, for mercy’s sake.”

Mickey Goman, the servant “hoy,” had driven the side-car to the station, and cook and an extra “girl” were sacrificing their complexions in the preparation of an elaborate late dinner. When the last jot and tittle of the day’s labour was performed I “ascended to my room to dress, and wait. It was one of those evenings in declining summer which combine the beauty of full fruition with the first promise of the year’s decay. There was a faint delicious crispness in the air, a scent of mellowing leaves, of com in the stooks over-ripe. Twilight enfolded our mountain bases, but the summits of the Gilt Spears were glorytipped by the sunset, and shone golden against an amber sky. Once more Phil Verseoyle tutored his soul. I would not wear the willow for Noreen to see, nor would I don the cap and bells of a sorry jester. l Life’s brackish waters leave a bitter taste on a man’s tongue, purging it of weakness and frivolity. The terriers squatted by the roadside, ears pricked, and agitated tails thumping the ground. In spite of my dqLour I smiled at the expectant three. Hark! A frantic sweep up the rood, a roll of wheels, Mickey’s voice yelling orders to the dogs to “lie down,” and “stan’ off there,” and “out o’ the way, ye divilskins.” Aind the side-car was at the gate. I approached. Pidgie jumped off, beaming, audacious, exquisitely gowned and hatted. Noreen, an unadorned bride in blue serge, waited to - lifted down, and if my heart hammered my ribs as she resigned herself to my arms.

so did hers. X felt it throb against mine for ‘the space of a second. Her face lost colour, poor little girl. Poor little butterfly caught in the net of the schemer. Pidgie talked volubly on our way to the house. Her spirits were hilarious. C'. tAjnd what with her chatter, and the noise of the dogs, and the welcomes of cook and the “girl,” who were hewildered in their use of Ma am and Miss, my silence and Nore-en’s went unnoticed. In the hall Pidgie dismissed the domestics, and ran upstairs ere I could divine her intention. Noreen attempted to follow, hut my sister waved her back with an imperious gesture. ‘Til * join you two in a minute when I get rid of this suffocating jacket,” she cried. . • I ushered Noreen into the parlour. She tossed her hat on top of the piano, sniffed at a howl of roses, and regained her composure amid the - familiar surroundings. . • “You’re a lot thinner, Philander, nTw> remarked. “And so grave.” “Shall I re-act the clown to please you?” I inquired. “Don’t,” she said, softly striking the worn piano keys. “I like you better this way.” And after a pause, “Do you like me, •Philander P” “I trust I shall never dislike Deo Mo CStusky’s wife, or forget our former friendship.” > ‘You loved Deo’s wife not very long ago. 'Don’t you love her still ?” • • “Noreen, for heaven’s sake think of r what you are saying,” I muttered, hoarsely and passionately, holding off the little hands that would have closed on mine, and the meek face with the down-dropped lids hiding her eyes. “But do you?” she insisted. “No,” I replied, lying boldly, “I do nob. Are you listening to me, Norefen? I do not.”

“What’s the heavy melodrama about?” demanded Pidgie, sailing into the parlour in the conscious bravery of a smart demi-toilette, to find us unnecessarily close together, and one of us agitated. “It is Philander,” murmured Noreen, turning saintly violet orbs on her bosom friend. “He says he doesn’t love you.” “Oh, bother!” Pidgie hung out a crimson banner of - guilt and jerked her head defiantly. • “If he loves you, I suppose that’s enough. Deo and I shall he too far away to care.” Here Pidgie wavered, produced her handkerchief, and, sinking on the sofa, forced an artificial sob. Noreen sat on her heels on the carpet opposite, and regarded her misfchie-voulsly. “What have (you told him?” queried my sister, drawing down a corner of the handkerchief. “Nothing. I saw through your ruse, madam. We go shares in the telling, please.” “You—you deceitful little wretch,” gasped Pidgie. “And after the promises you made. Sit beside me, Phil, and let’s get it over. I—l’m married.” “And widowed,” I interjected. “No. Married a second time, you booby. I’m Mrs Deo Vere Mcdusky!” I looked sternly from one to the other. Noreen nodded and grimaced. “And if you were a hit keen-witted, sir, you’d have understood by my letters. Did I -mention that impertinent child’s marriage? Did I hint, directly or indirectly, "that she was the bride ? Did I couple her name once with Deo’s?” The glitter of a brand-new wedding ring hypnotised me as Pidgie flourished her left hand in a dramatic and ostentatious manner. My Choler rose. ‘You assured me that MoClusky’s courtship was satisfactory settled- the evening he returned to Dublin.” “So it was,” giggling. “Noreen refused him point-blank. Highly satisfactory I call it—now.” “Go on,” I said resignedly. “She told me the real reason of her , refusal —a prior attachment—and begged me to help her pay you out for some hoity-toity treatment of her. She was also anxious to test the strength and reliability of your sudden conversion to good works, and, having sent one adorer clean off the field, and made another profoundly miserable she hastened home to bully her mother as she means to bully you.” Pidgie glanced sidewise at us, and her smile was mocking. “Then Mrs Ball, in a perfect fury, wrote that letter I would not let you see,, actually blaming me for her daughter’s idio-cy; and the affair was at a deadlock until Noreen coaxed her parent into accepting the inevitable and inviting me to Dublin to smoke

the oalamut of peace, so to speak. Behold the inscrutable workings of Pate. Deo’s -relative died. He flew to entreat Noroen’e compassion. He found her adamant. Again hie saw me, „ a 'lovely young widow’ (his own words, dear people), ‘sick of sentimentalism, and -fitted to adorn a lofty station.’ In a business-like fashion he asked me to save -his heritage from the olutdh of the stranger, and in a business-like fashion I complied. “I hid it from you because Noreen, the tender-hearted, thought your impertinences were not sufficiently chastised. Bence those ambiguous letters. Bead them with care, and see how laboriously I strove to illumine your darkened mind. “We were married from Mrs Ball’s house, and spent a week -buying antique furniture, which was our idea of a sensible honeymoon. Deo had to go to Scotland, and suggested that I should spend two months at Osier Brook for the comforting of my. soul and yours in view of the impending separation. I must see you married and settled before he comes to fetch me to his lordly halls, and lam the •bearer of Mrs Ball’s reluctant consent -to her only child’s mesalliance. Wake up, Phil. Your eye is like the Ancient Mariner’s- TJgh! Why don’t yo-u speak?” '

' “It seems a come-dy to you,” I replied, dazedly, “but to me it was . . . -black tragedy.” Noreen uttered a dismal groan.

Pidgie stared, aghast. “Just imagine!” she exclaimed, catching her breath and wheeling about to confront her wily confederate. “We didn’t suspect he’d feel it so badly. Eh ?” “I did,” replied Noreen with as much dignity as her posture would permit. ‘Then I pity Philander,” said Pidgie, hotly. “Keep your pity for Deo,” murmured Noreen. “He needs it.” “Both those remarks are uncalled for,” I interposed. “My dear children,” said Pidgie, rising and lavishing on us the indulgent, patronising airs of the twice-wed and much-experienced. “I shall now retire and give you an opportunity for a formal proposal and acceptance. Make up your differences, pardon each other’s trivial sins, proclaim a truce to family bickering, and thank Heaven and an affectionate sister that the thorns are cleared -from you path of love and lunacy.” I failed to grasp the extent of our indebtedness to Pidgie, but I extended my hand and warmly wished her every conjugal felicity. “Oh, as to that,” she replied, nonchalently, “Deo is a thoughtful, considerate husband. He wont plague me unduly. I have made what the world calls a good match, and being founded on mutual respect and commensense priu uples it bidis fair to be a success.” “Respect! Commonsense principles!” I ejaculated, gazing ruefully at my provoking wilful love, who knelt, with elbow's on my knees ana roguish face uplifted. “If these be the tine foundations of matrimonial success, then what of us?” Pidgie laughed, and paused at the door to contemplate the splendour of her silken train. “Ye are not of the world/ ” she quoted irreverently.