A STAY OF PROCEEDINGS.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXV, Issue 1, 8 July 1905, Page 6

A STAY OF PROCEEDINGS.

The Tale of a Pair of Shoes, a Drowsy Porter and a Ticket for South Dakota

By

Mark Lee Luther

EASTLAKE moodily patrolled the platform of the dismal trainshed, while the green porter of the Esmeralda pottered over the berths of a regiment of women with small children who had made prior demands upon his incompetence. The waiting man was well into his second cigar, an dthe profound conviction that he had botched life from the outset, when his eye was arrested by a gleam of lilac petticoat. Now, lilac, for a sufficient reason, was with him a touchstone, and this speaking detail led him forthwith to a closetsurvey of a little procession which wound its way through the wicket from the waiting-rooms and presently ended its leisured march at the step of the watcher's own car. It consisted of a station porter burdened with feminine belongings: a gentleman of ingratiating address : and a young woman of modish garb ami exceeding good looks, upon whom porter and cavalier alike danced a worshipful attendance. Eastlake straightway flattened himself into the friendly shadow of a baggage truck. "Betty!” he gasped. Whereupon, through the blightly lit windows of the Pullman, he saw the group straggle down the aisle, peering at the section numbers, and finally halt with hostile glances at a point where, in sign of pre-emption, a man's luggage tilled the rear seat. "Betty!"' breathed the hypnotised spectator again. And in my section!”

In tranced amaze, he followed a pantomime to which the lady contributed a battery of taking graces and her companion an air of extreme devotion. I'his latter persfon was prodigaltof magazines. flowers, and like trifles for the beguilement of a long journey; lavish, too, was his talk, to which his listener lent a pink-tipped and apparently willing ear; while his leave-taking as the wheels began to turn was that of one who ventured with his eyes intimacies which he durst not as yet put more eloquently. He dropped to the plat from just aEastlake. curbing a fierce primitive impulse to mar and maim, swung himself aboard. Eastlake’s progress toward his section was less impetuous. Indeed, it was only after several false starts and a futile parley with the sleeping-car conductor that he plucked up courage to present himself lx-fore his seatmate. The most casual witness would have agreed that his reception justified is reluctance. To call it glacial would suggest a warmth it could not boast; compare it rather with the unchanging cold of some dead world. The man shivered elaborately. •‘Yes,” he confessed apologetically; “this is reallv mv seat. Bettv.”

The lady bridled. “‘Betty!’” she repeated indignantly. •‘Elizabeth,” amended the offender. “Not to you.” "Well, then—Mrs. Eastlake! I dare say that’s scarcely more palatable, though 1 remember you thought it a pretty name when you married it.” She seemed unmoved by this reminiscence. “I was about to explain,” added iter husband, “that I have tried to get a berth elsewhere, and failed. The travel is unusally heavy to-night.” Another pause. ‘•However. I will try not to annoy you.” he went on. “A shade more cor diality on your part would prevent our being taken for a self-conscious bridal pair; but suit yourself as to that. If. on the other hand, it pleases you to treat me as a stranger—you’re acting the part capitally just now. by the way —at least permit me as a stranger —a courteous one—to offer you the rear seat.” “No, thank you.” “But it always makes you sick to ride backward. Be—Mrs. Eastlake,” he remonstrated. “Do take it.” The lady eclipsed her face with one of her numerous magazines. Her husband smilingly outflanked her by means of a mirror across the aisle, but she promptly detected and blocked even that loophole. At this moment of seeming

utter rout the great god Luck, who sometimes befriended him, deigned to smile. As the train jolted over the last suburban switch to an unimpeded track, he saw a small glove slip gently from Betty’s lap to the floor, and struck for it like a ravening hawk. Unhappily, its owner was no less alert, and. the train forwa/rding their joint efforts, they collided between seats in an attitude which, in a less impassioned moment. the man could only liken to that classic marble, styled “The Wrestlers.” Speech for the instant failed him. Not so his wife. "How like you.” she dropped. Her husband accepted the rebuke with humility. “I suppose so,” he assented. “I never was much of a earpet-knight. Probably hat was why we didn't make a go of it together.” "How unjust!” she protested. “You know very well I never wanted ” The conductor cut in with a request for tickets—a respite which Eastlake employed in a vain endeavour to learn his wife’s destination. The ticket’s reverse side persistently confronted him. however, and it was not until the official had gone his wav and Bettv was

coiling the thing's inordinate length into a microscopic pocketbook that its legend squarely met his astounded eye. “Sioux Falls!” he broke out. "Then it’s true, Betty? You're going to apply for a Dakota divorce? They told me to expect it, but I laughed them in the face. I wouldn’t—l couldn’t believe it of you. Tell me it's all a mistake, little woman! Tell me it isn’t so!” She met his look frankly. "But it is,” she answered in a low voice. With that he went from white to angry red. "I’ve done you no wrong." he exclaimed. “You can’t lay that at my door. I’ve lived a foolish life, but, by heaven, it’s been a clean one. What cause ” "Cause!” she echoed bitterly. “Isn’t it cause enough that we’ve been spoiling one another’s lives?” He watched her for a moment in baffled silence. Then his eyebrows suddenly me; in a stern, blaek line. "Who was that man at the station?” he demanded harshly. The effect upon his wife was marked. Wonder, then incredulity, then anger, played in rapid sequence across her mobile face. With anger mounted another flood of colour. “It does not concern you." she answered. "Who was it?” he repeated. "Who, I say?” For a space they eyed one another, will fighting will. Then, seeming to lay hold upon her resolution by main strength, she said again: "It does not concern you. I refuse to tell.” “The real cause?” he taunted. Her chin quivered, then grew firm. "You wrong me,” she replied with a dignity which instantly touched him. “That man is nothing to me. He is a lawyer.” Eastlake drew a long breath. “I take that back, Betty,” he said. "You always played fair. 1 was a brute to speak as I did; but when I saw him with you to-night, pressing his gimcracks, looking as if ” He choked wrathfully at the recolection, and abruptly ended: “I could have jammed his handsome face beneath the wheels.” She stole a bewildered glance at him. His own face had a wholesome comeliness which suffered nothing by comparison with the one he would have marred, and it just now reflected something infinitely more desirable than physical charm. As she looked and puzzled, he turned and with a flash of insight read her thought. “Yes, I care, little woman. - ’ he owned. “I’ve always cared.” Her lips parted. “Don’t say it!” he charged. “Nobody knows better than I how seldom my actions squared with my words. But I’ve done some candid thinking, since we took different roads. Betty: an.l I see. as I couldn’t once, that I've been a loafer —just one of the ‘idle rich’ that the socialists and that lot curse.” “You weren’t really idle,” came an unexpected demurrer. “I might as well have been idle. Autoracing. fox-hunting, polo are well enough as sport; as a profession they’re just

what you once told me—useless. I see that now. I realize how 1 disappointed all your fine ambitions for me. Gad, the chances I've let slip! Think of that Wall Street offer, that berth with the Steel Trust; think of the Congressional nomination! Why. I’ll wager there are a million deserving beggars who'd pawn their souls for a go at any one of the opportunities I chucked away.” For an interval he sat glooming down the aisle. His wife gazed steadfastly out into the night. “I guess it was my throwing over the political chance for a polo tournament that cut you deepest,” he went on presently. “That was a chance. You always said that I’d get on if I were to go in for politics, Betty, and I feel it in my bones that you're right. I can mix with all sorts of people; it’s as easy as breathing for me to make a speech. That brownstone district is our party's by rights. It belongs to the men who either don't register, or play golf all election day when they do. The candidate who can poll that full silk-stocking vote will turn the scale. And I could have got it out! You remember what the fellows in the clubs said they’d do? I'd have won, Bet'y. won hands down. For once in my life at least you’d have been proud of me.” “I was proud of you in other ways, Tom.’’ said his wife softly. Eastlake's splendid horsemanship flashing uppermost in her mind’s eye. “Truly!” Don’t think I wasn’t. And don’t think, either, that I hold myself blameless. I could have given you more sympathy than 1 did. I. too, helped wreck our marriage.'’ He flushed at her admission. That's mighty square of you,” he said: "but it's more generous than true.” “Oh, it’s true enough. It’s plain enough, also, like all wisdom of the day after. But we ean't live our lives twice. The big chances don’t come twice a begging.” The man straightened suddenly. “One chance has come again.” His altered tone stirred her. “One chance has?” she repeated. “Which?” He bent to her eagerly. “The political one. Conditions haven’t changed much since two years ago. The district leader has been to me again. He’s asked me a second time to make the run. Shall I wire him “Yes.’ Betty? Shall I do it for your sake.” His eyes held a message which she had not read there since their betrothal. Her lips half framed an answer which a more sober thought withheld. "Leave my sake out of it.” she answered steadily. "The decision must be yours alone.” "Oh,” said East lake slowly, his face shadowing. “I forgot. For a moment I imagined you still cared.” Sbe made no rejoinder, and the raw porter here put in an appearance wi h the not altogether inept remark that he had come to make them up. His readv assumption that they were man and wife grimly amused Eastlake. Betty seemed to miss i s humour. “Mine is the upper berth.” she whipped in crisply. “And my shoes are muddy. porter. Please don’t forget.” Eastlake detained her an instant longer.

“At least use the lower," he entreated in a low tone. “You got a twoUay headache from your last upper ber.li. Do voll remember those queer little shelves we had to put up with on tha. narrow-gauge Mexican roailt lake it. Betty.” His wife shook her head without looking at him. He could not see her mouth. His own hardened. -No favours from me, eht” he muttered, making way for her o pass. "I'lll beyond the pale?” There was no answer. He sat long in the smoking compartment, but he broodeel more than he smoked. Once when the train halted for a time in a vast cavern of a station he got out. When he sought his Berth at las. it was after midnight and the incompetent purer was collecting the shoes. Eastlake saw to it that Betty’s were not forgot.en. Sleep came tardily, and some telepathic sense told him that another was wakeful. Once he started bolt upright from a doze and strained to listen. He could have sworn he heard a woman’s sob. The noise of shrilling brakes roused him at sunrise, and. raising his curtain, Eastlake craned to read the signboard of a rural station which the train was passing at slackened speed. Then he jerked a railroad folder from the miniature hammock slung near his head, ran eye and finger down one of its elusive columns, peered hurriedly at his watch, and began to scramble into his clothes. He groped fruitlessly along the obscurity of the floor for his footwear, and. between impatient jabs at the electric button, probed with an umbrella underneath his berth; but Betty’s travellingbag alone rewarded his soundings. Nor was there any response to his call, though he could hear the porter's bell trill in the far corridor above the rumble of the wheels; and rummaging an

extra pair of shoes from his own bag, he tore toward the dressing-room. His toilette complete, he ran the Pullman conductor to cover in a near-by coach. It was on his mind to read this person a vigorous lesson the management of sleeping-cars, but the intention lost itself in a laugh which still shook him -is he re-entered the Esmeralda and carefully explored its floor. He hesitated before his own section, then.

gathering courage, stooped and with all caution drew his wife’s bag from beneath the lower berth, and tried its fastenings. To find it locked was but a momentary embarrassment. Betty’s duplicate keys still hung beside his own. and in a trice the bag yawned before him with the object of his burglarious quest lying obligingly at hand. He had only just closed the bag and popped it baek again when the throes of the hangings warned him that Betty was astir, and hunting out a stepladder, which he placed within her reach, he retreated to the corridor, and placed himself before the porter's annunciator to await events. They eame. The call sounded once, twice, a third and then a fourth time at diminishing intervals, and a little metal finger quivered at the number indicating Betty’s berth. At the final summons the mechanism hissed like a maddened insect, and Eastlake reconnoitered from the rope portiere at the end of the main passage to behold an indignant young woman. with lilac conspicuous in her dishabille, take her way toward the opposite dressing-room. His smile was bland as he readjusted the annunciator. A fifth summons lured him into the central aisle, now filling with dishevelled people, where he bowed gravely to Betty, who. her skirts drawn close about her feet, was perched upon the stepladder. boring the tip of her umbrella into the electric button. Eastlake im-

perturbably colleced purl of his luggage and conveyed it to the vestibule. \\ hell he returned she stood in the aisle anxiously consulting her watch. She held herself rigidly erect, but to her husband's discerning eye her statute seemed over night to have lost at least one, if not two, of its inches. "The bell appears to be out of order,” she remarked. "It's not the bell that's out of order, he informed her ealmly; "it is the porter.” "But 1 must see him.” ”1 hardly think you'll be able." "But 1 must,” she repeated. "1 cannot find my —my property.” "Shoes?” he suggested. She shot him a look which he felt to be full of suspicion. "1 missed mine, too," he explained. "Indeed, the whole earful seems engaged in what a punster would call a bootless quest. The sad fact is, Betty, our too - gear is probably two hundred miles away.” “Vthat?” wailed Mrs Eastlake. "Tes; you see the coloured person who controls our destinies happened to fall asleep in a rear ear which was laid off in the small hours.” "With my shoes!” "With all our shoes.” "But you have yours.” "An extra pair. I trust you are as lucky. It will be deuced awkward when the train reaches Chicago, but I presume the company will provide invalid chairs or something of the kind. From all appearances,” he added, taking in the rising hubbub as the dire news circulated through the Esmeralda, "the sup ply will scarcely meet the demand.” Betty seemed aghast. “That is horrible,” she exclaimed. "Why. I simply can't arrive in Chicago in my stocking-feet.” "It does look rather formidable.” her

husband agreed impersonally. “Besides, you'll have to cross the city for vuur—Western connection.” silence greeted this contribution. "Hut perhaps some makeshift will occur to you.” he continued hopefully. "How about slippers- or rubbers even, if it came to a pinch?” "I haven’t even sandals. 1 thought a pair of ties were in my bag. but 1 can't find them.” "No?” sympathized Eastlake. “How about your trunk? Do you suppose it is aboard this train?” "It should be.” "With shoes in it?” ■'Of course." "Then it’s plain sailing, isn’t it ? The baggageman surely won't refuse to let you open it.” His wife dimpled. "I eould hardly parade the train like this,” she rejoined, with a twinkle of silken hosiery by way of illustration. "But I eould go for you—if I seem t rust worthy.” A long pause. Then: “Bettv.” began Eastlake. "Yes?” “Would it make this service—and o hers perhaps—any more acceptable if you knew that I wired 'Yes’ last night for my own sake?” '•Tom! You understood? You understood. after all? Oh. why aren't we alone?” Eastlake considered their agitated fel-low-travellers. and then laid sudden hands upon a berth hanging. “We are as good as alone.” he declared. "Anyhow, what if they do take ns for a rural bride and groom?” Mrs Eastlake recap'tired a shining strand of hair which the curtain had displaced. “And now. Tom.” she said briskly. "I'm quite ready for that pair of slippers 1 happened to see you purloin.”