BEFOGGED.

Otago Witness, Issue 3829, 2 August 1927, Page 82

BEFOGGED.

By

Heddle.

(Copyright.—.... ...iago Witness.) ’■ I'm very sorry, sir.” Guy Adeane’s voice sounded rather gritty over the gnawed stem of Itis pipe. “ But I’m afraid it is—no! I don’t want to see the girl! As a matter of fact, I’m off girls.” You young dog!” ’• I know, sir. Most people think it’s humbug. But it isn’t! I never yet saw the one I wanted to see more of. I hate the usual lip-sticking, short-skirted damsel. I hate social tripe of all kinds. And I thought this kind of ‘ choose your wife for you and be hanged if you don't marry her ’ was out of date—with Gretna Green, and the racing posthorses, and the silly old blacksmith’s forge business. I’m not in the least inclined for matrimony! I prefer a good round of. golf, or a chukka at polo, to any girl I ever saw. So if marrying this Celia Travers goes with the place you offer, and the billet, I’m very sorry—dashed sorry-—to make you annoyed. Still, it’s in the negative the answer is in the negative, sir, all the same!” The explosion came then. The mess would tell you Colonel Greenside could be very tempestuous, and the soothing voice of his favourite servant at his side: “I think you should have a whisky-soda, sir,” was not present to act as palliative and emollient on Guv’s behalf.”

Of all the brainless, heartless yornm cubs! Of all the prigs, and silly asses” The colonel exhausted his vocabulary, which is saying a good deal, and Guy sat gnawing his pipe and saying nothing, lhe old boy was completely out of date, of course; worse than early Victorian—positively mediaeval! He was the sliout-ing-father-in-the-post-chaise type. Worse! Wanting a .fellow to see and make up to a girl because she was the daughter of his oldest chum, and end in marryinoher! His offer of the little place near Rye, and the hunters, and the work on his big estate, was, of course, rippiim of the old chap, and what he would love” now that Ins old wound bothered and incapacitated him; but to stick a girl in' Why, he had detested girls, ever since two of them took away his cricket bat at school—the house-master’s daughters —and scratched the sacred surface! Positively it had poisoned all his outlook on the sex, ever since. He got to the door sulkily now. Then you won’t stay and meet her’ ion positively refuse?” town’ ln r>T ry ’ sir ~-T ! rn " et batk town 1 11 see you about that job in the solicitor’s office.”

nh“^ n( ! be han " ed to you for an obstinate young devil!” “ Certainly sir.” Guy got back to the hotel and ordered too i UrCd - ar ' Tt llad not been going too well coming down to Bexhill and m his annoyance and disgust he for ot o see about the petrol. Forgot everyin flm bU g . ett * n ° in to the beastly thing n the worst of tempers, and starting off for town grinding his teeth on his pipe breTth” v n ' Utterin l g anathem «s under lis breaH., very much as the colonel had

Of course, it was foolish to start back for town so late. Past 10 , and not a forVt’ol 0 niglt - 8,,t he kad uo money Sve hhn ’ the 7 nCe thC °’ d boy wouldn’t 7 e the Place, and the billet now "; ell get back > and see7o this hateful solicitor’s job. Farewell tr country life, farewell to horses and golf farewell to the “Elysian fields ” of St.’ Andrews, and the velvety turf. He remembered the “hell bunker,” and tie famous Stoil«m Bridge, and decided tha? baw ? s lath « hell bunker! Fairly embedded, with his ball lost. . .HA Rlrl • . tack on an unknown girl' And go off the deep end . . . the silly old fool ‘ ‘ 7 bceaase 110 refused to tackle her . and the lipstick, and the short skirts . dancing, too—she probably adored jazz .’.' and would make him mince round with ’ ’7, ask si . lly Questions about “ hrn a - nd ,?° °‘ ‘ ’ innne Questions .. . style I 1 0" « nesti °us—he knew the

He was trying, of course, to defend and excuse himself. The old man was his uncle, and really kind for all his storms •? ; a U ol<l - cl,ap - He ’ Gu W need not have been quite so explosive! Could have said “No ” pleasantly and courteously—oh, rot!

He came to himself suddenly, as if waking from a kind of nightmare to reality about two hours after this. What on earth—why, the night had changed! All the wind had dropped, and a beastly fog had come up had gathered round and enveloped him in grey chilly arms. Did not know where he was—must have taken the wrong turn—could see nothing. .; And—if the beastly car wasn’t stopping' Wasn t dying down—if—yes—by Jove! (lie really said something else) it was! He was in a quandary. Midnight! Probably here till morning, and nothing passing ... too beastly a night for anyone to be out in ... a God-forsaken common it looked like . . . cold, too, beastly cold, and the fog and mist thicker and thicker! He heard a voice through the fog. “Hullo, there! Do you know your back light is out? What do you moan by ” A slight crash behind, and the remnant of Guj - 's temper went.

“What the deuce are you about?” he cried. “ Anyway, you can see the thing, can’t you? Barging into a fellow ’•

He went round to the approaching car. It backed, and then seemed to leap up beside him, faltered, wheezed, and then died down.

“ You are rather rude,” a voice said. “ But I’m in such desperate straits I refuse to quarrel. For I’m out of petrol, and have hopelessly lost my way. And if you can give me some petrol and direct me—l could forgive you anything.” Was it a boy? What was the young ass doing, running into him? He peered into the two-seater.

“ My dear fellow,” he said, “ give you petrol? Tell you the way? I’m stuck here myself, and I haven’t a drop of the blessed stuff.”

Then came the sound of a sudden bubbling laugh. Really a nice laugh! He could see Jby the lamp the fair hair under a leather cap. It had a kind of silvery mist about it; and a pair of agate-brown eyes, and he could see jolly white teeth, and a damp-reddened brunette face. But —a girl! What was a girl doing alone in a car befogged like himself. He had been —rather rude.

“ Oh, I say, ” he muttered, “ what a jolly mess we’re both in, aren’t we?” The girl wrinkled her white forehead. “We certainly are !” she said.

It came to Guy with quite an odd sensation later that really it was rather jolly to have a companion in the scrape out here in the grey fog. Only a girl, of course—bat rather a jolly girl! He leaned out of his car, and they talked, and he gave her Ins rug, and he found she was quite amusing and really “sensible.” Took the thing in a boyish, sportsmanlike way. Really rather laughed at it, as a fellow would. She said she’d been at a dance and had to get back early, and the car she came colddn leave, and so she borrowed this one. meaning to “ tootle ” homo alone and keepHier mother from worrying . Instead, she had “tootled” into this beastly fog! “ I you haven’t had anything to eat?” she inquired casually then. “Now, I know that there is an ‘ iron ration ’ basket in this car, for it belongs to a cousin of mine, and he is a young man wlm never takes any chances about losin" a meal. We’ll have it out. Yes. In the back there, please ! (I wish he’d been as paiticular about his petrol). Sardines and biscuits, and a thermos. Well, they are better, than nothing. Suppose ‘we sup?” It s awfully good of you,” Guy said, lie vas aware then how hungry be was and then she beckoned him in beside her quite coolly, and he opened the tin and they made sardine sandwiches, and he told her about the time they fried them in a tin on a fire by a Highland loch, and about another time in the trenches. She said she hated them a s a rule, but she’d take anything to-night. ‘Guy felt heaps better when he had fed Odd the effect food had on a fellow ! He had dashed away without dinner, even a cocktail, losing his beastly temper and the colonel losing bis. It was either the effect of the meal or this really jolly girl. She had a most alluring smile and lau"h a jolly bubbling laugh. She had ouite a pretty wit. too—dry and “canny.” She adored Rugger—went every year to Twickenham. Oh, come! She ‘played golf—lo'®d and she was A. scratch player. After that they really settled down to talk.

Guy forgot she wa s a girl. He really did ! He had never known girls could be like this one. And it was quite jolly there, in the fog—they two alone. Her pretty brown face next him. Her slim ieet, in the gold shoes before her, and the ur coat betraying iust an entrancing glimpse of a rose-pink silk frock—it. had petals, like a rose. Odd he never remembered noticing a frock before ! If only I didn’t fear mother was worrying, I d go to sleep,” the girl said m her sprightly deep voice. “ And vou couid go back to vonr car and watch for the next passer. It’ s very kind of vou to give me all the rug. Oh, I sav—isn’t that —isn t there—someone—at last?” “ Great _ Scott—yes!” Guy cried, and the next instant there was the sound of a horn, loudly blown, and he went rushing up calling loudly and explaining the situation. The girl sat up and listened eagerly. Y’es. the new comer had a spare tin, and would be very glad to give it to the young lady. He was a nice man—a “ sportsman ” —and laughed over the matter, and filled her tank. The girl insisted on giving Guy back the rug. ‘‘ I’ll be off at once,” she said cheerily. “ I’ll follow this gentleman, for I rcaliy think the fog is lifting. And I’ll send the next ‘ A.A.’ man I meet for you. Let me see your number. ... Or I’ll phone for you, for help and petrol. This is great luck! Sorry to take all the petrol.” Not at all, Guy said with determined cheerfulness. I m all right. Someone is sure to turn up again soon, now. It must be nearly dawn.”

Ho stood at the side of the car, wishing it weren’t all over! Oddly reluctant, idiotically reluctant, to see her go! There in the fog alone—with the sardines for supper—it had been so cheery and jolly! She gave him such a nice look, too, from her agate eyes—really a kind look. But she got in and he wound up the beastly thing for her, when the self-starter wouldn’t work: and he cut his knuckles, and she said “ Oh, I’m sorry!” but she had to go, for the man in front called out officiously, “Ready?” and with a' “ Cheerio, and good-bye!” she was gone! The fog engulfed her! It was then, getting back into the hired car to wait, that it came to Guy with the most ridiculous qualm and sting, that he didn’t even know her name! Know anything about her—where she. lived anything— except that she was scratch at golf, and that she went every year to Twickenham! He grinned niefully. amt Jit his pipe, sat down, and prepared to

wait, for dawn and the next passer. Yes ; Mitcham Common, the man said. He sat on, thinking, seeing nothing but the clear amber and brown eyes, and the laughing lips—hearing nothing but her voice—the kind of voice tiiat haunts, and lingers.

Why! what folly was this? He disliked girls! And quarrelled with the poor old man because of one Well, if she had been like this one. No such luck! He would never see her again!

He ground his teeth over his pipe stem, and waited. And by and by the fog lifted slowly, and the dawn crept up, and a man passed, also a “ sportsman,” and he got petrol, and got home, out of the fog. He decided he rather liked fogs!

“ Well, I thought I’d look you up—silly young ass!” the Colonel grunted, three months later. He spoke kindly, his eyes taking in the details of Guy's thin and tired face. “ A chap told me you were sticking on well—but loathed the job. Tubes, and a crush, and a desk—and—the city! Old leg bothering a bit, too? Country air needed. Come on, Guy, and lunch, and we’ll talk the thing over. I don’t like the agent fellow I’ve got. Come on and lunch at the club. I’ll drop the girl palaver. She’s turned down a vicar chap her mother was keen on, and is in disgrace, I hear. Come on.”

Guy got permission and went, gladly and gratefully, changing his coat. He liked the fiery old boy—it was good to be with him again—restored to the old friendly footing. And, oh! to get away from the desk, and the tubes, and the city roar! To smell wet grass, and touch a horse’s velvety nose I

They lunched, delightfully and slowly and the old man looked at him keenly,

“Seem a bit off, eh, Guy? Seedy?” “Oh, I’m all right, sir,” Guy said. How could he say that the beastly truth was that he was haunted—yes, haunted, ever since that night, by a girl? A girl’s eyes—a girl’s laugh! He—Guy Adeane! “ I’ll be all right, sir,” he said. “And if—if you’ll really make me the same offer —barring—the girl ... I say! Is it—is it —really you? You know—l —never imagined I’d have the luck—to —to meet you again!”

“' What the deuce—has he taken leave of his senses? . . . Celia! Well, if it isn’t Celia Travers!”

But no one paid him the least attention —not these two! The girl of Guy’s dreams—the girl of the fog, and the car —she was there in the flesh, in the little sage green coat and hat, with the same fair curly hair, and the same wild-rose bloom. Smiling at him, too, and blushing—yes, blushing!

“ I—l often wondered how you got home!” she said, “out of the fog! And your knuckles? I saw how you cut them. It is jolly—to see you—again!”

They paid him no heed at all! He, Lieutenant-colonel Greenside, M.C., D.S.O. etc. He, before whom the mess and the battery trembled! He went up and took Celia by the arm.

“ May I ask you, young lady, how you came to tell me you didn’t know mv nephew, Guy? And you, you young scamp—” “I—didn’t—l—don’t, Colonel Greenside,” the girl said. She laughed again, the same adorable little laugh. “ I don’t know his name! And he doesn’t know mine! Me were never introduced. We met in a fog.” “Met in a fog? Curious kind of fog,” said the colonel, growling. “ What the—but sit down, sit down! Have something. Have you lunched?” °

She hadn’t, and she sat down. Harry Frobisher was coming for her, and he Mas always late—never knew the time. I’ll go and see if he has come. I know-Frobisher,” the colonel said. “ He's probably forgotten all about you. But I'd better introduce you two properly, and you can explain the fog business to me after. This is my nephew, Guy Adeane, Celia. He used to be in the Royal Regiment. Guy, this is Celia Travers.”

He went away then. His hand had gripped his nephew's arm, his smile was wicked and malicious. He left them together, both radiant, peculiarly radiant.

I I thought—l couldn’t get you out of my head, do you know!” Guv whispered over the little table. “I never thought there would be such heavenly luck as to meet vou again—and like this!”

Celia laughed, too. and blushed, and was altogether delightful. Everything was delicious—the lunch, and the and the violets at her throat—and the eyes he had never forgotten—the day—everything! Life was suddenly changed, and “ to be young (or even fairly young) was very heaven!” When the colonel and he went to get their coats later, Frobisher having come for Celia and invited them all to go on to Roehampjon and polo—Guy took hold of the old man’s arm.

“ I’ll tell you all about it, sir,” he said. “We met in the fog that night, both stranded on Mitcham Common 1’ No petrol! I—she’s a peach—and, sir— I'll take on the job—l’ll thank God for it! ”

“Y’ou said you would before,” the colonel said maliciously, “ leaving cut the girl! Does that still’ stand ?” “By Jove, no!” Guy cried. “Not if—if she'll have me, sir!”

And later, in the autumn, they played golf on the Elysiaff fields at St. Andrew’s, Celia having been induced to “ have ” him! Elysian’-fields, indeed for these two.