TALES AND SKETCHES.

Timaru Herald, Volume LXXXII, Issue 12796, 30 September 1905, Page 2 (Supplement)

TALES AND SKETCHES.

Wooing to Order.

The young man at the desk frowned darkly as he read the letter before him. He held it at a distance, then drew it closer. And Lis frown grew darker. "That's a fine proposition," he growled under his breath. " Wonder if lie is aware that this is the twentieth century? And what on earth am I to do about it He stared helplessly at the closely written sheet; Then he read the letters through aloud. The handwriting was small and cramped, but he seemed quite familiar with rt.

I write to let yon know," he read that I ve had another of those bad turns, and while It was no worse than the others I take it for warning. I'm going to get iny house in readiness to move out. This isn't a bad place to stay in and I'd be contented here for quite a while yet, but I'm not counting on the future, I want to put everything in readiness and I'm going to begin with you. No doubt you have expectations, but perhaps I have encouraged them. But I'm going to make things very clear to you. You have professed considerable gratitude to me for what I have done for you. I'll test your gratitude now. I believe I once told you that I had a cousin Mary, who was my playmate when we were children together. She died several years ago, leaving a daughter. I helped Mary on numerous occasions, and promised her I would help her daughter. I have done so. I have paid her expenses through college and I mean to provide for her further. But on one condition. I want you to marry her. Perhaps you will fail to appreciate that this is the highest proof of confidence I have yet given you. No doubt you will consider me a hateful tyrant. Consider we what you like—my mind is made up. You know me. \ou know what my whims mean to you. You know lam a adamant when once I make np my mind. The dav you write me or cable me that you and Ei&ilv have agreed to wed, that day I will set aside a trust fund for you and by cousin'* daughter of £50,000. * If you fail to win her you will get nothing, I am going to allow ycu all thii time I feel I can safely name—and it seems to m 6 quite sufficient. X figure it out that this letter should reach you by the 10th. I must- have results by the first day oi the coming month. It seems to me that this is ample time. You have youth, good health, good looks, a good education and very, fair expectations. Hasten your wooing, my boy. I wan to fatow that the dear girl is in safe hands, if. y° u 8° my lawyers. Brigham, Clayton and Mineh, you will be told'her address. Don't disappoint me. This Diay be—no doubt will be—my last- request."

The young man dropped the letter on the desk and stared at it blankly. " This is terrible," he murmured, "'What am Itodo ?" He looked around as if seeking aid from the office walls. " And I owe so much to' this dear, old unreasonable naan. His last request. Yet how can I bring myself to do .it ?" He picked np the letter again. "He has given me ten days for my wooing. Ten days. Hang it all,'if it- was only the money, I'd know to dd mighty soon. But I owe everything to him home, education, the very clothes I wear ! And he says it s his last* request. He might have called it his only one. His cousin's daughter. I scarcely knew -he uad a cousin. I never heard him mention her but once. What can she be like? Put what difference does it make? Hang it all I I felt so liappv, so well pleased With the world!" He struck the desk with his fist, and scowled again. If I refuse it- means the loss of my position here, of my hopes of advancement, it means the loss of my benefactor's record. And there is some one else." He flushed' redly, "_Now I know there is some one else." He sat very still for a few moments. Then he suddenly arose and putting the letter in :his pocket turned towards the wardrobe and took down his hat. "I'll go and see the lawyers," he said. "Perhaps I. will find that- the girl is already engaged to someone else. Or married. .I'd rather she was married. Much rather. And lie turned towards the door.

A light rap stopped him.. " Come in," he said. The door opened and a young woman entered. She was a pretty voung woman, with a pretty hat and a pretty frock, and a smile that was decidedly attractive. She smiled now as she caught sight of the vnnn" man. ; • ° • Mr Somers," she cried, "ale vou m? The young man had started at sight of his caller. "I'm very to sav I am in," he replied. " But you were just going out." He replaced his hat. "It was in connection with a- matter of little consequence," he said. Then he remembered. "At least, it is a matter that. can wait. Pray be seated." " Thank you. You have a pleasant of-

I find it so. Of course I have considerable time to admire it." The girl laughed. "Admire it while you can," she said, " Mr Garver says you are doing very well for a beginner." "I am glad Mr Garver thinks so. It seems pretty slow climbing for me." " Then you will appreciate every successive height that you attain." : How -charming looked, how sweet and good. He buttoned his coat nervously and the rustle of the letter in his inner pocket struck a chill to his heart. " This is the first time you honoured me with a call." - "I promised you I would look in at- your new quarters, jou Temamber." "Of course, I remember, but I was afraid vou wouldn't come." - She hestated and looked at him with a CHrious expression. - "I was in the building and saw your card oil the door. It seemed unkind to pass it ■by." "It would have been very unkind. Aid that of course you couldn't be." She flushed slightly. "I had called at Mr Garver's office. lie has been very kind. He promises to find me a situation where I can do copying and perhaps act as a correspondent."

The young man flashed. "Is that necessary?" he asked. " Yea," she answered, " I thint it' is. I can't live on charity, you know. I have an excellent education and feel that I should ■utilise it. It will make me happier to know that I am independent." She laughed at his serious face. "You don't happen to want an amanuensis, do you?" He shook his head. " Not yet." " She has excellent references, and is willing to come on trial. He shook his head again. " I don't like it," he said. " Don't like what, Mr Somers ?" " Don't like your bantering on this subject. Don't like, the idea of -your doing office work," he added boldly. Her clear eyes steadily regarded him. "You are unusually serious this morning, Mr Somers. Has anything happened? Have you received bad news?" "Yes," he answered. "I'm sorry. Perhaps my call is not opportune." She half arose. " No, no," he quickly said. " I consider it quite providential." She laughed merrily. " That sounds almost desperate. Well, we must make the most of it. It may be a long time before another such oppor,-. tunity occurs." "What do you mean by that?" Mr Garver thinks 'he has secured a desirable place for me as foreign correspondent •with the ,A.cme Watch Company. They are about to establish a new place," and want to move their clerical force there. It looks like a fine chance for me." He started at her. "You are going away." " Why, yes. I mu£t go away if I take the situation." " Going away," he murmured. Then he seemed to take a sudden resolution. "Miss Selwyn?" " Yes, Mr Somers." '"I wan't to ask your advice, I—now long have I known you, Miss Selwyn?" " It- must be all of four months." "Yes. Four months, but I seemed to have known you much longer than tlint, much longer." " It's only four months. I met yon the first, time soon after I left college." "Yee. And do you think, Miss Sehryn, that- a four months' friendship warrants me in asking your advice in a matter that very

closely and—and seriously concerns my future/'

"We are very good friends, Mr Seiners. If you think my advice wi'l be of any service to you it will-be freely given. But am I the one to consult." "The very one, Miss Sehvyu." She drew down her lair brows a little at this. Then a gentle smile rippled across her face.

"I am listening," she said. The young man squared his chin and drew a long breath. "It is a question of gratitude," he began. " Not of duty, please understand. If it were duty I could settle the question very quickly. But this is more difficult." The girl nodded. "I understand., Mr Somers."

"Yes." He paused a moment. "My father and mother both died when I -was very young and left me quite alone and quite friendless. Then an acquaintance of my father's took me in his keeping and fed me and clothed me and educated me. All I have I owe to my benefactor and he has asked nothing in return—until now. I have seen him ouly at rare intervals, his health is not good and he spends much of his time abroad, but I hear from him quite often—as often as lie is in the mood tor write. Yesterday a letter came that greatly disquiets me. He tells me that he believes his days are numbered—but this he has told me several times before. He is not the premonition that worries me so much—for I be'.ieve he is in a nervous state that often fills him with gloomy forebodings—it is a test of my gratitude that he asks, and asks in a way that makes it very hard for me to know just what to do." The girl's clear gaze did not leave his face.

" Does it not require too much of a personal sacrifice?" she asked. He flushed. "It is hard to explain." he .answered. " He asks me to do something which hurts my pride, that wounds my fee'ings. that—that makes me Appear contemptible to myself." " But, surely," says the girl. " you do not hesitate?" "Think of the gratitude I owe him." " But your benefactor does not own you." "It seems that he thinks he does. And he is old and ill and believes he is dying." • "Still, you should not hesitate." She paused.. "No doubt lie offers you some reward if you comply with his wishes?" "Yes; a large reward. Wait. It concerns some one else equally with myse'f." There was a brief silence. " You must decide this question for yourself, Mr Somers," said the girl. l ' I can't put myself in your place." He struck the table with his hand. "I have decided," he cried. "Let the consequences be what they may. I will refuse his proposition." The girl smiled, and there was strong approval in her expression. "I think you- have done right." she said. -'

"Oh, I'm sure of that now," lie cried. His mood has changed, his face has brightened. "I have a benefactor," too," said the girl. "He has put me under the deepest obligations. I. hope .lie will never test ' »>. v gratitude as yours has done." "Then.you.can-sympathise with me," he said, " I was afraid you didn't." " Perhaps I forgot for the moment how nearly my own personal dependence resembled yours-." The young man stood up and steadied himself with his hand on the desk.

" Miss Selwyn," lie said and his voice was low and trembled a little. "I don't want you to think me overbold, nor think I have taken advantage of your presence here. But you are going away and I feel that I must tell you something that I have had on my mind ever since I first met you. Can you guess, what it is? I am poor, my prospects are not alluring, yet- I feel that I will conquer fate, and—and wh?t I .want to ask is this—will you wait for ri ; e ; Alma, until -1 can come to you and ask you to share my home and my life?" Her clear eyes clouded. 'She turned her face a little way. Then the suddenly put out her hand.

"Yes," she said, "I will'wait." _A moment later she laughed merrily. "What.is it, Alma?" " " Something that strikes- me as being very funny. I had a letter day before yesterday from my benefactor. He told me to call at- the offic-e-of young Henry Somers. 'He Had something to tell you, lie wrote Can-you wonder that I am amused. Is—is there anything else to have to tell?" " Xotliing." he answered. " Why that seenis very strange. Told you to come to my office? May I ask the name of your benefactor ?"

" Why, yes. He was my mother's cousin. His mime is' Robert Humphrey." The young man gasped. " Robert Humphrey. And yor. are his cousin's daughter? But her name is Emily." My name is Alma" Emily. Emily was my mother's name. But what is the matter ?" For the young man has dropped back in his chair and was holding his sides. " Oh, this is too good!" he cried. Robert Humphrey is my benefactor, too! And that test of my gratitude was marriage with you, dearest girl!" " What!" cried the dearest girl. " And he sent me here ! Why—why, he must have known all the time."' "Of course he did. It's his little joke. And a beautiful joke, top." Then the girl laughed till the tears stood in her eyes. . " But you gave me up." - " You advised me to." Then they laughed together. "I think," said the young man -presently, " that I will write out-that cablegram." He bent over his desk for a moment. "There," he said, "How will that do?" \ She took the slip and read it aloud: . "'Ten days enough. We both send love.'" ,