FRIED OYSTERS.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume V, Issue 43, 25 October 1890, Page 16

FRIED OYSTERS.

A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE. Y dear,’ said Mr Cassidy, ‘ pnt on the frying pan. a,l| l get ready to make some oyster fritters. I’m hungry and we’ll have a bit of *’ll \vJwilll' supper before we sleep.’ >A' \>lt /11V Mrs Cassidy liked a bit of supper and oyster fritters as well as her husband, and she nodded an assent ; and, putting by her ■A*° if*?*’ work, went into the little kitchen to make ready for cooking the oysters, whilst her husband went out to fetch them.

It was warm in the kitchen, and comforable and cosy, so she thought she might as well wait in there. Going into the sitting-room, she armed herself with a dainty hand-screen, and a small volume of poetry. Catching sight of herself in the glass, she paused for a moment’s appreciative contemplation of the dainty figure in a combination of black velvet and pale pearl grey veiling, the under petticoat, which appeared only in front, being grey silk pongee, embroidered in big daisies. (See illustration.) Mrs Cassidy, waiting for her spouse, leaned back against the wall and shuthereyes. Not sleeping; oh, no, onlythinking. The clock ticked on ; the tea-kettle sang its song. Mrs Cassidy was back in the country place where she was born, talking at the garden gate with Tom. Then something aroused her. She started up. Tom ! Tom ! Why, where was Tom Cassidy ? He had been gone an hour. And the oyster shop was only around the corner. She must have had a nap. Frightened and nervous, she ran to the door. All was very still in the street, and where the houses were not utterly dark, the lights had gone to the upper floors. Perhaps the saloon was closed and he had gone farther for the oysters. Yes : that must be it. She went back to the kitchen and waited, but no Tom came.

In fact, he did not come that night. About dawn next morning the servant, coming down stairs to kindle the fire, saw her mistress crouched up in the corner of the kitchen fire-place moaning and rocking herself to and fro. When asked what was the matter, she said : ‘ Your master is dead, Sally.’ Sally shrieked, but when informed that her lady’s reasons for this statement were that her husband had gone out intending to return in a few minutes, and was not yet at home, Sally grinned and took the affair lightly. ‘ Depend upon it, mum,’ she said, ‘ he’s only gone off on a spree. They all does it sooner or later. My last lady didn’t see hers for three weeks one winter. Mr Cassidy ’ll turn up all right again soon.’ All his male relatives and connections went to work at the search for him as soon as they could be telegraphed for. No gentleman of his description had inquired for oysters late that evening in the neighbourhood. At his place of business a person waited for him at nine that morning, by appointment. Failing in this meeting was very disadvantageous to Mr Cassidy. He had bought tickets for the theatre the next evening, for Mrs Cassidy and himself, and had given them to her to keep safe. Not the most suspicious detective of them all could believe that Mr Cassidy had voluntarily left home.

A respectable gentleman of his age, well dressed as he always was, probably would have been taken to a hospital, if he had been seized with a sudden attack of illness in the street ; or, at least, if he had been supposed to be intoxicated, clubbed, and locked up in a cell for daring to have apoplexy or heart disease, his remains would have been found by this time. They searched high and they searched low for a week. At last a body was found in the river. Its clenched hand was closed over something that proved to be the handle of a tin can. Time and weather had done the worst with person and wearing apparel, but the body was identified by the loss of two front teeth and a bald spot on his head. To be sure, Mr Cassidy in life had worn two artificial teeth, but that was nothing. The detectives, the brother-in-law, the two cousins, talked the sad affair ov-r, and decided that there could be no doubt concerning the manner of his death. The unfortunate widow had the news broken to her. She was prepared for the worst by that time. And the next •day’s paper had a full account of the affair. They stated that—

‘ Mr Cassidy, a prominent business man of our city, feeling some appetite at eleven o’clock at night, on Wednesday, the of —-, with the simplicity and amiability that distinguished him, took a small tin can from his kitchen dresser, and set forth to procure a certain number of these luscious bivalves, which his estimable lady—a true wife—agreed to dress for him. Proceeding down the street, he had reached a lonely and deserted place opposite the well-known church under the pastorage of Dr. Checkcm, when suddenly from the shadows of the sacred portal a ruffian darted towards him crying, “ Your money or your life!” and at the same time dealing him a furious blow in the mouth, which deprived him of two front teeth. Mr Cassidy defended himself ably with the can, but finally fell senseless under the blows the wretch continued to deal him. The can was wrenched from the handle, which his manly hand still clutched even in insensibility, and after having been robbed of all his valuables, his pocket-book, and even his shoes, he was dragged toward the wharf and cast in. In vain his anxious wife watched and listened for his return. His body lay beneath the dark water ; his soul had flown heavenward, and the murderer fled safely with his ill-gotten spoil. M r Cassidy’s terrible death is deeply regretted by all who knew him.’ The funeral was a large one. For awhile every one thought poor Mrs Cassidy would die ; but she had a fine constitution. All she desired to do was to weep in retirement for awhile, and to visit every little while the grave, over which a stonecutter had, at the same active brother-in-law’s command, placed a marble shaft, engraved with the name and virtues of the deceased—that, and, of course, she must goto church. There came a Sunday morning when the widow stood in her long veil before her mirror, and decided that * black ’ became her greatly. She sat down ami drew on her gloves. She remembered that, after all, thirty was no great age. • How wicked of me to think of it,’ she said to herself ; * but I wonder whether I ever shall do like other widows ami marry again ? It will be lonely ; and jxior Toni always said that anyone who had been happy in one marriage

would surely make another. I’ve been very happy—very. Poor Tom !’ She shed a tear and took from a glass on the mantel a bunch of tiny violets, which she had bought out of pity from a poor little flower-girl, and put them in her belt. * Crape has such a close smell,’ she said, by way of excuse, ‘ and no one will notice them.’ Just then—- ‘ Good heavens, Selina !’ cried a voice liehind her. She started up. Mr Cassidy—or his ghost—stood in the doorway. The ghost was but the thought of an. instant, and as we have said, Mi’s Cassidy was very healthy. She did not faint. Instead, she uttered a full-lunged resounding shriek, and threw herself into his arms. ‘Oh Tom !’ she sobbed, ‘ Tom, Tom ! How did you come to life again ?’ • Haven’t been dead,' said Mr Cassidy, ‘ and I cabled. Good heavens, what a mass of black crape you are—’

• You wouldn’t—have—liked me—not to mourn for you, Tom !’ sobbed Mrs Cassidy. ‘ When I—l—thought I was dying—l managed to say—de-de-deepest black there is.’ ‘ But I didn't want to be mourned for !’ said Mr Cassidy. ‘ I didn’t put it on until they found you !’ sobbed Mrs Cassidy. ‘ You looked so dreadful, I didn’t know you, but you were identified. Jack identified you, and there’s the handsomest shaft over your remains !’ ‘ I haven’t'any as yet f'said Mr Cassidy. * Why are you here ? Why are those strange people in our house ?’ • Jack sold it for me, and settled your business up and brought me here. He was very, very good, in my affliction !’ said Mrs Cassidy. ‘ You haven’t been in affliction !’ said Mr Cassidy. • I thought I was. It’s all the same thing. I’ve been through everything,’ said Mrs Cassidy. ‘ And you seem to thrive on it!’ said her husband angrily. ‘ You’re a very blooming widow, indeed. And that busybody, Jack, has been putting me out of the way as speedily as possible, settling my business—selling my home, indeed ! And I cabled to you.’ • I don’t know what you mean by cabling,’ said Mrs Cassidy. * But I know that to go off that way was a terrible thing. Without a word or hint. Tricking me, frightening me. If you’d been ill or met with an accident—but to go off and never send a word all this time. I can never forgive you.’ ‘ Oh !’ said Mr Cassidy. * You never got the cablegram ?’ • If it’s like a telegram, I never did,’ said Mrs Cassidy. * Why, Tom, have you been to Sydney?’ ‘ I’ve been to Melbourne,’ said Mr Cassidy. ‘ You see, as I went down the street with the oyster can, I heard a carriage behind me and it stopped, and somebody called me —“ Cassidy I” I stopped. It was Billings—you know Billings ? “Jump in,” says he ; “ want to talk to yon, and I’m in a hurry.” • So in I jumped. He told me he was going on board a steamship—the Wairarapa, —and that as there’d been a delay, she’d start about three in the morning, and he wanted me to see him off. Well, Selina, I couldn’t say “no”—Billings is my particular friend—and I went with him. Knew you’d excuse me, and I went on lioard, and we looked at his state-room, and we—had a bottle or two of ale

and—well, then I said I must go, and he went out of the state-room to get a card to write his Melbourne address on, and I thought I’d try whether his berth was comfortable, and I stretched out on it. It had little blue curtains to it, that drew up and down. I drew them down. ‘ Well, Selina, that’s the last I knew until it was broad day. I waked up to find Billings looking at me. ‘ He had come back, and as the curtains hid me, supposed I’d gone off. Felt angry that I didn’t say good-bye, went on deck to see the last of land, and was just going to bed himself. There was a pretty kettle of fish ; I’d been carried off. I sent for tha captain. He was like a rock ; inclined to believe me a sort of stowaway at first. I raved, I roared, I made a spectacle of myself before strangers; but when people understood that I left a wife who expected me home in ten minutes, and my business at sixes and sevens, they compassionated me. If we’d met the right steamer I could have got home ; but we didn’t. I went to Melbourne. Good Lord, how wretched I’ve been ! I had to borrow Billings’ shirts and stockings. I had enough with me to pay my passage back, but I hid that. I cabled instantly on arrival, and I came back by the first steamer. And now I find—well, I find I’m dead—dead and buried. I’ll kill Jack first, and then go and drown myself.’ But Mrs Cassidy understood, now. She had taken off her bonnet and veil, and she was petting him and crying over him as if he had been a baby ; and begging him to tell her it was not all a dream. And then, a ring at the bell. And there was Jack, with a crape around his hat and a prayerbook in his hand. ‘ He took his * blowing-up ’ quietly, and wrote a paragraph for next morning’s papers while it was going on, heading it : THE DEAD ALIVE ! HAPPY RETURN OF THOMAS CASSIDY. And he once more took time by the forelock. He uusettled the business; bought bUCK the house and furniture ; induced the stonemason to take back—ata slight reduction—the shaft which marked the grave of the poor drowned tramp, who had been identified as Mr Cassidy ; and had the satisfaction of restoring his friends to their old quarters as by magic. And so, one evening, as the two sat together in their little parlour, Mr Cassidy said to his wife : ‘ Selina, we haven’t had those oysters yet. If you’ll see to the frying-pan, I’ll go and get some. And I swear I’ll not mysteriously disappear this time.’ He did not. And as they ate the fritters Mrs Cassidy declared that it was all exactly like a dream, a horrible dream, that she could not bear to think about.