KITTY O'SHANE.

Otago Witness, Issue 2929, 4 May 1910, Page 90

KITTY O'SHANE.

By Kaleidoscope. "Sure, then, dad, h they will fight, they must fight. I can't help it." "Maybe not, but you can heip .speaking to them and poking them up til' they grow jealous enough for murder anigh. Can't you let the men alone?" "Oh! Oh! O-o-o-h! Such a thing! Can't I let then? alone. I let—when I'd give anything to have them let me alone! Daddy, I'm ashamed of you, so there !" "It's no use, Kitty." said her father, smiling in spite of "limseh" at the arch mischief of the face confronting him. "You can't deceive me like that. You. know well enough that if you didn't 'apeak to them, not a sou l of them would «peak to you." "Sure, then, and what would you have me do, sir?" asked Kitty, drawing herself up and saluting. "None of your impudence, miss," replied her father, laughing outright at the pretty saucebox. "I want you to let the lads alone altogether, or choose a good one and stick to him." "That's a nice thing to eay to a girl !" replied Kitty indignantly. "Telling her to stick to a nan thing, just like a burr or a blister. A good one. too! Why, .there isn't a one in the regiment!" "Then just keep them at a distance." "They won't be kept so." "They'll have to be, or you'll have to be sent out of barracks." "What for?" "For causing fights. We can't have the sergeants' mess kept in an uproar Over you." "Oh," said Kitty, with well-assumed regret, "what a pity you haven't an uo-iy daughter, dad, instead of a-pretty one.' r "It might be better," he said'j opening his eyes at-the cool conceit of that lastspeech. "No, it wouldn't," she 'replied promptly. "How?" he a.sked good-humouredly. She raised herself on tiptoe to place her on his broad shoulders, and looked vv in his face. t'Now, just look at me, she said

saucily, "and tell me whether you would like me altered, even the least little bit? Would you like me to be, not your Kitty, but somebody else?" "God forbid!" he said, starting, and drawing her to him. Kitty clapped her hands in glee. "1 knew you'd say that," she said. "A.Kd now I want to know what you are Spying to alter me for, when you don't want me altered?" Her father found the answer to that question just a little beyond him, and, man fashion, covered his retreat with a kiss and sudden reversion to the claims of his stomach. "Get the tea set, Kitty," he said. "I'm hungry, and your mother will be in presently." He" sat down by the fire and opened a newspaper, while Kitty, her face dimpling with smiles of triumph, moved actively about the room preparing the wished-for meal. The sergeant's disclaimer anent alteration would have been fervently endorsed by the whole regiment, or, for that matter, by any man with red blood in his veins who ever saw Kitty O'Shane. Of middle height and graceful as a fawn, she had one of the archest, sweetest faces that ever came out of Ireland; and her great grej eyes had wrought more mischief among the ——st in one year than all the girls in Aldershot had been able to do in three. ' Her father, who was a staff-sergeant quartered in the Castle, had found the task of keeping his daughter's admirers in order a comparatively light one till the st Highland Light Infantry came to Edinburgh. Then, whether owing to the bolder nature of the wooers or the sudden advance of Kitty from child to woman—a change that seemed to have occurred all at once—his troubles began, and, so far as he could 'see, would not soon cease. For Kitty, though eighteen, might just as well have been eight, so far as the sobering effect of advancing years upon her was concerned. At once child and woman, she was the oddest mixture of shyness and courage that ever wore a petticoat, and, needless to say, her numerous admirers found the task of wooing her anything but an easy one. And, hard as it was, they certainly did not mend matters by instituting a series of chronicfeuds *and furious rows among themselves, in the course of which robust language not infrequently led up to able-bodied action, with -esults often striking, but never by any mance satisfactory. Kitty's parents tried to keep peace among the belligerents, but with only partial success, and nore than once thought and said that the st were an unmitigated nuisance. What Kitty thought was not known, but from what she said her idea appeared to be that when they had nearly annihilated each other all round it would be easier for her to choose from among the survivors "Or in a theatre," he repeated; "but I had hoped to escape recognition, Miss o'Shane." Kitty's face flamed scarlet at his words. She had indirectly admitted remembrance of him, and, judging from the look on his face, he appeared to attach transcendent value to the confession. She felt as if she could have boxed his ears, so greatwas her vexation. Then she froze into ice. "You come for a- book?" she said coldly. "Who wants it?" "The adjutant." . "Well, you will probably find it there," and she pointed to a table, the surface of which was littered with army books of all sizes. He glanced at her a little anxiously, then crossed the room and secured the required volume. Returning with it to the door, he stopped, and his voice trembled a little as he said : "I have not offended you, Miss O'Shane, I trust?" She did not look up. Her face had grown very pale now, and she was trembling violently. : "I am very sorry," he went on, in a low, pleading tone ; "more sorry than I could say, but I could not help it. Won't you forgive me?" She looked up at him with a faint smile and- a little nod.. But he saw that her lips were trembling, and that she was too agitated to speak. "Thank you," he said gratefully. "Thank you, again and again." Then he went away. Kitty went in and, shutting the door, sat down and began to cry; but. what she was crying for she could have told neither herself nor anyone else. After all, she was little more than a child, and older folks than, she was are acting as foolishly every day. Following that eventful afternoon, life opened some new experience for Kitty. The weight of her secret . and the knowledge that there was no one with whom she could share it sobered her a good deal, and wrought quite a noticeable change in the erstwhile saucy madcap. She grew quieter, more womanly, and no longer seemer to find an impish delight in stirring up the combative instincts of the sergeants' mess. Probably the said sergeants would have preferred a continuation of the old order of things, but as it happened they were not consulted about it, and Kitty, much to her father's satisfaction, gavt them all the cold shoulder. The change in their . divinity was not productive of humility in and about the mess. Tommy Atkins, and more especially the non-com. type of him, has at all times a fairly high opinion of himself—a peculiarity for which his training is to a large extent responsible. He is taught to believe that he is individually as ccood as any two m-en living, and naturally thinks that if he is not as good as one woman, he is at least very near being so. Consequently, ' when Kitty began to show that she thought the ——si's sergeants and corporals collectively not good enough for her. their wrath was something to see and hear. The.fi they set to work to discover the cause of her sudden change of front. That it 'ay in the direction of a lover all were

sure, but who that lover was and where he was to be found was a mystery, and seemed likely to remain so, in spite of the fervent prayers uttered for "just one square punch" at him. Day after day passed without bringing to the rejected the knowledge for which they thirsted, and it really seemed as though the regiment would leave the Castle without the discovery of the secret. To this state of matters the conduct of Sydney himself contributed in no slight measure. He was caution personified in all pertaining to Kitty, and although in all the thousand ways attainable by a deep and absorbing passion he contrived to show her how constantly she occupied his thoughts, he yet succeeded in averting all suspicion. He never approached her except on the very rare occasions when duty took him to her father's quarters. But given a man and a . woman —well, interested in each other; given those, and so far as love is concerned, the tongue can go to sleep: The eye can do without it. It was so in this case, and slowly but sureiy the defences of little Kitty's heart were being broken down, until at last she bade fair to find herself in as bad a case as Sydney. Just at this stage of affairs it occurred to Lance-corporal Dickson to go on the spree. He had not had one for a month, and was beginning to find the weight of his accumulated sobriety too much for him. There would have been nothing particularly remarkable about his resolve had For one thing she was profoundly thankful, and it was that she had only the sergeants and orporals to deal with. Had she had some score or love-sick privates to combat in addition, she would probably have been driven out of the Castle. Strict regimental orders prevented that annoyance, hdwever, and so she contrived to get a fair amount of enjoyment out of her existence. To return. The pretty housekeeper was still in the midst of her preparations when there cam© a sharp knock on the outer door. o'Shane laid down his paper, while Kitty proceeded to answer the summons. 'Somewhat to her surprise, she found herself confronted by a very tall and very handsome private —an orderly, for he wore side-arms.

"Is Sergeant O'Shane within?" asked the newcomer quietly. Then an odd thing happened. Whether it was owing to the gentlemanly bearing of the speaker or to his very unusual refinement of speech, or to the admiring lights of bis dark eyes—whether to one or all of these cannot be known—but saucy Kitty crimsoned to the roo|s of her hair. What was still more odd was that on the fr.ee of the soldier there was a distinct reflection of the young girl's high colour, although in his case it faded much more quickly. "Yes, he's in," she replied confusedly. "Father, here's an orderly." "Come in, my lad," said O'Shane ; and forthwith the other advanced to where the sergeant sat. "From the colonel," he said, presenting a paper. "It explains itself." O'Shane regarded the speaker with a keenly curious look. "You're not the regular orderly?" he" said interrogatively. "No; only temporarily. He is in hospital." "Are you a recurit?" "Very little more," replied the orderly, with a smile. "I came from the depot last week." "What company?" "A." i "Name?" j "■Sydney Carson." j "You're not an ordinary recruit?" continued O'Shane, still watching the other. "Where do you : ? But there, I'm growing too inquisitive." Sydney smiled slightly, but did lot contradict the speaker. "Just one more question," went on the sergeant. "What is it?" "Haven't I seen you before somewhere — before you enlisted, I mean?" The same idea seemed to have been haunting Kitty, for she looked up with something very like eagerness. If Sydney noticed the action he made no sign. Not a muscle of his face moved to indicate consciousness as he answered: "That is quite possible-—if you have ever oeen in Glasgow." "I have. Are you a native of Glasr gow?" "No; only resident there for some years." O'Shane looked puzzled, but asked no further questions. Then, having read over and signed the paper, he returned it to the orderly. '•'Good afternoon, Carson." j "Good afternoon, sergeant," and he ) turned towards the door. j Kitty, who by this time was all her I mischievous self again, opened it for him demurely enough. He thanked her, bending his head with a stately courtesy that ; recalled a touch of her former confusion, and as he passed, out she caught his eyes resting upon her in a look of unmistakable admiration and equally unmistakable recognition. "That's a surprising young fellow for a private, Kitty," said O'Shane, ais she ieturned to the table. "There are not • many like him in the ranks, 7'II be sworn." Kitty's face expressed agreement, but she did not answer in words. . . i "The queer thing is," went on the ser- • geant, in a puzzled tone, "that I am certain I should know him, that I have met him—where on earth, I wonder?" j His wonder would have received con- j siderable accession of strength had he seen i the orderly's face and heard', his muttered words as he went down the passage. . . "Seen me before! I shoulc? think JiO - has, and so has she. It was a risk, but with care I'm safe enough now." Tired of waiting for his wife's appearance, the sergeant took his place at the table and despatched his meal alone, thereafter going out and leaving Kitty to await her mother's return. As soon aa he had t

gone the girl seated herself in his chair and stared into the dancing flames, with her white forehead puckered up in a thoughtful frown. Kitty was thinking her hardest, and the subject of her thought was the same problem that had already exercised her father's mind. Where had she, or they, met this very remarkable private, Sydney Carson? She knew his face, she knew his eyes ;\ she had met him before. But where?—where?—where in the . Oh, it was most provoking!" Suddenly, like lightning in the night, recollection flashed upon her, causing her to spring to her feet, her hands clasped, her face reddening like a rose. "Oh!" she said, with an excited gasp, "I remember now ! It is he—it is the same man. And to think that he should have enlisted and oome here! Was there ever such impudence! And what will father sav if—if he finds out? And what shall I do about it?—the cheeky, impudent, awful wretch!" With which series of unanswered questions little Kitty sat down again in a state between laughing and/ crying, her face in a flame -und her eyes shining like stars. Briefly, the sum of her recollection was this: A year before she and her father had been in Glasgow visiting a friend, and while in the Grand Theatre one night had—or rather she had—attracted the attention of a gentlemanly young fellow in the stalls. Kitty had noticed his evident admiration at the time, but was certainly not prepared for the earnestness with which he sought an introduction. He must have been a born detective, she thought, for go where they would he was sure to put in an appearance sooner or later. It is probable that the persevering lover would have effected his purpose had he not attracted the' notice of a lynx-eyed aunt of Kitty's, who promptly confided her suspicions to O'Shane. The latter war by no means a morose man, but he held two opinions very strongly indeed. The first was that his daughter should marry a soldier; the second, that oentlemanly young men were, as a class, highly objectionable. The result was the sudden departure of himself and daughter from Glasgow, and, as he had worn nothing in the shape of uniform during' his visit, consequent researches only deepened the ignorance of Kitty's admirer as to whom they were and where they had gone. Kitty had thought of the unknown for a week or two afterwards, and then gradually come to forget him. And now—now —to think that he had not onlv not forgotten her, but had actually enlisted as a private in order to . She jumped up with the tears gathering in her eyes, and then, with one of those queer changes only possible to a woman's mind, determined that, just for making her cry, she would make his life a burden to him by way of a beginning. "Yes," shr said aloud, "I'll . Gracious!'-' The exclamation was drawn from her by a repetition of the former knock that had heralded the orderly's appearance. Had he come back? and, if he had, what did he want? she thought, with a. thrill of a.bsolute terror. The necessity of opening the door restored her courage, and she was outwardly self-possession's image as she swung it back, confronting, as sb/ had expected, the orderly. "Well," she said inquiringly, "what is it?" "I have been sent for the Equipment Ledger," he replied. "Would you know it if you 6aw it?" ' { l think so, Miss O'Shane." "How do yor know me tc be Miss O'Shane?" asked Kitty, with a spice of mischief. She saw that he was not nearly so ocoi as he looked, and the knowledge of his agitation calmed hers. He smiled as, he answered her question. "A lengthened stay in the Castle is noi necessary for the acquisition of tl ;«,{• knowledge," he said. » "Or in a theatre?" continued Kitty firing her shot without the slightest wain ing.He started and coloured! slightly, but his eyes met hers unflinchingly, his thirst been of the ordinary sobersinful order—viz., mirth at night and meditation in the morning; but, as it chanced, it was not so. Dickson did his drinking, as he did everything else, duty included, with a thoroughness peculiar to himself, and seldom relinquished the bottle until even his cast-iron interior refused to put up with it any longer. When that point was readied he was wont to display an amount of irritation and clownright aggressiveness that was entirely foreign to his normal condition, and that not infrequently got him into scrapes. In the foregoing lies the explanation of ■Sergeant O'Shane's gravity as he entered his quarters one evening shortly after retreat. "What's the matter, Tom," asked his wife, who, with Kitty, had noticed his clouded face. "Matter enough," he replied angrily, "when a drunken brute like Corporal Dickson of C Company gets ;hr ashed in a barrack-room for making free with Kitty's name." "What! My name!" cried Kitty, with a gasp, while her mother's face flushed angrily. "Yes, yours," was the reply.. "It seems the idiot had bean rambling about the rooms,' quarrelling with everybody—tunic off, sleeves rolled up, and all the rest of it. What makes it all the worse is that he was perfectly sober, although he might have been off his head a bit." "Well!" asked both listeners in a breath. "Well, he interfered with young Carson, of A Companv. What he said the men don't know, but it was something about you, and Carson knocked him down on the spot. They had a fight, and Dickson was so badly hurt that he hau to h& taken to the hospital. It revved him right, and the only tiling I'm sorry for

is the mess Carson's in. It will he a court-martial for him—and such a fine fellow, too." Kitty had sat perfectly still, her faoe growing as white as a sheet; but now, as her father ended, she Tittered a low cry and fell forward to the floor. She had fainted. . ' This was the first time that Kitty had displayed a weakness so peculiarly feminine, and the sight of it frightened her parents not a little. It was some: tamo before they succeeded in restoring her to consciousness, and when they did her agitation and terror were scarcely lees distressing than her swoon had been. "Oh, what will they do to him, dad—what will they do to him? she cried, feverishly wringing her hands. "Do you mean Carson?" asked her father gently. "Who else could I mean? continued tb,3 girl distractedly. "To think that I should have brought this upon him, and —and I love him so." "Kitty!" . But Kitty was careless now of parental anger or anything else, and very soon, held in her mother's arms and holding in turn her father's hand, she was sobbing out the whole story. When she ended Mrs o'Shane looked at her husband with tears in her eyes. "What should we do, Tom?" she asked. "The lad's a good one." ' "A good one —he's a born soldier, replied this sergeant, rising to his feet to hide the emotion which he really felt; "and he must be got out of this scrape somehow. I'll go down to the guardroom and see him now." o;j "And, oh! dad, you're not angry: pleaded Kitty, lifting her wet face "I should have told you at first, but—but 1 didn't like to speak of it." "No my lass, I'm not angry, he said as he stooped to kiss her. "I think you have both behaved very well. And now, cheer up till I come back from seeing this recruit of yours." _ The sergeant's interview with Sydney was a long one, and in its course the former ascertained some rather surprising facts. He learned that, the young man, was possessed of an independent income ; that he had fallen in love, and that m no half-hearted fashion, with Kitty on seeing her in Glasgow a year previously; that his subsequent action had been due to a determination to win her, if that were possible at all; that his father, his only living relative, knew and approved of the course he had taken. The narrator ended by making an. impassioned appeal to the sergeant, for his, at least, neutrality. "And what, about .Go-moral Dickson? asked O'Shane, not unkindly, as he looked at the speaker's glowing face. "Bother Dickson!" was Use reply. "They can hang me for that, and I don t mind anything else if it enables me to win your daughter." "What was it he said?" asked the sergeant suddenly. "I'd rather not say," he said. "He can tell that himself." . "Another question: Did you know him to be a corporal?" "Not till afterwards- he was less than half-dressed. But your answer ; what is that to be?" he added anxiously. . "Is to wish you all success, my lad," was the warm 'reply; and, following it, the hands of the two man met in the close, nervous grip- of roused feeling. "Well, hope for the best,' and we'll make the best we can ■ of it to-morrow before the colonel," said O'Shane, and with that they parted. It is probable that the interview with the colonel would have been the reverse of satisfactory had not the matter" been brought to the notice of several officers, among whom was the captain of-Sydney's company. They saw the colonel, and! urged so strong a defence, laying stress upon the provocation siren and the prisoner's tagonist, thai when 'h.> vv prit was called Ihe rough-and-ready o'd soldier cut !he knot of fcho difficulty h<; pkidng Dickson beside him. "You," he to Sydney, "v.-.- hove seven days in ImTaekf? tor fighiii!.; without orders: and you." to Dickson, "are" put six down the promotion list for quarrelling with a. private, and other six for going about with your coat off. If either. the one or the other of you comes before me again, I'll make you remember it. March !" They obeyed, only too glad to escape on such terms, and hastened out of the ro'-m to receive the congratulations of theii comrades. An hour later Kitty, sitting alone in tearful suspense, heard the door"open. She looked up—and started to -her feet with a scream. She had cause, for somebody came towards her and caught her in his arms, holding her close—somebody's lips soughthers again and again, while somebody's voice whispered of his love, and asked for hers in return. Well, what eke? . Well, she gave it. And Avhat eke? The sergeants kicked up a row about it, and Sydney bought hie discharge. And what eke? Oh, bother ! "Marriage, of course. What else could, would, or should then be?