SPRING-CLEANING THE STUDY.

Otago Witness, Issue 3098, 30 July 1913, Page 82

SPRING-CLEANING THE STUDY.

By J. M. Legatx,

I stood on the verandah of a boardinghouse in Upper Symonds street, Auckland ; a . letter which I had just received from the post in my hand. The handwriting was most familiar ip me, as that of an old friend, the Rev. Andrew Mac Scott, of one of the churches of that city. I opened the epistle with a smile of anticipation, as I leisurely entered the house; for I liked Mac Scott, and heartily welcomed any reference to or from him.

“Is it putting top great strain upon our old friendship, or is it giving too short notice,” the letter ran, ‘‘ to expect you to join mo in a day’s outing tomorrow? We can visit Takapuna and discuss the problem of its lake, 'or climb Mount Eden to view Auckland at our feet. Should it rain, we can call on our mutual friend Mac Andrew, to discuss the latest in theological thought, or we can shelter at the Professor’s, to learn the latest as to Egyptian papyrus. Only, m case of weather conditions proving unfavourable for an outing, in one place may we have no hospitality, and that is at the home of Mac Scott. Times there are, friend, when a man, happily wedded, wishes he were otherwise! Such times seldom come, and it is well it should be so ; but occasionally I find myself even envying you your bachelorhood. Its freedom and independence appeal to me at rare times. You will understand my plea and plaint when I inform you that such a time is with me now; for spring-cleaning is on at our house So come, dear boy,” the letter continued, ‘‘and, for ‘ Auld lung sync’s ’ sake, to-morrow befriend me ! It is the study’s turn to be springcleaned ; I shall be outcast and homeless, so cOme! In expectation of seeing you,*’ tho epistle concluded, “ I am, your old and at present much-tried friend, Andrew Mac Scott.”

I at once determined to go, and forthwith wired my friend to that effect. On despatch of the wire I found myself devOutly wishing for a good day on the morrow. Mao Scott’s company, I felt, I could bide well, even appreciate, for the lime; but I dreaded even part of a day with Mac Andrew or the Professor. Both gentlemen were learned and able exponents of theology and Biblical criticism, but given to be a little dogmatic. When controverted in argument they were likewise inclined either to become metaphysical or angry. As, at the time, I felt no inclination to cross swords with such doughty experts, I accordingly longed the more for such weather as should permit of our passing the day in the open.

My wish saw its fulfilment in a fine, cl’oudless morning, giving promise of a beautiful day. By half-past nine o’clock I was at the residence of Mac Scott—and to find him at the gate on the outlook for my coming. Contrary to his usual hospitable custom, there was no cordial invitation for me to go indoors. “ Have you had breakfast?” he shouted a.s I approached.

I assured him of this, whereupon he drew me within the gate and whispered in awe-struck voice: ‘‘Look!” Turning my eyes in the direction he indicated, I espied a figure with head on gulfed in ample wrapper, gowned in garment dear to the heart of all springcleaning womenfolk and of the comprehensive name of ‘“'overall.” It was Mrs Mac Scott. She bore a broom in her hand, which, even as we looked, sin; playfully yet vigorously plied in the air, a.s if literally to sweep us from the place. Standing thus on the verandah of the house, she shouted in commanding, domineering tones: ‘‘Be off!” We bolted through the open gate, fo the accompaniment of her hearty laugh. ‘‘Dinner at six!” she called after us as we made our escape. This meant that we had a good eight hours before us for our outing; and most pleasantly and profitably did we pass the time. Takapnna, with its lake and beach, was our resort. Wo chatted of old times and experiences; of Die idiosyncrasies of our old professors and teachers, who had instructed us in our youth, in the college of grey towers which we had attended as classmates, by the shores of the cold Ninth Sea. After a four years’ course of study together we had separated. MacScott. answered Die call of the Church; I chose the humbler, yet none the less arduous, calling of journalism. After many wars of separation great was our pleasure to find ourselves together again in the same citv. and under the genial skies of NT"- Zealand. “Mac Scott,” I asked, “do yon remember climbing on Die roof of the old tower to pitch snow from the gutters upon Die follows in the ouridrniigle below?” But for re n! v. be coughed, twitched at his parson’s dog-collar, and remarked it was time we were returning home, “Leg-itt.” he remarked rather sadly, as wo stepped ashore at the wharf on onr return, “whv don’t the womenfolk clean more thnroughlv Die whole year round, a pd so escape the necessity of this obnoxious special effort even.- spring?” T thought. l>e«t to .answer bis finest ion 1) V asking anoDnr. “Whv do the churches held anniversary services on some particular dav of the year’” T asked. "Whv not hold them the whole year round?” Bid he only laughed. Soon “we were home, had dined, .and were seated in the studv. Into Dun sanctum Mrs Mac Scott, had bowed ns with not a little wit and plavfnl courtesy. There was a mischievous little smile about the lady’s month, a general air of suppressed

merriment about her whole appearance, as she performed this gracious act, which in a sense prepared us for what was to follow. ‘'iou will find the room neat and sweet and clean, your reverence!” she remarked archly to her husband. “The books—and here she laughed in spite of herself—-"you may find a little more divertingly arranged than they were.” With the words she bowed herself with great mock modesty out of the room. _ Mac Scott gave one hurried glance at his library shelves, groaned, and collapsed into a chair. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Can’t you see,” he responded miserably, “these women have not withheld their hands even from my shelves; they have actually spring-cleaned my books!” He hid His face in his hands, then, looking up, continued, “Lcgatt, this springcleaning mania I’m almost persuaded is a kind of demoniac possession which befalls the best of wives and seizes the most faithful of domestics annually!”

“Well.” I replied, “if your conjecture is true, the demons in possession are not without humour; hear this Mac Scott!” and I stepped nearer the shelves. “Here is' an old and most decorous-looking volume, ‘Tlie Saint’s Rest,’ by Baxter, side by side with ‘Three Men in a Boat,' by Jerome K. Jerome! Then comes ‘Chambers’s Mathematical Tables’ next ‘Some of Shakespeare’s Female Characters ! ’ ”

“Stop!” he cried; and rose with a pained smile on his countenance. “Legatt,” lie said, “thank heaven on such an occasion as this that you are not married! Why, what this ” and he peered incredulously from the chair where lie sat at the shelves. “My best and soundest authority on mysticism side by aide with a handbook on cricket; Tennyson ranged beside Whittaker’s Almanac; my Puloit Commentary next a book on Vegetarianism; Legatt!” and he laughed bitterly, “this is worse than humour —it is humorous vandalism!” “Be thankful for small mercies. MacScott,” I remarked as I rose to take my leave after a smoke; “spring-cleaning comes but once a year!” This seemed to console him ns we said good-bye.