ONE OF THE TROUPE.

Otago Witness, Issue 2861, 13 January 1909, Page 90

ONE OF THE TROUPE.

iir Pegg* Weblixg. When the Social Busy Bees of Mapieyille organised an entertainment in aid or their funds :t was decided to engage "a troupe" to add to the attractions i-f local talent Local talent in a small Canadian town being of a .depressing quality, the allegca gaiety of the troupe, engaged by correspond ance, awakened curiosity, but a little nervousness, on the part of the Busy Bees. J "I hope thts;? folks ■tf-jll be itally proper, ' said Mrs Gunning, president of the Bee?. "They can't go far wrong with singing and elocution," answered Dr Flail. "Some of these troupes are downright hoodlum bunches, doc.,' " obeeived voune Seth Gunning. "They guarantee no vulgarness whatever," put in the bill-poster, who was present in hi.s professional capacity. "It will do us all good to hear a little musk, Mrs Gunning," eaid Dr Flail. The doctor was grave and middle-aged, with streaks of grey in his ehaggy beard and dark hair. He had long been the only medical man in MaplevUle — a reticent, silent man, who was known to have studied in the Old Country and formerly practised in the United States. No one knew, or cared to know, whether Mapleville was the grave of Matthew Flail's ambition. No one knew whether he Wn3 contented with his lot, for he never talked about himself, and the few hoars of leisure in his busy life were spent in solitude. He had been induced with difficulty to serve on the committee of the Buay Bees. "Are you going to entertain the troupe, or pay their board at the hotel?" asked Dr Flail. "We've made up our minds to entertain them," said Mrs Gunning; "I shall take one of the ladies myself, Mrs Prose will take another, and the Wilkins family can have the men." "I hope the troupe will enjoy their visit," said Dr Flail. "They must get dead tired of roughing it in hotels." "Oh, those kind of people live a vary gay life," observed Mrs Pro»e. "Well, a couple of days at your house will make a change," "said the doctor drily. "This here is their .programme- for us to get printed," said tb >. . bill-poster. The programme of the Dominion Concert Tarty was written on half a sheet of notepaper, an-J Mis Gunning Tead it critically. Suddenly Dr Flail, without a word of toology, took tha paper out of the lady's &Wd, walked to the other side of the •yWin, and examined it eagerly by the of the setting sun streaming through Jfte window. *'I hope there's no vulgarness, 'doc.'?" hinted the bill-poster. *£he doctor gave no explanation of his evidont desire to study the programme, but when Mrs Gunning suggested that the printing should be put in hand as quickly M possible, lie promptly offered his ser'•dees. Matthew Flail did not go to the printer's office. Opening the door of his own honse, he turned into a 6mall back room. A fire glowed cheerily through mica discs in the front of the stove, and his dog Inapt up to meet him. For once Matthfw Flail gave no response to old Jock's greeting. He dropped into a chair, and pulled the programme of the Dominion Concert Party out of hi 6 pocket. Once more he ntu&ed it closely with his dark, wrinkled ?aQ« dose to the lamp. After a few nfiLaites be sighed heavily, and leaned back in hx chair, becoming' conscious of the dock licking his hand. fse had recognised the handwriting on the programme. The memory of other £*ges, covered with self-same, delicate Curves and angles, swept over him. He thought of the first time they had met — ki9 and Constance Daring— of the theatre •(There he had heard her sing, of his utter Jei*k in her love, of her mamiage with another man. Then he thought of his own poverty and despair, of the reckless tiays whioh followed, of weariness and remorse, aad of the old struggles for the told Ideals — 'here, in this dull corner of the *prld. He tojd himself, sitting alone in this qutet little room, that he had long forfpxen her and ceased to care, bnt he knew (n has inmost heart that it was not \)» tniSu

The Dominion Concert Party arrived in Mapleville only a few hours before the entertainment began. Dr Flail, driving through ths town, stopped at the public hall. Through the open door he saw a group of people stardipi'j on the little platform. He lear.ed forward under the hood of hi" mud-splashed buggy ■with a s-trange, wholly um-easonable fear. But his irresolution only lasted for a few irimites ; then he jumped out. tetheied the hoise to a post, and w<>nt into the hall. The Busy Bees were ai ranging flower?. One of the ladies of the troupe, on her knees, was straightening the pieces of tin which served as reflectors to the oil footlights. The doctor, unnoticed, made his way rapidlj between the row£ of chairs, with his eyes on the downcast face of the kneeling woman. He was quite oblivious of liis fuVnds who surrounded her. He felt as if he and she were all alone. Suddenly she raised her head. Dr Flail was quite close to the platform, ar.d they looked steadily into ea-ch other's eyes. For a second she did not recognise l.im. Tliere were deep traoes of care and sotsrow im her face ; the ccc-a vivid colouring of the lipa — was theie ever such a sweet, mobile "mouth? — had faded away, ar.d the full, round curves of chin and throat had vanished with the days of he* youth ; but her lost beauty was all forgotten — or recalled — in tho. unchangeably soft, grey eyes. "Matthew Flail!" she exclaimed, and stretched her hand between the oil lamps with impulsive pleasure. For years he had dreaded this minute. He had expected her to be moved to s=ndd3ii legret — he bad even wondered whether she would speak to him at all — but never, nevea 1 had he expected her to greet him in the old way. His smouldering sense of injury burst into flame and Winded him to iiie suppressed agitation in her voice. "You are surprised to see me, Mrs Cai'lyon?" he asked, hardly knowing what be said. "No !" .=hs answered. "I knew we should jreet again some day, Matthew. May I call you by your name?" "•Oh, if you wish," he replied, conscious of the curious glances of the Busy Bees. "My own is altered, as you will see on our programme," eh* continued. "Since my husband's death I have returned to my original stags name. This is my last r.aght with the Dominion Concert Party," "My ! Are yon folk bustin' up V cried the bill-poster. "Not at all !" said the lady calmly. "I am tired of my engagement, ar.<d I hope to go to Toronto and look for work, unless it is to be found in Mapleville." She did not mention having worked for the Dominion Concert Party for several weeks without any salary. "There are no openings for show people in Maple ville," said Mrs Gunning. "I am sick of shows !"' was the quick retoit. "I want to earn my living in another way — I am going to follow your •example, Matthew, and get away fiom my old life." She spoke lightly, but the words stabbed him. He had been contented an Mapleville, reconciled to his solitude, until that day, but the flames of his old love and Ms old anger burnt more and more fiercely every minute. He turned away from her without a word, and strode out of the hall. Miss Daring — for so the lady of the troupe chose to be called — 'made a great success at the concert. Matthew Flail listened to the well -remembered voice with mingled feelings of rage and pity. He made up his mind that if she stayed in Mapleville they must be strangers to each other. She still had the power to move him too deeply to call her friend. • • • • y Mi&s Daring remained in the town of MapleviJle. Mns Gunning consented to try her for a few weeks as " help, boarding with the family."' Miss Daring, in spite of the gloomy prophecies of the Busy Bees, quickly won the affections of the whole Gunning household. Little Bud, the youngest child, was her favourite, and he loved her with all the adorable, exacting devotion of three years. Slowly the autumn, waned, until nine months had paseed since the performance of the Dominion, Concert Party. Dr Flail and Miss Daring rarely met. He was always at work, and she made no effort to tee him. It was in October, when Indian summer had been succeeded by heavy storms, that a wave of trouble and anxiety darkened the Gunnings' home. IllneF* gcized upon little Bud, ar.d for several days his life hung in the balance. His mother and the lady of the troupe watched over him by •..urns, day and night. "I shall never forget your goodness, Constance!" whispered the" tired mother, one evening, as she gave up her chair to her friend. Miss Daring, evon while she returned her hies, only thought of the frail little child. "He looke so wan and strange!" she said, half to herself; then she added, in a determined voice, " I am. going for Matthew Flail." " Oh, Consul nee ! Is he worse?" exclaimed the other wciran, bending over the bed. "Hush, dear! I don't think so — I don"t know " The firm voice and touch quieted Mi « Gunning:, and then, with a word of comfort, Constance Daring huriied away. Mr Gunning was not at home, and young -Seth, following her in surprise out of the house, found her helping the hiied boy to saddle a horse. "I'll sUp round to the 'doc."s'!"' Stth exclaimed, troubled by -her anxious face. " You would not find him at home, Ssth," flic answered. "He told us this - morning that he was going out to Thompson's Settlement." The sun had set, but the feky wne still aflame with angry red clouds. It had net, rained for the la"st twelve hours, but the mud was heavy on the wide, black road Con&tance Daring did not press the pace, but curbed be-r impatience., and allowed tie

; good old horse to go as he pleased at the S beginning cf her lon-g ride. Her mind was filled with little Bud. She realised the loneliness of her life in the strength of her clinging to the child of strangers. The colour slowly faded out of the red ; clouds. A chilly wind nicked the dead ! loaves off the branches, and she felt a few , drops of rain on her face. The last J straggling lights of the town dropped J bel-md. The countiy lying before her i w.'B a desert of gre.vt, uneven fields, interspersed by irK'ple woods, and now and again a low-roofed Lomeetead. ) Mi»s Dai ing touched up her horse as 1 the raindrops splashed, instead of tiickling, ' against her cold cr-aeks. It was cold and j dreary. fc'he frequently shifted the reins I from one hand io the other, to beat a ! little warmth into her numbed fingers. There were no lights in the first house .=he passed at Thompson's Settlement, but in the distance, a, black shape at the edge of the road, she saw the hood of Dr Flail's buggy. She reined in her horse and I clipped out of the saddle. The door of the house stood open, with a genial light of stove and lamp streaming out on to the verandah. As Matthsw Flail made his way down the wooden steps-, exchanging a cordial good-night with the little family group . behind, he stopped for a eecond in utter amazement. It looked as if Constance Daring had literally sprung out of the earth. The glowing light from the door touched her face witli colour and outlined her figure against the shadows of the road. He instinctively stretched out his hand, as if he would draw her into shelter. " Can you return to Mapleville at once?" she asked breathlessly. "The little boy at Gunnings' " "I am sure you are alarmed without reason," he interrupted. "He was doing very well when I caw him, this morning." She fallowed him into th© road. Without another word he fastened her horse to the back of the buggy, and stood on one side for Constance to take her place in the seat beside himself. The wind was behind them a.? they stalled from tile town. A feeling of warmth and physical ease crept over Miss Paring. She closed her eyes. Comfort deepened into pleasure — pleasure into happiness. Hs suddenly turned and, looked at her. " Why did you come for me to-night?" " Because I was scared about the child." , "Was that the reason?" " Yes— no!" His questions had been quickly and imperatively spoken, and she answered as quickly, returning his searching gaze. " Tell me the other reason !" he said. " I wanted to be alone with you, Matthsw. I wanted to ask you not to be angry with me — it is unreasonable — unjust ; let the dead past bury its dead !" she answered hotly.' A long silence. The moon grew bright, and there was no sound but the wind whistling through the trees and- the dull thud-thud of the horses' hoofs. " I am not angry with you, Constance," said Dr Flail at last. " But it is true that I purposely avoided you. You muet have seen that. lam still enough, of a fool, Constance, to be agitated at the sight and sound of you." " You haven't loet your characteristic way of paying compliments, Mat!" she said with a slight smile. " Until yon came I was contented," he went on. "1 was happy — no, not happy, but at peace. You always reminded me of the old saying, Constance — that there's no living with you, or without you!" The smile on her face was mirrored in lis own. She lightly touched his arm. "Of two evils — choc&e the least!" she said. He shifted the reins, and laid his hand over hers for a minute. Once more she had surprised him, as at their meeting on the day of the concert, by her unexpected i simplicity and fearless candour. I The twinkling lights of Mapleville grew 1 out of the hazy distance. The mystery I of night surrounded them, and grey mist ; hung over the drenched earth. j "I am no longer a young man, Con- ■ stance," said Matthew Flail. " I am no longer a girl," she" answered quietly. " I shall want to stop here," he con- | tinued. It h> a dull, laborious life, but i its simple pleasures and endless work have | long since filled my days to overflowing. ; I cannot open the torn pages of the bc-ok of youth — even for you." Sl'-e laid her face woarily against his aim. He looked down at h^r with a halti pitying, lLilf-irhim&n al emile. i "So you find you can put up with me, Coiifctauf c—aftere — after aU?" ' I She made r.o answer, ard lie folded the rrg more clu. c ?ly lound her. I I "It is cold, dear heart,'' he said, "but ' we shall soon be home." i Sk-e suddenly stooped forward and kissed his hand m the old leather gauntlet. i "I love you, Mat— after all!" she said. !" Do you know how much I love you?" . | ..... Matthew Flail is still the most popular 1 doctor in Mapleville, although thrt little 1 town ha-s grown into a big, pioeperouo | It if- only the old inhabitants— such a.? I Mrs Gunning and her sons, Seth and Bud — who know fot" a fact that his wife, so ' loving nn-1 beloved, actually belonged to 1 .-, troupe — M. A. P.