CHAPTER VI. THE CHILDREN'S PLAY.

Waikato Times, Volume XXVI, Issue 2119, 6 February 1886, Page 1 (Supplement)

CHAPTER VI. THE CHILDREN'S PLAY.

When the sun rose up next morning, and shone on the snowy world around Narbrongh, the first faint beams awoke a young man still strong and resolute in his purpose and with all his noblest and tenderest feelings freshened and kindled by having made it. He was going to do a rash thing— a foolish thing in the eyes of the worldly men and women. He was going to ask a penniless woman whom ne loved, to share poverty, but not shame with him. Going to say, Will you begin at the bottom of the hill, and toil upwards with me ? Cheer me in my struggles for daily bread ; in my dissapointments ; my losses; — perhaps in my defeat? Will you do this because you love me ? If you do not — but, ah, what lover ever dwelt upon this cruel thought! Other and warmer ones were beating in poor George's heart that winter morning, insckiug the world for him all music and delight. It was the old, old melody that was ringing in bis ears. The love song which, first heard in Paradise, has rung and echoed through all ages since. George had listened, and all his prudence, all his worldliness, had vanished in the spell, He who had struggled and doubted ; he who had weighed this thing and that and counted the cost, and thought of bills, of debts, and of pride, was now all eager, trembling, and afraid. ' When should he ask her?' 'What should he say?' 'Would she be willing to sacrifice so much?' These were the questions which he asked and answered a hundred times on that Christmas morning. In the meanwhile Miss Williams was thinking of George, also, and with some uneasiness in her heart. 'Poor George,' she said, half aloud, as she stood combing back her brown hair, and arranging the two long curls Adelaide Manners found so much fault with, by the dim light of the winter's sun. •Poor George— l hope he will never learn to love me. 1 1 am changed, 1 she thought, standing before the glass, and looking at the fair (ace it reflected, with, the tender loving

eyes, and slight lines of care, ' changed— but no wonder,— no wonder,— and it's better I should be, — better for George — better for us both.' Yet she did not seem to wish to make herself less attractive in his eyes. She put on her most becoming dress and ornaments. She smiled on him when she went down stairs, as sweetly and frankly as before. She scolded him in her pretty way for being awkward, aud for interfering with their arrangements, and finally sent him out among the snow, happy, lighthearted and content. Yet she meant him no wrong— nay, she would not have wronged him for the world. What a busy day this was at the Vicarage ; what a merry cheerful day. They laughed at the scrap dinner in the schoolroom ; they laughed when the cook came to say the frost had thickned her jellies. They made light of all the little mischances and failures which so constantly occurred during the preparations for a party. As for the children, they were perfectly wild, Dolly being absolutely past all control, and even gentle Milly was restless and excited. Bonny was twice caught putting her sticky little fingers into the ornamental creams on the supper table, and Miss Williams tried in vain to keep any order among them. At last the time came ; at last five o'clock, and a few minutes afterwards Lady Lilbourne's carriage containing her three little girls and their governess, was seen approaching ; they having been invited to come an hour earlier than the rest of the company, as they were expected to take some part in the performance. After this the hurrying to and fro between the house and the schoolroom was something wonderful, for at the end they found a hundred things had been forgotten. George nearly lost ail his patience between them, and declared he would never have anything to do with such an affair again in his life, and Miss Williams had to exert some influence before he was restored to equanimity. At six o'clock, carriage after carriage, laden with nearly all the children in the neighbourhood, began to drive up through the frosty air to the schoolroom door. More than thirty children at least assembled and were welcomed and shown to their places on the long benches by kind Mrs Manners, who was a great favourite amongst them. Then came Lady Lilbourue aud Adelaide Manners, and then a dozen or more hangers-on, male and female, of the establishment, all the old servants having received permission to come. At last the room was quite full, and the agitated performers peeping through the green curtain which divided the stage from the audience, saw a crowd of faces, before which they were expected to exhibit themselves. When every one was settled, and all full of expectation, a very small boy, dressed in an exaggerated livery, appeared before the curtain, bearing a large placard, on which was announced, in very large letters, that " The Genteel Comedy of Cinderella, or the Glass Slipper," was about to be performed, and claiming their polite attention. When the little boys and girls assembled read this, or had it explained to them, there was great laughter and clapping of hands. They all knew the pretty tale, and were all interested in it, and kept wondering who would be Cinderella, and who would be the Prince. Then the curtain drew up, and sitting on the coal scuttle by the empty grate, with her tair long hair all rough and dishevelled and her commonest dr<*ss all tattered and torn, was lovely Milly Manners— the loveliest Cinderella surely that e\ er was seen, since the day when the old story was first written and read. 'It's Milly, "said the eager little girls. 'It's Milly— how pretty sho looks, thought the eager little boys Then Katie and Dolly entered tho scene, dressed to represent the cruel bisters ; dressed in their best, with come very gorsreous looking ornaments on their necks and hands. They passed Milly at fi^t without speaking ; only tosi-iug up their heads at her, and looking veiy contemptuous while poor Cinderella bat still, downcast and unhappy. ' Why do you *>it there, you stupid littie fright ?' then said- Dolly, addressing her. ' Why don't you get up and make yourself useful ? Go and wash your hands aud then come and help us to drc-s for tho Prince's Ball.' 1 But 1 would like to go too/ said Milly meekly. ' You !' cried Dolly with a scream of derision, ' you with your rags and your dirty face and coarse hands— You ! What would the Prince say, I wonder, if he saw you ? He' would wonder whit little beggar girl we had picked up. 'Yet, I'm your sister,' said Milly, beginning to cry. 1 Only our btcp-shter," said Dolly, with such emphasis, that it brought a conscious blush on more than one cheek among the audience. ' Only our step-sitter, and that makes a vast difference.' The 6cene ended after some more vory pointed lemarks on Dolly's part, by Cinderella being marched off, according to the original text, to dress her sister's hair, and the curtain fell amidst some applause. It rose again in a few minutes, and discovered Milly (Cinderella) looking still more disconsolate and unhappy. She was not sitting on the coal-scuttle, this time, but lying crying, beside it. Her pretty hair was hanging over her face and hands. She was the very image of despair. Presently there came a tapping at the door ; but the poor child scarcely turned her head, though the tapping wont very vigorously on. Then entered the most wouderful figure that ever was seen. The old fairy, the god-mother of the st>iry; but the tallest fairy, and the funniest-looking one, that imagination could conceive. She wore a high steeplecrowned hat, and a great ruff round her neck, and was otherwise dressed in a costumo of about the time of Elizabeth, and she had a thick, browu moustache, and a very rough chin, and was altogether a most remarkable-looking personage. 'Why are you crying, my child?' she a«iked of Cinderella, tapping her shoulder with her long wand. Then the sad tale was very prettily told. Cinderella was poor. Cinderella had been left, while the rich elder sisters had gone off to the ball. 4 'Tis the way of the world,' said the fairy. *Do not grieve, my dear child, the wheel of fortune ever is turning ; but of this be you sure, that when you are down you'll be snubbed, and when yeu are up you'll be flattered.' ' It is very unjust,' said Cinderella, 'Expect nothing else, Cinderella. There are certain great idols that men ever worship, and the greatest of these is of gold. For this they will toil, give their brains, their health, and their honour. Your sisters are rich, so they naturally really despine you.' * •I am sure if they were poor, and I were rich, I would not be quite so unkind,' answered Cinderella, picking up a little bit of spirit. I 'Are you so sure?' asked the fairy, I severely. ' I am sure,' replied Cinderella, confidently. ' Then we shall see,' said the fairy, and tapped her wand thrice, and down came tho curtain. 'Who is she?' inquired most of the little audience. ' Who is the big fairy f They were excited and awe-struck, and Georgia's fairy was a decided success. In a few minuta up went the cujtain

gaain, but how changed was the scene. In the centre stood Milly, but no longer the poor drudge of the household. She was dressed in tho dress she had longed for — white, all covered with stars. She had flowers in her beautiful hair, and flowers in her hand, and round her white neck there were pearls, and on her small feet were glasb shppct s. ' Yes, real glass slippers !' the children all cried. You could see them shine iv the gas-light as she stood there radiant, lovelj and happy, with her god-mother standing beside h«jr, bidding her go to tho ball, but be sure not to aot like her sisters. What clapping of hands there was, what applause for the beautiful Milly ! But still more when again the old f niry tapped thrice with her wand, and ft small glass coach, driven by the tiny boy in livery, who had carried the playcard, and who now were a large cocked hat, and had a great bouquet in his button hole, and drawn by George's Newfoundland dog ' Ben,' came slowly upon the stage, to take Cinderella to the ball. Tho children screamed with delight at this novel hteed, but it must be confessed the fairy's heart sank, and had very little confidence in poor 'lien's 1 behaviour, who, however, acted his part to perfection. He looked indeed somewhat reproachfully at his master for making a fool of him, but stopped obediently at the word of command, and otherwise conducting himself with every propriety. Tnen the fairy, with much sage advice, and many hits at the manners of modern belles, handed Cinderplla into her carriage, having first warned her that if she stayed until the clock struck twelve, which she considered much too late an hour for young peoplo to be out, that all her fine clothes and coach would instantly vanish. After which warning the fairy herself disappeared, and ' Ben,' with the glass coach attached, was driven steadily off the stage behind the scenes, where George with some relief handed out his rather frightened little sister from her bomewhat precarious vehicle, tho being now supposed to have arrived at the Prince's ball. When the curtain drew up again, the ball was at its height. There were about a dozen little couples of boys and girls waltzing merrily together, and among them was one very conspicuous figure. It was tho Pi in '0, and a very beautiful young Prince h>3 .ippeircd. He was tall and slight, .'.ml woio a little violet velvet cap tri. tuned with miniver arid a a long white feather on his shapely head. He had a violet velvet mantle which reached the giound and was trimmed with miniver like his cap, and his shoes had diamond buckles, *nd his c;ip a diamond star. No wonder sill the ladies admired him. No wonder Dolly with whom he was dancing was looking very tenderly up into his face. But presently fcho started, and bit her lips and frowned, and the Prince's eye followed her angry glances, beheld the loveliest young creature in the world, who had just entered the room, and for whom, of course, he instantly conceived the most violent affection. It was Cinderella, tho despised sister, the poor drudare, who sat amid the coals, and the cruel sisters' cheeks turned palo with envy when the beautiful Prince very politely handed her to a chair, and went up to the new-comer, smiling very sweetly and taking off his cap. Then thesa two began to dance, though certainly with no extraordinary vigour— tho glass slippers being, in fact, inconvenient, George had had them made for Milly with much care, but still there was no denying they were uncomfortable for dancing. Milly bad to whisper this to her handsome partner, so in place of any violent exertion, they carried on a pretty by-play ; no bad imitation of that business which balls were piobably originally invented to forward. This flirtation went on for a little while, aud the Prince seemed to be getting very sweet, and the other ladie--very angry, when the clock began to strike ! Cinderella started and turne I pale. One, two, three, four, went on the clock; five, six, seven, eijrht, nine, ten, eleven, and with a shriek at that number the Prince's fair partner fled— fled ere the fatal stroke, but dropped in her haste a glass blipper ! This the Prince took up and kissod, and placed in his bosom, and then the curtain descended, leaving him looking very sentimental nnd pretty. Then came the last scene of all. The small boy in livery came on the stage first, and road the Prince's offer. He would marry the lady who-<e foot would go into that wonderful glass shoe. They acted this well. All the little gills who had danced came on and sat in a row; all tiied to force on the glass slipper in vain. Dolly's efforts were highly amusing, for she threw no small amount of humour into her part. How she pulled in her silk stockings at the toe ; how she struggled and fumed and cried, 1 Oh ! my corn, my corn ! ' but still all in vain. We all know how the story ends ; how poor Cinderella came last, and how her little foot slipped into her fairy godmother's shoe. Then the band (the piano) struck up a triumphal march, and the Prince embraced her, and tho curtain fell — the Prince holding her to his bosom as his promised bride. The applause was loud and long, and there were cries for ' the Prince,' ' the Prince,' 'Cinderella,' and 'the Fairy'; so, after some hesitation, Georpe led the two priucipal performers on the stage, and stood holding a hand of each, and bowing his comical head to the company. ' Bravo for the Prince ! ' cried a voice from the end of the room, and Miss Williams (his representative) looking to see who was her admirer, saw a pale handsome younsr man standing by Adelaide Manners' side. 1 Who is that ? ' she asked of George in a whisper. •Why, it's Hugh!— Hugh Manners," he answered. ' I must go round to shake hands with him. I wonder when he came ? ' And thus ended the children's Christmas play.