A BAD HALF HOUR

New Zealand Times, Volume XXXVII, Issue 8367, 1 March 1913, Page 10

A BAD HALF HOUR

(By Mollie Kennedy.) Although the joyous peal of wedding bells rang- out triumphantly on the flow-er-laden hour, the girl in the dainty drawingroom shank from the sound and shivered again. Thrusting her fingers in her ears, she stared with unseeing eyes and white, set face at the tea table which had seemed so welcome a sight but a short time before, until at last two big tears rolled down her cheeks, tears which she impatiently brushed away. "What are the bells pealing for, Sarah?" she asked the old servant who welcomed her young mistress home by preparing a tea as far as possible resembling those of childhood's it some one I know getting married?" Old Sarah was a trifle deaf, but apparently she heard the query. ‘"Tis young Master Alan." she replied. "The baker told me just now or I’d have never known nothing of it. They say ho's marrying -a rich American lady, one as he haven't knowed long. Bah, Miss Marjorie, you’re tired out with your journey and no mistake. You’re as white as a sheet. "Now you just sit down here. I hat comes of taking trips to foreign lands, what I never did hold with and never shall. Your poor dear ma always dm say as there was no place like home, and I believe it, too. Now don’t ( you stir till I brings you a cup o’ tea." The garrulous old woman hurried off, and quickly returned with tea, which the girl drank eagerly', feeling as if everything had suddenly become horrxbly unreal and strange. , Scarcely knowing what she did, sue obeyed the old woman, who took off her hat and pushed a cushion behind her, sighing with, relief os a trace of colour crept back to the girl’s pale cheeks. "There now," she said, "that’s better. I guess you haven’t had such a cup of tea as that since you’ve been away. Them foreigners I’ve heard tell do make good coffee, but I’ve never knowed anyone as praised their tea." Marjorie smiled feebly. "No, I haven’t had good, tea ‘in tier' many," she said, “and I've been looking forward to this all day. Strawberries and cream, too," she cried, with an attempt to appear light-hearted, ‘‘and some of my favourite scones as well! I'm afraid you will quit© spoil me, Sarah, now lam back home again. I am dreadfully tired, though.”. , ~ , But it was no tired feeling that brought big, scalding tears to her eyes as the old woman left the room; it was not fatigue that twisted her mouth into a pitiful curve, and set her heart throbbing with a pain it bad never experienced oefore. Strawberries and cream were entirely forgotten, and the dainty scones remained untouched. “Merry,. merry, ring—aling—almg, rang out the bells, out to Marjorie Browne the sounds were hateful and full of discords.

Alan Alwyn married ! That was what old Sarah had told her. And she loved Alan! Could it be possible that he bad forgotten her so soon? There was »° engagement between them; her father, the old vicar, had said she was too young, but Alan and she both agreed they knew their own minds. Then when Marjorie went to Germany three months ago to visit a school friend, they had settled they would not write to each other, out would wait. “I shall long for this day three months, little sweetheart," he said. "So shall I, Alan," she whispered, as they kissed each other good-bye. That was all. Now be had married someone else. A rich American, old Sarah had said. Well, Alan was poor enough in all conscience. A pitiful little smile hovered round her lips as she remembered his small economies, and how they had laughed over them together. They had planned how they would help each other, but Alan would never need to economise again, She put out her fingers and seized the ripest and largest strawberry in the basket, but its taste was as ashes in her mouth; then again she thrust her hands to her ears to shut out the sound of bells. The advent of old Sarah with a plate of thinly rolled bread and butter caused her to look up and endeavour to smile; but the effort was a failure. ‘'l've —Fvo got a headache, Sarah, she faltered, "and those bells make it worse.' The old woman sniffed as she shut down the window with a decisive bang. "A pack, of rubbish I call it, she cried, "a ringin' o’ bells be cause,two silly folk what don’t know their mind have seen fit to go and, many one another. Time enough to ring the bells when thoy've had five years o’ married life, and find they don’t wish one another out of the way every day or two." • Marjorie smiled faintly at old Sarah s cynicism, but said nothing, drinking her tea gratefully whilst the old woman prattled on. \ - "The master said nought to me as I was this grand wedding, an’ I reckon he s marrying them. The baker said as they’d got red cloth laid down the church steps, and he did say as they'd got thirteen bridesmaids. A tempting o’ Providence, T calls it, to have such a number, especially at a wedding." , "Porno pro nip don’t believe in luck, said the girl, her heart smitten with another pang. Alan was always one to laugh at superstitious beliefs, and yet half believe in them, top. "No more they do. Miss Marjorie, returned the old woman, "Still it do seem a riskv thing to do. Master Alan, now, ho was one for luck, he was. Only last week when he was here at supper with tho master he throwed salt over his shoulder when he spilled some to keep away had luck. He never said a word about getting married then. Seems to me odd like, seein’ as I’ve knowed mm since lie were a babby in arms." _ At last she was gone, and Marjorie sighed with relief. How horribly unreal it seemed! Although she knew it was true, id hurt her to think of it By and by, she told herself with a little catch in her throat—by and by she would get used to it. and it would be nothing; she would have to even meet Alan's wife some day. Alan’s wif®! And six© li&d thought that title would be hers. , , The next moment a familiar step sounded outside, and her heart beat fast as through the window she caught sight of a familiar figure, wedding favour and all. Alan here! At this time! How dare he? Trembling, she sprang to her feet, a shudder running over her whole body. How could sho escape? She dared not, could not, meet him now. Bushing to the window, she flung it open, and in another moment would have been outside; then the door opened, she heard a voice, and turned with white face to confront her Idver —who had married another woman. Hie advanced with eager smile, a jauntiness, an air of festivity about him, and next moment he would have put his arms round her, but she drawback with a cry of horror. "How dare you?" she cried. "Don’t touch me! How dare you?” Bewilderment, pain and a sudden sense of injury flitted over his face, then bis mouth grew stern. "Marjorie, sweetheart,’ ho cried. "What do vou mean? I cannot understand it. Surely, surely”—and ho hesitated —"there is no one else. Oh, Marjorie, there cannot be anyone else. You have come back to me. little sweetheart?’’ Then all Marjorie’s pitiful wall of reservo fell down, her lip trembled, and she burst into tears. "Oh, Alan, how could you?" she cried. The next moment his arms were round her, and she was drawn close to his heart. "Marjie, Marj-ie, rv darling.’’ lie cried, "my love, what is it? What is the mailer. swethearf? Are you angry with me, darling, because T did not come to meet you? A re you vexed because I had to go to this silly old wedding instead? Sweetheart, don’t you know 1 would

rather have come to meet you, but 1 could not get off I came the moment I could get away.” Then Marjorie tried to remember her dignity, and drew herself away from his "'“Where—whore is your wife?” she faltered, and Alan looked amazed. “What?” ho pasped. "Whatever do yon mean, dear?’’ , , . , „ “Tour wife,” she repeated_ tearfully, “the rich American. Sarah said . . . Alan burst into a hearty peal ot laughter. , , “Good gracious!” he ejaculated, what -next? That was what Sarah meant just now when she tried to cougratuhuo me. I wondered what she meant. Mhy, Ivo lieen best man for young Kichmoncl, that’s all." , ~ , . ... Marjorie laughed a litlo hysterically and hid her face on his shoulder. “C%, Alan.” she whispered, what a silly litti© goose I'Ve been. j that time when he kissed her she smiled. “You don’t deserve to' to bo kissed, he said ten minutes later (not.however, acting up to his assertion). Aou know veiy “I suppose Sarah mixed up tbest man,”’ she suggested, “and thought it meant bridegroom.’ Alan laughed. “Next time I attend a wedding, I hope it will be in the latter capacity, he said. “This sort of thing is wearing to the nerves." , , , ~ "Well, it has given me a bad halfhour," she retorted. . , But as ho kissed her again she looked as if that bad half-hour were already forgotten.—“ Homo Notes."