(COPYRIGHT STORY.) FLOPALONG

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXV, Issue 2, 15 July 1905, Page 51

(COPYRIGHT STORY.) FLOPALONG

By :

Helen Mathers

Author of “ Cornin’ Thro’ the Rye,” Etc.

SHE flops,” said Sarah, looking through tlie Window at a little pigeon of a girl in a white froek and pink ribbons, sitting under a tree. “I like people who flop,” said Janies Farthing. “It’s a treat to come across a person who does nothing, and looks niee doing it. ‘Produce! Produce!’ is the parrot-cry of the day. Everyone is trundling a wheel, big or little, till the earth’s a pandemonium of whirling wheels—and to what end? Spiritually or morally, do we improve, are we more cultivated than the Greeks and Romans—do we breed any great statesman, preacher, novelist, or painter? And as we haven’t the energy or vitality to do anything good, 1 say that the man or woman who sits tight, and doesn’t raise a dust with his confounded wheel, is a godsend to lookers-on.” “I christened her Flopalong,” said Sarah, in her dense, one idea'd way, “from the first moment I saw her come lopping round the corner on board ship. She walks so badlv.”

“An aggressive woman, with her nose in the air, is my pet abomination,” said James, glaring. “But a girl may carry her head well without being that,” said Sarah with an aggrieved air. She carried her own •-ery high indeed.

"When will you women realise,” he raid wrathfully, “that what you admire in another woman, a man doesn’t?” Sarah sniffed.

“I suppose you don't want quite an idiot,’’ she said. “That which is wanting, cannot be numbered,” she added significantly. “I am rather anxious about her, because, however a man flops, he lias always a woman-to help him. and sit around with him—a girl hasn’t.” James Farthing snorted, and took a pull at his pipe before he. spoke again. Sarah hated tobacco, but the house was his. he let her live in it, while he spent most of his life in China —for the hardest workers are always the most generous givers—it’s the bone-lazy men who ‘won’t’ work, that grudge every copper they spend, preferring rather to go short themselves and stint others rather chan make an effort.

“A man who flops is a holy terror,” he

said, “a female floper is oftener Ilian not, a rest. The child’s father had a liver, he and her mother lived in the hottest climate of the world for years—and how can yon expect her to be jumping all over the place like a girl born of healthy parents in this confounded island?” “A defective liver will account for a good deal of apparent lethargy,” admitted Sarah. “There’s gout in her family, too—and when the nerves are like wornout elastic ” “Rubbish,” said James curtly. “Ralf the brilliant work in the world is done by gouty people—the worn-out elastic sort —as you call them—l always get ’em if I can. It’s her rest fulness that’s delightful—-no trace of gout there. ’ “She has no conversation.” said Sarah. —James Farthing looked at her, scorn over-spreading his rugged face. “There’s the conversation reminiscent,” he said, “mostly to your own glory there’s the conversation anticipatory —nearly always incorrect and there’s the natural talk about the affairs of the moment, that you get with the best-bred people, who never give a clue in talking, to their past and future —that is how the child talks. “Prattles,” said Sarah. “Her conversation certainly is not stimulating to a man’s intelligence.” “When I am with a woman. Ma am. t don’t want to be made to think.. 1 take her as a relaxation. I want to be pleased and soothed. Woma n should be a pillow, not a corpse reviver!” “Judging by her weight now. I should say Flopalong will be pillow, bolster, and feather-bed, too. in a very few yea***, said Sarah unkindly. “If she ever marries, it will be a penny novelette and a dressing-gown, from morning till night.’ ’ “So long as she keeps off . cheap science, she’ll do, ’ said James,- and the husband who loves her will easily keep her out of untidy ways. It seems to me there are always a lot of boys around. —one with curly hair, remarkably good-looking, is most devoted to her. “Oh! she attracts mon.” said Sarah drily. “M»?n love a fool—she makes the clever ones so blatantly satisfied with their own brains, and the dull ones so comparatively brilliant in her company, that one and all they are enchanted with themselves —and her!” “It's a very’ pleasant feeling, ma’am, J assure you,” said .James, almost as if he were smacking his lips. Sarah thought what coarse creatures men were, then said spitefully: “So Samuel Johnson seemed to think when a young lady. talking about Sterne’s letters, pleaded that they wore pathetic, and affected her. *\\ by. said he, smiling and rolling himself about, ‘it is because, dearest, you are a dunce! “You bet. she was a pritty one.” said James with gusto, “like the little girl out yonder.” Sarah looked at him sharply. This big, clever, truculent man was well off, hi? was going back to China shortly, where ho was high up in the service—why should he not take* with him this little incubus of a Flopalong who had neither father nor mother to define lh?r faults as grata's, and expound her beauties to a reluctant world? Mrs. Farthing, the name struck Sarah as so suitable —she would never want, or be worth more than a farthing’s worth of anvthing! And lite in the Last, which is usually provincial to the last degree, and practically lived in a tea saucer, surrounded by eye s, would suit her to porte.*tion—she would always live for little interests, not great ones. “You altogether under rate her character,” said James, just as if be read Sarah’s thoughts, “she is true aml staunch to her friends —sweet tempered —a gentlewoman in every word and mt, as by birth —and what more do you want ?” “I'm.” said Sarah thoughtfully. S*he was thinking how cheap a trousseau is for hot climates—and washing frocks cost so little—white of course—and the girl’s sin of laziness would not matter in the least out there.

“As to your great beauties,” went on James, “1 bate ’em. You meet a beauty after long years —face, eyes, figure, all more or less out of focus, and you dont’t recognise ‘em —then they strike you —askew. Heaven preserve the man who goes through life as caretaker to the remains of his wife’s good looks!” ”Flopalong’s husband will have quite another mission,” said Sarah, with refreshing acidity of tone. “He needs to be rich, for by the time she is forty, he will have to enlarge doorways, ami charter private omnibuses in which to take her about. Twice round her waist will be once round the park, as somebody one? said of a certain fat lady!” “So long as it’s my own park, T don’t mind.” growled James. “Then? are.worse diseases in the world than fat. To my mind a scraggy, wrinkled woman is an abomination.” Sarah Syntase drew’ herself up. She prided herself on a figure that secondrate dressmakers characterise as “genteel,” ami the man’s remark struck her with the fore? of a verbal, merciless snap shot. “\Ve cannot all be puddings,” she said, with biting emphasis, and a glance thrown to a particular little pudding in the garden. “Sugar and spice, and all that’s nice,” said James Farthing maliciously, as his eye followed hers. “Soibp puddings are delicious. 1 think most women—and the women who write about women —are eats —cats—cats! Every mean and cutting thing they say is at the expense of a sis-ter-woman—and though they don’t know it—of themselves. Flopalong, as you caP her. will never be a seratcher.” “No—a llop-along—along—along! hasn’t th? energy.” “She had energy enough yesterday to pick up a child with a broken head, followed by gapii , useless crowd, her dress all smudged with blood, and take him home,” said th»? man angrily. “Oh! she is good hearted enough, ad-

miffed Small reluctantly, “but In r minor faults—her unpunet utility—” "Punctuality has nothing to do with women—young ones, 1 mean. ’ Punctuality,’ said Louis XIV, 'is the politeness of kings. It is also the duty of gentlemen. and tho necessity of men of business.’ No mention of girls, you see—who ought to be jolly little animals, enjoying themselves'for all tiny are worth. They have so many things to do that they like, naturally they don't count time as their elders do. Later in life, when there's next to nothing that they like to do, they’ll regulate themselves by the clock —and not be half so interesting. Never be hard on young people, they have all their troubles before them—make 'em and keep ’em happy if you can.’’ “You put happiness before everything,” said Sarah reproachfully. “Ami you,” he said sadly, “have hugged your rag doll fetish of renunciation to your bosom until it almost seems to pulse and glow with real life. Believe me, for all of us, the world is full of joys we can enjoy without hurting anybody else.” Iler face changed, for the moment the real woman broke through, but she remained silent. "It is true,” he said, speaking for her. “We say no —no—to this and that, at the banquet of life—anil one day we find ourselves sitting alone at a bare table—there is no feast spread for us any more. 'He that will not when he may. when he will, he shall have nay.’ There's all the wisdom of Solomon iu that tug of an old rhyme.” But Sarah had recivereil herself, with a sense of indecency in having for a moment shown her unclad mind. She had hurriedly reilrapcfl it, yet he judged her the more kindly for that glimpse. . . . “Nature insists on experience of some kind,” he said to .himself, “she has had hers.” Aloud he remarked, "1 can understand it is an anxiety to be left with

V<»ur sifter’s, ami my eoiuin’s child (o bring up. Bui I think it is much harder that she xiHiuld have lost her parents just when "'v ' wintr.l them most. You know hu\v ihrv adored her,” he added abruptly. I think if 1 had charge of her. I should always feel they were near me watching jealously to see if 1 were kind to her.” Sarah shivered, and looked round in a way uncanny in a |w*rsou of h- r sound common sense. Do you know.” she said, lowering her \<»i<*e. “I have had that feeling too — and when I am severe with the child—a> I have to he sometimes to get her into more otderlv ways. I have a positive export al ion of getting a real hut impalpable 1 ox on the ears from my sister's spirit’.’* He laughed somewhat roughly. “(io on feeling i hat." he said, “so long as you take care of her. A poor little ■woman child"—]m stopped abruptly, then went on. “Von see no matter what a man sutlers, or what bad times he ha«. he is always the captain of his Soul* a woman i-n’t of hers— man - or woman -is the superior officer she has to obey. And if that officer is a bully, that woman's life is—hell.” “iShe lias everything that she can po-sibly want.” said Sarah. ‘‘At twentyone she will have money of her own—” • She hn*» everything in short, but being lirst .with any one person in the v. orld." In* said, and got up from his chair, and went straight out into the garden. Little I'lopalong looked up as he came near her slie had very beautiful, greyIdue Irish eyes, with thick dark lashes; her hair untouched by scissors, and densely, dark and silky, curved cunningly above her low brow: and a lovely pink colour came into her cheeks as lie sat down beside her. while she moved her white skirts to make room for him with a little womanly, helpless hand. I'or he was like water to her in a iiiirstv land, the expatriated English in China are like one big family, united against foreigners; whenever .lames Farthing was with her he brought close to her the old Eastern life that she remembered. and the father and mother

that -Ju- so passionately regretted. His bnisqim wa.t s did not al.'tin her -he had found out that a man may have savage manners, yet be a gentleman at heart, just ns a gentleman outside may be a savage inwardly, and a great sense of happiness flooded her little being as she sat beside him. "It is pleasant here.” he said, only he was not looking at the garden, but at her. For let a man say what he will, it is the physical in a woman that attracts. or repels him, and it was the pleading beauty of the girl’s eyes, their colour and expression, not her situation, that had made him constitute himself her knight with Sarah front the first. “Aren’t they pretty?” she said, and held up for him to see a number of silly little picture-cards, over which she hail been poring, and he nodded—even took one or two in his big hands, while she prattled about them in a rather sleepy rich little voice that gave earnest of het quality as a sweet singer. Last night she had sung to him most of the old ballads that he loved —he had found himself wondering if the twentyfirst and succeeding centuries would rejoice in them as he did, because no new ones had been written in the twentieth —and then she had played to him some pretty lit lie airs, all the things she did and talked about were little She herself was perhaps the smallest of them all, with a tiny foot and hand, and though she was plump enough, what a trim plumpness it was! The heart of the big man yearned over her as she chattered happily to him, and looking from time to time into his face with those lovely eyes that' almost suggested a tragedy, past or to come. He drew her on to talk of her faJ’ier and mother—the latter, one of those bright women, who create their own atmosphere wherever they go, who are beloved, courted, and who almost invariably die young as though the flame of life burned all too brilliantly in them to last long. Somehow all the trifling things seemed put by when the girl spoke of the two who bad adored her, the colour left her cheek, she was only nobody’s child, among stranger’s with no one to keep the thorns from her feet, to call her

gentle, not dull, restful an I sympatheliie, instead rtf lethargic and silly, to take delight in those "pretty’ ways” that Sarah found so childish, and that men loved. _ t JI ittr diamonds «*f- «Jt dropped from her lips, "twit her did an tmfcnftt worth thought of any one under heaven. To James indeed there was a gentle wisdom in some of the things she said, peculiar to very young people who have seen much sorrow. He had always noted that there was nothing giddy or flighty about her, evincing no special predilcc; tion for men’s society, perhaps that was why they sought hers. They talked so long that the shadows came down, and almost hid their faces from each other, talked till all the girl’s innocent heart was laid bare to the man in its purity and truth, and he found himself thanking God that in these days of emancipated womanhood, a little Flopalong was still to be found. Presently, quite soberly, he asked her to marry him, somehow’, without asking her. he was sure that the eurly-headed, handsome boy counted for nothing whatever in her life. She had always liked people older than herself. “I am fifteen years your senior,” he said, “and 1 shall have to take you to a shocking climate” —he did not add, for he was but a man and selfish, “that helped to kill your mother.” Flopalong's heart leaped, and her beautiful eyes shone through the dusk, she loved the languid Eastern life to which she had been born, hated the bustling, English ways, and Sarah’s narrow creed, but more than all, she loved the big, strong man, who had ranged himself on her side ever since, a month ago, he had come as a guest to stay in his own house, making her feel that at least one person did not question tne validity of her right to exist. When she had promised, and he had kissed her, he put his long arms round her, his great head on her soft shoulder, and with her tender little buzzings in his ears, closed Ids eyes with a deep sigh of content. “Thank God for a dear little fool,” was his last thought as he fell asleep that, night.