SOLOMON TRIUMPHS.

Otago Witness, Issue 3383, 15 January 1919, Page 58

SOLOMON TRIUMPHS.

By Noblk Mathieson. (All Rights Reserved.) The five o'clock whistle shrieked cheerfully. The office hands stopped automatically. There was a whisking on of hats and coats and gloves, a fleeting vision of disappearing coat-tails. Solomon Kaler stroked the last "t," pushed his glasses a little higher on his nose, and leaned back thoughtfully. The thought must have been a weighty one, or, perhaps, it was the fault of the chair. There was a confused melee of waving legs and arms. The whistle stopped. With difficulty Solomon extricated himself from the legs of the office stool, clapped on his hat with an air of mild bewilderment, and walked into the street. The gate clicked. Mrs Kaler yawned, turned own the page of her novel, and laid it somewhat hurriedly on the bookshelf ;' then with " war-like" precision the thick, shiny needles knitted up the grey wool. The methodical "click" greeted Solomon as he opened the door. It followed him into the bathroom; it played his accompaniment as he took off his boots and found his slippers, and it rose in volume as he approached the dining room. "Always busy, Mary?" He smothered the sigh that somehow seemed determined to escape, and smiled. Solomon's sniile rather resembled the blink of the sun through the clouds or the flicker of a tallow candle. "One can't a-fford to be idle in war time, Solomon." Mrs Kaler spoke in righteous pride of duty done in the consciousness of noble self-sacrifice. "That's £O, Mary. I'm sorry I am a little late."

"A little late?" Mrs Kaler raised her eyes sufficiently long to glance at Solomon. "You see, Mary, first I had a little accident at the office. I fell." "You fell!" "Yes, unfortunately I did. Somehow the stool upset." "And crushed your collar, I suppose?" "I don't think so Mary. I bruised my arm in the fall." "Are you sure about the collar, Solomon? Did you look?" "I haven't had time yet Mary !" "You had better do so.' Yon know, I the time nowadays to be for ever ironing collars, and I can't afford to give them out. You deserve to go without a collar, Solomon, for being so utterly careless." "It is a little crushed, Mary, but it will do quite well. Let's see, day after to-morrow I have a clean one, don't I ? Then this will do fine for to-morrow." "Hm, will it? And have John Graham going home and telling that interfering bad-temperd wife of his that I don't know how to iron a collar. No, thank you, Solomon. Wouldn't that little red-headed creature just revel in getting something like that to talk about? You'll take a clean one to-morrow, and see if you can be a little less awkward, Solomon. Kindly remember it is war time." "Very well, Mary!" The tone was meekly penitent, and Solomon placed Mary's chair, and together they sat down to tea. "After I left the office, Mary," Solomon continued, as he spread the butter sparingly on a much-dried slice of bread, "I met George Ferguson." "Oh! did „ you?" Mrs Kaler stopped nibbling a morsel of toast, and leaned her plump arms on the table. "H'm, what was his news?" "Oh, nothing much, Mary; he was collecting for a fund in aid of blind soldiers. I promised to give him a shilling." "You what?' "Just a shilling, Mary! I really couldn't do otherwise." ''What rot, Solomon ! Haven't we got enough expense just now without that? Why didn't you tell him you simply couldn't spare" it. He's always running round with subscription lists, that man." "You've often got lists yourself, Mary." Solomon interposed with a feeble attempt at a laugh. "Have I, indeed? But then, I only collect for deserving things." "What was the last, Mary? That tea party of yours?" "How dare you speak like that, Solomon. It was a luncheon' to the Widows' and Soldiers' Dependent League." Mrs Kaler's voice grew louder at each word. Solmon understood the danger signals. "Oh, yes, Mary, and it was a great success too, wasn't it?" he interrupted, quickly. "Yes, cei-tainly it was! Women don't make a' mess of things as men always do! Are you finished your tea ? Then. I can ring for the maid." And Mrs Kaler did, with an air of triumphant finality. And when the maid had gone Solomon sat for a long time with This eyes fixed on the ceiling, and Mrs Kaler went on monotonously rattling the knitting wires. And then Solomon Bpoke.

"Mary, don't you think it's time we had something else for tea. I'm getting tired of bread and butter and weak tea." "You're what?" Mrs Kaler's bosom swelled up in righteous, startled indignation. "What, Solomon?" "I said, Mary, that I would like a little change for tea, such as a scone, or perhaps a tea-cake sometimes !"

"Tea-cakes !" Astonishment choked Mrs Kaler's utterance. ■ "Tea-cakes!" she repeated in a high-pitched treble, "and to think of the men in the trenches! Solomon, how dare you sit there and .say such things. Have you no patriotism at all, that you cannot forego childish luxuries at a time like this? You should be ashamed of yourself." Solomon forebore to look at his better half. He could see in imagination the utter contempt, the awful scorn in her eyes. "But I want a change," he said doggedly. "Why, even the office boy goes home to a better tea than I do!" And Solomon gained courage as he went on. His voice grew firmer. "It's all nonsense, this patriotism. There's more money wastea in a hundred other different ways " He paused. Mrs Kaler had -risen to her feet. Her brow shone with the light of undaunted patriotism; her eyes glittered angrily. She fairly bristled. The little frizzed ends of her fair- hair literally stood on end. " I will have no tea-cakes or other luxuries on my table, Solomon, till the war ia over. If you are not satisfied you can go elsewhere!" The ring in her voice was final. Solomon shrunk back into himself, reminded Mary half-timidly that it was lodge night, and flitted silently away; and Mary smiled, smiled twice, then laid down her knitting, yawned slowly, and picked up the novel from the bookcase. Mrs Kaler was a diplomat. It was the middle of the afternoon. Mrs Kaler's door-bell had rung several tiriies, and in the drawing-room sat that lady robed in a crackling black silk gown, among her guests. Mrs Kaler's gentle suavity of manner was particularly winning on this particular afternoon —the reason thereof we can either ascribe to that person's own sweet benignity, or possibly the importance of the ladies present in the social scale. Mrs Kaler smiled or sympathised, chatted or listened as the occasion arose, and soon a buzz of feminine chatter filled the room. "Such a failure!" remarked the smartly dressed wife of the new minister. "She has no idea how to conduct war parties! Her frock was hideous, and I believe the ladies sewed all the time, and salt down to a snpper of bread and cheese!" "It was a sewing party then?" Mrs Kaler interposed sweetly. "Yes, but who ever heard of anyone sewing at a sewing party. It generally is such a nice tete-a-tete. I hear it was awfully tame. I'm glad I wasn't there." The speaker gave a little titter, sipped her tea, and helped herself to more icedcake. A step sounded along the passage. There was an "expectant .hush. The doorhandle turned. For an infinitesimal part of a second Mrs Kaler's face became stern and rigid, then she murmured softly, as all eyes were turned towards! the newcomer. "Come in, dear. Just in time for tea. Annabel, bring another cup of fresh tea for Mr Kaler," she concluded, turning to the maid. f And Mr Kaler sat down, the centre of an ftdmiring group of talkative ladies. And Solomon rose.. to the occasion. He put forth his own ideas on various subjects, and was listened to bv an appreciative audience. He waxed eloquent on his own pet theories till he hardly recognised himself. He .drank his cup of tea with cream in it—yes, cream, —and munched the rich fruit-cake with unconcealed relish. He stretched his .legs on the carpet, revelling in the unwonted freedom. He lolled back amongst the soft cushions at his back, and breathed in the flowerscented air. During a lull in the conversation he took one furtive glance at Mary. He looked quickly away again. He lived for the moment; he shut his eyes for a second to try and forget about the afterwards. His dormant conversational faculties had suddenly sprung into action, and were absorbing liis whole energy. , Perhaps had he heard the remarks of the guests after their departure it might have led to further discoveries about himself.

"Such a quiet, well-educated man!" remarked one in an undertone ere they reached the gate. "So clever, too!" "So different to his wife," whispered another. But Solomon heard none of these things. He murmured good-byes, and shook hands like a man in a dream; then he stood alone, confronting Mary, the every-day Mary, no't the society Mary. "Solomon, how could you?" she. burst out. "How could I what, Mary?" "You know without my telling you. How did you get away from your work anyway?" "I took a holiday!" "Why?" "Well, perhaps I should say a halfholiday," Solomon corrected with a halfsmile. "Why?" again Mrs Kaler jerked out the word. "Well, you know, Mary, I thought of enlisting to-night—in fact, I. have made up my mind to do so." "Enlist?"' Mrs Kaler fairly _ shrieked. Her face was a study in expressions. "Well, you see, Mary, times are getting pretty hard here. Really, I think it's time I did make a move." "You, Solomon? You're over age." "I'm not. They've raised the age limit." "* "But your eyes. You wouldn't pass." A triumphant light lit Mrs Kaler's eyes for a minute. Solomon rudely disillusioned her. "I have been examined by my own doctor, and he says I will pass* easily."

T . Mrs Kaler was speechless. Her face was pale with impotent wrath. She gaspea weakly, and sunk into a chair. j "And what allowance would I get, Soloj mon, if you—if you went," she said sudj denly. ' "About five shillings a day, I think, Mary!" "And how could I live on that?" The air was tense. "I think you could manage on that, Mary!" * "Manage? How could I?" "Well, of course, you couldn't have scones or cakes or anything like that, Mary! but then you wouldn't mind that. In_ wartime one can't expect those sort of things; and I will have what they have in the trenches. They say—they are well fed—the soldiers, I mean." "You in the trenches!" ! "Well, I'm not much good, I suppose; but I'll make another one for the Germans to hit." "You shall not go, Solomon!" "I must, thought, Mary. Things here ! are getting serious." "When are you going to enlist?" j "After tea?" And Solomon went to tea. On the way he chuckled. On the tea table that night was a plate of newly-baked scones, and reposing in voluminous frills of lace doyleys behold! , a tea-cake. And Mrs Kaler rattled the teacups I rather less, energetically than usual, and j as she passed Solomon a steaming cup she | spoke in rather a subdued voice. "Really, Solomon, I don't think you should enlist at your time of life, you know. And Solomon answered, "Perhaps I won't just at present, ther% Mary." j And inwardly Soloman laughed. A j mere man had triumphed.