HYPOCRISY

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume LXXXII, Issue 19325, 2 June 1925, Page 10

HYPOCRISY

“Always gadding about!” ejacuated Pen’s father, as the girl put her head inside the door and called out cheerily ""I’m off!” ""It’s Tom to-night, I suppose?’ ’ ‘"No; Dick,” laughed Pen. ""And Harry to-morrow. I hate monotony.” She banged the door and was gone—-light-footed and gay. Her father j turned to his .wife with criticism j scored legibly around his mouth. ‘"At least she is quite honest about it,” his wife protested. “She doesn’t pretend to be better than she is.” She moved her chair nearer to his. .“Do you remember when we were not I quite so honest? A”hat a hypocrite I was! You needn’t look as if you don’t know anything about it, Jack, because it was half your fault. Don’t you remember?” She pinched his arm to remind him, and as he looked away into the lire he saw the same picture that she was seeing. • * * * The fine-looking Puritan farmer had left his work to see his daughter ! away to the meeting he could not attend. For a moment his hand rested on her shoulders as he bent his head and pretty Penelope kissed him dutifully; then he stood looking after her as she went demurely along the road towards the meeting-house. But as he turned back to the accounts that had kept him from joining her, th girl quickened her footsteps, and a few minutes later her smiles and blushes were dazzling the boy who had waited expectantly round the corner. The two young people found their stolen pleasures sweet, in spite of the ingredient that conscience insisted on adding. Their greatest regret was that the meeting time was so short. "‘I was a wretched little hypocrite, Jack. I’m glad Pen doesn’t pretend to be anything but what she is. I should hate her to deceive us. She’s a dear.” “A very giddy dear!” supplemented Pen’s father, ignoring the memory of past stolen delights. Pen laid the book on the rickety table and turned down the lamp that was sending out black smuts. “If I can find a candle I’ll trim this before I go,” she said. The old woman peered at th. clock with her dim eyes. “But it’s late, dear; you oughtcr be getting ’ome. They’ll be wonnerin’ where you are.” “That’s all right. They think I’m at the theatre,” said Pen lightly. “Why, do yer think they wunner like you ter come and read to me?” “Of course they’d like it. But—oh, 1 don’t know —” “You won’t let ’em know ’ow good you are,” said the old woman unexpectedly. ""I knows young people.” "‘Good!” The girl blushed protestingly. “Oh, —where’s that candel —” Alarguerite Williams in London Daily News.