"STAR" TALES.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 7878, 19 January 1903, Page 4

"STAR" TALES.

■*'' I tAe. absent-mindedness •:> OF LIAS. I (By SUSIE BOUCHELLE WIGHT.) '' "Yes, Lias is right smart absent-mind-id " The admission was made with alac- ' ; ritV, for this Mas Mis Collins's favourite j theme. " Seme 01 the tales them had boys ■. till on Hrn are pure yams— that about him «.w:ns himself off a. log into the mill-pond, '* «rd such— but the truth is bad' enough, go;w.n<:ss knows, without any, trimming bitched onto it ." Mrs ' Collins locked anxiously down th 6 foad. It was aheiviy long past the time •when she expected her -husband, home, and «he had rashly entrusted many commissions to him. \ " Like as not lie-has lost his memorandum, and if he has he will never get homo - as lone a® there is a *tore open in town ! "Why so?" asked the little school "' teacher, . "Well, he will keep recollecting things ■11 the war home— one at a time — and keep going back after them the same way * —one at a time." She peered out again .' ' be-fore she sat down to her knitting. " I have seen him do some of the funniest things— leastways, they would have been funny if they had not been so .aggravating." Mrs Collins laughed her low, goodnatured laugh— the kind peculiar to stout, eldwrly ladiw with rosy cheeks, and; as in- .. feetious as the ripple of a child's mirth. "It is a regular .perforra.ifiee for him to * get- in tho buggy, flap the linos over : Cricket's back, and say, 'G'laug,' and all , the time- Cricket tied hard and fast to the *- post. It ain't so bad. w,hen if happens here at home, with nobody looking on but me, » but I tell you it gets* away with me when "" he docs it over at Good Hope, with all the folks from meeting looking on and grin- „ jiing." "Why. Mrs Collins, you ought to remind him." isaid Mary Levering. \ "So I would if I could do it without !*- yelling at him ; but you see, it is the cusl torn for us women folks to wait up at the '" church door until the men go down to the - racks and get the teams, then they drive there and get us. Speaking of Good '-- Hope "—Mrs Collins shook again—" I went .;■ on ahead of him one time to early class ; ■he had to wait at home to finish up some calculating he had on hand, but he was to - $ome on to regular morning service. We *'• had a powerful time, that morning— it wa.s •- protracted-meeting time — and I was mighty ' nigh to shouting, as I get happy that way - sometimes, when, lo and behold! here - came Lias stepping in, as solemn and sane- * timonioU'S as you please. Tho land of the V living! You could have knocked me down = -with a feather ! He had: forgot to change his clothes, and he had on that old flowered dressing-gown and 1 his carpet slippers'. ■ The sight of him pretty near broke up that meeting, there was such a snickering ; but J-" Brother Martin just went right on with his : experience which he was telling, and Lias i didn't notice .anything but that. As soon f- as Mr Martin sat down, up hopped Lias, ' just as I expected, looking for all the world £- ' like a clown, and gave in a tip-top highs' falutin' testimony. He went on to tell as 'how he had learned to trust all in the %' Lord's hands, even the simplest affairs, of f ev'ery-d'ay life, andl there I sat feeling like t - crawling through a crack ! Well, right , then and -there I made up my mind' that I ;, was to be the Lord's handmaid to the cxi i tent, of seeing Lias dressed for church after this, if I never got to another class meeting as long as I lived. 1 ' The two laughed together, and Mary ' s . asked, "-What do you suppose -he is think- */, ing about all the time he is doing such things?" " Gracious, child, I don't know ! I have asked him that time and again, but I never get any satisfaction out of him. It ain't lack of sense, you may take my word for that, for ho i? as s&irp as a brier when "fc comes to making a trade; and I have always 'thaught lie could remember about . ( ' other things, too, if he wias to set his mind to it. One trouble is that he has me to -' depend on too much. There he is at last." She folded up her knitting quickly, and t -went out to the gate' to 'meet him. He % descended cautiously from the buggy, and gave the reins a tvrsfc around the dash- ' ' fco^rd. * "Well, Sereny, I'j \'it everything this time," lie called out, ->h a note of exultaf tion in his voice, h. iros much older than -. lite wife, a thin, ben^^nn, with mild brown v eyes peering out of J .wrinkled face, framed in straggling gray 1( J air, m:k! a long and tpar&e white beardyr '■" Yes, I've got 'em all ' this time," he repeated, " and more." j "Well, it took you a time to do it," wns t\ hitt"xtties comment. .She was busily rummaginf amouur the parcels in the foot of [' the buggy as she took them out, feeling } each one in turn, aid conjecturing aloud ;v a.s to its contents. '"This one is the piece of apron checks. I reckon the thread is in&id'j — blue? > r es, that's all right," she ! Baiid.. as she tore aside a bit of wrapping. s " Here are the new milkpans and the tea. i I bet he forgot to g(t his shoes from the cobbler ! No, htre they ore, and the pack- .' age of spice ! I wonder what in the name of common-sense this is! Lias!" s>he raised ; her head on<l called sharply. "You, Lias „ Collins ! You *top unhooking that harness I this minute! Do you want -to pull this 5 . buggy around to the shelter yourself, or are ; you expecting me to do it?" ,; * "Oh, I clear forgot. Whoa there, Cricket !" and he proceeded to buckle the straps again. " Everything all right ?"' he asked. "I believe it is, for ten thousand wonders. But what is this flat thing " "It is a little present for you, Sereny," b* answered, half-shamefacedly. "A present for me?" she said. "Well, is ( l " the world coming to an end I wonder?" >" There had (been no giving of gifts' be- ■ : tween this piir in the thirty years of their ;* married life. . They had always loved each other in a" steadfast, matter-of-fact sort of way, with but little of outward demonstration. She made good-natured fun of his veil-known failing, and scolded him mildly when occasion seemed to demand, while he depended on her entirely, and never took exception to her jokes. This was the first actual gift he had! given her since the en-' gagement rins^, now worn to a slender golden thread. She looked up at his dear old face, and a wave of tenderness swept over lor. "Now, Lias, who put you up to it? I know you never thought of buying me a present all by yourself." "•Yes, but I did, though," he eaid as" he led Cricket away. Mrs Collins, with her amns and apron full of bundles, went into the house. "Come here, Mary," she called. "My old man is getting sentimental in his old age, and has gone and bought me a present.

Come, let's see what sort of a curiosity it is." She untied the twine carefully, and put it in her apron pocker, then folded the wrapping paper neatly. The picture — it was obviously a picture — lay face down. "Now I'll niako a guess," she said, standing back a little, with her hands on her hipa. "I'll bet he has gone and had his likeness struck for me, and more than likely 'he forgot to take off his hat and specs, and seeing it is such a windy day, as apt as any way his beard is tucked in his bosom." " It would at least- be natural," laughed Mary. " But you know, Mrs Collins, the photographer would never have let him be taken that way." "Well, did you ever!" exclaimed Mrs Collins a. moment later, as she saw the picture. She set it on the table in front of her, and gazed at it, laughing. The old face wore an unwonted expression, and Mary stole away, for she' saw that tears were hiding behind the attempt at mirth. It was & family record, in a showy, gilt lramo ) and blazoned in all the colours of the rainbow. The dates of their births and marriages were tilled out in Lias's old-" fashioned handwriting, with many curlicues and flourishes. In the very centre of the re-cord-were spaces couspicuously labelled '•father" and "mother," and they were filled with two old pictures of herself and Lias — hers showing smoothly banded hair oil either side of a plump, youthful face, and his an old daguerreotype of a man in a Confederate uniform. Grouped around these were four empty spaces, obviously intended for the offspring of the pair in the centra. " Well, Sereny, how do you like it?" asked Lias. He had come in, and was standing by her side as she examined: it. " Why, Lias, it certainly is a fine ornament, and I must say it shows considerable thought on your part. I wonder 'how you ever managed to get them old types out of the parlour without me 'finding you out! put, Lias, I wouldn't dare hang it up in the sitting-room!" " Why "not?"' he asked, with falling face. "Because of these holes," she said, pointing to' the empty spaces. " The adea of us setting ourselves up there as "father' and ' mother,' arid us with never a chick nor a child in the house all these years," and she ran a fat forefinger down! the row of lines where the Birth of children would have been recorded. "Gentlemen.!" -he ejaculated, "I plumb forgot about that ! It would look quare !". He looked so crestfallen and 1 helpless that she hastened to comfort him. "I'm powerful proud of it, anyhow, Lias," she said, and laughed, " and I will hang lit in our bedroom.* It will always remind me that you had a real, sure-enough thinking -spell for once in 'your life. We can slip some little fancy pictures in- those holes." " t She untied the comforter from about his neck, pulled a, wisp of the thin, white beard loose from a button of his waistcoat, and then, taking his pipe from the mantel, she filled it and gave it to him. These homely attentions on her part stood to them in. the place of the caresses tihey had never learned to give, and the old man's face soon resumed its lines' of, calm content. " Hand me my specs and the ' Advocate," will you, Sereny, and I'll look over it a little." ( " Your specs are right 'there on top of your heaid, Lias, and the 'Advocate' is in your bands." ' [ ; " Well,- I declare ! I plumb forgot !" With this characteristic .speech he settled down to a comfortable smoke and a leisurely perusal of his paper. The little school-teacher's visit came to a close, and in the days which followed her departure Mrs Collins/ was sensible of a new and strange loneliness, which was intensified by the record staring down at hei from ..her chamber wall, with the Sundayschool cards filling the places where sin= fain would have seen children's faces. Onoe, many years before, there had been a rliiftrenca of opinion which had well-nigh separated this homely pair. Her heart was . full of' unsatisfied mother-love,- for Providence had denied them children of their own, and she liad begged to be allowed to adopt a child from the Good Hope Orphans' Home. Lias, who was water and wax in other things, was iron in this. "No, Sereny," he had said, "raising a child costs <a lot of money, and our main chance to get along and have a. living is only by the little trades I can make from time to time, and by your saving — seeing as I am not overly strong!. If the Lord had intended us to raise a clfild, he would have sent one to us, and it would seem like daring him for us to fetch one here, where lie never saw fit to give us one." The matter remained in agitation for some time — Sereny pleading and arguing, and /Lias denying — until at last there was a final quarrel, which--' Sereny could not recall without a shudder. As for Lias, he had forgotten it long ago, for it had been, settled a-s quarrels usually are in wise women's houses, by the wife dropping her insistence in the interests, of peace with the head of the- house. Thereafter c-he had expended -her motherliness in gentle mmiv tries, to li-ar neighbours in times of sickness and trouble, and in an unfailing care fo: the health and comfort of Lias. The little pale-faced school-teacher h&d come in for her share, and for a whole month of her fall term she bad been at the farmhouse, and was petted and made much of. Sereny thought of hsv wistfully. She was just such a daughter as she would have loved, so quiet and sensible, and so ready with her. smiles. There was something about her- which made her seem — so Sereny fancied— as though siie ought to belong to

them, for in her slenderness and the genilo look of her brown eyes there was a faint end far resemblance to Lias. She had often blvshed to catch herself fancying how her child would have looked— her child and Lias' ! Soon after this she fell sick, really ill, for the first time in her life, and for weeks she lay racked in pain with muscular rheumatism. The neighbours vied with each other in trying io show their gratitude and love for* her, and Lias, distressed beyond measure, broke his previous unexcelled record for absent-minded blunders in the attentions he showered on her. He took especial pains to prepare her meals with his own. hands when the neighbours happened to be out of the way, and between burnt toast, queer-looking eggs and suspicious coffe, Sereny did not fare sumptuously in the intervals between her paroxysms of pain. But she accepted all gratefully— the unsavoury meals were only incidents ; all that 'really mattered was that in her weakness and pain her husband was possessed with affectionate regard for her. So she did not even grumble, when he rubbed her aching shoulder with varnish when he thought he had the turpentine, and annointed her with mustard-plasters made up from the burnt ochre she kept for the hearths. At last she grew better, and lier patient sweetness gave way to the peevishness of the convalescent. > "Lias." she said one day, "that record looks too silly with them cards sticking in it ! It worries me !" Shall I take it down and put it in the attic?" he asked. "No! No!" 'she said, querulously. "It is not to be token out of my room, never ; but you just slip it out of the frame and take out them cards! I'd rather not see anything there! You might- put Mary Levering's picture in one place, though— No, you needn't, either!" And then a most dreadful thing happened. Sereny, whose face had seemed framed for cheerfulness, turned over on her pillow and cried like a baby. "Why, Sereny, wife, what is the matter?" or; ed Lias, distractedly. "What is it my — my darling i" He had never used the sweet word before, and at the sound ot it she only cried the harder. He raised the covers', and examined the plump feet, to see if they were warm, and felt for \her pulse, but could not find it for the excited throbbing of his own trembling fingers! All the time those dreadful sobs kept issuing from the pillow. , " Sereny, I am going right, for Dr Malsby if you don't tell me what ails you." Presently she spoke. "'Oh, Lias!" she wailed, "whatever made you bring that record here to remind me that I've never had a blessed little child? Don't you see how helpless we a.re in our old age and infirmity? And to think dear Mary Levering might have belonged to us as well an . not, for she was j.ust an orphan, and stayed at the Home until she was nearly grown ! Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" "Why, Sereny, if it is Mary Levering you want, you shall have her. I've got a right smart little bit saved up, and I can make it worth her while. It would be a good thing to have a nice young girl here to wait on you!" "Oh, Lias! Lias! As though I wanted a child just for what it could do for me ! No, it's a baby I want— a little dumpling darling of a baby — to love and dp for, and have it grow up under my eyes ! Won't you let me have one from the Home?" Then Lias remembered the old discussion, so long forgotten, because Sereny Bad been strong enough to hold her tongue, and a flash of his perversity 'came back ; but Sereny weak and ailing was not to be met as though she were her fat and rosy self, so he only said, " I'll go after Mary Levering if you say ko, Sereny?" She wiped her eyes as she turned over and hushed her sobs. "Not now, Lias — when I get well, maybe." That was the last she Eaid on the subject. She got well after a while, and life at the old farmhouse settled back into its usual nits. She had a number of new jokes on Lias, and to all appearances was quite content ; but, with all his capacity for forgetting, Lias was not able to blot' out the memory of how Sereny had cried that day, and he never looked at the family record if he could help it, for it brought a most unpleasant pang, and he^made up his mind never to take the responsibility of buying another present for anybody. He had a wholesome dread of ever hearing those sobs again, or it is probable that he would have demolished that record with a high hand. The summer came again, with its drowslf»g of bees, its ripening of fruits and waving of green on upland and meadow. Mairy Levering was at the farm again for another visit during her .vacation, a.t Mrs Collins's invitation ; but if Lias remembered his proposition to ask her to become a member of the family he gave no sign, and his wife did not see fit to remind him. One August day he drove to Norwood to sac about a trarlo in which he was concerned. It was of unusual importance, so Sereny forebore to burden his mmd wit'i any commissions, and she and Mary composed themselves for a long, pleasnait, chatty day. They enjoyed each other thoroughly. There was .something very winning to Mary in the wholesome character of the older woman, and ffae was grateful to her for many delicate little attentions, unexpected and such a,s a loving mother would have delighted to show a grown daughter. Sereny, as she petted, was no ( t for a moment unaware of that fancied resemblance to Lias, nor of the fact that Mary was just what she would have wished her own girl to be. "I'd ask her to stay always," she would commune with herself , " bufc I won't? worry Lias ! lam ashamed of that- caper I cut when I was sick. After that fuss we had that time about adopting a baby I laid my wishes on the alta.r, and if tho Lord will help me, and I know he will, I'll let my sacrifice stay there." Lias had a harassing day in town. His trade hung fire and was still unsettled when the other party put a stop to it. all by declaring that it was too late for him to linger longer in town. " Why, it is sundown, and I must> ba going, too," said Lias, and t.hey appointed another meeting while they untied their horses, Lias only reminded of this necessary preliminary by tho other man's action.

"Hi, there, Mr Collins! You starting home?" called a voice behind him. -Yes." " Well, it won't be out of your way, and I wish you would stop at Tone Turner's and leave this youngster." He ' held a sleeping child awkwardly in his arms, and Lias regarded him with curious, dubious eyes. "What youngster?" " Why, Tobe's sister died over in Madison day before yesterday, and left this child without anyone there to take him. Its pa is dead, too. I happened to be there, and I didn't have the heart to refuse to bring it this far on its way to Tobe's. I reckon it will only tarry there for a short season, though, for Tobe has eight head of children of his own, and must send it to the Home. You'll carry it?" I " Why, yes, I reckon, so, if you can fix it some way down in the foot. I don't know nothing about toting babies, and I would be afniiid to try it driving." So the two men made the chHd as comfortable as they could, with the linen lap robe as a pillow and witlh its few extra clothes tucked about it. " Good-night ! Just stop and call Tobe out. He knows the baby is on the way to him somewhere. Good-night, and much, oble&ged to you." '" Good-night," said Lias, as he drove out, a little disturbed at first at the thought of his passenger. But he forgot him 'directly, and wandered away into tihat realm of thought which he shared with no one. The dogs barking at Tobe Turners brought no refreshing to his memory, and still unconscious he drew up at his own door, uuharnessed the pony and went into the house. Sercny had heard him coming, but she wa.s at a critical point in the kneading of her biscuit-dough, and could not go to rneeb him as usual. He ca.me in, and laid the mail on the table. He was tired and hungry and in no mood to talk, so she hurried her preparations, with Mary's help, and they all sat down together. " Lias," she said, as he pushed badk his chair, " where's the lap robe?" " Why, I forgot and left ife in the buggy, and he went out to get it. Mrs Collins and Mary cleared away the few dishes ; they went on into the sittingroom. Through the open windows they heard the click of the gate, and the old man's slow steps on the gravelled walk. "Sereny! Oh, Serehy!" he called, "bring the lamp, here quick !" She sprang up quickly, and ran out of the room, followed by Mary- "What is the matter, Lias?" she asked, holding the lamp above her head. "Oh nothing, nothing, he replied, testily'; "only 1 don't- know how to get up the steps with this tilling !" Sereny set the lamp down .-hastily, and ran down the steps. Lias held the baby in a precarious tenure in his open hands, Etretehed almost at arms' length from his body. She took it away, and led the way inside. "Now tell me, Lias Collins, is this another piece of your absent-mindedness? Who does this child belong to?" When they heaifti how it came about, she and Mary looked at «ach other and laughed until they cried, and Lias, with an unwonted show of temper, packed off to bed. " He's forgot again," whispered Sereny. "He ought to take the little thing right back to Tobe's, but he is so worried out I won't bother him, and one of us can drive over in the morning." The child had begun to stir, and' with blinking eyes and little stretching motions of his limbs he came slowly awake. He was a pretty, rosy, year-old baby, with wide, dark eyes and clinging, damp rings of j-ellow hair. " Isn't he good not to -cry a bit, and not to be afraid of strangers?" said Mary; but Sereny -was absorbed in holding the glass of milk to his thirsty little lips, and did not answer. When he had drunk his fill the baby gave another series of stretches, and was soon asleep again, cuddling close to Sereny's disturbed bosom. ' She rocked gently back and forth, and. Mary, glancing iit her, was reminded of Madonna faces. She did not know nor guess of the long-suppressed longings of her old ; friend's heart, but she saw that some great emotion was stirring her. " Mary," Sereny said at length, " <lo you aver pray?" " Why, dear Mrs Collins, of course I do," she replied. > " Well, go to your room, then, and pray that I may be delivered from temptation. This dear little baby, that looks so sweet and innocent, was sent here to try me, and I aan just about to come under." Mary rose, wondering and silent ; but before she left the room she- stooped- to look a moment at the dimpled face snuggling close to Sereny's ample, breast, and then ehe kissedJ her friend, and turned as ; f to go"Wait, honey," said Sereny; and putting out her arm, she drew the girl to her knees by her side, and in her homely way told her the story of her longings and her sacrifice — even of the humiliating scene when dhe was rick. "It does seem cruel, 'Mary», for Lias's wool-gathering to cause me such stress of temptation. I said I'd 1 never say child to him again so long as we lived, but this mak« it so hard — this poor, little, 'helpless thing just flung in ray face, an it were, and me under solemn vow ! I never told a living soul before, but you seem almost like my own daughter." " I wieli I were your own, diear," said Mary, with trembling lips. "I have been as hungry for a mother as you ever were for a child." " Sereny," quavered a fcpice from the doorway; "oh, Sereny, why don't you come on to bed?" He came nearer and locked in consternation at the baby on her knee. " Well, I declare ! I plumb forgot ! I had ought to carry it right back to Tobe's, hadn't IV" Mary rose and stood before him. "Mr Collins," she said,' " your wife is under promise not to «ipeak, but I am not, and 60 I ani going to tell you that she 15 breaking her heart longing for a baby of her own to love and raise, and it looks providential to me that you have brought one here in your own -handte and given* it to her. Mayn't^ she keep it?" " Gentlemen !" be ejaculated, " ain't it the truth? I did fetch that baby here," and he stood looking helplessly down on the work of his hands. He had 1 forgotten Mary's presence in the house and had come into the sitting-room in the old flowered dressing-gown, with his bare feet thrust into his slippers. Sereny gave him one glance and the ®ob which had' risen in her throat broke into an hysterical! laugh as>

she was reminded of that day at Good 1 Hope. "'The smallest affairs of your life,' Lias! You said it, you know you did ! He guided you in this, then !" She fell to rocking and patting the little sleeper again. Lias .ptrokedl the long white beard a long time before ho came to- a conclusion, but when he arrived at it it was complete. "Soreny," he said, "I told you I'd lik« to have Mary Levering, and if she is a mind to stay and help, yo'u'd ; as well keep the baby as not if you want to." Sereny gave the child to Mary, and standing up laid both hands on her husband's breast-. "Both of them — for always?" she asked. " Yes, Sereny — my— my darling !"