MATCHMAKING—AND MARGARET.

Otago Witness, Issue 3713, 12 May 1925, Page 73

MATCHMAKING —AND MARGARET.

Mary Stair.

By

(Copyright.—For tiie Witness.) I. The story refused to go properly: the hero declined to fall in love convincingly with the heroine, who on her part showed every sign of deciding to elope with the young lawyer intended to be the villain of the piece. Margaret Rivers frowned over her typewriter as she inserted a fresh sheet of paper, and typed at the top the number “5” with the emphasis of great dissatisfaction. By this lime she should have been starting the tenth page at least, and be well on the way to finishing the story. It must catch to-night’s post, and already it was nearly seven o’clock. Furthermore, Dorothy would be home soon after seven, which meant an interruption for an evening meal. Margaret tapped the typewriter keys resolutely, forcing out sentences which she realised were unforgivably turgid. She hadn’t got halfway down the page before the door opened. Her frown melted as though by magic. Dorothy always brought an air of radiance with her, no matter how long her day at the office had been or how crowded the tube journey Home. “You’re earlier to-night, aren’t you?” sh asked, glancing at the clock. “Dorothy darling, come and tell me the latest romance', right away, before we think of supper. I’ve been trying ail the afternoon to conjuro up for the editor ' ‘Happy Homes,’ and the result is as dull as—as I should be if you didn’t come home,” she ended, affectionately. “Dear, silly old thing,' laughed Dorothy, caressing Margaret s dark hair for a brief instant with her cheek. “I’m going to do better than tell you about romance; I’m going to take you to see one. Look Margaret, four tickets for ‘VVomen’s Wiles’ at the Pall Mail to-night. Let’s just have an egg, or something quick to eat.” Margaret’s frown came back, and she looked at her typewritten pages. “Oh, Dorothy, I can’t, possibly. I must get this finished to-night. You can ask someone else to go with you, can’t you?” “I have,” said Dorothy, airily, but there was something in the tone that made Margaret look at her searchingly. “Dorothy,” she said sternly, “who is it this time? Have you discovered another budding poet, or a reformed Bolshevist, or is it just a plain young man? It sounds like something startling if you feel you need a duenna.” “It isn’t a bit,” said Dorothy, in a defiant tone that didn’t quite conceal a trace of self-consciouness. “It—well, I’ve asked the young man on the third floor to come with us. You’ve often said how lonely ho seemed and what an interesting face he had.”

“And he has accepted?” queried Margaret, incredulously. “Dorothy, how did you get to know him, and where? I don’t believe for a moment that you just met him casually in the passage, offered him a theatre ticket, and that he accepted. Oh, Dot, it’s no wonder I can’t give my mind to writing when I have you to be responsible for. Or are you just making fun of me?”

“No, he's reaily coming, ' said Dorothy, cheerfully. “Anti his name’s Richard Stephens, and he’s trying to be a writer. Also, he’s a dear, and you will be one, too, and come along, won’t you? I’ve promised that you will, and Ted is going to make a fourth. You like him, don’t you? she finished coaxingly. The elder girl did not answer at once, but regarded Dorothy a trifle thoughtfully. Dorothy was somehow more in earnest than usual; it was unlike her to take any of her extensive and varied circle of masculine acquaintances and admirers at all seriously. Margaret made rapid calculations; if she sat up very lato she might finish tho story after she came home, and take it round by hand to the editorial office in the morning. Perhaps the evening’s entertainment would freshen up her ideas. Anyhow, Dorothy wanted licr and that, after all, was what mattered most.

“Ted and I are in the same boat, aren’t we?” she asked, tßßsingly. “Very usefnl to tag round just whero and when we’ro wanted. Well, I suppose I had better come along and cheer his droomne spirits while lie watches you spend your smiles on the newest young man. ’ “Pig!” said Dorothy, inelegantly, with a little grimace. “No, re not; you’re a darling, and you’re going to do your hair in tho pretty now knot, and put on your blue-grey taffeta with the jolly little frills. No. not your old black evening frock that maxes you look at least forty • anyhow, we’ve got upper circle tickets. Run along and get dressed while I boil some eggs.” “But this is your party, not mine," protasted Margaret. “It doesn’t matter what

! I look like. Ttd won’t mind,” she added, with a twinkle.

“But I shall, and anyhow, 1 want my friends to make a good impression,” insisted Dorothy. “You shan’t come looking like an elderly aunt. I don’t want Richard to think I need chaperoning as badly as all that. He'd get scaled.’ “‘Richard - already?” questioned Margaret, but Dorothy had vanished into the tiny kitchenette adjoining, and the only answer she vouchsafed was a gaily hummed snatch from the “Dancing Honeymoon.” Margaret, hardened by now to Dorothy’s erratic choices iii the matter of acquaintances, was for once quite satisfied. Un closer acquaintance Riehqrd Stephens fulfilled the favourable impressions she had gathered from occasional chance meetings on the stairs. There was just a shade of embarrassment in his greeting that did not displease her; he was not taking it for granted that they were the sort of girl who would pick up any chance young man and invite him to the theatre. But his manners were easy and very pleasant; ho did not talk much, but then few people did when Dorothy was of the party. Of tho romance enacted on the stage it must bo confessed that Margaret saw little; she was much more interested in that nearer at hand. There was undoubtedly something in Dorothy’s manner towards her cavalier that Margaret had not noticed in any of her previous friendships, and there could be no mistake about Richard Stephens’s interest in Dorothy. Margaret felt a load lifted from her mind; her self-appointed task of guardian to Dorothy Westgate had caused her many an anxious moment. She was so gay, so popular, and had a circle of masculine admirers so wide that Margaret felt herself constantly on the alert to prevent an imprudent engagement. But she thought that Richard Stephens was to be trusted, and that if this incipient roman ;e developed into something deeper she need have no fear for her little friend’s happinss. He was older than Dorothy, and there was a pleasant gravity about him that would counterbalance Dorothy’s butterfly temperament, and yet he possessed an evident sense of humour which would prevent him from ever becoming ponderous.

Dorothy needed somebody like that, Margaret decided. Suppose, as she hfld sometimes feared would happen, Dorothy had taken Ted Masters seriously—Ted, who was a dear boy, but as irresponsible as Dorothy herself. What a scatterbrained couple they would have made! Margaret gave a sigh of relief as at the thought of a danger escaped. Then her conscience gave her a sharp prick, for she realised that Ted himself, sitting beside h*»‘, was trying to attract her attentoin. She looked round with an apologetic smile. “ Tho second act finished five minutes ago,” protested Ted, “ so you can’t pretend you were absorbed in the play.” “ Poor old Ted. was lie being neglected, then? ” she teased.

“I am,” sighed Ted; “but I’ll forgive you if you’ll only do some more neglecting later on. Be a sport, Margaret, and grab that fellow's attention on the way home. I haven't had a single word with Dorothy all the evening.” “ He’s rather nice, isn’t he ” said Margaret, guardedly. “ Quite a good sort. I know you’ll enjoy talking to him, Margaret. He’s keen on all sorts of book-y things, like you.” “ Not altogether an unbiassed opinion,” retorted Margaret. “I’ll do my best, Ted, but, after all, you’ll admit it’s rather unfair asking me to compete with Dorothy.” “Fishing!” retorted Ted. “You’re a brick, Margaret, and I’ll do as much for you some day.” “I haven’t promised anything, Maigaret warned him; nevertheless, she made no effort to circumvent his taking possession of Dorothy as they came out of the theatre together. It would be just as well, after all, to get to know this Mr Stephens better before making a final decision as to whether his attentions to Dorothy were to be encouraged. Overcoming her usual diffidence with strangers, she set herself to draw the young man on to talk about himself. She oeg an by talking about her own work, even to the length of describing her struggles with romance that very afternoon. “Mine act like that, too, said Richard sympathetically. “My trouble is that I can’t draw a decent hero. The heroine—well she’s much too fine ever to look at the sort of chap I manage to write about, so the story never gets finished.” “Ah, you should draw your heroine from real life,” laughed Margaret, “not from an ideal person.” “The trouble is that she’s both. Of course, she isn’t a hundredth wonderful as the original in my description, but—well, one just can’t describe her adequately. “I wish you’d lend her to me,” suggested Margaret, speaking more lightly than she felt. “My heroines are all perfect sticks; it’s small wonder my heroes are reluctant to fall in love with them.” Richard Stephens looked round at her with a sudden, sunny smile. “I say, Miss Rivers, I wish you’d let mo come and talk to you about her some time,” he said, earnestly. By this time Margaret had quite made up her mind about him. This young man should have all the help she could givo him. “Please do,” she invited him, warmly. 11. Before many weeks had passed, Margaret found herself wondering whether she had been wise in extending her oftdial invitation. “Romance in real life is very bad for romance in fiction,” she decided, as sho opened and read a letter reminding her that tho next instalment of her serial for Cosy Corner was overdue. “I should Hvo finished that instalment if Richard hadn’t come in early can’t ho and Dorothy settle mat*. * one way or the other? Then perhaps I might get mv time to myself again. I expect I shall miss him. though, sho admitted, thoughtfully. She glanced at tho clock. It was

hardly worth beginning a fresh chapter; Richard was coming in to supper, and she had specially reminded Dorothy to get home early. Dorothy s office hours seemed lo have become longer late.y; several times Richard had had to wait quite a long time before she camo in, and Margaret’s wo»k had suffered in consequence while sho played hostess. »She was forced to admit to herself that she enjoyed those interruptions ; she had so much in common with Richard, and the fact that they were interested in the same kind of work created a special bond of sympathy between them. All she had come to know oi the young man since their first meeting had increased her liking for him. She lxad never imagined there could be anyone to whom she could so willingly trust Dorothy’s future. Dorothy's own"feelings she had never questioned. They* had never discussed the matter together, but this very reticence in one usually so frank about her affairs of the heart as Dorothy spoke for itself. Dorothy teased him less than she did most people; seemed gentler and more sympathetic, and on more than one occasion Margaret had noticed a quick glance of understanding flash between the twt.

A knock at the door interrupted her revAie; her guest had arrived first, after all.

“ Dorothy seems to be late again,’* Margaret apologised, leading the way into the cosy sitting room. “ Nice Dorothy,” said Richard amazingly. “ She has a wonderful amount of tact for one so young. Look here, Margaret, I can’t stand not knowing any longer. Is there any chance of a fellow’s story having a happy ending? I know I shall never be good enough for you, but I love you an awful lot, my dear. Nobody’s hero is ever going to catch up with me on that part of it.” Margaret looked at him incredulously, almost with dismay. Her castles in Spain fell about her with stunning completeness. “ I know it sounds like awful cheek,” he went on desperately. “ I might have guessed I didn’t stand a chance, but Dorothy ” The name seemed to break the tension for Margaret. “ What are you talking about? ” she demanded. “ I’m trying to ask you to marry me, Margaret,” said Richard. “Is there no chance at all for me? ” “No, oh, no!” exclaimed Margaret, almost wildly. “ How could you think or such a thing? ” “ It was presumptuous, I know*,” said Richard. “ But if I waited, Margaret—if . . “Oh, no!” repeated Margaret. “ Please, please don’t say any more.” Tlie sound of footsteps same to her rescue. “ There’s Dorothy : I must hurry with supper,” and she fled precipitately to the little kitchen. She moved round among the preparations for supper as if in a dream, and only a well-trained housekeeping mind acting subconsciously saved her from seasoning the soup with vanilla and the custard with carbonate of no da. \nd gradually, through her indignation and her feeling of utter treachery to Dorothy, came the remembrance of the expression of Richard’s eyes as he had pleaded with her, and tho tone of his voice. The question forced itself upon her—could she, if it had not been for Dorothy, have said “ No, oh, no! ” in that emphatic manner. Into the kitchen like a whirlwind burst Dorothy, cheeks aflame and eyes shining. “ Margaret, what have you done to Richard? I met him going out like a condemned criminal, and he's talking some nonsense about not staying. Have you been quarrelling? ” “Certainly not,” replied Margaret, without looking up. Dorothy seized her by the shoulders, turning her round so that they were face to face. “Margaret,” she said searchingly, “you haven’t—you couldn’t have refused him."

“Couldn’t?” echoed Margaret, stupidly. “But, Dorothy, it isn’t me—it's you?” For a second or two Dorothy just looked at her in silence, then broke into a peal of laughter. “Margaret, you dear, foolish old goose, you never really believed that nonsense, did you? Oh, yes, I know I didn’t undeceive you the first night, because I thought it you knew that Richard had mest shamelessly scraped acquaintance with me just to get an introduction to you, you would probably have turned him down on the spot. But afterwards—well, if you couldn’t see he was hopelessly in love with you, you haven’t even ordinary intelligence. And here have I been wasting precious leisure time hanging round the oince night after night to give him a chance to see you alone, and when he does get his courage up to sticking point, you turn him down. And now,” Dorothy’s voice rose almost to a wail of despair, “Ted and I meant to announce, our engagement at the same time as yours, and have a lovely party to celebrate, and you go and spoil everything I Why, I thought you liked him!” “1 do,” said Margaret, quickly. “But I never thought ” Dorothy regarded her shrewdly for a moment, then turned away, giving her shoulders a little shrug. “I may os well go and break the glad news to Ted,” she said. ‘He’s waiting to be congratulated. Shall I send him in?” “Yes, do,” said Margaret, trying to sound enthusiastic, as Dorothy went into the other room. Sho tried to pull herself together, and io assume an air appropriate to the occasion as the door opened again. Jt was not Ted who entered, however, but Richard, almost pushed in by Dorothy. He came in hesitatingly, scarcely daring to believe tho encouragement of Dorothy’s smile and her whispered, “Turn again, Whittington.” Then ho saw the look that came over Margaret’s face as she realised who was there, and in an instant he was beside her. Tlie supper was not a success, from a clinary point of view, but as neither of the newly-engaged couples noticed that, it didn’t matter.