SHORT STORY

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume LXXXIII, Issue 19993, 9 November 1927, Page 13

SHORT STORY

ROMANCE (By DORA M. BROOME.) Scornfully Miss Heginbotham removed her helmet hat with the wreath of pink and blue roses and laid it on the seat beside her; then she passed her handkerchief over the red rim on her forehead. “Theer!" she said Mrs Hannam looked up from her crochet-work.

“Tha’d best lap thi head i’ thi scarf, Sarah," she said, comfortably, “tha’rt none so young as tha was." Unheedingly Miss Heginbotham looked away across the sparkling water of the lake to the little sailing-boat tacking towards the promenade. In the boat a whitc-frocked, bare-headed girl and a boy, his slim figure silhouetted against the luminous faintly blue sky. The creaking of cordage, the swish of the rippling water, the sound of voices and laughter floated in on the breeze. Nearer and nearer swept the boat. Miss Heginbotham could see the girl’s face laughingly upturned after some saucy remark. and swiftly the boy stooped ... a

faint, faint sound like «• wgn breathed across the water. . . With a creak and a lurch the sail swung over, and the boat was off back again, it’s gleaming silver wake trailing behind like a mermaid ’s tail

Miss Heginbotham let her gaze drop to “The Hundredth Chance" in her lap. “I dunnot know as theer’s so much i ’ this ro-mance they talk of i ’ books, ’ ’ she said.

“Ay," said Mrs Hannam, “it’s like t’ measles—either yo’ have it or yo’ dunnot, and when yo’re gettin’ on i’ life it’s like t’ weight of t’ grasshopper, as t» Good Book says—no more than a tale that’s towd."

She dropped her crochet-book, and began a desultory hunt ror It on the outskirts of her jumper. “I dunnot know," said Miss Heginbotham wistfully, “as it wer© ever towd t’ me." Mrs Hannam triumphantly retrieved the hook from a pendant fringe of silk. “Tha’rt none so bad-looking, Sarah,” she said kindly, “if tha’rt a bit on th’ short side, but tha never had no time for t’ chaps, wi’ thi feyther an’ t’ six childer." There was a silence. The little sail-ing-boat skimmed the surface of the water like a white butterfly drifting before the wind.

“It were in t’ summer o* 1915,” said Miss Heginbotham, suddenly, “as mirheumatics were cruel bad, an ’ t ’ owd doctor says to me, ‘Goo t’ Buxon, he says, an tak’ t’ watters, an’ live on t’ yerbs o’ t’ yearth.’ Ay," she added, meditatively, “thers this t’ be said for t’ vegetarians, yo’ con look a cow in t’ face, an’ theer’s allays peas an’ mint sauce left. Bur I were fair feared as mi nose’d goo a’ dithery, like our Charlie’s rabbit as his Uncle Henry give him, wi’ t’ greenstuff as I ate. Theer were a camp o- sodjers just outside Bux’on, as were gooin’ out to t’ Dardanelles, wi’ artillery an’ mules —them things wi’ t’ ears o’ a donkey an’t’ rollin’ eye o’ t’ Owd Lad hissen. “A lot o’ t’ ladies an’ gentlemen from t’ hospital went out t’ see t : camp, an’ I went wi’ ’em. Theer were a gentleman wi’ a grand mus-tash as showed us round. He were from Owdham, I judge, an’ he werena just so young as t’ other sodjer lads. ‘l’m thirty, ladies an’ gents,’ he says, wi’ a wink at us. ‘I were thirty when I joined up, an’ I’m thirty now. An’ that’s Jeremiah,’ he says, pointing to one o’ t’t’ wiqkodest-lookin ’ mules as ever 1 see, ‘an’ if ever I get CJB. it’ll be for talkin’ gentle-like t’ Jeremiah,’ he says. ‘Him an’ mo’s owd pals, ain’t we, Jeremiah?’ an’ wi’ that, Jeremiah fetched his head round an’ tried t’ bite him wi’ long yeller teeth. Ay, he were full o’ joke—the gentleman wi’ t’ mus-tash, I mean. Well arter that I dropped my handkerchief "

“Ay,’» said Mrs Hannam, “that’s been done afore."

“I dunnot know what tha means, Betsy Hannam," said Miss Heginbotham, sharply. “Nay," said Mrs Hannam, “no offence meant, Sarah, and none takken." “Ho gen it back to me,” said Miss Heginbotham, more gently. “It seemed as he were own cousin t’ Thomas Isaac’s sister-in-law. ... A dunnot know," she added, after a minute or two, “as I ever saw a gentleman as I liked better."

“Ay," said Mrs Hannam, “t’owder tha’rt an’ t’ worse tha taks it."

“Theer were a inn just opposite t’ house wheer I stayed," said Miss Heginbotham, “wheer t’ mules were stabled in t’ yard, an’ theer were allays a gentleman i’ khaki walkin’ up an’ down to t’ little sentrybox i’ front Sometimes he’d look up t’ road an down t’ road, an’ if theer werena anybody i’ sight he’d pop in to t’ side-door, an’ come out wipin’ his mouth on his sleeve.

“Ona day as it were awful wet I were lookin’ out o’ t’ windy wonderin’ if yo’ took t’ watter outsidse an’ in at Bux’on, when I see my gentleman come on duty loaded up to t’ eyes wi’ his pack an water-bottle an- things hangin’ round him like as if he’d been to t’ sales.

“Nay, I says, tha’s got thisen into trouble, by t’ looks o’ thee, an’ I’ll be bound it’s yon misfortunate Jeremiah o’ thine.

“I watched him walkin’ up an’ down, up an’ down, i’ t’ wet, till I couldna stand it no longer. Nay, Isays, if tha mun be punished I’ll be punished wi’ thee. Theer were nobody else i’ t’ room wi’ me, an’ I took t’ poker an’ marched up an’ down t*. room, wi’ t’ poker over mi shoulder, an’ t’ string bag wi’ t’ peas for to-morry’s dinner round mi neck. An hour an’ a half it were," said Miss Heginbotham, thoughtfully, “an’ I dunnot know as I ever spent a longer time. By t ’ end o ’ t’ first hour I judge as yon poker an’t’ peas weighed about a ton." “Well," said Mrs Hannam, yawning. “That’s a,’," said Miss Heginbotham, “I went whoam t’ next Gay." “Eh, bur tha wert a softy-pockets, Sarah, ’> said Mrs Hannam, rolling up her crochet-work preparatory to leaving.

“Ay," agreed Miss Heginbotham, watching the flashing approach of the sailing-boat. A little breeze lifted e. strand of hair from her forehead, and dropped it again. “I dunnot know as I’ve ever regretted it," she said, slowly. “Yo’ see, his name were in t’ first list o’ ‘Killed i" action’ as come through."