SHORT STORIES.

Otago Witness, Issue 3333, 30 January 1918, Page 58

SHORT STORIES.

LSSBETH'S DAHLIAS By Margaret MunniT. The;; stole through the garden gate like a pair' of children on a secret visit to the strawbury patch; he, a tall old man, bent with the weight of years; she, a bright old lady with hair smoothly pasted above a time-lined brow. There was a colour of faded rose bloom on her cheeks still, and her dimmed blue eyes looked out eerenaly on a world she had proved good. Both had a look wholesome and pleasant as apples ripened, in the sun. They went up the bc--bordered patch to a dquarefronted cottage with a low verandah. "I declare to goodness if that sevensister rose I planted ain't growin' yet. There'll be buds on it come the spring." "The pear tree I planted the day Nellie was born, what a great ■"" tree it has grown!" "Nellie is a woman grown with children about her knee. We be getting old folks, John " "Old folks we will be. What do we want livin' in the big new house with John and Hester, and buzzin' about in the motor car, and bein' fussed over here and don'ted there like we' was children. It's the old l.iuse we want, and leave to do as we please. If we be old and foolish—well, let us be old and foolish, that is what I say." "They are good to us, our son Jack and his wife, Hester. They won't like us oomin' here to live. A ramshackle old place Jack calls it." "Ramshackle! It's the house he was bom in, and built of good reasoned timber I sawed myself. There's none of your match-boardin' and fancy fixin's about it; but it's a honest old house, and J'm comin' b a ck to live in it, Lisbeth. Let Jack and Essie say what they will." There was the accumulated irritation of many days in the old man's tone. "Still and all, they've been kind, John."

"Kindness I'm not denyin'; but Jack, he wants all folks cut to. his own pattern. Always thinkm' about money and what will pay, and pushin' on to make more ; keen as mustard on a deal, 'specially if he gets the best of it—and he does most times.' The old man chuckled agreeably. "Back of your mind you are proud of our son John; proud he turned to and made a success of the place we'd a muddled over all our lives, and le the better for it; he is a success, he is." "In a way I be proud, Lisbeth; but it's /this tryin' to make a success of his old father I object to. I'm a easy-going chap, and likes my bit of tobacco and my feet on the chimbley-piece when I've a, inind to; and a bit of a crack wi' the' neighbours about the O-.vernment and the rates. The Government what's in generally ought to be out, I find; and Jack, he's so pushin'—ain't got time to argy about the, rights of things. But give me the key, wife, and let's have a look at the old place. , Going inside they found the cottage in a poor- way a,s regards paper and paint, but sound, as the old man had predicted. "Them Joneses have been a bit rough on things ; but a bit of paint and paper and the place would be as good as new." D'~-ing the few years of their residence in tlieir son's house neither of them had cared to visit the cottage. A few small Joneses had.generally been observed swinging on the old gate and playing about the garden; but that lusty family had departed, and the old couple had joyfully taken advantage of its desertion to come and confer, somewhat desperately, about a return to the old home.

"Better than new, John, for it's a place of memories."

The old man continued his investiga tions. "Them young Joneses have been a bit rough on the old sofa. Doubt if you could do anything with that." "Varnish and a new cover, John. I'd (iko something bright. I'm tired of them doll browns and greens over to Essie's house. Something with pink roses and pink roses on the wall-paper. John, do von think •we might come back and be }ust comfortable old people?" "Wo will come back, Lisbeth. The house is mine, and we can surely live in it if wo want."

"What svill Jack and Essie «ay? !Thev'7o been kind."

"Kind their own way—not our way, liko what "Robert would have been."

Suddenly saddened, the two old people panstvl in their busy planning. ''l mind the day he rode away to be a soldier, just liko it might.be vesterday," said Lisbeth musingly. '"Don't fret. mother,' he calls back, laughing. 'You'll soo mo riding home with the King'?: rnedal on m-v breast one of these days'; but it's somewhere 'on the veldt he's lying "

"Dear—these manv years—our dear lad."

"Ah, no, just sleeping, John. He lives still in the hearts that loved him." The remembering mother look shone softly in her dimmed eves.

"Do you mind his first wee pockets, John?—tho pride of the laddie, strutting un and down the path like any peacock. He was ever the happy one. _ Quietly the old couple left the house, silently considering how their son's opposition was to he met.

"Nonsense, Dad ; you can't leave us and go back to the old cottage ; it's falling to pieces." 'lndeed and it's not. Jack. It was an uncommon good house in its day, and it will see onr day out." "It could be made fit, nnd father and me mean to go; not but what you've been kind; but, we'vo got a feeling for the old place." Hosier was hurt, but reasonable. "Let

them go if they wish it, Jack," she advised quietly. "Well, I never thought you'd go against me, Essie," remarked Jack Lindsay aggrievedly. •'lt's not a question of our wishes, but of their happiness, Jack. The cottage can be made quite comfortable and healthy with a new back kitchen and some paint and plumbing." It was some days beiore Jack Lindsay would listen to their combined coaxings. " Oh, well, do as you like. I'll pay the bills," he capitulated. The fact that he could pay the bills and never miss the money was his greatest pride. Compromises had to be made between Hester's enthusiasm for plumbing and improvements and Mrs Lindsay's desire for a bit of colour; but these were peacefully made, and two happy old people took possession of a cottage, remodelled almost out of knowledge, but still home. Best of all was the garden, sheltered by hedges, with soil newly' dug. Rich and mellow from long tillage, it lay like a bare canvas waiting for shape and colour to appear upon it. There was a lilac bush a-bloommg in the door-yard; daffodils nodding in the spring wind. There were roses and lilies and dahlias in their seasons; there were prim rows of peas and cabbages and the scent of blossoming beans and many a plant flower besides all the year through. Through the winter the planning went on. Beds were sown and grown and harvested by the fireside. Catalogues were consulted'and reckless lists made out regardless of expense or the size of their garden.

Hester's kindly eyes, ever upon the old people, noticed a perceptible falling off of enthusiasm,"a guardedness of speech that was,quite unusual. "They have got something on their minds, Jack, and I.do wonder what it is. It isn't that mother does her bit of cooking on the open fire, because ehe likes the .scent of bluegum leaves burning, while'the new range goes rusty. It isn't that father won't wear that warm muffler I -knitted for him, because he doesn't like the colour of it, arid it isn't that they have put that good green china teapot I gave them on the top shelf for fear they break it, and go on using that cracked brown thing, because they know and I know and have forgiven those things; but it's something.

"You'll find it out in time. One or other of therii will tell you like they always do."

They did tell her both together. They thought she might decide that vexed question for them.

"Jack, it's all because mother wants to plant prize dahlias between the little pear tree and Cox's Pippin, and father has planned to experiment with tomatoes. His tomatoes haven't been much of a success up to now. Mother loves dahlia's —great flaunting things,—and likes rows and rows of them—red and yellow and crimson and white; and these are special prize ones Mrs Brown is giving her." "If that isn't just like them two old dears. What wins? I back dahlias." "Father say's there's a bit of sense about tomatoes; but dahlias—them tumbleheaded things that ain't no good for cuttin', nor yet for eatin', and gees peekin' off black at a bit of frost just when you've got them up to bloomin'. Mother is set on a bit of colour down among the green things." Bulb-planting time came nearer, and Hester, bent on tactful suggestions of a peaceful agreement, brushed the dew off the grass with her strong, sensible shoes on her early mornnig way to the cottage. Lisbeth, resplendent in a new lavender gown, was chatting gaily across the breakfast table to a festive John in a new grey suit. At Hester's appearance _ the two old people smiled somewhat guiltily at each other and their daughter-in-law. Dick, the old bay horse, was yoked in the buggy and hitched to the gate-post, waiting somnolently for what might befall! " Father and me, we're going over to Brown's to get them dahlias I told you about." volunteered Mrs Lindsay offhandedly.' "It's time they was planted." "But I thought father was going to grow tomatoes over there in the hedgebed."

"Well, Essie; it's like this," explained the old gentleman. "I figured it if I cut down the cabbage-becl and made that there hedge-bed bigger there would be room for mother's dahlias by the hedge, and nvy tomatoes in the front, and so I'm going to dc " Finding her. tactful mediation uncalled for, Hester Lindsay returned thoughtfully homeward. Half-way across the home paddock she met her husband. "Jack," she cried laughingly. "They are leaving out cabbages to make room for both the dahlias and the tomatoes." " Well, if that's not just like what them two would do —cut out cabbages to make room for flowers and fancy vegetables. Me? I'm all for the cabbages." " All the same, I think it's nice to grow dahlias among your cabbages," returned Hester, and, * reaching up, she kissed his rough cheek and went on her way smiling. John Lindsay stood thcr.gntfully rubbinT his cheek and gazing at the blue sky and the dew-spangled grass in a puzzled way, as though he wished they would tell him something. From the road came glimpses of his mother's white handkerchief waving to him from the buggy as old Dick trotted solemnly along the road. "I wonder just what Essie did mean," he said. "She must have meant something."