THIRTY TIMES

Taranaki Daily News, 25 July 1931, Page 13 (Supplement)

THIRTY TIMES

VARIOUS POINTS OF VIEW

(By

"Sophisticus.”)

Dad was troubled with a thought. He was secretly contemplating the purchase of a new car.

“In these times we get all sorts of contradictory advice,” tie grumbled, as he stood with Mum on the back porch contemplating the trusty tourer that had done its four full years. “People interested in getting something out of us such as fresh taxes tell us to adopt a 'snow under’ policy; while the rest, those with something to sell, are clamouring for freer spending. It’s very annoying.” “What's a ‘snow under’ Dad?” asked Bruce. "Can we build a man. wit' a pipe in his mouf, and can I have your old hat to put on his head?’’ “Taihoa,” said Dad. “It s only raining qt present. To ‘snow under’ means to save all your pennies and when you want to buy something very badly, you open your money boxes, count up all you’ve got, and then say to yourself, ‘No! I must keep this for a rainy day or for—’”

“But, Daddy, it’s raining now,” interrupted Bruce. “And I’ve got fruppences as well as pennies in my box. I’m going to count ’em now. C’mon Barbara. I shaked yours one day, and it sounded nearly heaviern mine. Praps though you’ve got a sixpence in yours. “Hold on kiddies,” said Dad. “A rainy day is a word grown-ups sometimes use to mean when you get sick and the doctor has to come and all sorts of medicines have to be bought. Or, if a big wind came and blew down the garage and another had to be built. And so, after you have counted all your pennies—yes, 'and fruppences too —you put them back in your boxes and try very hard to forget what it was you wanted so badly. Doing that is called ‘thrift,’ and Mr. Forbes will tell you what a very nice word ‘thrift’ is.” “Who’s Mr. Forbes, Dad?” asked a small voice. “And why does he like saving up pennies and being frift vat word you said just now.’’ “Oh! go and have a look at your money boxes, but don’t climb on a chair to feel them,” said Dad. “Aren’t they cherubs,” remarked Mum. “But what has started you off about- saving, all of a sudden. Nou an oblique reference to my housekeeping by any chance, is it, dear ?” “It’s that car,” confessed Dad. “We have had it four years now, and the trouble with me is that I don’t know whether to risk another year, or to trade her in while her appearance is still with her. It’s terrible not to know ■which is the really thrifty course, especially as I’ve got to have a car.’ “You talk a lot, don’t you?” challenged Mum, “but I can see you have already made up your mind. What sort of car are we going to get?” Dad grinned. “You don’t mind doing without that new sleeping porch a bit longer, do you? After all, it is not an essential.’’ It was Mum’s turn to grin, but she successfully hid a smile. She agreed that there should be no harm in looking at a few new models. “Let’s go and look them over this afternoon,” said Dad suddenly. Thus it camo about that later in the day Mr. and Mrs. Average Mann entered the garage where Dad. had already made surreptitious preliminary enquir-

G While he delved into prospects and prices with the proprietor, Mum and the children wandered about the showroom. “Here’s a corker,” cried Bruce. Look’ It's got an angel on top of the radiator.” . , , “Yes, and doesn’t its doors slam beautifully,” said Barbara. “Is it a six, Mummy?” enquired Bruce. "Six what, darling?” “I don’t know. Might be sixes or sevens. Six engines or sumpin. But not fives anyway. Dad calls our old one a six.”

“If Dad says they are sixes, I suppose they are, but .1 thought they were Fords or Austins or Silver Bullets. Some name like that.” “An Essex Kadan,” squeaked Bar“A Shovel-of-Ray,” countered Bruce. Just then Dad strolled over. ,

"They are getting that green coupe ready. We’ll try that out. I can get a good price for the old bus on her.’’ A few minutes later, with the kiddies wildly excited in the dicky seat, the green coupe slid quietly out of town and picked up speed. Mum opened the rear window to keep an ear as well as an eye on their enthusiasm. “Make it go 80,” shrilled Barbara. “Make it go 80, Dad.” She bounced up and down on the seat and Mum nearly had heart failure. “A coupe will never do me,” she exclaimed. “I’d never be easy about those children. Bruce, will you sit on the seat! And Barbara, for goodness sake don’t lean so far over the side! You’ll drop out.’’ “I’m watching the road run away, Mummie.” “And I’m seeing the wheels go round.” “Well, don’t,” said Mum decisively. The coupe was soon returned. It performed 'beautifully, but the strain of seeing both children draped over the back cheeking an on-coming car was too much for Mum. “No coupe for me just at present,” she decided. The next to be demonstrated was a fully closed in jo’b, and the children were intrigued for quite a while with the discovery that the back cushion was on hinges and could be pulled out at the top to disclose an enticing black hole. Fortunately the opening was not large enough for Barbara’s plump body, though she gave it a good go. “I’d like to ride in there and be a big woof,’’ she said.

■Several other cars wfere likewise put through their paces, but Dad finally came back to a glistening sedan. It was much admired and was ultimately taken home for a further trial next day. Bruce and Barbara stood off to criticise and admire, some very frank and unusual views being expressed. Presently Bruce turned to his beaming parent.

"Is this car ours now, DadT” “I think, very likely it may he sonny.” “Will it cost very, very many pennies?”

“Yes, son. I’m afraid it will. Quite a big heap of them.” “Then, Daddy, don’t you think Mr. Forbes will be terribly ’noid with you. You know you said he wanted everyone to save up all their pennies and be fri-frift-frifty. Vat word.”

"Yes, yes,’’ said Dad, rather impatiently. “Oh! T do wish we had taken the coupon. Mummie,” sighed Barbara.