The Boarding-house Child.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXVI, Issue XXIV, 15 June 1901, Page 1141

The Boarding-house Child.

“I haven't seen it stated anywhere that the managers of boardinghouses have advertised for contributions on 'How to make home pleasant and business profitable,’ ” said the tired-looking woman, “but in ease they are seeking such advice I will gratuitously submit a suggestion. They must harness the children of the family. It may be found necessary even to clap them into a straight jacket and gag them, but parents who are really anxious to succeed in their chosen vocation should not shrink from these radical measures.

“Now, I'm a boarder, and a good one—a profitable one. My appetite is normal, my circulation and eyesight are so good that I can get along with very little heat and a plugged-up gas jet, and what is more to the point, I'm a good payer, lienee I say I am a desirable boarder, and people ought to be glad to capture me. Many landladies do indeed recognise my splendid qualities, and when 1 was out one day last week seeking a new domicile, at least a dozen women fairly begged me to tarry at their firesides at a low rate. But I was forced to decline those invitations because of the impudence of the household cherubs.

“The first call I made was at a house in street. The weather was bitterly cold that day, and when I reached that house I was half frozen. The landlady sent word that she would be down in a minute, and the daughter, a little girl probably 11 years old. volunteered to entertain me. And she did, with a vengeance. “ ‘You're cold, ain't you?’ she asked, solicitously.

“ ‘Yes,' said I. ‘l'm awfully cold.' “ ‘I thought so,’ saiil she, ‘your nose is so red.’

“Did I engage board at that house? Never. If it had been a palaee with bargain-counter accommodation at 50 per cent, below cost I wouldn't have subjected myself to that child's merciless criticisms on my physical imperfections, the most prominent of which is my nose, which has, indeed, a florid hue at times. “At another place the landlady was a musical enthusiast. ‘Are you fond of opera?' she gurgled. “ ‘Yes.' said I. ‘some of it. I like the Italian operas, but I can't endure Wagner.’ “As is my custom. I pronounced it plain, every-day Wagner. The little girl—it was another little girl that time, but a specimen of the same breed—smiled pityingly. ‘I presume you mean Vogner, do you not?' she said. ‘Just listen, mother. She calls it Wagner.' “And did I take a room there? Well. I guess not. I went from there to Princes-street. Again I had to wait for the housekeeper, and again I encountered a little girl. She came up close and watched me as I drew n chair up in front of the fire and tried to warm my toes. Presently she said: ‘My. what big shoes you wear, don't you? Do you always wear such big overshoes?’ “I was getting pretty sick of the whole race of juvenile femininity by that time, and I'm afraid my tones were none too mellifluous as I snapped out a reply. ‘Yes,' said T, ‘I do.* “ ‘And why do you wear such big shoes?’ she persisted. ‘ls it because your feet are so big?' “Naturally I excused myself To Princes-street. and fared further in my quest. I had numerous other experiences with youngsters while in quest of board and lodging, but these instances are sufficient to prove that as an advertisement for boardinghouses the advanced progeny of the managers are not a howling success.”