GEORGEANNA BANANA.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 10926, 15 November 1913, Page 3

GEORGEANNA BANANA.

(By CHARLES TRUITT.) "flcorjrea.r.nft banana, to the latum go fanna; Tee-legged, tic-logged, tow-legged Georgosmna'" Miss Casev, aged twelve, halted her mincing steps and turned to face her giggling tormentors. "Gee! youso kids is common! sho said. She slowly adjusted tho stringy white feather boa about her neck, looked with hauteur upon her followers, and added witlieringly: "Canals!" ' Sho raised her pink parasol witn oxorrcrerafc'd eleganco and resumed her walk. Not a word came from tho perplexed vouiig ladies behind her._ " I guess that'll hold them wimmen for a while," she said to herself. Tho Marquiso looked with scorn upon the taunting mob of sans culottes "Canaille-! I fear ye not!" said she. Georgeanna crossed Sixth Avenue at Carmine Street, and strolled towarc, Washington Square. Sho seated herself stiffly upon a-bench near the Arch, and lowered her parasol. Every morning tho lovely young Marquiso sat for an hour in the wardens of tho Luxembourg. "How beautiful this morning are the fragrant gardens!" murmured Miss Casey, addressing tho Arch, bho looked carofully to right and to loft thrust her hand quickly into her nghfc stocking just above tho shoe-laco that served as a garter, and drow forth a knotod handkerchief. , "Five, ten, fifty—ninety-two cents.,, sho counted. "I will hail a fakir. . The fat policeman m the middle ot tho street grinned at the funny little girl who stood on tho curb, and with mock gallantry bowed and offered his arm. ... „ , "Permit me, madam," said he, to guide you Through this maze ot traffic 1" Georgeanna gravely laid finger-tips on his sleeve, and, tho other band tightly clutching the parasol and holding her skirt raised from an imaginary contact with the street, sho permitted herself to bo led to the Fifth Avenuo corner. ' ■■■., , .n. i "Merci. mcrci, messeer, • she tnanKed him with dignity. "Whatever that is," smiled tho policeman. "Looks Irish," ho added to himself, " but I guess sho must be a Ginney. . "Don't take any had noney, sis:! he called to her from his post in tho street,, but she answered him not. Sho waved the pink parasol at the chauffeur of the 'bus, and declined the assisting hand of the conductor. "To the Loove—l moan the _ Museum," she said, as she gave him a dime. . The Marquise hailed a fiacre, and, settling herself luxuriously amou'g the cushions, commanded the cocher to drive her to the Louvre.

Sundry ladies of fashion driving down Fifth Avenue that morning in Juno wondered who could have been tne little girl with the big blue eyes who smiled and bowed to them so ceremoniously from tho top of a, motor'bus; and a portly old gentleman told with glee at his club how a queer kid with a string of scarecrow feathers around her neck had waved a pink parasol at him and called out something which sounded like " Bonjour, Prince!" as he was walking down tho Avenue.

Miss Casey surrendered her parasol with great reluctance at the door of tho Metropolitan Museum, and with critical air advanced upon tho Rodin collection. The first thing that she saw was the statue of Adam, heroic in size, and nude. Her acquaintance with sculpture had been confined to the ecclesiastical variety. She lowered her eyes and blushed. "Excuse me, sir," she said, and ran back to collect her parasol. "Me mother'd beat the life out of me!" gasped the Marquise—pardon, Miss Casey—as she hurriedly left the Museum.

For a moment or so she fell out of her play, and was but a little Irish girl, miles away from the tenement in Greenwich Village; frightened, bewildered, and hungry. Mrs Drayton Trask, coming down the steps of her house to enter her car, saw the odd figure standing on the sidewalk, and noted the air ot uncertainty. '" A lost child—a*nd far out of her way, I should say," was her comment

Georgeanna surrendered to the kindly questioning, told who she was and how she had come alone from Carmine Street, and added that she was very hungry. Mrs Trask, amused and interested, suggested that she had better conclude the day by being driven home in a motor-car.

From the first her guest began to pay in entertainment for the hospitality. She sank back into the cushions of the car quite languidly, and Mrs Trask noted that every gesture of her own was followed by a similar one en Georgeanna's part, and that even the tones of her voice were reproduced in startling fashion. Georgeanna's extreme gentility increased with the progress of the car down the Avenue, and by the time they reached Fifty-ninth Street she was addressing her hostess as the "Duchesso," stating confidentially that she herself was also a noblewoman.

The . knotted handkercbijf was brought forth and the eighty-two cents displayed to the "Duchesso," who pretended to bo overcome by the sight of so much wealth. Georgeanna announced her intention of stopping the car at the first "delicatessen'' they saw, but Mrs Trask insisted that hers must be the privilege, and that Mr Sherry's delicatessen was just the place.

Georgeanna insisted ups'.n raising hor pink parasol for the short walk from the car to the doorway, and it required tactful persuasion to prevent her from carrying it over her head as they pa,ssed into the restaurant. To her mind the occasion seemed to. call for some sort of triumphal entry, and had she had her heart's. desire they no doubt would have been preceded by at least a drum-major, if not by an entire brass band. However, the deferential bow of the head-waiter as he camo toward them must have appeased hor somewhat, for she smiled, and slipped her little band quito unexpectedly into his, much to his discomfiture. But he became nearly human by the time he had pulled out a chair for her and beckoned a waiter to the table. " What will you have to eat my dear?" asked Mrs Trask. Georgeanna looked up at the waiter, whoso head was inclined in respectful attention. "Jackass, you may bring mo some pig's knuckles with a soupspoon of salt." " Madame la marquise, dinner is served." "To-night I am weary," she said. "Jacques, you may bring me only some bouillon, with a soupcon of salt." The waiter looked helpless!v at Mrs Trask That lady laughed frankly. " Pig's knuckles, my dear," she said, " are not very well served at this particular hotel. Permit mo to suggest some cold chicken, and a lot of cake_and hot chocolate." "Very well, Grand Damn—as you desire," assented Georgeanna. The Marquise felt that the Duche-sso de Ramboillet was indeed * grande slamo. jijWeral of Mrs Trash's friends stonpscl to greet her, and were ceremoniously presented to Georgeanna, who permitted herself to bo kissed quite like an ordinary little person. Shos giggled joyously over her cako and chocolate, but when they left the restaurant the spectacle of the limousino with its attendant footman and chauffeur recalled her swiftly to a sense of

her rank and obligations, and during the drive to Carmine Street sho was once nioro the young lady of title. Mrs Casey was washing the supper dishes when her errant child opened the door and stalked in. The first thing the mother saw was the boa of white feathers filched from a pillow and strung together. " Phwat the divil!" sho exclaimed. " Georgeanna Teresa Casey, yer father's gone to the station-house to sind out, an alarum for yeh. Where've yeh been?" Georgeanna, still in her glory, looked at her mother calmly. "Madam, do not forget that you aro a Grand Damn !" she said.

"And it's swear at me, yeh will, is it?" retorted tho startled Madame Casey. " Into yer room till yer father gets back." She pushed tho girl into tho next room and locked the door.

Georgeanna held her hands extended toward tho ceiling and cried aloud: " Alas! for the honour of Old. France! Alas I Alas!"

She folded her feather boa and put it away carefully in a drawer, from the back of which she took a tattered paper-covered hook. Sho sat on the edge of the bod and tried to read, The day's joys and sorrows were beginning to tell, and soon her head dropped to tho pillow, tho book fell to the floor, and she was asleep. The Marquiso Casey had scarcely entered tho house when a wild-eyed man came hurriedly down the street. A resemblance prompted Mrs Trask to ask if lie was tho father of a little girl whom sho had just brought home in her car.' She told tho circumstances briefly, laughed with him over the liveliness of his daughter's imagination, and begged that ho be indulgent. Mrs Casey listened with incredulous air to the news her husband brought, and they both concluded that if their child was not on the verge of serious illness, sho was crazy, and that the sooner- they found out which it was. the better it would be for the Casey family. Accordingly they entered the next room;_ but when_ they saw tho happy, reminiscent smilo on the lips of Georgeanna, they had not the heart to waken her. Mrs Casey spied the book upon the floor. She picked it up, read the title, and without a word held it out to her husband.

"The Marquise De Croissac: or the Bride of the Guillotine." " For tho love of Mike," said Casey.

Mrs Casey glanced through the book, showed a paragraph to her husband, and they both chuckled softly. Georgeanna dreamed that she was in her hotel in the Faubourg St Germain. She turned restlessly, and through half-opened eyes saw a figure by her bedside. "Put away my jewels, Marie," she murmured drowsily, " and go to bed. I shall not need you longer to-night, my good girl." Casey grinned at his wife. " The damned little monkey of an aristocrat," he said fondly.