Ladies' Column.

Star (Christchurch), 30 September 1893, Page 3

Ladies' Column.

"TENNIS AND TEA." A MONOLOGUE. (Pall Mall Budget.) j Well, Pm glad I'm not in tbat game. I'm too good to play with muffs. Hilda baa to take all Harry Ver. ker's ballsnrst forfear he misses them, and Nelly, is bo busy talking to Tom Alder that 6he forgets to play np. I don't know why they call it tennis; I dall ifc talk. Grown-up people like talk better than anything in the world, it seem 3 to me. ' People ara always asking me don't' I wish I was out? Not if T,.khow it! What should I want to ba out for'?. They don't understand. They say, " Poor thing, only fifteen ! threelongyeara to wait, and dou't I wish it was me when I seethe girls ready dressed for a ball?" No, tbauk you. I'm happier as I am. I know what cpmiug out is. I've seen three. One's married—theso aren't— yet. It's a horrid business,, anyway; First they order a dreas, aud you'd thiuk it was going to be the only .dress in the worid, instead of a very simple affair— trimmed daisies. Then when it comes home there's a scene. They cry. Ifc isn't right. It's hideous. Thej'd rather die than wear it. There's no time to alter it. The dressmaker takes care of that. Then they must. do their hair a different way, because • they're " out." It isn't used to it, and it won't stay up. Tbe jr fuss * * * they bounge ' about ' * * * they keep the carriage waiting * '.* * they douse on oceans of powder aud forget to dußt it off. * * * Then they come home, and lie on my bed in their ball-dresses, and kick about and make it uncomfortable for me, and Bay that society, is a hollow fraud, aud nothing, ever happens as you think it will. I could have told them that. They only mean tbat they at once fixed their affections on the most impossible man in the room, and that he was never introduced to them * * * or that he only danced once with them , instead of twenty-one times. I don't think 'life is ft hollow fraud. I ill ways get what. l want, but grown-up girls seem to expect euch a lot. I wonder if I could eat another -petit four? I've had six, but then Billy has had eight. Wo were beginning to _|ake the dish look silly, bo I sent him away to field for balls. He was . cross. He's. a year older than me. I manage him, of course. What an awfully ! lon'g game! How they waste their time in chattering! Why don't they play 'vantage all? I daren't suggest it, for it might iaterfera with Hilda's arrangemonts. I'll juet have some more tea, I think. Ob, blow ! The kettle i6n'fc properly spliced! I forgot to put tho pin back. There's a mess ! I'll lay my handkerchief over the place. * * * I wish, my handkerchief was whiter ! What did I use it for? Oh, I remember, I carried those tadpoles in it. There, Hilda's put her foot through her best lace petticoat ! I knew she would. I told her she was an idiot to Wear itnobody would see it. Of course wheu you have a tumble, a lace petticoat cornea very handy, but why tumble ? Her frock's much too good, too, but I suppose she had .her reasons. It doesn't in the least matter what I wear, only I have to be very particular about my shoes, for naturally they're the only things that show. I alwaya wear these plain whita muslin frooks. Tbey go to the wash regularly ouce a week, with the window blinds. Tes, I know it'a short— very short! People think the girls do it to keep me down. Nothing of the kind! It's my own plan. If ib was long 1 should have to behave, and I don't want to, yet. It'a such fun, now, when I. make, an awful speech — as awful as I can— people stare and put up their eye-glasses, and think, What a dreadful girl !•■*'• * Then they look right down till they come to my feet, sind they ccc I'm only a school-girl, and don't know any better, and are quite amused. I do know better— l know a great deal better than I practise. Of course, I have beastly lessons to do, and all that. I manage very nicely. " I do them, I do thera, and it doesn't take me long." I think the woman who has come to my time of life without knowing how to get round her lessons is a fool. ' "Peopl6 call me a little devil sometimes, but they never call me a fool. I should like to ace them. I don't object to "devil" at all. I've got a governess. She's French. She's quite harmless. I chose her carefully. I rather like h_r. She knows I don't like her to interfere with me. I 6ee very little of her. She can't pronounce my name, or its "short" either. It's rather a teaser. I dine in the schoolroom with her. She reads novels all the time. I know they're improper— the girls say so — but I really haven't time to investigate. Perhaps I shouldn't understand them. I'm alwaya in a hurry. I gobble. She aaya I'll spoil my complexion. I say I'll look after my complexion wheu the time comes. : We give dinner parties sometimes. When we happen to be thirteen I dine down* Mamma says people are so superstitious, jgfte is. We often happen to be j thirteen. I like dining down for a change, I though, as a matter of fact, I get more feo i eat on the stairs. The servants jolly well I know they've not got to miss out a single dish, except the mutton. I can do without that. The other day I persuaded George Beaucbamp to have hay fever, when he waa engaged to dine here. He was fourteenth, for I got hold of the list.. He did it, dear boy, to oblige me, - But he came in in tbe evening, and I thanked hun. : •'-•.. Nelly thinks he's here. He is not, he ißn't anybody's. He doesn't want to ! marry. 1 quite sympathise. Lota of young men ara like that, That's why he gets on ! so well with me, because he's not afraid of -my marrying him. I disapprove of marriage, but I don't mind helping those wretched grown-up girls a little. Poor things, '.they are so dreadfully helpless!' They eay ' . .that burglars always have a small boy about that tbey ahove through keyholes and pantry windows to open places for them. The girla axe always shoving me through the larder window, don't. you know? I like it. I' have a perfeot' genius for it Now see, here, to day— this tea and tennis ! It's all my getting up. On Tuesday night Hilda couldn't sleep a wink — Bhe says bo, but she had a horrid kind of broken sleep, I heard ber — because she waa quite sure that Harry Vere'ker had ' gone home from the picnio Biipper, thinking she had got lost in the woods on purpose with Mr Carruthers. She knew, because ht. had hardly spoken to her all supper, and she values his good opinionanybody's good opinion, Bhe says, but she can't take me in. Although she flirts with him, do you know, I really think she's in j love with him, so I don't mind helping j her. ''■•.'•....• I She got me- into her bedroom, and shut all- the doors and windows— l wonder she didn't Stop up this chimhey-^-and then she cried, and would I help her and be a dear, and make him understand * ■* * Oh ! very, very delicately * * * it would ruin her if he ever guessed * * * and all that ! So I promised to help her if she'd promise not to tell about Towzer. Tkat happened a month ago, but I've always been anxious about it, and I was glad to have an opportunity of making it safe. So I lent her my handkerchief, and said she wasn't to bother, and I'd take the whole responsibility. She stopped howling •—I really believe she cares for him— and gave me an old hat and a yard of Valenciennes that was lying about. Good business ! So next day I rode over to Sowerlees on " Freckles " and asked for Harry Vereker. I can d ci those things because I'm not out. He waß in the billiard room. I just eaid " How-de-do," and then * * * noeilly beating about the bush * * * that I was quite aure Hilda liked him a great deal better than Mr Carruthers. * * * He stared a little, and aaid, " Really ! " ** * It seemed rather aB if he hadn't thought of it. before. * *- * Perhaps he doesn't want Hilda? * * * Anyhow I have put the idea in bis head. Then I asked him over to tea and to .mis to day, all oif my own bat, you kaow * * * and here

he is — as large — or as small as life, and letting all the balls go through his racquet, because he's looking at Hilda. Oh, we'll pull it through.l fancy. Billy, you fraud, where have you been P Tou found a chaffinch's nest? Good heavens! you Eay you called me? I don't believe it. If .you called me Giggles, of course I didn't answer. My ■ name ia i Gu^lielma. No, you BhaU not have any j more. Let go! There, you can eat that one j that's fallen, there, on the ants' nest. I'd : rather youjiad it than the auts anyway. j Are they quarrelling oyer there, or iB the game over? Quick, Billy, tell James I want him. Jamea, more tea * * * and * * * more cakes! * * * we had a little accident with those last ones. Oh, Uero you all are ! Game and set ! j Who won? Hilda, I don't believe you have got the very haziest idea. Tou haven't! Excuse her; M-r Alder. There's some more tea ooming. • Have some bread and buttpr, Mr -Vereker? Where is the cake, I wonder ? • -". r' Billy,, yoji and. I'll <h ay « akn__ok<oufc now, .and show 'e_n ( bow, Hilda and,' '/Mr Vereker, suppoae. you field for 'us?.'. It's the least you caff "do. Come on. Bill V.'