SHORT STORY.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 16875, 28 October 1922, Page 3

SHORT STORY.

A DOMESTIC INTERLUDE. MRS HAVERTON’S MISTAKE Seen©—Mr Haverton's Study. Dramatis Persona—Mrs Haverton. Time—7.3o p.m. Mrs Haverton (at the telephone. on table): One, two. nine. seven, city, please. Hullo! .. . Hullc*! .. . Is that the Paton Wool Company? Has Mr Haverton left the office? - • . He has? . . . Where has he gone? . . . To -»ay a business call ? you expect him to come back this evening? Well, if he doe.-, tell him to ring me up at once. Oh ! T’m Mrs Haverton. his wife. . • Thanks. (Hangs up reoeiver.) “ Really, the way Reggie has been behaving during the last week or two is enough to drive the best-disposed wife crazy. (Powders her face at the mantel.) T suppose business is all right in its way, and the poor fellow has to make ends meet somehow : hut when it comes to his staying in that horrible, stuffy old city till all hours of the night, while .1 have to countermand dinner or else devour two portions of everything in solitary state well. T would much prefer poverty and a cottage in the country. And when he does come home he is so fagged out that he can't, say anything hut - ‘ Sorry I’m so late, dear,* and yes. dear.' and ‘ no. dear.’ . - Oh ! (Sits.) He didn't even attempt to kiss me laet night. But I’m going to put my foot down to-morrow, ivhen 1 get. my daily glimpse of him at breakfast —and insist —yea, insist on his coming home early for once, even if it means a general earthquake in that lieaatly old office. T promised to love, honour, and obey, but T did not promise to sit waiting for him in lonely grandeur, and what’s the use of wearing a new evening frock if there’s no one to see it? T know! dine here on Friday. T can count on that, making Reggie come home, at least for one night.. (Sits in chair of his writiner de.sk.) Now. then, who shall T ask? Daisy Miller and—and Norton Walsh. By the way, where’s Daisy Miller's new address? She sent me cards (looks on the desk) only the other day. T thought T left them ... I wonder thrown them away perhaps. (She gropes in wastepaper basket below desk.) Good gracious, this basket hasn’t been emptied for a week. T must really sack Clara, she’s no use whatever. (Empties basket on floor and kneels down beside it. rapidly turning over papers.) There doesn’t seem to be arty thing like visiting cards here. Nothing but (She stops in amazement and looks up from the heap, with a scrap of paper in her band/) What in the name of of—melodrama—-i« this? “ Believe me. my own sweetest Reggie, ever your loving R .** Now who -who on earth writes to Reggie like that? Himother’s dead—it’s a woman’s writing * Your loving R What? (She dive* into the heap and searches furiously.) This is really serious; I should be the la = t to spy on anybody, least of all my own husband, hut still a wife has certain rights, and Ah! here it is—Rosa Budd ! Heavens ! Rosa Budd ! She writes to my Reggie like that that, preposterous, fair-haired cat? Oh ! 7 must get to the. bottom of this—l must find the rest of this-—this infamous letter. (She fusses again among the papers and finds first page of letter, and spreads it out on desk.) Ah ! ‘ Dear darling Reggie’ hooh I (Shakes fist.) ‘ I have missed you so, so since Satur day. You must have got rather tired of taking me to the theatre every night, but you know how keen T am on it ’ Oh ! (Stamping about the room.) So that’s it—that’s what he’s been doing—that’s why my husband lias been kept in the City for the last fortnight until all hours of the morning. He’s been gadding all over th' town with that hussy. T ran quite credit Rosa with that sort of conduct I should say she’s used to it—but Reggie! Oh. Reggie! I couldn’t have belie red it of you. Tt.’s too awful ! But J’m not going to stand it for one moment I shan't even wait to have it out with him. If she can write letters like that to him, T wonder what sort of letter*, ho writes to her? Oh. it’s scandalous. I won’t. T won’t live with him another day! I’ll have a divorce—that’s it -a divorce. 1 ‘ Let me see, who do T’ go to for a divorce? Solicitors? What was the name? Gray and something. Where’, that directory? Gray—Gray and Martin- that’s tlie name—29os City. (Goes ! to the ’phone.) Hullo, is that Air Gray? I want a divorce—not Mr Gray? , Well, who it is then? . The caretaker? "Where’s Mr Gray? Out? . . All right then. Mr Martin will do. . . He's out too? . . It’s absurd. . . Whv don’t you conduct your business properly? There ought to he somebody at your office when affair" are so pressing! What? They’re both gone home? . How dare they? Office closed? Well, do voi know if Mr Gray can arrange divorces? J simply want to know, because I've found the most awful letter. Oh ! verv well, can you give me Mr Gray's private telephone number? t>B7. P. Avenue. Thank you. (Hangs up receiver). ’■ I don’t think I dare do it. (Mutters 687, P. Avenue.) A divorce means such publicity. (She sees the pieces cf paper on the desk; takes them up; slams them down ; then to the tele- ; phene firmly.) Six—eight seven. I*. A verm©. I can just confide the whole . ching to him. Hullo! Mr Gray? j I*m so sorry to trouble you, but a most dreadful, dreadful thing has happened. I was routing some cards out oi the waste-paper basket when to my hi rror I dLicovered a. love-letter—ad dressed to my husband ; .just think of it the most affectionate expressions, and the worst of it is that I know the woman quite well. She's rather ycuDger than I am What? . ■ • w bo am I? Oh! I should have told you, Mrs Haverton. How d’you do. Of course you’re surprised! I wouldn t have conceived it possible myself. Well. I must have a divorce. But there’s nothing else for it, and the sooner the better. I want you to work quietly ; we musn’t let the papers. . Of course I know it's a very grave step to take, but what am I to do ? . . . Excuse you? You're giving a dinner party? Well (coldly). Ini sorry to listvc disturbed you, but you see how important it is. . . Call at your office to-morrow morning? All right. 1 ii come at eleven. I'm simply furi<2oß it, you know t it’* uui so

much the fact that he has been deceiving me as Hullo 1 Hullo? Good gracious, he’s rung off. ini' mannered beast! And how unsympa--1 thetic; 1 might only nave lost a dog or a bracelet for all he cares. Well, T shall do something for myself now. I’m rather helpless in most things, but I flatter myself that when a big crisis does come l can cope with it. (Sits at desk.) T’m going to write to that odioUvS Rosa Ru<id and let her know what I think of her. Now then : ‘Madam, the scandalous relations existing between you and my husband have been revealed to me by chance, through one of the shameful communications which von have written him. J am fully aware that the exposure of you* conduct cannot do you much harm that will make her sit up—‘ but l may inform you that I have placed the matter in the hands of my solicitors, and that your reputation, such as it is, will be given a thorough airing.—— Elsie Haverton. (She rings bell, blots letter angrily; telephone hell rings. > There . . . that that will be Reggie ringing up to make his apologies —oh ! the fiendish duplicity of it all ! (At ’phone), Y’es, yes . . . (coldly), yes, T knew it would he you. You’ve got all yourb usines done ah ! —and you’re going to dinner. and the theafro (she nods satirically with her words). Yes- yes yes! He’s trying the truth now. the base wretch. What? You want me to go with von? No, r tell you No! 1 I,are found vou our I know all ! (Rings off furiously. Takes letter off desk, calls through the door). Ah ! there you are. Clara. T want you to have this letter posted at once. At once you understand! Then pack a few tilings for me—a week in the country. I shall go to an hotel for tonight; and bring me mv evening cloak. Hurry ! As Mrs Haverton returns she catches sight of telegram on the mantel, and picks it up hastily). Why ? How long has this wire been here? Clara, why didn’t you bring this up to me? Dolt of a girl ! Rut what’s the good o 7 slating her at a moment like this r (Sinks into a chair). Reggie, Reggie ! You’ve broken mv heart. (Tears). It' 1 had not been loving to vou. and kind, and attentive. 1 could understand it. but when every moment of the day, and every clay of the week, has simply been full of you - after my trusting m your love and being proud to have you as mv husband . . . that . . . that it should all be shattered into this! Oh, it I could only think! . . . (She gazes at the telegram, panting; she collects herself, passes her hand over her hair, begins to realise the meaning of the words she is looking at; then, meebani. oally) This is a wire from . . . who ? What on earth—Roes—it—all mean 0 (Leans against desk and roads) ‘ We—a re—on gaged. Give - -us—your— blessing. Rosa Budd and Reginald Wilson.’ We are engaged. Rosa Budd and Reginald Wilson. Reginald Wilson? Reginald? Reginald? Reg Wilson i Reggie!—‘My own sweet, loving Reggie ’ (reading letter-scraps on desk) Ah ! surely . . . Reg Wilson—of course —called here on Friday, and asked if he oould write some letters—and he tore this one up —and he’s engaged to Rosa Budd ? And its not mv Reggie at all! “Oli. Heavens! (Sinks into a •■•hair). What can T do? "What have 1 done? (Rises). I've ’pTioned to Gray—divorce ! I’ve ’phoned to Reggie—my Reggie ! Oh ! what will h* think ? He’ll——. (Sound of motorhorn. She rushes to window). Reggie! He’s here! What shall T say? Clara ! (Snatches evening cloak through door. Front door bell rings). Answer the door. What shall 1 say’ J (diving into cloak), 1- 1 -I—l’ll tell him lie rang up the wrong number, and it was another woman who spoke. And T must see Gray, and explain before Reggie hears of. it. And. Oh ! Clara! That letter to Miss Budd? Have you posted it? No? You ANGE T, ! (Curtain. Airs Haverton tearing letter into shreds; then rushes off to meet husband.)