LITERATURE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 4346, 29 March 1882, Page 4

LITERATURE.

BOYCOTTED.

(Tfw Burlington Magazine.) "We are • Boycatted.' " Yes; "BoyOOtted " in the fullest Banse of the term. All out servants have gone. Men-servants and aaaid-servants. From the cook to the p ictry - boy— butler, housemaids, ladies-maid, — all are gone, bag and baggage ; ' all protesting against going, yet all afraid to Btay ; and we are alone in our glory, and, strange to relate, our spirits have risen in consequence— gone up to fever height, in fact. Here we are— the Desmonds of Castle Desmond— alone, utterly alsne. Bereft of household servants, of farm labourers, of coachman, groom— all, not forgetting the dairymaid, "and a dozen cows waiting to be milked." What are we to do ? "Fight it out," Gerry declares stoutly, with a gleam in his grey eyes ; and we all with triumphant clamour echo his sentiments. "Of course we must never givn in. I Bhould think mt; give in, indeed!" exclaim the dear, defiant, young voices ; for thero is a flavour ot delicious excitement about it all, and we feel like war-horses scenting the battle from afar, and we are all more or less eager for the fray. Mamma alone weeps uod wails With her youngest born at her side, und looks pathetically at Gerry, her eldest eon and master, mid owner of Castle Desmond and its Bin-founding broad acres. "Nan is going to stay v» ith me," announces the youngest born with ciu-'ruiing egotism ; "ao she Bhan'fc Buffer a moment's uneasiness." Foor old nurae, she alone is faithful ; but what can ehe do ? <4 Heavens ! I believe you have all forgotten that awful man is coming to-night," exclaims Eily tragically. "Gerry, you must telegraph and Btop him." I can't, he is on his road hours ago ; and what is to prevent him coming, I should lika to know?" " What is to prevent him ? Why, everything. Who is to cook, or wait at table, or " " Make bis bed?" Solemnly this last comes from the irrepressible youngest born j wheroupon ■ we all laugh. "By Jove! Yes— l never thought or that," muses Gerry ; " anS Tremaine is such a terrible fellow for form, and all that sort of thing." flora looks up from some work she is pretending to do. "We could stand ' Boycotting' by ourselves, but I don't see ho «r we really could have a stranger in the house." 11 1 havf> an idea." M 7 ideas are_ generally unique of their kind, so the five pairs of eyes turn on me at once. " Out with it, Mab." And I cry out excitedly, " Eily, will you help me ? lou and I can be the servants, and wait «t table and everything, and Colonel Tremaine will never know. Oh, it will be grand fun. Now, what do you think of mj idea?" ■" Bosh," from Gerry. "Delightful," from JBUy. And for half an hour we talk and better talk, but in the end I cany my point, and wo dash off to work at our scheme by ouraelves. Mamma is too broken down and nervous to care what we do, and Gerry walks about as if he had the world on his shoulders. Bo Eily and I carry all before us, and work like slaves, to the detriment of our hands, for we are novices at cookery, and surely no cooks were ever so black or so smutty as we two. Oar efforts are something almost superhuman, and were it not for the real gravity of •' Boycotting," we would enjoy it all thoroughly. Milking time is the worst. There stand the cows stalled by Gerry, and there stand the pails, but where is the milk ? Gerry works away with his face very red, ' but with very little result. lam seated on a little stool, a little afraid of the cow it must bo confessed, but still struggling manfully, and yet the milk won't come. Eily ditto, laughing, and telling us she is getting on beautifully. "It is all a knack, Mab. Why, I have extracted nearly a pint." " A devilish hard knack," in a smothered voice from Gerry, with his face buried in a big red cow. « Steady, Cowslip, steady." But Cowslip, with oiia kick and a spring, Bends me on my back lgn-'miniotialy — pail, stool, and all flying; und my precious pint of milk 'finds a resting-place in the straw. Otherwise there is no damage done, and I return to the charge. For three hours we are working at those miserable cows, and at last — very 'hot, very tired— we toil into tho dairy with our mili-pails. "By Jove, I had no idea it was such hard work," Gerry says, wiping his forehead. "I don't envy the pretty maid who went a milking," 1 say, laughing; "I thought a dairy was always such a nice placo, with the red floor, the cream, and all the rest of it ; but I now see a dairymaid's placo is- no sinecure." deny pulls out his watch. " I must get the dog-cart and drive over to meet Tremaine." Eily looks up from skimming the cream. "Is it safe for you to go alone ?" " Oh, nonsense. It is safe enough." And he goes. Eily and I can think of nothing but acting up to our new characters as the domestics of the Desmond family. Our dresses, caps, and aprons are all perfect of their kind, and even mamma smiles a wan smile as I rehearse a little for her benefit, and bring fresh coals for the drawing-room fire and brush up the hearth in the deftest fashioo imaginable. Dot, all bofiilled and bebowed by Nan's careful fingers, as if "Boycotting" was a thing unknown, watches with big eyes. "Is Mab making a play, mamma?" "Yes, my darling." "The child will tell Colonel Tremaine the first thing," remarks Eily, as •he draws the curtains and then whisks round on Dot suddenly. "Dot, if you tell, I'll— l'll 'Boycot ' you," e?"> -ays in an awful Toioe. And the youngest biro, awed by the threat, promises "not to tell — oh, not anyone." "She will all the same, I feel convinced," Eily says, as we depart to the kitchen ; " what a nuisance a child is coming in at the end of a large grown-up family!" after which speech she betakes herself to the mysteries of mashi^ potatoes. Norah, the beauty of the family has arranged the dinnertable to her liking, and is now dressed and awaiting CoL Tremaine's arrival in the draw-ing-room. " I would feel easier if Dot was in bed," I say. "Bemember £ am Susan and you are Mary, Eily." "No, Mab, lam Susan s tfee name suits me best. Ob, that wretched colonel ; I hope he likes pepper in £oup, for t&e head of the castor has gone in." "Nevermind. Eily, who is to bring him his hot water in the morningr?" "You must," promptly ; " you look awfully like a housemaid, Mab ; and besides, I should laugh, I know I shsuld." " Bat I couldn't go into his room," in horrified accepts.; Eily, I couldn't ; aad he must open his shutters for himself; and you know I could just knock at his door asd say, 'Yost hot water, sir.' " "And he.wiH say, 'Come in,* * laughs Eily ; "oh, Mab, it is glorious, and perhaps he will give us each fc-aovereign when he goes away." A loud ring at the door 2 He has come.; and with my heart in my mouth, and trying to look prim aad demure, I proceed to answer the summons. Opening the hall door wide, I see a tall 'figure enveloped >in an ulster j standis; on the«teps. Gerry is <in the dog cart. " I shallbe in directly," he calls out, ■and drives the trap round to the *yard, having no one to do it for him. " Will >yoa please come to the drawing room, ax'i" I whisper timidly, and surety no handmaiden had ever -such a eszall voice -"before. He is struggling out of his coat and muffleta, find I watch him, bureting with -amusement the while at ihe joke ef the thing. Ho is very tall, very dignified, a proper sort of man, and it would never do to let him-sopect tho harmless .ruse we are playing on him. He is to be here for only two dsys, and surely we can keep up the farce for that short space of time. There is dignity even in the way he unwinds the yards of white cashmere from his throat, and layc it down on his coat. He has a very grand manser, and he is nice booking too, quite a handsomo man, just the age I like- about forty. What a pity I an only the servant. But ho has shaken himself together, and passing his hand over his hair and etraight•aning himself at if he was on parade, signifies the 1 ; br is racdy, and oo I precede him across tim hall," and throwing open the drawing room door, unnounce — " Colonel Tr«xaainfi," with a fiaarish, him! retire, feeling that the stage has lost "n gr.>at and shining light in me.

Oh, the dishing-up of the dinner, -the heat of oar face*, *nd the desperation of our manner! Shall I ever forget it ? Gerry paid us a flying visit jutt as tho coup is beinjj poured into the tnreen. "It is all right," he cays hurriedly; "Tr«maino is delighted with -everything, and hasn't an idea we're Boycotted. Mab, you look rpv-ndid. Don't laugh, mind, girls, at dinner." And off he goes, and the work of di«liii ,.» up progresses. "Eily, Turkeys don't keep 'heir leg 3 up like that." "I can't help it," Kily cries desperately, struggling with the bird's long yellow legs, that are held up towards heaven aupplicatinjfly, while unfortunate turkey goes bnmpißg and steaming about tbe table, and refuse.; to get into shnpo or form. "Ho will think it is the Irish fashion of trussing." I cannot speak for laughing, as /■ ily settles tho bird in a dish, with its legs in ti.aair. " Mab, jou go on with tho aoup. Bee, ha ia looking

more natural, and the beef is really beautifully done, and the sauce does away with the effect of this animal's legs, I think." " Yes," I answer dubiously, looking at the white sauce flowing round, and the long Btrings of celery hanging like garters round the terrible yellow ankles of that moßt miserable bird. But, putting a good faoo on the matter, I carry in the Boup, feeling a little nervous as I announce dinner and Bee them all coming in. Gerry gives me one delighted look. Mamma is murmuring to Colonel Tremaine about tbe state of the country, and her fears for Gerry's safety, and Norah is acting her part to perfection. So they take their places, and Eily and I hand round the soup without any disaster. Sherry with soup, and I gravely fill Colonel Tremaine's glass and go round the table. The peppor in the soup makes thorn all cough, but the conversation goes evenly on, and we are waiting admirably. "I thought you had more sistera, Desmond ?" the colonel asks, and Eily dashes off with more haste than sense, and 1 hear her BmotUerifcg a laugh outside. "They are away," mutters Ge ry, red as a peony, and Norah steps into the breach—" I am Borry you have missed thorn, Colonel Tremaine ; they will be here next weok, I think." Nicely put, and she has not said anything that is not true. And then— horror or horrors!— l hear that awful colonel telling Gerry that he will be able, after alii to stay for at least a fortnight on a long-promised visit for hunting. A fortnight ! when tho man wrote to say ho could only come for two days on his way to pay a visit to somebody else. We shall never bo able to keep this up for a fortnight. However, mamma and Gerry are expressing their pleasure at the delightful prospect. The turkey, legs and all, has made its appearance, and I have at last, after three triah, hoisted tho roast beef over mamma's shoulder and set it on tho table, nearly falling ovor Colonel Tremaine as I did so. " Oh, 1 beg jour pardon," I cry, taken off myguard, and speaking in my own voice, and forgetting to " say " in the excitemont of the moment. Gerry laughs j it was nearly all up with us that time, but Eily is thrusting a plato of turkey under tho colonel's nose, and I Lave a moment to recover myself. Gerry's face, frowning at thoae uplifted appealing legs of that fearful bird, is a sight ; but he carves on, and the dinner progresses on the whole in a highly satisfactory manner. The snipe are raw, and a little feathery it must be confessed, and their legs have the same upward inclination as tho turkey's had, but Colonel Tremaine devoured the blackened fluffy morsel, for wo anxiously watch every mouthful ; and I breathe freely when he declines Eily's most nnpalatablelooking pudding —it took her hours to make— but the reault is not all hor fancy painted. With the dessert that most awful child Dot comes in and makes for mamma ; but nurse must hare trained her pretty well, for she Bays nothing to Kily and me; but presently, when her firßt shyness has worn off, she looks gravely at Colonel Tremaine, and says with terrible diatinctiv&neßS. " I know a Bocret, and you don't." " Dot," shouts Gerry, " come to me for an orange." So she goes round the table, malting matters worse by saying, " Oh, don't be frightened, Gerald ; I won't tell him the secrot." This awful dinner is over at last, and we are back in the drawing room talking it over with matpmn and Nora Mamma says shedoes not like it all ; the plan never met with her approval 5 Colonel Tremaine will be sure to find it out, &c.,&e. Bub what can we do ? " Boyootted " we are, and " Boycotted" we must remain. "Colonel Tremaine rather admires the Irish peasantry," Nora says smiling ; "he Baid our maids were the pret* tießt girls he had ever seen, and the tall one with the great eyes was a real beauty, much better-looking than half the London beauties. Now, Mab, what- do you Bay to that ?" "He will be making love to Mab when she is bringing him up bis boots and shaving water," laughs Eily delightedly. "Oh, I Baw him admiring her that time she nearly sent the beef spinning into his lap— don't look so indignant Mab, and come and make the coffee ; and you can carry it in to the colonel." It may be great fun, but it is very risky. Every ■instant the ohances of discovery Beam to increase. When I proceed to the drawing-room, coffee-tray in hand, I find the colonel and Gerry already located there— Colonel Tremaine in dangerous proximity to Dot, with — oh ! horror of horrors'!— an open photograph book between them, Dot with a deaire of imparting information explaining who everyone is. " That's Gerry, and this is me ; and that— oh .'—that's Mab." Here she stopa and looks

up at him gravely, nodding her head. " That 8 the secret, and I musn't tell." " Coffee, bit," I whispered in an agony. And straight from contemplating the photograph Colonel Tremaine looks right up into my face, gives one quick, puzzled, startled look, first at me, then down to the photograph, and then his eyes are lifted again and meet mine full, and I am sure there is a gleam of amusoment in his face — a sort of ray of enlightenment as he takes his coffeecup slowly from the tray; while, crimson with humiliation, I make one heroic endeavour to retrieve the moment by saying to that dreadful ohild, in a voice that will be shaky in spite of myself, " Miss Dot, nurse is waiting for you to go to bed." Bound-eyed sh« stares. " Why Mab !" is on her lips, bat I gave her a terrible Jook that recalls her to her senses, and take myself and my coffee-tray out of the room. But lam sure that the colonel more than half guesses that I am not the Susan I pretended to be.

Seven o'clock on a raw February morning is not the pleasantest moment of the day, and it is not an hour calculated to make " Boycotting" appear a bearable ideal. But we bravely procoed to the farmyard, and manfully struggle with those cows again. Gerry has gone to the stables to attend to the horses, and Eily and I are patiently filling our milk-pails by thimblefuls. "I can get on famously with one hand," Eily says dismally; " but when I try two I get out of time." "So do I," I answer, in equally mournfully accents. " Oh, Eily ! " A tall figure rises up beside Clover, who looks &b if she would kick over the milk-pail ; and I put on the Susan face, and milk away for bare life. What possessed tho man to coma out at this hour of the morning? There he Btands, calmly surveying our frantio endeavours, and I feel he is smiling— nay, laughing. " Allow m«." Whether snob, politeness is meant for the cows or me, I know not ; but he pushes up 'between Strawberry and Clover, and stands looking down at me. " Miss Desmond, you ■might have told me yon were ' Boycotted.* " It is all over then, and I look up blankly. The ludicrous side of the question seems to strike all three ot us at once, for we all burst out laughing, and the hugh takes away the awkwardness. " How did you find out ? " I ask, when I can speak again. "Tour little sister let out the secret," he answers, "and I partly guessed when I recognised you in the photograph-book." " What a shame ! and we were flattering ourselves you would never find out." "I am very glad I have, heartily; for now I can help you. Let me have a try at the milking-pail ; I used to be a capital hand at it long ago," We laugh, we talk, and surely the February morning has got warmer ; for when we oarry the pails of white frothing milk to the dairy we are rosy and smiling, and it seems to Eily and me as if we had known Colonel Tromairw for years. What fun we have cooking the breakfast, each mishap and disaster causing fresh bursts of merriment. The colonel fries bacon and eggs, and does it to perfection. Norah's face, when sho comes into the kitchen, is a sight worth seeing ; but we Boon explain, ■and matters progress swimmingly. Colonel Tromaine announces his intention of lending its his valuable services as Long as we are " Boycotted," and when Gerry comes in he finds us at breakfast, praising up our own cooking, and all feeling in a Etate of high good humour. "By Jove!" he says, Btanding in the open doorway, " the manners of the Irish peasantry are rather forward ; don't you think co, Tremaine ?" " Tho murder is out," the colonel replies, "and I apply for the post of coachman, Gerald, old man." " You can't get it, then, for I have Jußt engaged a man, and he is coming in to breakfast." "Who?" simultaneously from all. " George Dane. Ho came over and volunteered his services this morning," says Gerry, giving a quick look at Eily, who flushes Bcarlet. and hois daggors. "I am sure we can dispense with his services," she retorts scornfully, Gcorgo Dhdo haß been Eily's devoted slave for throo years ; she has refused him twice, and now they have quarrelled hopelessly. "Don't • Boycott' mo," says a humblo voico at tho door, and Georgo Dane makes his appearanco with a would-be contrite Btnilo on his faeo. He is quito goodlooking enongb, quite nice enough, and quite rich enough, too, if Eily would only soo it ; but she is a veritable coquette, as poor George has found out long ago, * * *

-^ly'i'Wjfe (To be oontimu" 1 .) .. '