LADIES' COLUMN.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 6901, 15 September 1900, Page 3

LADIES' COLUMN.

fii DRIFTING^ MATCH. <By A. DAMANT.) " Hi, sonny," sang out the Imp, cheerily, from the top of the landing-stage at Cowes. i Ida Hornw, "the Imp," as her friends called her, and I had only been in the Isle W Wight ten days. My quick-witted friend, ibowever, had already learnt that 'the proper !way to address every male inliabitant is "sonny," regardless of his age, and every Woman "mother," regardless of her youth,. , " Hi, sonny," she repeated. .„ The old boatman who slumbered, or appeared to slumber, in his boat below looked top. " Can you take us off to the Swift ?" she husked. "Mr Beaumont's yacht," I put in. • " A fentter of about twenty tons." v I know \»r," he responded. "Yes, fodies, that I can."- --• We descended the slipway and got into Itis boat, and! he pushed off. Some months ago Ida had become engaged to a rising young barrister, John Holland by name, and we all hoped that Ida, wlvoee vagaries were a continual source of anxiety, was settled at last. Mr Holland was a clever, steady young fellow, just the husband for the high-spirited, Vivacious, somewhat feather-headed Ida ; land tftiey appeared devoted to each, other. Bub for some inexplicable reason, probably in a mere fit of temper, the Imp bad broken tihe whole thing off a short "Mine ago, and had sternly forbidden me, as 1 valued our friendship, ever to allude to it — ioj. him— again. I never had, judging that tee Imp's own conscience, which at> twenty Was still .tender, would punish her quite ienough. She had been restless and discontented ever since, and had made life a_ burden to imo in the little flat wo shared in London, '•where she was supposed to be studying art. > It culminated /in the proposal of a walking toiir; so, as soon as the school in which I taught broke up for the summer holidays, we' started. We had come to Cowes now 1 , because my brother and hia wife had' invited! us to 1 end up with a few days on board their small sail-ing-boat, the Swift, "if you don't mind roughing it," wrote Mary t and neither of Us minded that. It was nearly dark when we reached a boat whioh our conductor pronounced to be the Swift, and in response to his shout a small' boy appeared. "No one aboard ?" asked the man. ■; "No," said the small boy, regarding us some surprise, " all gone ashore." " How unkind of them I" I said. "They might at least have been 'here to receive us. Didn't your master say he expected) anyone ? This is thci Swift, isn't it ?" I added. '. "Yes. miss," he replied, still looking Idiotically astonished. ; "Oh, well, it can't be 'helped. We'd l>etter get on board, I should think," said Ida, impationtly. "It's a good thing we lad our dinner before we came." " When do you expect themi back ?" I asked. " Not till late," said 1 the boy, as he helped 'tis on to the Swift, and took the small packages which represented our baggage for the walking tour. "Well, as my brother knows we're coming, it's all right," I remarked, carelessly, jusb to let the small boy know we (had a right there. His attitude would seem to imply that we hadn't, or at least that he was doubtful of the fact. " Come, Ida," I continued, when we had paid the boatman, and only given him twice his proper fare instead of tie four ' times he demanded, "let's go down and see what it's like." We descended into the little cabin, lit by a swinging lamp, and opening into a still Smaller oue, • into which Ida and I could fast fit at, the same time. This we concluded was to be our apartment, as there was a bunk on either side, furnished with cushions and a couple of rugs. " This is rougihing it, indeed," I grumbled, but Ida would allow of no complaints. "It's delightful, quite delightful," she naid; "jußt like being on a real boast" — what else she expected it to be like I don't know — "and we shall be awfully comfortable. I vote we turn in at once, I'm dead tired." 1 60 was I, and after another hasty glance round the other cabin, where we supposed my brother and his wife slept, we turned! in, and slept as only tired, healthy youth can. t I was awakened from a particularly vivid dream that there was an earthquake, and that I was trying to keep my balance on tihle 'dome of St Paul's, by the Imp's voice in 'my ear. • "Wake up, Eleanor !" she cried,.snaking me ; " wake up !" " Wha's th' matter ?" I murmured, eleepily. < "Wake up !" she reiterated. "How you do sleep ! Wake up 1 We're moving I" chairing- me still more vigorously. I sat up with, a jerk, hitting my head against the ceiling in consequence. " Moving ?" I cried. "So we are !" There was a steady " swish, swish " of water against the side, and Ida's bunk, whioh the night before had been on a level with mine, was now several degrees above it, while mine sloped down at a corresponding angle. Before I could make any further observations there was a shout above, the tramp of ftet on the deck, weird, and inexplicable Bounds, a violent lurch, and suddenly the position had shifted : I was on the hill and Ida in the valley. "Yes," I said, "we're certainly moving. They must have gone for a soil' — there's a tack to starboard." I felt rather proud of my nautical knowledge. "Well, hurry up and dress, then," returned my friend. "Why did thfty start bo early without letting uaknow V' *' Oh, I expect^ they thought we'd be tired, and let us have 6ur sleep out. Besides " — I looked at my watohr— " it's only half -past eight." With some difficulty, owing to the smallness of the cabin and the heeling over of the boat, we managed to dress, and as soon as I had finished I tapped on the door. • Mary !" I cried. " Axe you up V There was no answer, and, putting out my head, I saw the cabin was empty. " They must be on deck," I said " Come along if you're ready, Imp. I wonder if tney have had breakfast?" If they had, everything was cleared away Ineatly ; in fact, the cabin looked exactly as it did Lue night before. While I was taking this in, the Imp had passed me and was already ascending the steep little flight of steps leading to the deck. I followed close behind, but as she was in front the ■shock of discovery was hers. Gaining the deck, she looked round and gave a faint shriek, which I echoed as soon as I saw what wits the matter. ! In place of my brother Charlie and his •wife, who were nowhere to be seen, at the filler, a cigarette in hia mouth, was no less a person than John; Holland I • We gazed at him transfixed with astonishment. i "You?" at length gasped the Imp. "You?" ; , As for Mr Holland, he nearly let go the tiller in his amazement. : "Id — Miss Homer!" he cried,. "Where on earth did you come from?" : "Why, the cabin, of course," retorted the Imp. "We Siought it was Mr Beaumont's boat. Isn't it?" she demanded, with some asperity. " No, certainly not," ho replied. " It's mine. Bub how in the name of all that's wonderful did you get Ihere?" , . " Eleanor said " " I didn't," I feebly interpolated. " The boatman said it was the Swift ■". " Oih, well, anyway," broke in Ida, impatiently, "we thought it was Mr Beaumont's boat when we came .on board last might, and that idiot of a email boy never told us it wasn't." tSho stamped with vexation, and Mr Holland, who had seemed to regard our apparition rather in tlio light of a pleasant sur-j^i-o to begin with, ohanged his tone and pointedly addressed me. . . ■„ " I am sorry you made the mistake, Miss Beaumont," he said, politely, almost stiffly*.

"as I am afraid "there isn't much accommodation for ladies aboard, and- By the way," he broke off, " won't you have j some breakfast? I am sure you must be hungry." " I am," I remarked truthfully, and, taking Ida's assent for granted, as that young lady did not deign a reply, he called the small boy we had seen on our arrival the night before, and ordered him to set breakfast in tihe c^bin. i " I had mine before I 1 came on board," IMr Holland explained, "as I spent the night ashore. I'm afraid," apologetically, " you couldn't have ihad <a very comfortable time." ' : Seeing that the Imp maintained a haughty silence, " Oh, yes, thank you," I rejoined, hastily, " but I can't apologise enough for quartering ourselves on you like this. It was an . awfully stupid mistake, and we ought to have made sure- that this was my broaher's boat: But we were so tired— we've just finished 1 a walking tour, you know, and Were going to stay a few days with my brother 'and his wife to end up with— that we simply tumbled in atonce and slept soundly- till this morning." In' spite of himself v Johit;' Holland couldnot restrain a smile. "In the darkness," he said, "boats are very muob alike, and mine happens to be called the Swift, too, which, quite explains the mistake." "Breakfast ready, sir," said the small boy, coming towards us. "Look Ihere, you young rascal," said Mr Holland, sternly, " why didn't you tell fine tihis morning these ladies were here?" " Please, sir, I thought you knew. Leastways " — with an idiotio grin — " they said as 'ow you expected 'em." How I hated that boy ! I saw absolute murder in the Imp's eye; so, for fear of accidents. I straightway dragged iher down to breakfast. There we chased tihongs over the little cabin table, for the Swift was now dancing merrily along before a brisk breews and it was fortunate that we were both good sailons. "It's most annoying/ said Ida, with a frown, as she vainly strove to capture a pat of butter'for which/the floor had a fascination; "our -being here, I mean. I do ihope- Mr and Mrs Beaumont won't be very anxious." ' ■ . "Not they," I returned; " tlhey know I'm with you." "Ah," complacently, "and therefore all right." What I meant was, under those circumstances there could be no depending upon me ; bub I did not undeceive her. "If it had been anyone else," she went on, "it would have been an adventure, and 2 'should have enjoyed it ; but as it is Jo — Mr Holland— it's merely irritating. As soon as we've finished we must ask him to put us ashore." <r Certoinly," I assented. "After all, it's just as annoying lor him, and I've no doubt he's quite as anxious to get rid of us as 'we are to go." TEhe Imp looked at me sharply, but I dad nob move a muscle. "Besides," I continued, "anyway, it's very wrong for two girls to " "That's not tihe point," she broke in. "If ib comes to that, we chaperone each other" — the Imp's ideas of chaperoning were pleasingly original — " but as it is John Holland, I won't andi can't stay here a moment longer than necessary." As soon as we had finished we went up on deck again. Mr Holland threw away ibis cigarette as we approached. " I hope you had a good breakfast," !he said, with a studied politeness which 1 hoped was not lost upon the Imp. "Yes, thank you, she returned calmly, as we seated ourselves by his direction in the ' well ' beside him. " And now I think we must be. getting back." "Back?" he queried, in tihe most innocent of tones. "Back to Cowes, I mean," she said, sweetly, "if ib won't be spoiling your sail. You see, Mr and Mrs Beaumont may be getting anxious, and it isn't quite the proper thing for us to bo here. So " "I'm very sorry," said John, politely, "but" — was there the faintest/ gleam of mischief in ihis blue eyes? — "I am afraid I can't." . " Can't ! Can't what?" we both cried in the same breath. " Cant go back just now," ihe explained. "You see, the fact As " "Do you mean you won't take us back?" inquired the Imp, wrathfully. "Then, where, may I inquire, are you tak^' ing us'" "France," said Mr Holland, coolly. " France !" we shrieked, in tones of horror. "France!" I gazed wildly round. Sure enough we were well out to sea beyond the eastern end of the Isle of Wight, and the boat's head would seem to point directly south to France. " You see, She began ; but the Imp interrupted him. "Take us back at once— imjmedtiately. How dare you?" ehe continued. "I suppose you think it's a joke because you have us here quite at your mercy " "I assure you," ihe begaa, "I'm really awfully sorry '' " Don't say another word ! stormed my friend. "If "you don't take us back immediateiy I— l shall jump overboard." "It's a long swim," observed Mr Holland, placidly. , It was then that I wondered whether, having overheard, ihe could have determined to compensate himself a little for j the injuries the Imp hod heaped upon him. If so, I could only admire -him for- it, and truat the Imp might get as much as she deserved. His coolness, alb all events, only exasperated her still furtlher- " You don't -think of our reputation," she burst out, " and what people will say, or anything like that. All by ourselves, too-, " "You're two to one," suggested the owner oi the Swift. "There's the crew, isn't there?" retorted Ida, indignantly. " But you always were a selfish, inconsiderate wretdh '" " Oh, well, if it comes to that," said John Holland, shrugging his shoulders, determined nob to show ihow much her Words built (him, "perhaps we Ihad better gave up the race. Here, Simson!" " Ay, ay, sir !" came n voice from the bows. J But, before he had time po give any \ order, " The race? What race?" demanded the Imp, wrath giving way, to astonish- i merit. "The race I'm sailing, of course," he answered. "A cruising match against Mr Norman's Naiad, Cowes to Honfleur, for a £50 prize." Then, to the seaman, "Stand by to pu!b Iher about 1" " Ay, ay, sir." " Don't do anything of the sort !" yelled the Imp. The startled sailor looked from one to the other. The Imp's tones were imperative, and he could not conceive of any reason for givling up the race; but, at 'the sam* titoe, " orders was orders," as he remarked teter on to an interested audience of one "for'ard." "Are you giving orders, or am I?" demanded Mr Holland, getting nettled in his turn. "I am, of course," retorted tihe Imp, with a Stamp of her foot. Then, with one of the bewildering changes of whidh only my versatile friend is capable, "Please go on ' wi)t"h the race," she said, meekly. " But, I thought— you sadd "he stammered. "But how was I to know it was a race?" in an aggrieved tone. "Of course, we couldn't think oif you stopping it for us, a/nd if you had explained at tihe beginning-—" " You didn't give him much time," I suggested. Then, to avoid. 'the retort I saw rasing to my friend's lips, "Where is the other boat,' Mr Bollsundi?" Tasked. He pointed to a white sail some distance on our left. " There She is," he said, " and wb should have outsailed her nicely, only," elaborately spiffing a sigh, "as it's a question of your reputation and — and mme — and, of course, I couldn't think of keeping you here against your will, we'd much tetter put back nb once." ■ , • • He was so genuinely . disappointed that t *%tb sorry for him. "I heg you won-t do anything of the sort," I said, quickly. "As soon as we get

to Honfleur we can telegraph to explain non-appearance, and come back by the next steamer." But John Holland still hesitated. . "No," he said at length, with an air of great determination, "I think we had better go hack." After all, he ihas his pride ns •well as the Imp. ' " Won% you really go on with the race?" asked the Imp, penitently. "I though* you wanted to go back to Cowes," he returned, coldly. " That's what you said, at least." "I— l'm awfully sorry," she. said, "I— I didn't really mean all that, only— you always did take me so dreadfully in earnest, Jo— Mr Holland, I mean." She looked away with a queer little smile. Mr Holland bent forward suddenly to catch a glimpse of the face so resolutely hidden from (his view. "What do you mean?" he said, abruptly. And then, "Is -it possible you etrill—^bhafc' you didn't mean ail you said — once before?" he asked. ' ■" I—l don't know," murmured the Imp. " But you never gave me a chance tk> explain "-■ And at fchia moment I prudently escaped below in search, of an imaginary hat-pin. Coming up again, a glance aft told me tihat explanations, apparently engrossing to both, were still being made, so I strolled [ into t)he bows to make the acquaintance of j the eailor named Simson. The wind dropping shortly afterwards, the race degenerated into a mere "drifting match." We lay becalmed some distance from our rival, till a ateam ysdht which bad come out from Cowes to watch the progress of the race took us- in tow, and brought us back in the afternoon. We 'at once went on hoard my brother's yachb and explained matters, while John Holland lost for ever his character as a keen yachtsman by the smiling indifference with which he received condolences^ on the uninteresting finish of the race. As for the Imp, she never can behave like ordinary mortals. "So you're going tfco marry Mr Holland after all?" I remarked, on the first available opportunity. t "Well, you 6ee," in a placid tone, "he said he wouldn't go on with tihe race unless I did, but — -" "As the race was <a fiasco, you wilL insist that your promise doesnt hold good'?" " Well, do you know," yet more placidly . and deliberately, "I am not sure that I shall."