LOST—TWO ADDRESSES.

Otago Witness, Issue 3275, 20 December 1916, Page 70

LOST—TWO ADDRESSES.

By A. H. Buemxer

A STORY OF CHRISTMAS EVE

"By Jove, old man," said Harry Alexander to his old friend Tom Oxley, whom he had just met in Lambton quay, " but I'm glad to see you —really I am. And I'm just dying for a yarn about old times. But I've got to be in Dunedin tomorrow night, and have just half an hour to catch the Maori. I'll tell you what, though. Christmas will be here in a couple cf weeks. Come down and see us." "Us?" queried the other. " Oh, I forgot to tell you," laughed Harry; " but the truth is, I am a staid old married man now, and have been for three months. But don't let that interfere with your visit, Florrie will be delighted to see you. She has often heard me talk of you. Now, just make up your mind and' come. I'll take no refusal." Tom Oxley laughed at his, friend's enthusiasm. "Right you are," he replied. " I'll come."

-So it was settled. They shook hands, and Harry rushed off to' catch his boat. And now, while we are waiting for Christmas, let me tell you something about Alexander and Oxley. In the first place, they were, within two weeks r . the same age as each other. They had been pupils at the same school, and fellow-students at Christ's College. They had been quite inseparable, and each one's affection for the other amounted almost to worship. But when their educations were finished, their occupations called them to different places. Harry went to Dunedin, while Tom, having been offered a good position in Sydney, left for that city, where he stayed for four years, after which time he was offered, and accepted, a promotion to Wellington. It was six yea-rs since they had seen each other ; but now that they had met again, they assured themselves that, come what may, they would have a good old time at Christmas. As Harry had said, Florrie was delighted when she heard that Tom Oxley was coming to visit them. She had often heard her husband talk of him, and had decided that he must indeed be a fine fellow, and had longed to meet him. The prospect of having another visitor, too, contributed not a little to her delight. Dolly Laidlaw, her greatest girl friend, who had just returned from a couple of years in A ustralia, was also coming to spend Christmas with them. Florrie was to have her best friend and companion of her school days with her, and Harry was to have his. What a jolly Christmas it would be!

Now, it must be admitted that Mrs Alexander was a bit of a match-maker, and no sooner had she heard of Tom Oxley's proposed visit than she began to contract her dainty brows, and puzzle her head as to how she might make a match of it between her visitors. Dolly, she knew, was quite the dearest girl in the whole world ; and if even half of what Harry said in Tom's favour were true, 'why, what a glorious couple they would make. She became quite enthusiastic over the matter, and even went so far as to confide her hopes and plans to her husband. "Humph!" grunted that sage from behind a Jack London and a cloud of smoke. " Upon my soul, you old married women are all the same. Whenever you hear of a single fellow and a single girl, you must get plan-planning how to get them married, and ruin their happiness forever." He ducked his head just in time to dodge a ball of wool, and, darting from the room, threw a kiss to his charming pursuer just as he closed the door. " Old married women, indeed," laughed Florrie; " but just you wait till I get you, you pcor old married man. And why shouldn't they make a match of it?" She continued the argument through the door. "Just so, my dear Florrie," came banteringly from the other side—" why shouldn't they? I'm sure I don't know. Unless Tom shoiild see how hen-pecked I am, and profit by my experience." " Hen-pecked? You' old tyrant. But just wait ..and see, Mr Unbeliever. Now open the door and let me out. You're very frightened, aren't you?" So things went on till Christmas —Harry teasing Florrie about her match-making propensities, and the latter, with a knowing twinkle in her eyes, requesting her husband to wait and see.

It was with a feeling of unutterable relief that Tom Oxley, bound for a fortnight's holiday in Dunedin, stood on the deck of the Wahine, and watched the lights of Wellington fade out in the distance.

" I've been working too hard lately," he told himself, " and want a holiday. Guess I'm in for a real good time, too. If Florrie, as Harry calls her, is half as good a sort as he is. things will be just all right." He leaned over the bulwarks, and listened to the swish of the water along side. And his thoughts drifted back to a girl he had loved years' ago in Sydney. Yes, he decided, he loved her still—loved her as much as he had ever done. But where she was now he did not know. Shortly after he had come to Wellington he had had a letter from her. He read it over and put it in his pocket. When lie got to his lodgings that night he felt for it again. Feverishly he hurried through every pocket—through pockets even in which he knew it could not be. But all in vain : the letter was gone. He searched everywhere, but without success. It was not to be found; and gone with it was his sweetheart's address. A trivial enough thing, perhaps, the losing of a letter; but in Tom's case it spelt separation from the only girl he had ever really cared about. Like every other young fellow, he had imagined himself in love often enough before ; but when this latest star had appeared on his horizon every former affaire du ccenr paled by comparison into merely a formal friendship. And now he had lost her address. An exclamation of annoyance and concern broke from him, and

each pocket received a second searching, as thorough as the first. No use; the letter had disappeared. And it's disappearance caused Tom the loss of more than one night's sleep, and time did little towards lessening his disappointment and regret. And the girl? For months she waited eagerly, yet patiently, for the reply that never came. Wondered what had come over her lover, and made all sorts of excuses for his clilatoriness. She could not believe that he had grown tired of her. No, Tom was not that kind of fellow, she knew. She blushed at the very idea, and reproached herself for allowing such a thought to arise in her mind. By that fineness of discernment peculiar to her sex she knew that he would never give her up willingly—knew that for ever his heart was hers. He would never turn to another woman for the substitute of the love she had given him. Of all this she was quite convinced. But what had happened? She asked the question a thousand times a day, but any satisfactory answer to the enigma was never forthcoming. She must wait. By a strange coincidence she, too, had lost her lover's address. She had had but one letter from Tom since he* had gone to Wellington, and it had been burned by mistake. Even the name of the street she could not remember. Not that she had not read the letter often enough, poor girl, but .because while she had it the address was the only part of its contents that did not interest her, and probably the only time she had looked at it was when addressing to Tom the letter he had lost.

For over an hour Tom remained on deck, gazing into the surging waters, the face of his lost sweetheart dancing before him, and a great longing gnawing his heart. He was" brought "back "to his surroundings by a steward with visions of a tip in sight, asking if he intended staying on deck all night, and in the same breath asking permission to bring him up a couple of rugs. Declining the offer, he made his way to his cabin, and turned in. The pulsating rhythm of the propeller soon lulled him to sleep, and when jje awoke next morning the Wahine was in Lyttelton. An hour later he was aboard the south express bound for Dunedin. A day or two before Christmas Dolly Laidlaw'arrived at the Alexanders. Florrie was delighted to see her, and till lojjg after midnight kept up a continual bombardment of questions, for Florrie, dear soul, liked to know all that had happened, was happening, or was likely to happen. Repeated thumps on the wall, accompanied by ominous grumblings, coming from an angry husband (so Florrie said) were unheeded. They laughed over frolics of the past, and planned fresh adventures for the future. Old, nearly forgotten stories of their school days came back to their minds, and rendered almost new by the lapse of years, amused almost as much as when first heard. One thing led to another, and the law of association connecting talcs and incidents of no apparent relation brought up such a fund of matter for discussion and reminiscence that it wa3 nearly dawn when the two girls went to bed.

But the coming of Tom Oxley Florrie kept from her friend, for it was her desire to spring the two upon each other by surprise. How she wondered what Tom was like. She had seen his photograph, and he was good-looking chap enough; but was he nice? (The feminine 'nterpretation of this adjective is a matter of mystery to man.) Harry said he was nice; but then Harry was a man. At all events she would hope for the best._ Certainly in the photograph he looked nice. It was about 4 o'clock when Tom arrived. Mrs Alexander met him at the door. They introduced themselves, and Florrie made excuses for Harry's absence.

" Harry is like most men," she said smiling. "Meaning that he is not too punctual?" queried the visitor. The ladv nodded.

" A failing, my dear Mrs Alexander," laughed Tom, "more generally attributed to the ladies."

"More generally, perhaps," parried Florrie, "but still hone the less unjustly." She led the way to the sitting room, her mind quite busy. Tom would do, she decided. After all Harry had been quite right, and their visitor was, indeed, a charming fellow. She opened the door of the room where Dolly sat at the piano idling over the latest waltz. She rose to her feet as the others entered, and came forward.

" This," began Mrs Alexander, "is Mr "

An exclamation from her friend interrupted her. That young lady, her face crimson, her whole attitude characteristic of the frcatest surprise, stood statue-like, (razing at the gentleman before her. And he in tarn seemed no less surprised. Quite oblivious to the presence of Mrs Alexander, he moved towards the girl. "Dolly," ho cried, "is it really you?" He held' out his arms, and the girl, with a. sob of joy, rushed into them. Their hostess, like the good soul that she was, quietly left the room and closed the door. As she did so Harry entered the hall. "Tom here?" he asked, eagerly, with a lift of his eyebrows. " Ssh." hissed his wife, holding up a warning hand. She took his arm and led him to'the verandah. " Oh,. Harry," she said, "they've met before." And she told him what had happened. " So your matchmaking came to nothing after all. kiddy," he smiled, with mock consolation. " Indeed, you're cpnte wrong," was the reply. "At least I brought them face to face, so how dare you insinuato that I have not \ been—ahem —instrumental in bringing them together." She leaned forward"! and with a kiss stopped the laugh that rose to her husband's lips. "I'm just dying to hear all about it," she concluded. ' And that night, Florrie with Dolly in one room, ari*d Harry and Tom in another, heard the storv of how the losing of two addresses nearly ruined the happiness of two lives.