COLLINSON’S PEOPLE

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1798, 22 August 1906, Page 9

COLLINSON’S PEOPLE

EIGHT'WEEK AT OXFORD. Colli neon’s face was reflected lugubriously iu the looking-glass as he arranged the decorous tie which completes the immaculate afternoon attire usually donned by the undergraduate for ceremonious occasions. He brushed the du?*t from the pink and nagenta band—which signified his membership of a smart boating club in the University—of hie straw hat with a sigh, and glanced again at a picture postcard, stuck iu the frame of a sporting print, on which half-a-dozen worths were inscribed in neat feminine penmanship. _ ‘‘Our train arrives 3.4,7 —M.V.8.” Co Hinson looke d at his watch, and sauntered into his sitting-room, where lie stood, with hie hands in liis pockets, staring gloomily out into the stately quad of St. Darius. “It is just my confounded luck!” he muttered dismally to himself. Fate had certainly seemed determined to put the coping-stone to the misfortunes of a term which had begun with an attack of measles, and had included a brusque refusal from the Head of St. Darius, the college at which Collinson was completing ins third year, to allow his only daughter. Ida, to whom the young man had impetuously proposed in the first flush of his convalescence, to become engaged to an undergraduate whom Dr fimmans was wont, in moments of confidence, to describe to his fellow* dons as “the greatest dunce in Oxford/' In vain had Miss Em mans dwelt upon Collinson's social and pecuniary eligibility, Ins reputation as a good sort, and the "laurels lie had achieved' in the cricket field and on the river. Dr Em mans adhered uncompromisingly to his conviction that the young man was a l’ool, and, as such, out of the question as a son-in-law. Collinson had emerged from the interview with Ida's father downcast, but not beaten. He resolved to strain every nerve to distinguish himself in his approaching “finals,” and, stimulated by Ida’s faith in his latent abilities, he had applied himself to work with a diligence which, he confidently anticipated, would lead to a success in the “schools” certain to have its due effect upon the Head. As a reward for his industry he had promised himself a pleasant time with Ida during the Eights Week, a period usually affording opportunities for phiianderings which elude the most übiquitous of chaperons. His annoyance may therefore be surmised when, on the Saturday preceding the commencement of the ‘‘bumping races,” he received a letter from Ms step-grandmother an American lady whom his maternal grandfather had married as his second wife during a visit to New York shortly before his demise—announcing her arrival in England and her intention of visiting Oxford for the Eights Week. Airs Blautyre said that now she was out of mourning she meant to hustle around a bit and make the most of her first visit to England. Her sisters were with her, and it would be just too delightful if “dear Edgar” would trot them about and show them the sights of Alma Mater. She added that it would be real nice to make her grandson’s acquaintance. Collinson’s dismay at the intimation of this impending visit, vliicli meant, he knew, a melancholy trapesing from one college chapel to another, and practically Mj'jSS Einmans, was enhanced by his impression that Mrs Blantyre was an elderly, harsh-voiced frump of the most accentuated American typo. No mem-

her of the late Mr Elan tyre’s family had yet beheld her—the marriage, in fact, had been hailed by his relatives with the reverse of enthusiasm, and the lady had not crossed to England to attend her husband’s obsequies—but as Mrs Blantyre had been a widow at the time of her re-marriage, the folly of the •alliance had been partly mitigated, in the eyes of the bridegroom’s relatives, by the surmise that the bride was at any rate of suitable maturity. Collinson groaned as he realised the chaff that his grandmother’s advent would no doubt entail from his fellow undergraduates, and the unfavourable impression which she w|ou 1 d probably produce upon Dr Em mans and his daughter. He had, however, sensibly accepted the inevitable, and was at that moment awaiting the arrival of his friend, Ted Stonor, who had good-naturedly volunteered to see him through the ordeal of receiving Mrs Blantyre and her sisters at the station. Stonor’s tap at the door presently interrupted his pessimistic reflections. “Ready, old man? It is five past! Wo slian only just do it! Your ‘ticker’ must be slow! By the way, where are your people putting up?” Stonor inquired, cheerfully, as they swung briskly out of the college precincts. “At The Ferdinand, 1 suppose? That ia where all good Americans usually go!” “No, Mrs Blantyre barred an hotel! She prefers lodgings, because of Sammy, whoever he may be—some black brute of a servant, I expect!'—so I have takem rooms for them in Palton Street!” Stonor grinned. “Great Scott! Have you broken Sammy to the landlady?” “I gave her a sort of hint,” Collinson owned, ruefully. “I said Mrs Blantyre was a little eccentric, don’t you know!" “Well, buck up, man, for goodness sake! Your face is as long as the High Street. Don’t you worry your little self. If the grandmother is as old as Methuselah and as ugly as a gargoyle, I’ll back you up!” protested the guileless voutM airily. “But do trot along. 1 verily believe the train’s in now. Tiiia looks like doing the polite with a vengeance!” The express had indeed emptied itself of its passengers before the two breathless young men rushed on to the platform. There a phalanx of harassed porters were struggling, at the imperious behests of a sprinkling of undergraduates, to extricate the luggage of a bevy of sisters, cousins, and aunts from the chaotic pile of Saratoga trunks, portmanteaux, and hat-boxes before them. To add to the excitement, a dilapidated Irish terrier, whose aspect hinted at a bull-dog ancestor, was indulging in a spirited tussle with a dignified white collie, whose owner, a remariraoly prepossessing voeftg matron, was' remonstrating with the culprits in unmist able transatlantic accents. “My! You’ll certainly be killed, you wicked dog!” she was exclaiming, regarding the terrier wratlifully with a pair of expressive blue eyes. “Oh, thanks eve/ so many!” as Collinson came up, and separated the combatants. “That’s real smart of you! Poor old Sammy!” She bent down and patted the collie affectionately. “Poor old dog!” Collinson and Stonor exchanged glances. The former’s expressed amazement and relief; the latter’s beamed a genial encouragement. “1 think you are Mrs Blantyre ? lam Edgar Collinson,” said that young man, diffidently. The lady turned quickly, her face wreathed in smiles. “1 guess you are right, and I an. just ever so pleased to see you Edgar!” Mis Blantyre's eyes twinkled. The surprised Stonor even noticed a dimple in her chin. “Doasn’t look a day over thirty!” the sago youth reflected.

“Sadie and Marie are over there” —Indicating two pretty girls standing at the bookstall. “Yes, these four boxes are ours, and that dress-basket, and—ah, here you are, girls! This is B3gar Collinson!” Collinson, suddenly recovering hie vivacity and good spirits, introduced S>touor with the careless ease of the undergraduate who feels that his people are going to do him rather more than credit. He patronised his friend, and. was brilliantly conversational as he led the way out of the station with Mrs Blantyre, who insisted upon walking Palton Street while the luggage followed “‘l’ can’t miss a yard of this lovely old city !” Mrs Blantyre declared, enthusiastically. s

Edgar Collinson went into hall the following evening with, a lighter heart than he would have believed possible twenty-four hours previously; for Mrs Blantyre bad turned out to be not only a young and handsome person, but a cultured, amiable women ot the world a grandmother, in fact, of whom anyone might be proud. She had exerted heiself to ingratiate herself with, her grand-

I do want to get on "with my EnigM&l connections!” she said to him, pathetically; and the two were already on quite confidential terms. During the stroll home aftei the Jrirst Division of boats (which, by a sort ol “Alice in Wonderland” arrangement, row second) she had even extracted Bonr the young man a full account of his love affair with Ida Emmans, and of the Head’s disapprobation. "Of course, it will h© <x great thing it von gret a good class/' she agreed thoughtfully. “But I wonder if -Dr Em mans is a widower, you sayr ~ -“ri dear Edgar, I have always found widowers most malleable material. -M^® Blantyre, laughed softly. “Indeed, wasn t your poor dear grandfather one? I guess I must get introduced to the Doctor somehow! Tell me his little fads and foibles, and then I shall have an inkling how to manage him!” . Collinson, although dubious of Mrs Blantyre’e managing capacities where the Head was concerned, did as he was bidden, stating that a delusion that he was musical, and particularly that he could play the organ, were two ot Dr Emmans’s well-known idiosyncrasies. “Didn’t you hoar him strumming away in onr chapel when we passed it before lunch? He generally practises there tor half-an-houi* every morning. He is dead nuts on church music, and raves about Handel and other old Johnnies! “Ah!” murmured Mrs Blantyre, contentedly. “How disgracefully Sadie is flirting with your friend, Mr Stoner, ehe added, inconsequently, a moment Emmans was not on the barge the following afternoon, but Mrs Blantyre was introduced to his daughter, and made the most of her opportunities. “'Who is that very distinguished looking man with the little fat clergyman? Mrs Blantyre demanded of Ida abruptly, aa she caught sight of the elderly individual whom Edgar had pointed out to her the previous day as the Head sauntering- by with a friend on the path below.

Dr Eimmans appeared to listen impassively at breakfast tbe next morning to his daughter’s glowing account of Mrs Blantyre (which included an allusion to the flattering adjective she had applied to himself); but meeting, young Gollinson presently as the Doctor sallied out of his organ practice, it occurred to the sui pnscd undergraduate that the Dead returned his salute with a less austere nod than had been bestowed upon him since the commencement of that unlucky term. Half an hour afterwards Dr Em mans concluded, a jerky rendering of a Bach fugue, closed the book of voluntaries, dismissed the blower, and, rather abruptly opening the chapel door, stumbled almost into the arms of a black-clad graceful young woman, who was wiping iher eyes with a ridiculous lace handkerchief, and evidently in a state of great agitation. 1 . “1 beg your pardon, madam I 1 his us very painful. Can. X do anything 1 ? the Head stammered. "Oh thank you! I am so sorry to be so silly;-but your beautiful music brought hack such old memories! Mrs Biantyre glanced down at her black frock, one disinterred that morning from the depths of her Saratoga trunk I am so passionately devoted to all good music, and the temptation to listen was too great! I am waiting for my grandson, one of your students, to join mo,” she explained with her piquant American aoC6 The Head started. As Ida had suggested, this Mrs Blantyre was really a very attractive woman, and a discriminating one, too! He beamed upon her pompously, but benevolently. "Mrs Blantyre, I think t I am very pleased to meet you! Any time when you would really care - 'When Collhison and the two Misses Clemente 'presently emerged from the library, whither Mis Blantyre had declined accompanying them on the plea that she had a headache, the Head and. Mrs Blantyre were strolling up and down the quad engaged in earnest conversation. „ , . "Ah here are the rest of your party! I will 'ask Mortimer to substitute the sonata you mention at our concert tomorrow night. I shall like to hear your opinion of bio rendering of it afterwards!” and. with a dignified bow, Dr Eminans departed. The interest of the onlookers on . the barge of St. Darius was divided from that moment between the chances of the college eight bumping itself up to the head-ship of the river and the progress of the coquettish widow’s flirtation with Dr Em mans. Mrs Blantyre had set her cap* unblusbingly at the latter, and that usually impersonage; carried- away by her diplomatic flatteries, good looks, and'apparently profound absorption in Bach, Handel, and Beethoven, allowed himself to- frankly enjoy the congenial eociety of a lady whom he* deeeribed to

Ids daughter as “a very sensible, clever woman.” He permitted himself to hover round her for three successive days as She sipped her tea on the barge top, bade Ida invite her to lunch on the Sunday, and despatched several volumes on “Sacred Music Composers” ho her lodgings. When these incidents —and also that Mrs Blantyre had postponed her departure from Oxford for another week — leaked out, bets were made by flippant undergraduates as to the ultimate outcome of this friendship; while many of Miss Bmmans’s acquaintances, regarding the advent of her stepmother as an imminent event, treated her with a pitying good-nature which irritated and puzzled that usually amiable young. woman. Dr Emmans, quite resigned to bis widowerhood, in reality had as little intention of proposing to Mrs Blantyre as he had of taking to ballooning, and never imagined that any misconstruction could be put on his cautious overtures. The widpw, for her part, made the utmost of the Head’s civilities, assumed airs of great intimacy in his society, and assured her grandson that Dr Bmmans’s consent to his engagement with Ida was only a matter of time. Mrs Blantyre laid her plans carefully, and encountering Dr Emmans and his daughter as she strolled with Edgar one sunny, afternoon along a shady by-path of St. Alys’s picturesque grounds, where a garden party was in full swing, sho decided that thd psychological moment for the denouement of her little comedy had arrived.

“Isn’t it frantically hot?” she murmured. glancing up at the Head from under the becoming shade of a. pink chiffon parasol. “1 am so glad to meet you! There seems to be hardly a soul here I know! Yes, Edgar, do take Miss Emmans to have an ice! No, I won’t have one now, thanks! Shall we wait here for them, Dr Emmans? There is a cosy seat under that cedar!”

The Head, frowning a little at the retreating couple, saw that lie could do no less than fall in with this suggestion. Mrs Blantyre sat down, closed her parasol, and poked the smooth turf nervously with its gilt tip. “I must tell you—it is such a joke !” she said, presently. “Do you know what my sister Sadie was asked yesterday ? She was asked whether you and I were engaged! Isn’t it too funny ?” she laughed, gleefully. The Head turned a startled face towards her.. His month twitched.

“Really! How do such rumours get about? lam sure ” he murmured, confusedly. “Yes, it is all over Oxford, I believe!” ehe continued, cheerfully. “Your sister, of course, contradicted the report?” said the Head, stiffly. . “Did you want people to jump to the conclusion that I had refused you ?” the widow asked, speciously, opening her blue eyes innocently. The Head winced. This deduction was certainly unpalatable. “Sadie said she didn’t know anything about it! She doesn’t!” Dr Emmans sighed. The ingenuity sometimes exercised by the up-to-date woman to get one into a tight corner was fiendish. “Mrs Blantyre, this is a truly awkward position for both of us! But let me say at once that it never entered my head that a young and charming woman like yourself ” “My dear sir,” Mrs Blantyre interrupted him, gently. “I quite understand. Our friendship has been a great pleasure to me! As to myself, I don’t mind the chaff or the gossip. It is solely your dignity that I am considering. The head of a college,' I know, cannot be too careful to preserve his prestige untarnished!” The Head’s broad forehead puckered. The picture that his imagination conjured up of jeering undergraduates and malicious feminine glances was not pleasant. . “Fortunately, I see a way to set everything right!” Mrs Blantyre cor.tiimed. “You must give your consent at once to Edgar’s engagement to your daughter! Let me announce the engagement this very afternoon! It will at once explain our friendship! It is quite natural the connections of the two young people should wish t*o know something of each other under the circumstances. Edgar may not be the limit so far as genius is concerned, but he is a steady-going, kind-hearted, loyal young fellow, and I believe ho will make your daughter happy.”

“I have ,a great respect for brains, as you are aware,” the Head remarked, ten minutes later; “but, as you point out, there are other useful characteristics for a husband; and perhaps as you gay, the sooner the engagement is given out the better! I might .add that our conversation this afternoon has convinced me that you, at any rate, Mrs Elantyre, do not suffer from a lack of intelligence!” And the Head, glancing, with a. little ironic gmile,. at the widow, perceived that she blushed vivid!y at the compliment.—“ Modern Society.”

A further indication of “the generosity of Otago people” is pointed out by the “Daily Times.” Within a fortnight that newspaper has collected £2049 9s towards the fund for housing the library presented, to Dunedin by Dr. Hocken. The outside vestibule at the Government Buildings, which is paved rather roughly with concrete, is now being laid° over with ornamental terracotta tiling, in a geometrical design. The work is greatly improving the appearance of the entrance. The “Taranaki Herald” hears from ft reliable source that Mr Way, the American oil expert, who is at present in New Plymouth, considers that there is a far greater extent of oil. country in the district than other people have any idea of.