A Dinner of Regrets.

Otago Witness, Issue 2258, 10 June 1897, Page 52

A Dinner of Regrets.

Ib George JMarsden's manhood his college days remained his one sentimental memory, undiintned as the hard-working went by —growing deeper and more vivid, indeed, like the thoughts of » boyish love in one whose later years bring no rival romanoe. His college had been his boyißb. love, in -which his el&.Bßroßteß shared the wealth and ardour of his affections. They never guessed this, for tbe shy, scholarly northerner had no intimates, and belonged to no set. His slight lameness kapt him out of all athletics, and his frugal allowance gave him no place in the club and society life of the college. He was as little known as any man of hio class, yet no man knew more about the others than did Marsden, as his rapturous letters to his mother told. She had come from college people, and persisted in the long struggle which was necessary to overcome her husband's reluctance to send their only child " down south " for what, in his opinion, was a useless and extravagant educatiou. The mother urged and had her way, but the rich millman was obdurate in the matter of spending money, and George was supposed by any of his classmates who ever gave the matter a passing thought to be a poor man's son struggling for an education. However, it was to Giorge four years of romance —of ideal existence ; from which he returned to his home with such emotions ag ; would have been more comprehensible had ho parted from n promised sweetheart for whom he was going oat into the world to make a fortune. His life was instinct with some such thought, too, for he entered eagerly iuto the neverending bard grind of his father's business, aaying to himself, "I will make mjself rich to endow my college ; to go to London, where so many of my classmates are, and become one of their society; renew with them all those dear associations." But for 15 years tbere was no chance for reuniting wi^h those old and romantic associations. Tbe mill business grew until it wore out the elder Marsden ; but a year after his death the widow and son willingly closed with the offer of a syndicate to take over the vast moneymaking plant, and came to London, anticipating the joy of a dream to be realised when George should resume the romance of his college days. The day before they started he wrote 20 letters to the men whose London businets, residence, or club addresses were known to him. As soon as he had registered at the Savoy he asked eagerly for his mail, and was shocked when he learned that there wai none. The next morning there was & letter. It ran thus: — " Bear Marsden, —l am glad to hear you are returning to civilisation. Whenever you are in town look me up at one of the clubs to which I am sending you cards." This was signed with the name of a man he had seen at the hotel, but who had not recognised him. - " He knew I was here, theß," mused George mournfully, " and though he was in the hotel he did not ask for me." A later mail brought him visitors' cards from three clubs. He talked the situation over with his mother, who advised that formal invitations to a dinner be sent to his class-mates, and this George did; tempering the formality, however, with expressions of the pleasure he anticipated in renewing the acquaintance of his expected guests. On the following day there came half a dozen formal regrets, almost identical in wording, and one effusive acceptance. From the othera nothing was heard. Mrs Marsdeu and George supposed thatibose who had not declined would come, so no alteration was made in the dinner order. " Some of the fellows who declined may drop in aiter the other engagements they speak of," said George hopefully, "so we'll have the table prepared for 21." Frank Homer, the man who accepted, was the pnly one who came to the dinner. He was received in Mrs Marsden's parlour, for the widow had expressed an eager desire to meet her son's friends. Homer was faultlessly dressed, and be was polite —over polite —in his greetings. While they still supposed that other gae»ts would arrive Homer was plied with questions about the men of the class, and though his answers were glibly confident, his listeners soon discovered that they were random guesses. As the time parsed and it became evident that the others were not coming, Homer's confidence and assertiveness grew. George was sick at heart when, a half-hour after dinner had been announced, he said, with a forced laugh: ''Well, Homer, you and I will begin the feast without waiting for the others." The idea crossed his mind of abandoning the private dining looni and taking his single guest to the cafe, but he could not give up the belief that others would come, so the two men sat down to a table prepared for 21. For a time George was almost unconscious of Homer's presence, and did not notice his amnzing consumption of wine until ho was Buddenly aroused to his guest's condition by his insolent braggadocio. It must have been instinct, for he had no experience in such matters, that than revealed to him Homer's true * character —a drunken sponger. The distressing dinner came to a closa at last, when Hcmer, after a, third glass of brandy, ordered a waiter to bring him pen and ink. The waiter obeyed, and Homer, taking a blank j cheque from his posket, filled it out, saving to the waiter : " Take that to the office and have it cashed for me, but turned instantly to George and said, "Pcrhapß you have the amount in your pocket, old man ; it's only a hundred." Marsden, sore at heart, passed the amount over to his guest, who pocketed it, and then, filling & champagne glass with brandy, said with a grin, " Pardon me for not having congratulated you before, old man, on the sale of your mills. I caw an account of it in & financial paper, go I know that this sum is a mere trifle to you." Marsden, with sudden determination, said stiffly: " May I ask if that is why you accepted my invitation to dinner ? " Homer took up hi* brandy and drank it before he replied, " Why, old chap, you've been square with me, co I don't mind telling you that; I came to your dinner because I should have gone without one otherwise." Marsden groaned aloud. Homer regarded his host a moment with a pitying smile, and then said: " That cheque of mine may come back to you marked »No funds'; it's a way my cheques have, so I'll square account* by giving yon some I valuable advice: The next time you get up a class dinner, let me. know » little ja advance,

and I'll send the boys marked copies of that financial paper. Then you won't h*ve any regrets."