[Fifth Prize.] A MiSAPPLIEDPRINCIPLE

Otago Witness, Issue 2387, 30 November 1899, Page 42 (Supplement)

[Fifth Prize.] A MiSAPPLIEDPRINCIPLE

BY MANU FORTI.

(Otago Daily Times and Witness Christmas A7ifiual

was especially pretty when she was angry, for then her grey eyes sparkled and ,tne pink in her cheeks deepened.

"It is preposterous, mother," . she repeated ; " look at him ; and he is a specimen of all the others."

■ Mrs Maxwell was tall like her daughter, but she was something of an invalid, and looked as if she h d never handled a rolling pin in her life — as. indeed, she had not. Following her daughter's glance of withering scorn, she crossed the big station kitchen and looked out os one of the wide, low windows. What &he saw was the departing back of a man ; v man with broad shoulders and a slouching gait, a man .whose nether garments were girt below the knees with flax, and who wore an old billycock hat and a spotted neckerchief. In one hand he carried the larger half of a cooked leg of mutton, and in the other a loaf of bread and some dry te i and sugar in a pannikin. " That," said Hilda, "is the fourteenth swagger who has been here this week ; no, the fifteenth, isn't it, Bridget? " "The sivinteenth, miss; an' a lazy loafin' crpwd, ivery wan ov them."

" The seventeenth, then ; the seventeenth idle, able-bodied, good-for-nothing man, who would sooner come and ask for food and lodging than do one day's honest work. "

"But what can we do?" asked Mrs Maxwell, helplessly. "Do?" said her daughter, with energy; " why, my dear mother, what we should do is to tell them they ought to be ashamed of themselves, and give them nothing, unless they condescend to use their strength and their muscles in some more practical way than roaming the country from week's end to week's end ; and, besides, it's the principle of the tiling — we are making paupers of them. Bridget! " Yes, miss." 'When number eighteen arrives, come and tell me, and I think I shall know how to deal with him. The very next one. mind. Do you hear me, Bridget?" "Yes, miss," said Bridget, submissively and admiringly. Miss Maxwell resumed her pastry-mak-ing.

"You know," she said, "it does not affect us so much when the men's cook is here, but now that he has gone to the outstation, and Sarah has left with the mumps, - and Lena because she imagined she had too much to do, it is quite a different matter. I have not the remotest intention of staying here in the heat to cook for a crowd of lazy men."

"When I left Home 25 years ago," said Mrs Maxwell, plaintively, "I never thought I should see my daughter making pies, and — and things." Her daughter laughed — a light, ringing laugh, that made Bridget grin with responsive sympathy. "Why," she said, demurely, "the probability is that at that time you did not think about a daughter at all, mother."

Mrs Maxwell smiled and sighed. " Well, no," she said, "perhaps not." As she spoke she lifted a jug of water and a big basket of roses off the dresser, and went away to spend the morning arranging them.

Bridget, too, having finished what she was doing, presently took herself off to the dairy, and the pastry-making went on without more interruption for some time. The large, spotlessly clean kitchen was very hot, though all the windows were thrown open, and outside the slumbrous quiet of a great heat lay upon all things. In the big strawberry patch at the side of the house the leaves of the plants, so cool and fresh and green in the early morning, were lying limp and wilted ; while the fruit, deprived of its shelter, was rapidly turning from pale red, and white to deepest crimson. The corrugated iron roof of the woolshed shone and glistened in the glaring sunlight, and down in the home paddock the cows lay clustered under the shadow of a large group of cabbage trees, their jaws hardly moving, too listless even to chew their cud with enjoyment. A musical whistle drifted up from the stable, where the boy who was cleaning it was indulging in five-minute spells of work and ten minute intervals. During the latter periods he sat on an upturned bucket, contemplated his boots, and whistled. The occasional clatter of Bridget's pans and the far-off, faint, sharp bark of a sheep dog were the only other sounds that broke the stillness.

The first batch of pies, rich, brown, and shiny, had been taken from the oven, and the second was being got ready for it, when Bridget suddenly put her head in at the door.

'■ Here's another ov thim, miss," she said in a loud whisper ; " he's comin' up be the woolshed — a great hulkin' chap, wid a red handkerchief round his head."

" Very well," said her young mistress, quietly. She went on rolling out the pastry until she heard a step outside, and then she moved forward to the encounter. She looked very tall and straight and dignified, in spite of the fact that her dark, soft, abundant hair was considerably ruffled, that she was enveloped in a white apron, and carried the rolling-pin in her hand. No one would have guessed that she was inwardly quaking.

As she reached the door the obnoxious swagger came round the end of the dairy. He was a big man, with broad, slightly

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CHAPTKR I.

is preposterous," said Miss Maxwell, dumping the rolling pin on to the pantry in front of h<T with more force than was at all good, for the pastry. Hilda Maxwell was tall and slender and very nrettv : she

stooping shoulders, and was probably somewhere about 35 years of age. His clothes were weather-stained, and appeared either to have shrunk considerably or to have been originally intended for a much smaller man. and in lieu of a hat he wore an old red and white striped handkerchief formed into a kind of cap. It had evidently been soaked in water for the purpose of keeping the head of the wearer cool, and had the effect of giving to the dark olive-tinted face beneath it a peculiarly foreign and banditlike appearance. A week's growth of hair on his chin added to his generally disreputable look.

As it. was not possiole to raise a hat which he did not possess, he made a kind of salute with his hand as he stepped forward. . " Can you " He was beginning the customary formula when Miss axwell cut him short. "No," she said, quietly, but with firmness ; " I cannot — and what is more, I will not. You are the eighteenth man who has come here to ask for food this week ; and, on principle, Ido not intend to give any more. Do you not think that you might go to work, instead of wandering about the country living on other people? You are big and strong, and you are a man. If I were a man, I should sooner break stones on the road than let myself sink into such a degrading position."

The last sentence was delivered slowly, and with cutting emphasis, for that whistle down at the stable was certainly reassuring. The swagger was gazing at her with an abject and growing astonishment depicted on his face. It was evident that he was not by any means accustomed to receive such very plain and outspoken advice ; and it was equally evident that he hardly knew what to make of it.

"I — I never thought of it in that way." he stammered at last.

"Then I should advise you to think of it now," said Hilda. She moved backwards with the evident intention of cutting short the interview, but as she spoke a rich aroma had been wafted through the open door behind her right into, the nostrils of the swagger with tantalising fragrance. "I — I am very hungry," he said, with surprising meekness. Hilda half relented, but she had caught a glimpse of two rows of even teeth — strong, white teeth, which somehow left an impression on the beholder of perfect health and strength. She hardened her heart, and principle gained the day. " Then, my good man," she said, "if you would eat, you must work ; it is one of the first laws of nature. We do not want anyone here just now, but if you go two miles down the road, you will come to Broadlands, Mr Oakbum's station. He is in want of hands, and I have no doubt will give you work." She turned and was in the doorway, when the swagger made a step forward. " Have you," he said, hesitatingly, " such a thing as a hat? " MiBS Maxwell flashed round at him for one second. " No, I have not," she said with decision, and went in, shutting the door after her.

The swagger contemplated the outside of it for a few moments, and his monitress on the inside more than half expected to hear a resounding thump and a peremptory demand for food ; but nothing of the kind occurred, and the swagger slowly sauntered back the way he had come in an apparently dejected frame of mind. He had got some distance beyond the woolshed when he heard a voice behind him calling, " Hi ! Coo-ec ! Stop there ! "

It was Bridget, with her apron over her head, and panting. " Here," she said, " she's sint yez this for fear yez might be afther gittin' sunstruck ; an' I brought this mesilf. Don't I know the tindher heart ov her? When she's cooled down a bit it's just worriting hersilf into -fiddle-strings she'll be, to think she sint yez away wid an empty stomach." As she spoke she thrust into his left hand an old battered, grey felt hat. and into his right hand a hunch of bread and a smoking-hot meat pie. She had gone before he could collect his scattered wits, and he walked on till he came to a comparatively cool spot on the shady side of a great flaxbush. There he sat down, and removing the handkerchief, put on the hat, which was two sizes too large for him. Then he ate the bread and the pie with immense relish, and laughed.

CHAPTER II

Four days later Miss Maxwell, looking very distinguished, very fresh and charming, and altogether fair to look upon in her light summer draperies, was seated beside her father in a high dogcart, driving towards Broadlands Station.

They were going to a large garden party given by their friends and neighbours, Mr and Mrs Oakburn.

Mr Maxwell had laughed, though he looked doubtful, too, over his daughter's spirited account of her interview with the swagger.

"Yes, yes, dear, I admit it," he said, in answer to her expostulations ; " the principle is an altogether bad one, and these fellows have become a real burden to the runholders ; but some of them — I don't say all, by any means — but a good many, are so vindictive that they would think very little of dropping a lighted match among the stacks or setting the woolshed in a blaze." Then the subject had been dropped, and by the day of the garden party it had faded into the dim background of Hilda's mind. She intended, if opportunity offered, to make some inquiries of Mr Oakburn as to whether her admonitions had resulted in the swagger obtaining work from him ; but by the time she reached Broadlands she had utterly forgotten the episode.

The large and irregular grounds were full of movement and life and colour. The land sloped by almost inperceptible degrees away from the long, low, red house till it ended in the tennis and bowling courts at the foot of the long incline. Patches of native bush had been left here and there, and narrow paths wound in and out among clumps of fern and cabbage trees,

The winding paths, the masses of flowers, the greenery, and the many-coloured dresses gave to the scene the appearance of a living kaleidoscope. Hilda was carried away to play tennis ; and it was not for some time that she had an opportunity for any conversation with her friend and hostess.

Then she found herself standing beside her at one of the small tea-tables.

" Are you tired, Madge? " she said ; "it all looks really lovely." " Yes, does it not," said young Mrs Oakburn, modestly. She was gazing about her with the satisfied, if rather exhausted, air of a hostess who feels things are going well, when Hilda clutched her arm suddenly.

" Madge," she said, sharply, " who is that gentleman over there — the well-dressed man talking to Judge .fentold? " That," said Mrs Oakburn, with perhaps pardonable pride in having secured such a lion for her party, "is Lord Northcote, a very rich as well as a very distinguished and clever man. '

Hilda gasped, and felt she was rapidly turning first hot and then cold. '"Lord Northcote," she said. "How do you know? Are you certain? ' Mrs Oakburn turned and looked at her rather wonderingly. " My dear girl," she said, " what can you mean? Of course, lam certain. He was a

guest at Government House when wo went to a dinner party there six months ago. He is travelling. Ah ! here he comes. I must introduce him to you."

Hilda looked wildly round for a way of escape, but it was too late, and her friend'B voice was falling on her ear. " Lord Northcote," she was saving, " let me introduce you to my great friend, Miss Maxwell. Lorth Northcote — Miss Maxwell. Now, I must really run away and look after my other guests." And with a little nod and smile she left them.

Hilda had bowed in a mechanical manner, and then, for once, her self-possession entirely and completely deserted her. She felt the colour rise from throat to cheek, and from cheek to forehead, as she gazed at the man before her. There was no mistaking that olive-tinted face and those strong, white teeth. Either Lord Northcote was the swagger or the swagger was Lord Northcote's twin brother.

"I think," said Lord Northcote, with a suspicious gravity, " that we have met before, Miss Maxwell."

With an heroic effort, Hilda gathered up her scattered faculties. " i am really curious," she said, with a coolness thafc was rather belied by the colour of her face. " to know who you are — Lord iNorthcote or the swagger? "

The pseudo-swagger stroked his chin. "It appears to me," he said, "that I am both."

" Then," said Hilda, with sudden dignity. " it appears to me that you behaved in a most extraordinary manner, Lord Northcote. Why could you not have explained ? "

" Well," said he, slowly, " I thought — that is, I was certainly under the impression — that you hardly gave me time or opportunity." Hilda, catching the gleam of his white teeth and the quizzical look in his dark eyes, wavered, capitulated, and suddenly laughed.

" It was your own fault," she said ; " but, oh! what did I say to you? "

" If you would let me explain now," said Lord Northcote, with some eagerness ; "there is a seat here. Shall we sit down? Yes, I do assure you that when I caught sight of myself in a glass, I got quite a fright. I had no idea I was such a ruffianlylooking fellow. The fact is I had been for a little walking tour on my own account, and stupidly managed to lose myself in the mountains, and my hat in trying to wade across Seeded creek. After that I fell in with an old shepherd, who, not having any other kind of headgear to offer, supplied me with the red handkerchief ; and — ci*— not having had a too liberal supply of food for some days, I can assure you, Miss Maxwell, I was really exceedingly hungry." Hilda turned ' over a pebble with her parasol. " Did you enjoy the pie? ■ she asked, demurely. "It was the most delicious thing I ever tasted in mv life," he said, earnestly. "When I go Home again I intend to write

a. book on New Zealand — my walking tour was undertaken chiefly for the object of gaining information — and I promise to devote a whole chapter to swaggers, drawn from life and personal experience."

" Well." said Hilda, with the calmness of an unshaken conviction, " the principle remains the same. Among a thousand swaggers, there might be one Lord Northcote. It was only dreadfully unfortunate that you should be that thousandth man."

Lord Northcote glanced down for one instant at his companion's profile, at the beautifully-rounded chin, and the small pink ear against the dark hair. "Do you think so?" he said, thoughtfully.

Hilda looked up quickly. His face worp an expression of the most profound and unconscious innocence ; but for some inexplicable reason, she felt the colour rising again in her own.

She- stood up. " Shall we move on?" she said, with dignity. " I think I see my father looking for me."

When Lord Northcote wants to tease his wife, he puts on an old, battered, grey felt hat that comes down to the tops of his ears. The hat once belonged to his wife's father, and on occasions when he wears it he always fissures her that she has never looked quite so enchanting as she did on a certain day, when she wore a big white apron and flourished a rolling-pin.