Mordecai-in-the-Gate

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXIV, Issue 25, 24 June 1905, Page 6

Mordecai-in-the-Gate

or ih< . -. ten > < rs. ’Well. m i uTs neat ' .. 1 I n - kjuinn looks well-fed.” _ . . . - f diss St iting self. - after the 1 . . :I ■ ■ • ica rag< i 1 f Miss g guest. n't i n er has* London pleas s ss Q linn 1 sti e sitting size ! St rga's s • . " ’ ' ’ • - ■ it - R tells t.i: ively. n.an a fro to a1 Miss Strong g But R a's testi ss \ ' • ' - d Mrs I Iler as had t is Liss S g ng ug< h er poi ■ ' • :• ni .ns f - W • t he g _• laughter -loyet n« s s ard ’ ■ _ it sell • - . ss Verit - Yes • • b'.isy." - - - - — - faint i r er ep t t Mr self! S a’ know nis own mind. A parent “Knows be::ep f an ’ e. ded you .. ' - ■ ■ - • ■ ■ - ■ s s ■ Pr e braxelv I kr ; ..u there are ■ seep Knd « a *unt Mar i — " - : . - • - ■ ■■ . - - - ■ • - . ■ - • : I - -rr\ - :was o ' • - ...... A voice- a young and cheerful one—-

nd t ’ ' med i il\. ii a kind! How ven kind. my ihars! < ome in! and mind the step!" Not g Miss Vei _ g ■ raver slins path. “ Wt ome t you for a restorativ<. w rn out by urilirarian modernity." Miss f girls then she laughed epr< atingly. "Y '■ •iterative! I ul in't . it." g s th< tru< ijective. Now.

Joyee. s|<eak up and explain how our mood i> uoi angelical, and that sheer unadulterated sentiment ~We won’t laugh at sentiment toiay.” "Indeed not. We ask it of you in urge doses.” "We went over a factory this morn ng." said Joyce, lifting serene eyes upon the figure in grey, "and the whin - still in our brain." "We .ailed on Mrs Blanlfor.i this afternoon." appended Pamela, "and hei «ar cry is still in our ears." Miss Prudence led the way to her strio.ir. and sat down opposite her j aests. "Now. tell me everything." sai . she. For a :n-> ]n ent Miss Verity hovered among ■ . treasures that please . her. "•lour pot-]H>;trri jars! And your miniatures! We were right in comitur.

Joyce. The grace of this old room revives me." Presently sh t subsided into a ehair. You like it?” said Miss Prue, wistfully. "In a normal mood 1 love it; in an abnormal one. 1 adore it.” "Yet Constant a finds it shabby." "It is a benediction today.” "For me it speaks of the past. " "And as for us. it obliterates the present. Mills and modern Reforms are detestable. As for ' hild-Study and Sanitary* Developments —- Mrs Blandford rides her hobby with enthusiasm a deplorable enthusiasm in summer.’’ She is so eloquent, so clever." mused Miss Prue. Miss Verity’s lips opened and closed: her eyebrows expressed dissent: the estimates of Duihampstead confounded her. unaccustomed to the worship o: mediocrity. "She can do something of everything.” ruminated the elder. "And her paint ings—such lovely paintings! You can count the leaves on the trees. Ah. 1 wish sue had shown you her paintings. And h i room all upholstered in art urs ' onstantia was very anxious. Yvs. Minnie, we will have tea here." Pamela crossed to a cabinet, and od 1< >kii g into its recesses. "What charming vases!" she said pr< sently.

Aii»s» i rudviiev sudJenk went red. She was still n-d w.ien Minnie had aiarshal led the Chelsea tea serviee and tip toed hack to the kitehen. Then she spoke with an effort. 1 hey are Lowe*tof: valuable quite apart troui the value 1 set on them, ihey—they belonged once to a friend." A friend?" said little Joyce, softly. "I will tell you the story to day, it is a forty years -old story. Perhaps you will tind it dull." "Oh. no: eried Joyce with earnest ness. "No. no. ’ echoed Pamela sincerely. "1. was just seventeen. 1 remember ■The nicest age in the world!" said Pamela. "And we met at a croquet-party, when ]>eople played to amuse themselves." I It is a beautiful beginning!' mused "He was a master in Dulhampste id School " j S '.‘. ,!,iU - vou sa " eat!l other every Miss Prudence shook her he t 1 sm 1 mg: for a while the little cups, wit . their posies of pink rosebuds remained empty in a row before her. Sh< them suddenly with resoluteness. "No; so very seldom. Joyce. We. Constantia and I. were brought up bv an aunt a really wonderful woman, and we lived then at Little Nullins.' "I know it perfectly." said Joyce. "It is fifteen miles a wav.” A little distance now: ix seemed leagues apart then. -There is a big red house, square and smiling, that standback on the top of the hill. Creepers and white roses covered it. it was our earliest home —the home of Aunt Marti before she married her second husband. I nele John was her girl's choice — - farmer and a typical Englishman: but he ha.! a stubborn temper, though he was always good to us. Aunt Maria was the grey mare: she ruled us all firmly. Uncle. Con and me. and her six sons tid they went away to ntarrv. She chose their wives, too. ' And to oppose her ” r For a moment Miss Prudence paused, then she rose to hand cakes absentlv. "And the friend? " asked little Joyce. Miss Prudence went back to the teatable. T wore this brooch that day. "A beautiful old brooch!” Miss Pratt roused herself ud blushed. "Where were we. now. my dears' 1 a> . nothing of a story-teller, as Constant!, often reminds me. Ah. I was talking of I nele John. Or was it of Aunt Maria I nele John had a stubborn temper, and she told us how she cured him. She did it one afternoon. Three months after the wedding—a sunny day in harvest he had one of these sulking fits, and for five days he had said nothing. Aunt Maria eyed him for a time it was question which was to be the bette: horsei. and then she took a candle and went down on her knee- in front of him searching as though she had 100 something. l'ncle John stared at her till she fidketed him. and then he ’lung his boot across the room in a rage. A candle in broad daylight! What are you doing, senseless wench?' And Ann Maria answered. 'Looking for what 1 have found—your tongue. Johnnie.' They got on all'right afterwards: but it was Aunt Maria who had the upper hand. A wonderful woman —yes! " "And the friend?’’ asked Joyce again. Miss Prudence laughed shamefa. e lly. "I am a poor story teller, my dears, aConstantia always tells me. The friend, was a sort of cousin." "A delightful relationship!” nodded Pamela. Joyce turned her head to the sunflow ers that looked b’ldly in at the lattice "He was a sort of cousin of our-, and he hapened to be very poor. He ha 1 nothing but his brains, and brain* weren’t thought much of among Uncle John and his -porting s ns. -So that when he came to call it was two days after the croquet-party’ all the boys made fun of him. He was quiet, too and thin and I don't suppose his eyes ihe had grave, beautiful eyes said the same sort of things to the boys as th -v did to me. Of course, they couldn't have done. And he had red hair, too and didn't care for shooting. Rut ]>erhaps things might have gone differently if it hadn't been for Aunt Maria. Yet " Miss Prudence repeated her well-worn phrase firmly: yet she was a wonderful woman, and I keep it in my mind when T am apt to feel regretful over the things that might- have been. Our elders are wiser than we —at least.

they try to be—and when they interfere ’ She stirred her tea with tremors. Miss Verity's muslins billowed i.ke the rising foam at sea. "Inlerterence is always detestable." "Long ago 1 felt it so. We grow resigned with years. Well, Aunt Maria was ambitious, and she was well-read. too. Her boys were big and handsome, and she loved prosperity and success. Aylmer Vere wasn't and. ii we couldn't marry well, she didn't mean us to marry at all. One day we had a party and a dance in the great tithe barns. And while 1 was putting on my muslin frock (we wore crinolines then, and the frock was sprinkled over with tiny love-knots . Aunt Maria came into my room. ‘So Constantia's admirer is coming I' (a hunting squire was paving great attention to Constantia then. Constantia was so pretty, and always knew how to l>e in the latest fashion and make the most of herselfi. T suppose Mordecai-in-the-gate will come, too! 1 guessed whom she meant. because I couldn't well mistake her. as I had never had but one admirer in my life, out 1 didn't understand the nick name till Constantia explained it to me. Perhaps you know it. Miss Verity, who are -o elever yourself?" T know it.' said Pamela, slowly. And the boys got hold of the word. And the party was a failure to me. It couldn't he helped. 1 suppose. Boys will be boys. and it was stupid of me to cry. 'Mordeeai in the gate' became his name. And Constantia —well. Con was ambitious too: she said 1 spoilt her chances, she never liked Mr Vere—he had no style, -he said. Constantia should have been called Prudence: she always weighed things beforehand, and looked before she leapt. She found out the allusion for me too. and read the whole essay aloud, and said that was Charles Lamb's opinion. and that < harles Lamb was a wise man. and all the world agreed with him. I remember a great deal of it to-day. A poor relation is the most irrelevant thing in nature, a drawback upon success, a rebuke to your rising, a Mordeeai in-your-gate, a Lazarus at your door, the one thing not needful.' But 1 will forget it now. By degrees 1 could hear them call him Mordeeai without living into a temper. And because Major tart "right Major Cartwright wa- the hunt ing squire seemed -lay longer if Aylmer wasn't there. Well, all things are for the best, and it wasn't Aunt Maria's fault that Major Cartwright married his cook. And if Aylmer had been big and handsome " "How could you give him up?" cried Joyce making softly to Mis- Prue's footstool. "It wasn't giving up exactly. We agreed to wait. Aylmer laughed to hear the boys' nickname: the idea of Morde ai amused him: men manage to see fun in such things which only vex us. And lie said he would throw off the name as a snake does its -kin and come back wit.i a new glittering coat that w. uld dazzle Aunt Maria. So he decided to g . out to India the was a great linguist, and had been born theret. where he meant to give himself up to the study and translation of Eastern tongues. We had one happy day together, and we were full of hope. And though that one day might have been ordinary enough to many girls, to me. who ha I had but one lover " And the day?" asked little Joyce. "At the top of Little Nutting Hill there is a path.” "A wild gras-bordered path!" "It lea is to Durnstone Moor, w ere the bracken and th ■ bramble- are quit red in autumn." "And cranberries grow in masses among the grass.” "there is a stream that gurgles " "1 he dearest little stream in thworld!" mused Joyce. "And the wagtails come there to tlirt from -tone to stone and shake their delicate wings. They were there that day. Aylmer drew them: he was elever in all he did except sport: I have the sketch to-day.” Joyce murmured. "Beautiful!” "Ami by the stream we ate our lune > -just In- and I—a kind of conees-ion of Aunt Maria's, and talked of the time when he would be rich. We hid driven there is a donkey-cart (there were n » bicycles then), and we tied the donkey to a gate so that he might have his day as well as us. cropping the fine clean grass. And we forgave him for putting us in a plight as we drove home by lying down in a shallow stream we

•iau tv cru» and staving there an hour. Il was nine o clocx w hen we gut home, we hau to lead him halt the wav. But the moon »nonc. 11 was harvest. mouu. And Aunt Jdaiia didn t >wld. if she nad. it would aav v »carwiy uurt. Eoi ur utie in our uw.i Kingdom together. >o lit welll. But 1 haa my vase.-. tie gave taem to me t.ie uav be foie he sailed. J*ee! >he ro>c and lilted the nd of one ol lae tali Lowestoft flasks. mej hold the only low iei.vrs he ever wrote to me, and there is ».ut ia each ot them, liiey have been there foi ‘ roriv years*! * said Pamela. “And when 1 got the second he ha i been buried a week. Thev had give . him an appointment a wry good oneiu a college in Calcutta. But l. e times- aere unsettled then that follow« < the Mutiny. Uiie of t ic uiiicials unjHjpular. and they mistook Aylme. lor him, and slabbed him as he was com ing down the steps from a Governmeir. reception. So to the others my love story was ended. But to me Yes. Aunt Maria was a very - wonderful woman. Xow let me gather you som< loses; they are so beautiful this year. Pamela kissed her hosiers gravely. “Our cure is quite complete. lhe fragran e : : past .. s swej >ut the noisy present. It was kind of you to tell US.’* “Rather kind of you to listen.” “If it could have had another end “Ah. but it isn’t ended. Joyce.” Without speaking the two girls cro>ed the cobbled Street. A soft rain wa> falling, the air wamoist and warm. “Aylmer Vere!” murmured Joyce, taking off her gloves in the low ceiled hall. Aylmer Vere!” echoed Richard Ful ler. uncurling his legs from lhe window seat, and crossing the hall to mee: them. “How do you know Aylmer \ ere —a pre-historic tutor whose caricature is on our cloister walls?” “1 have heard of him.” said Joyce. Pamela moved toward- the window and watched some martin- build. “They signed the portrait ‘Amy*; it idated ’56.” “Forty years ago.” said Joyce. The Privileged < hie laughed cheer fully. “Fifty year- you mean. But the portrait still smile- on. being out of reach of painters.” “He had beautiful eye-.” said Joyce. “The ugliest chap alive, and according to school annals, the butt of the fifth form.” “I hate the English schoolboy.” “Oh. he isn’t quite a worthless being. And our Quondam mister wa- no doub: a fool, else they wouldn’t have called him Amy. Uncle X.it remembers —”

Well? -aid little Miss Quint -teadily. "That though hi- brains uere stuffev with learning, hr had no more muscle than a mollusc. It on.- wants to b< • Joyce sailed magnificent ly to th< -tail way : < -i mu-’in- -poke cn-p dis da in. “Popular with hooll»oy-!” >he darte : ..nr ji.ince m going, an it -track straight home. lhe Privileged One made for the win In a low voice he -aid hurriedlv “Pam! ’ “Well?” said Pam. watching the mar tin- dive. “We. are chronically rt t -i\e- and It stems so to-day. 1 allow. ’ Xet truth—a woman demands it: Ami ju-t now. when 1 thought 1 “Have patience, Cousin Dick.” “h there were reasons for her .-oil “Allow for feminine caprice.** ••Joyce Quinn is never capricious—t!u <hare-t jir) alive.’’ - eless capricious. Dickie! To morrow she will scout expediency, am crave truth in its naked form. But to patted her companion's aim. “lake heart, my cousin, for my gooc: wishes are all with you. Truth is most ly attractive to us. and Joyce vvouk weep if you deceived her. But Frutl should have been dressed up gently. \\\ had Iveen hearing a tale of Mordeeai—o: Ay liner \ ere. 1 mean ; and w hen w » Jiad conic -traight from twining rose mary and rue round his memory 1 here are two -ides to a man. vou -ee We had looked at the sunny side, am the other You turned it roughly We are in love with Sentiment to-day.’ lhe Privileged < >ne smiled gravely. "Is Pamela among the prophets Mi-s Verity blushed rosy-red. Her cousin turned from her despond ingly. "I shall be gray-haired before I master the Great Conundrum.” “The Conundrum?” said Miss \'*rity SOftlv. “Oh. come. Pam! If I am to explaii metaphor to you!”