SHORT STORY.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 17218, 8 December 1923, Page 4 (Supplement)

SHORT STORY.

THE CHRONICLES OF MARY’N HURRELL FORFEITS. NUMBER X. (Written for the “ Star ” by MRS E. BAIZEHN) Before 1 had my outing with A'lf that Saturday afternoon a lot was destined to happen in favour ot my o filler suitor, Dale Martin. Amongst the chaos of events ho haci quite legitimately obtuined a kiss from myself; a first one (in the male line/ outside my own family so far, amt All was naturally piqued in consequenco, of course. but it was not through any favour of mine—l was,'in fact, simply “playing the game/’ and it was iny father's prejudice rather than my own that gave “ lens redtop” the score ore r “ tan boots and bow tie." How it all came to be so will taae a chronicle to explain; therefore 1 must invite you to attend our surprise party, which the ljraemar girls an id their friends brought to our home the evening after Alf Tront had made his debut there. Dora, as convener, directed the whole affair from the invitations right to the end of the singing, dancing, games and the supper, and a splendid mistress of ceremonies she proved herself to be. “ Are we going to dance?” asked Tootsie, when Dora had just told us about the*, party we were to have that same evening. “ Yes, if your mother will let us have the kitchen-—it is nice and roomy—and I ve made the boys promise to take the furniture in and out as we want it; your father will play the concertina for us, I know’-—besides, I’ve found out Tootsie’s Italian boy, Cleto, and he’s bringing his so you sea ” ” Dora 'Curtis!” cried Tootsie, “ You’re tho nicest, dearest, darlingest girl in the world—no wonder everybody is in love with you,” she added enthusiastically; and Dora laughingly threw a cotton-reel at her.

“ I hope that Cleto of yours doesn’t fall in love with me, anyhow,’* she said. “ he blushed enough when he was asked to come,*’ she added slyly. “Oh, yes, I know he’ll be right up in the skies about it,” Tootsie agreed confidently.—she was always so sure of her lovers somehow, from Cleto Vaspri onwards. “ And I’ve asked Dale Martin, Mary’n,” said Dora to me. I nodded my head, silently, and she added, “ Alf Trent, too.” “ How many have you invited for yourself ?” I asked. “Two,” she answered promptly, “Jim Bowen and my ‘latest.’” “ Your latest ?” “ Yes. His riame is Wickham. I met hun at Mona's. He is quite a big johnny,’ really; a young -doctor 111 But don’t get excited any of you ,- he's married.” Mona” was Dora’s married sister. ,&nd this young doctor was a friend of Mona's husband, so Dora explained, and he was just then in Melbourne attending the medical conference, or something of that order, but his home and wife wore in Sydney Dora and Jim thought him a “ good sport,” and had invited him to the party. As for Dora s remark about him being her latest,’ wo treated it a 9 some more of her flippSncy \at the moment, and thought little indeed regarding the afa*r - - Well, we were a merry party that night and everything went off with a gladsome, homely swing. . . Mv lather, always unselfhia and agreeable company, plaied some excellent •dance music fo r us on his English concertina—irresistible old airs, such as Fife on the Ocean Wave.” “The Prairie Flower,” “ Ring, Ring the Bell, Watchman,’’ and many others. There* was no set programme of course, but impromptu dancing, song* and games.

Dora had bunted up all the singers of the party, and these were: Tootaio HurreTi. Mrs Russell. Dale Martin and Cleto Vaspri. Dora’s new friend, Dr Wickham, provided us with a few elocutionary items of a humorous kind, and our evening’s enjoyment was complete. "YY hen the kitchen floor was cleared we began the party with a first set of quadrilles : and no modern ja zz dancers were merrier than we. “ Now,” said Dora at its conclusion, “ if somebody wil] si-ng for use—without accompaniment, of course, we will be pleased —will you, Mrs Russell?” Hie dear old lady siiupk her head. ‘ Not till all the others have %ung.” she said decidedly. “You then. Dale?” “Let Tootsie be first,” he answered. Tootsie said she would, but the company must wait until she had finished eating on orange which she had already started upon. As she stood -up. smiling, poor brother Tom suddenly woke up to tho awful realisation of what she was about to do. and, after gazing at her in mute horror for a second, he gave a groan and fled from the room.

There was nothing to feel ashamed of in Tootsie’s singing, however, even if there was nothing very much to be proud of either. But a beautiful girl she was, standing there with her hands behind her, back singing something about “ Auburn tresses tied with blue,” and directly she had finished her song everybody clapped their hands, and asked her for another. And she sang quother. without tho slightest fuss, which was the way my father had taught us to do anything, in the line of a favour especially. Her next song was: “ Dolly and Her Coach One Day,” and just at the very moment I am wondering where all those dainty littlo songs of yesterday have vanished to —and why. “Shall Dale sing now? Or shall wo dance a waltz?” Dora next asked us, but, “let us waltz,” said Dale, crossing orer the room to myself—and once , more we were all floating around to the concertina watz-time version of “ Pretty Pond Lilies.” Dale Martin’s voice was a baritone, specially suitable for those ballads he always sang—an dhe did sing well for us that night considering the disadvantage he ‘ had of being without piano help, which lie was used to. “ Sallv Horner,” “Irene Good-nivht.” arid a few others of that class. Cleto Vasspri clapped heartily, but ho glanced shyly «t Tootsie and half shook his head as though to say: ‘That is only secondrate wait, and I'll show you what j music really is!” I And so he did, later in the evening. | I'B’sfehig hi 3 violin in nil almost loving

fiddle is my sweetheart—and I’m her faithful beau ; I clasp her to my bosom, because I love her so.” His handsome dark head swayed a little with the music—his very soul was in it-—an artist tq his finger tips. He played selections from different operas—from “Ma Mi Rosetta,” to please Tootsie, and from “ Floradora ” also. Then, for our next set of Lancers, he gave us suitable pieces from “The Geisha.” Tootsie was delighted with her friend, and I think, so were we all. We had some little difficulty afterwards in getting Mrs Russell to redeem her promise ; hut her husband, who was immensely proud of his little wife always, said she if only to please himself. ""She* stood up then, with her hand resting on the back of his chair, and in a charmingly sweet soprano—“ Bonnie Mary of Argyle.” Her husband shook his head proudly as his mate of thirty years rounded off the highest notes of her song with graceful ease and almost girlish softness. At last Dora suggested games, and we all agreed to play. Cushion Dance first,” she ordered. I don’t suppose it is necessary to describe the familiar old party game; and wq, soon joined hands to form the ring around the rooih whilst my father sat in a corner and played his concertina to control the game. Of course, he was not supposed to see the play ; but rather he must stop the music haphazardly, with all fairness to the players. But he did take many a sly peep into the ring and often stopped the music when he saw an opportunity to create an amusing or teasing situation. To find out who should be the first to stand in the ring, with the' cushion we all walked past him whilst he played “ Three Blind Mice,” provokingly slow, stopping dead short at last, before

Cleto, the shyest boy (where music waa not concerned) in tfle room. . He blushed deeply, but he took the cushion from Dora and stood in the middle ot the room, 'without protest, at once. Then we began marching round him to the sound of the most erratic music ever was. When it stopped Cleto stood quite still, dangling, the cushion and looking down at the floor. He was embarrassed, poor Cleto. and such a nice girl in front of him, too! Tootsio was not shy; and she had much compassion for her friend, besides. She went over and took the cushion from him. “ It’s only a game,” she said, “ but if you don’t like to kiss, me—we’ll just shake hands.” But at this Dora held up her hand to make a general statement. “If any player refused to kneel and kiss,” she declared, “ they will have to pay a forfeit afterwards.” So Tootsie asked Cleto if he’d rather kiss her or pay a forfeit. She must have understood his look; because we heard no articulate reply Avhen she threw the cushion down, and they knelt for a second and quickly kissed each other. The music stopped next time just as our old neighbour, Mr RuSsell, was directly in front of Tootsie. Mr Russell was the father of Tootsie’s best chum, Maggie ; and it Avas Tootsie’s oavu self Avbo happened to be responsible for his presence at the party—having ran over the street to invito them as soon a's she got home from work—but Mr Russell wore a rough, sandy beard 1 'So Tootsie gazed at , .her guest, aghast at tho proposition facing her. Nobody enjoyed the joke more than kindly olrV friend Russell himself, and he humorously ad\*ised Tootsie to “ hurry up and thrown down the cushion ” —as she AA'ould never get such a chance again “ maybe in a lifetime.” He understood her main objection to himself, of course, and he stood gravely stroking liis beard Avith his big, toil-worn hand. And e\’erybody Avas happy afound him—but Tootsie. Sho was desperate. “ Did the music stop quite fairly?” she asked. This Avas the first time that the musician’s veracity had been doubted, and he promptly defended himself, and at once offered to play again in order to give both Mr Russell and Tootsio an absolutely fair chance. Tootsie was dubious, but Mr Russell accepted the offer with much eagerness. Mr father played again, and, of course, he stopped, at the line direct in front of our old bearded friend once more. “ I’ll pay the forfeit,” Tootsio decided, handing the cushion to Mr Russell, who stood in the ring enjoying himself very much. Then I 6aw my father glance keenly around the ring and pick out tho prettiest girl there for our slighted guest. But Dora knelt down on the ushion quietly and lifted up her lovey face, and this time it was Mr Uusell who "seemed most shy Then it •ame to the actual buss. After a few more exchanges with the cushion, it came to Alf’s turn to be standing in .ho ring; and I felt a bit flustered as the music AA-ent on for what seemed to me an long time, before :l:e musician decided to bring Tootsie iut-o -he limelight ;gaiu. Alf Trent

was cfqan-ehaven, so there seemed no explanation for Tootsie’s sudden ejaculation : “ What funny ones 1 always get.” “Look here, Tootsie,” said Alf, “ you are the most ungrateful girl on earth. Fate lias given you a chance of kissing the two best-looking men in the room to-night .and you’ve slighted j them both.” j “ What a speech!” she scorned, “put ! the cushion doAA-n,” she aaded ungraciously ; “ I can’t keep on paying forfeits.” I saw Alf trying to change his position, Avhen the music stopped next time, to be in front of myself: but my father noticed this also and he went- on a little and placed Maggie there instead. Next he got Dale Martin into the ring; and as I have already stated at the beginning of tliiß chronicle, he gave that young man the fai'our over the other one. Dale uni derstood perfectly that my father had preferred him to Alf, and he therefore dreiv me down gently to the cushion, and kissed me triumphantly on the lips, twice—for which breach of the rules ho had afterwards to pay forfeit. . And very well 1 i know you did pay many a forfeit for love of me—my dear Dale—besides that, other itliicli Dora imposed on you that happy night of long ago—when vre | were all so earnestly at play. \ (To be continued.)