WITH PIPE ALIGHT

Southland Times, Issue 19395, 8 November 1924, Page 11 (Supplement)

WITH PIPE ALIGHT

AND A LITTLE CHILD,

(By

“Criticus.”)

Snorkins was a mild little man, so insignificant that even the Income Tax Commissioner ignored him, and so inoffensive that the sandflies avoided him as uninteresting. Life did not deal roughly with him because he never answered back and never complained, and., his forty years of monotonous mediocrity had left him bald and silent. No one. ever heard Snorkins apologise or explain. The first was unnecessary because every cell in his conventionalised carcase was a clamant assumption of blame, and, .is the statesmen say, the second point does not arise.

There was, however, one thing against which the poor soul of Snorkins revolted: it was the crying of a child. His rebellion was never translated into word or action—he did not even clench his fists—but deep within him there was a disturbance which he found so unusual that it left him severely shaken. It did not spring from any deep wells of sympathy, because Snorkins was utterly incapable of any such objective action, but it was real and tended to make him avoid youngsters. No one knew of this tremendous fact and so on a Friday, after a trying week, the managing director, with a petulent niece left on his hands by his .wealthy sister, decided that Snorkins alone would not object to amusing the spoilt kiddy for the whole afternoon. Snorkins did not object and there was peace in the office. He took the little girl to his room and there she whimpered or wept the whole time because the unfortunate Snorkins could not devise means of distracting her attention. She seemed to discover that her crying shook this poor little man to the last shred of his being and she played on him relentlessly to her own secret enjoyment. When her mother called for her, she confessed to having enjoyed herself immensely and thanked Snorkins rather prettily; but without answer he set about making up the leeway in his office work brought about by the strahge and racking task put on him by the boss.

And so it was after nine o’clock when Snorkins stumbled into his home and found his wife bitterly complaining about his dilatory habits. Mrs Snorkins was a flabby woman, of commanding size, and a bully. She married Snorkins because he lacked the courage to think of refusing and in his home he was the object of her contempt. She played the tyrant but even that palled because Snorkins never evinced any sign of resenting her cruelty. Mrs Snorkins now grated her teeth because he was such a pallid worm.

The idea of asking for supper never crossed his mind and so, to the music of her recriminatory lecture, Snorkins fell to sleep on that small fraction of the bed which his bulky spouse did not appropriate for her own body. And his silence gradually drove her into the protective arms of a heavy,

But Mrs Snorkins dreamed. She had eaten heartily, add’ng her husband’s supper to her own and now she dreamed of a triumphant day whereon she goaded the miserable Snorkins, goaded him until ....

At that moment there burst into the night air, the sound of Highland pipes—pitched high and piercing. Snorkins awoke, turned uneasily and Mrs Snorkins, waking up slowly, heard him mutter: “Damn it, I can’t stand any more.” Then all was silence.

Next morning at breakfast, Snorkins found on his plate two fried eggs and the largest piece of toast. He sat down in silence only to hear his wife say humbly: “I apologise, Clarence—you were right even if you did swear—l deserved it.” Snorkins said nothing—he was too astonished—and it was a week before her continued selfabasement had its effect.

It was just a week, because it. was on the following Friday that Snorkins strode firmly into the managing director’s room and demanded an increase in salary. Today he is manager and a member of the Rotary Club, but while Snorkins and his wife honour the bagpipes as the founder of their fortunes, I am inclined to the belief that it was the petulent little child that led them to these richer fields.