PARENTAL PRIDE.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLV, Issue 2, 13 July 1910, Page 52

PARENTAL PRIDE.

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THE crisis was over, and none of the frightful disasters anticipated by the girl had occurred.

Mr. Cranston, coming in, apologised for being two minutes late, and she refrained from mentioning acquaintance with the fact that he had been waiting Jtiear a lamp post at the end of the road for about a quarter of an hour. Mother iind Aunt Rachel accepted the introduction with a distinct show of reserve, but this she had reckoned upon; Air. Cranston’s well-chosen compliments in regard to the cakes, and his unwillingness to accept the assertion that they were homemade, won over the mother; Aunt Rachel departed after the meal without expressing any adverse opinion concerning the visitor. The three remained at the table; Mr. Cranston was accorded permission to smoke, and mother, making -{Mont Blanc with crumbs, mentioned that jher late husband purchased cigars by the 1»OK.

*‘A bob’s worth at a time,” remarked the young man modestly, “is just about fts far as 1 go. My general habit is to jß'ftwke one on Sunday, and one on any bther night when T happen to be with a friend. Special, I mean.” husband was altogether different,” Remarked the girl’s mother complacently. “He was a very tactful man. Dare say Hetty has told you he was engaged in business at Covent Garden, and I remem J>er so well one of his old friends from the market saying, after the funeral. ‘A perfect gentleman, your late husband, Airs. Barnett; don’t know that we ever met without him offering me a smoke!’ Kempton*” she added, touching her eyes pathetically with a handkerchief, “Kempton he never missed.”

*T sup|M)se,” remarked Mr. Cranston, striking another match, “that I'm one of the few people who can say they don’t > know what a racecourse is,like. I’ve had jchanees of going, but I’ve always declined —declined on principle.” ' “Whenever he’d made a bit over the day,” went on the lady reminiscently, “L bould tell by watching him as he camo up from the High-road. If he had a parcel under his arm, then I know for certain he’d backed a winner. Now, can you imagine what was in it?” Ho contracted his forehead in the effort of thought. The girl opposite readily complied with mother’s entreaty Hot to give a hint; it was enough for her to see the two getting on so well together, tj'he throe guesses permitted were all declared to be failures, ami mother gave the (•orreot answer with a triumphant air.

“Lobsters and me can't hit it off. some* liow,” he commented, on receiving the information. “They pay me out like blazes. All shell fish, in fact.” 1 *‘He could oat ’most anything.” she continued. “When I say anything I inean, of course, anything wit Ilin reason. I’ll just. t«*ll you, if you care to hear it, j what ho packed away one night at dinner when Hetty here was on her holiday*, fend us two were alone. You’ll never 4red it it, but it’s true all the same."

W. PETT RIDGE.

The young man protested that he always accepted a lady’s word. “Well, to start with ” “Can I clear, mother?” The girl went out with the tray, and, setting it down in the kitchen, glanced first at the small mirror near the mantelpiece to make certain that personal appearance remained creditable, and then gave herself up to a few moments of luxurious thought. A severe test, this, to which her Mr. Cranston was now being subjected: if he could stand it he could stand a good deal. Once before a youth for whom she did not particularly care, but who seemed better than nothing at all, had given in at this point, retiring depressed!}' from the contest, and sending next day a letter of resignation. In that instance it did not matter; it would cause deep concern-and tears if Mr. Cranston were also to give up. Mr. Cranston had poetry in liis disposition; only the previous afternoon, on the omnibus coming back from Crieklewood, he compared her hair to the raven’s wing. The girl, having allowed the space of time she felt to be necessary, went back to know her fate. The nod from the young man received by her on entering the front room indicated, to her great relief, that he had survived the ordeal; she could have kissed him, and kissed her mother, out of sheer thankfulness. “I rather fancy.” said mother to her guest, with the relish of a successful raeonteuse, “you’d like to hear about the time when him and me suddenly decided to come back from Clacton by boat instead of returning by train. We argued

it out, and argued, and argued, but eventually we compromised—l was always tactful—and I had my own way. Well, off we went to the pier, and first thing, lo and behold, that happened ” The girl took the brush and crumb-tray and folded table-cloth, bearing them all composedly. The worst was past, and if mother kept to the story of the voyage, as previously told, there was nothing to urge against it excepting, perhaps, a few slight errors in taste. After all, Mr. Cranston was a sensible youth, and broad-minded; a clerk in an office had to meet all the varieties, and the type t’o which her -mother belonged was probably not new to him. Mature people had manners and customs not identical with those of youth, and the incident—now just about due—of a gentleman passenger sitting, by inadvertence, on mother’s lap, might only give him a temporary shock. She crept to the door of the front room. “Capital!” she whispered to herself. Mr. Cranston actually laughing. Not a young man easily amused, he was paying mother the great' tribute of genuine signs of merriment. “Ah, I’ve had some funny experiences in my time,” she heard mother say, evidently encouraged. “You'd be astonished if 1 told you all I’d gone through.

I often tell Hetty that, when I was her age, I'd had more worry and anxiety than she will have if she lives to be a thousand. Why, when I was nineteen —■ you can believe me, Mr. What’s-your-name, or you can believe me not —but if it’s the last word I was to utter ” The girl sang quietly to herself in the kitchen, and entered on the task of washing up with cheerfulness and determination, reproving herself, between whiles, for nervousness experienced during the earlier part of the afternoon. Mother often said of herself that she either liked people or did not like them, and no middle course was possible. Here was

Mr. Cranston, endorsed with emphatic approval, and, when they strolled out presently, she would be able to listen to his 5 agreeable comments on another. It seemed wise and diplomatic to leave the two alone for a time; much better than fussing in and out, and endeavouring to interfere or take charge of the conversation. One knew many girls who made that mistake.

The great advantage of bringing him to 'her own home was that it put the whole matter on a sensible, businesslike footing. There, al ways seemed something not quite legal’ in walking out with one encountered at a concert ;■ nervous apprehension that a plain-clothes detective might stride up anywhere in Kilburn, stop them and say, “Look here, look here; this won’t do, at all!” After today she would not care whom she met whilst in his company. After to-day she could introduce him to acquaintances as “My friend, Mr. Cranston!” She went back once more, contented, to the front room. “But, of course,” V'er; mother was saying, “I didn’t accept the first offer I got, not by a long way; 1 was a great deal too tactful. Oh, here’s Hetty. Hetty, come in and talk to Mr. I-forget-his-name. Expect he’s tired of the sound of my voice.”

The mother waited archly, glancing over her shoulder for a contradiction; 'but Mr. Cranston was gazing steadily at the fire-screen, as one deeply interested in the art of Japan. “I’m going upstairs to make myself good-looking,” she continued at the door, “before I start out to meet my sister I’achel, and go off with her to that Sunday League affair. It'll take me some little time.” She gave space for some polite comment; but none came. She closed the door after her with decision. The girl, on her way across the room, ruffled the young man’s hair in a lighthearted way. He smoothed it and continued to look at the fire-screen. At the window she remarked that it seemed likely to prove a fine evening. After a pause she asked which direction he thought of taking when they found themselves outside. At the end of another period of silence she demanded, rather sharply, to be informed whether he had been suddenly struck deaf and dumb. “Pardon!” he answered, arousing himself. “Wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying. Just let me have it again, will you?” “What’s the matter?” “Nothing,” (said Mr. Cranston, dismally. “I've only been thinking.” “That’s always a mistake,” she retorted, “unless you’ve got something to think with.” The gas-fittings shook with the heavy footsteps of her mother overhead. He Tested his forehead on open hands and sighed. “Never seen you so strange and peculiar as this before,” she continued rapidly. “I don't" know what to make of it. You’re never particularly bright; Ibut, on the other hand, you’re never out-of-the-way dull. Didn’t the cake, agree wit-h you, or what?” “We’ll go out when your mother goes,” he remarked. “1 feel as though I want fresh air.” She sent up the windovf yeadily, and, coming over, put cool fingers to his temples. “That’s very.

soothing,” he said, with gratitude, and quoted some appropriate lines. “Don’t know about being a ministering angel.” she sai<L "and I'm perfectly certain I’m not ‘uncertain, toy, and hard to please.’ ” “The poet was speaking generally.” “You say what you’ve got to say in your own language,’’ recommended the girl. “A lot of trouble, mother always .says, would be avoided if everybody was straightforward and outspoken.” “Not so sure about that.” “-Mother is.” “There are some matters,” he con tended, reviving under the goad of argument, and beginning to stride about the room, “some matters that needn't be told to everybody. There's such a thing as being too straightforward and too outspoken. It isn’t good for us to know too much. That’s why I’ve never held with those people who profess to be able to tel) you what’s going to happen just by looking at your palm. There's no sense in it, for one thing, and, for another, if there was any sense, in it, there’d be no advantage in ascertaining beforehand what was going to happen. The future’s

a sealed book, ami it ought to remain so. Any attempt to break the seal can only lead to anxiety amt unpleasantness, ami so forth, and so on.” “ You're better!” she decided cheerfully. “ Being allowed to talk always does a man good. Later on, when you come home tired of an evening, 1 shall let you babble away to your heart’s content.” “Come home where'!” “Well,” explained the girl with'some confusion, “ wherever you and me happen to be living.” Mr. Cranston sat down heavily and resumed his inspection of the Japanese screen. “ Yon must remember,” he said, with deliberation, “ that there’s many a slip between the cup and the lip!” The girl, on her knees, begged him to explain what he meant by this; urged he should make his intention clear. He refused, however, to do more than repeat the phrase. She implored him to remember that during their walk on the previous Thursday evening, they had talked of nothing but the comparative advantages of various neighbourhoods in the north-west district of London: Willesdeh, Brondesbury, Kilburn, West Hampstead, Maida Vale. ‘■‘Your mother’s a long time titivating herself,” he remarked, changing the subject restlessly. “Shan’t be sorry when we’re oufside of the house.” “ ’Tisn’t so nice as the place we had before we came here.” “ It’s not the fault of the house.” “ I wish,” she said, anxious to conciliate, “I wish I knew where to find the photograph that was l iken. I know it's in the old album upstairs. You stay here, and I’ll fetch it.” Her mother called that she was nearly ready; the girl felt too much perturbed to answer. She found the album, blew the dust from the gilded edges, and, descending, tried to hum an air that would give evidence of .self composure. Entering quietly, she had some idea of creeping up and clasping hands over his eyes; but fear that, in his present humour, he might not respond in the correct spirit, checked the gay intention. She coughed, and taking a hassock, sat down at a precise distance from him. He was compelled to edge his ehair nearer. “ Allow me.” And he took the album.

“ You won’t know any of them unless I tell you,” she remarked. “ Let’s start at the beginning. That’s the house at Highgate I was telling you about, and on the next page you’ll find a portrait of father. Father always came out well in a photograph. These small ones are all Aunt Rachael, taken not so very long ago.” “ You seem to age a bit rapidly in your family.” “ Over-leaf are well-known actors 1 used to be fond of." “ Used?” “ Before I met you,” she explained. “ These are places where I’ve been for holidays, and that one was taken of me at Weymouth. Not much like, is it?’ “ I can detect who it is.” She turned over some blank pages. “ Plenty of room left for one of yours, you see.” “Any more further on?” “Just old ones,” said the girl. “Nobody that you'd recognise. Oh, here’s one of mother—mother when she was twenty-one.”

He snatched the album, and took it to the window. i “ Well, but,’”he-stammered, “she distinctly told me that she——” He looked at it again, and then glanced at the girl. “ Come here ami give me a kiss,” he begged earnestly. Her mother was preparing to descend the stairs, doing this with the emphasis of one who has no desire to arrive without due and proper warning. “What was wrong just now?” whispered the girl. “ Why, she told me she was exactly like you when she was your age; and it occurred to me that, if that was, you’d be exactly like her when But it seems that she started undoubtedly plain, whereas you ” “Ready, you two?” The three walked to the end of the road, and there the mother, amiable and well satisfied, left the young people. The girl found herself summoned, and ran along to listen. “ Only want to remind you,” she was told impressively, “ that what you'd do if you hadn’t a tactful mother, goodness gracious only knows!”