THE DISTAFF.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLVII, Issue 4, 24 January 1912, Page 42

THE DISTAFF.

By

GEORGE HIBBARD.

HEN Gilbert returned from ■ ■ I down-town, he certainly—no, Pamela would not for a moment concede that he was cross. Such a direful extremity was not admissible. Assuredly, though, the serenity which had persisted without interruption during the honeymoon, and for more than two years afterward, had been suddenly disturbed. A rift was painfully evident in the eouleur de rose with which the earth, and all therein contained, had been enwrapped. Through it poured a clear, hard light, disclosing a world full of sharp edges and corners. Even as 'Gilbert descended from the automobile, his mood was indicated by the unpreeented sharpness with which he spoke to the chauffeur in regard to Lis lateness in arriving at the office. Tire vision of Pamela in crisp, cool white, awaiting him on the steps, appeared to pacify him for a moment. He kissed her, and smiled with almost his customary good-humour. Later, however, when lie subsided into the deepest and softest chair in his den, the eonseriousness of his wrongs obtrusively returued. “If you had been through such a morning and afternoon of wear and tear, and hurry and worry ' •‘Oh,’’ she exclaimed cheerfully and with manifest relief, *4 was afraid you might Imj ill’.” •It’s been enough to make anyone sick as a dog. Such a dog’s life!’’ he continued, ungratefully unimpressed by her solicitude. ‘‘Everything went wrong from the word go. A woman hasn’t any idea of what a man's hourly business existence is!’’ “No, dear,” she assented dutifully. “A day at the office is one torment after the other. For example, to-day—-the Atlas Company raising the mischief for its shipment of goods, and no cars 1n which to send them ; the raw material coming from Pennsylvania held up on the way: that new machine, with which our experts have been fussing, turning out wrong, and needing changes which will take six months at least. It's aIV very well for you here quietly without a thing to worry you!’’ “I'm sure, dear ” she began timidly. “Ju-t doing what you want and seeing the people you like all day. Of course." he added hastily, ‘‘that s the way it should be: only naturally you can’t understand my coming back tired out and used up." “Poor boy!" she murmured. “And'* — -If 1 venturi 1 forth the words’as she n iiihr tentatively put out her hand M find if t-lie rain liad ceased falling “the Mortimers telephoned just now. They’ru having some private theatricals toniudrt. and wanted us to Im' certain to romp." “Not bv the ghost of Hamlet’s father!" he answered emphatically. "They don’t drag me into that!” “Rut - she protested mildlv. “‘No!" thundered Gilbert. “When a man’s had a hard day's work downtown. be can't be expected to be taken out and slaughtered to make a society hullabaloo! As I’say. when you've had nothing to do you can’t understand it. T don’t want to be Pamela, but T think I’ve a right to a little peace and rest!” “Of course.” she repli< d readily. “I’ll ht Florence know at on e that wr can't be there, though I had promised “Wry well," he returned partially, as h« unfolded the n -wspaper. No s«M>ner had she left the room, however, than he put the paper down. Th »at staring irritably before him at a row of hooks whi h he did not see*; then he rose ha-tily. and trampe»l out into the hall ami through to the smoking-ronm. where Pamela ntood. with the re. ♦over in her lun l, waiting for the re«pon«e to her call. “See here!” he exclaimed. “Of course, if vou want to go — ” “Not fnr the world.” -he answered hurriellv “I shouldn’t Hunk of ntich •All right,” he replied dlarooteutedly.

"Only when a man’s been slaving as I have, it might seem that there should be a little let up in the evening.” “You imagine that I’ve nothing to annoy me!” she exclaimed, whirling about on him suddenly. “Why,” he replied blankly, “how ean you—just at home!” “I believe,” she answered vigorously, “that’s just what all men think. They expect us always to be smiling and sympathetic over their difficulties. Oh, a man’s a big baby in the way he cries out when he fancies he has a hard time of it. "Yes,” she said to the telephone. “Now, Pamela,” he protested, “remember 1 said I was willing.”

The rest of the evening was hardly a success. Both felt a growing constraint, which was even more oppressive through the careful mutual avoidance of any avowal or recognition of such a thing. A ehill penetrated and pervaded the domestic atmosphere, rendering advisable the withdrawal of any tender blooms of sentiment, and indicating the wisdom of covering up even the Ijardier perennial flowers of everyday association. ' ' ' 11. ’ At half past nine of the following morning, the automobile stood under the porte cocliere on the broad drive which swept up from the gates. Neither Pamela nor Gilbert quite knew how it happened, nor did subsequent discussion fully elucidate the matter. Perhaps he tripped on his untied shoe-string, or his lieel caught in turning. Whatever was the cause, before Pamela’s horrified eyes ho stumbled and fell dawn the steps, landing with considerable violence on the great flagstone below. “Ol>, Gilbert!” she cried in terrified tones. “Are von hurt?” “Not * bit.” he answered, and laugh-

ed a little ruefully as he rose. “Except in pride, which has had such a fall.” He took a step and winced. "What is it?* she inquired with renewed agitation. “I think my ankle’s sprained.” "I’ll telephone—oh,” she called back to the hall, "Martha, telephone to Dr. Stacey and say that he must come instantly! I’ll help you. dear, to walk. You are sure you can?” “All right, sweetheart, if you’ll keep me steady on my pins.” Half-an-hour later, Dr. Stacey, raising his head from his finished bandaging, issued his pronunciamento. “You’ll have to stay h<ge for a day or two. Of course, you’re perfectly able to go to the office; but the less you move about, the quicker you’ll be rid of this.” “There’s nothing in particular requiring my attention,” acceded Gilbert reluctantly. "At least—oh, those blueprints ought to be in Messmer’s hands this morning! They’re too important to trust to any messenger, who might lose them. I’ve got to take them!” “Let me,” Pamela suggested eagerly.

"The motor is still at the door. You shall stay here,” she mocked merrily, “and play Hercules with the distaff. I’ll go and look after the business.” Gilbert heard the automobile whirl through the gate. He leaned back indolently in the large cushioned chair placed out on the shaded verandah, where the mild, summer-scented breeze played pleasantly about him. The garden below was a blaze of colour. The butterflies fluttering hither and thither moved too slowly to be disturbing, and offered rather a pleasing and languid distraction. Within reach were the volumes of “Le Comte de Monte Cristo,” not read since his college days, the reperusal of which, when opportunity offered, had long been a cherished dream. The book lay unopened, while he sat in pleasant realisation of his situation. How hot and glaring and noisy the office must l:e at that moment, while nothing could be more delightful than the present serenity and calm “Please, sir!” The hesitating but agitated summons caused him to look up hastily. Tn the low French window Le beheld the

usually austere Maria in a state verging upon hysterical perturbation. “Please, sir,” she announced, “Mrs. Hale’s gone out, and there’s no one to come to but you, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Yes, yes,” he replied impatiently. “The iceman, sir,” poured forth Maria, “failed to leave the ice yesterday afternoon, and it slipped the cook’s mind, so that all there is for the dinner to-night is spoiled, sir.” “With the Ashley Coopers coming!” muttered Gilbert to himself. “What’s to be done?” he demanded.

“That’s for you to say, sir,” Maria replied promptly, and with the impersonal passivity of absolute helplessness. “And Mrs. Hale’s taken such pains!” “Never mind—never mind,” he fumed 1 . “What is usual under such circumstances?”

“I doubt ’twill be too late,” Maria responded, “for replacin’ any of what ■was made ready for some of the grand dishes.”

“Nonsense!” Gilbert asserted as he got up. “There must be some way. I have it!” he cried quickly, as an inspiration masculine in its source and character suddenly struck him. “I’ll see about this at once!” By the aid of the stick which had been left with him, he hobbled through the window to the smoking-room, tho maid following him with no great reassurance of manner.

“Is this the club?” he demanded, when the desired connection had been established. “Very well! Is this tha steward? AH right! I want you to send at once to my house—Mr. Gilbert Hale’s, you know —the best man you have, and also one of the under cooks, if the chef himself can’t leave. There’s some hitch -about a dinner-party, and I want your men to come here, find out what is wanted, bring out things front the club, and have everything arranged. I’ll send the automobile for them, and they can have it to use. Y'ou’ll see about this at once?”

Housekeeping, he reflected, really was not so difficult. All that was needed was a little presence of mind and & business habit of getting results. A hurry-skurry of hasty- footsteps, of rustling skirts, of raised voices, caused him to look quickly toward the door. “Mr. Hale! Mr. Hale!” the leading parlourmaid panted, as she entered, breathless, following by- Pamela’s own aristocratic English tirewoman. “Oh, sir, the hot-water faucet of the bathtub in the front bath-room, sir, is got turned on and fixed so as it can’t be' turned off ” “And,” the other broke in, taking up the tale of disaster, “the bath-tub’s that full and overflowing that it’s run over, sir, and already it’s a-drippin* through the ceiling of the drawingroom ! ” Gilbert responded to the call of danger as rapidly as his disabled condition permitted. Up the front stairs he stumped, the attendant Maria now joined by- the others, forming an agitated and ejaculatory train. From the threshold of the room at which he paused, he could already see thick clouds of steam issuing from an inner doorway-. Reaching this, he found the vapour so dense that he was able only faintly to discern any object- within. Intrepidly plunging into the whirling reek, he made a dash for the bath-tub, but at the first touch withdrew his hand from the faucet. “Send for the plumber!” he cried, jamming his fingers in his mouth. The boiling water pouring through the pipe had/ heated the metal to such a degree that he felt the scald painfully as he splashed back through the rising flood, from which the blinding exhalations rose in ever greater volume. “Send immediately!” he cried in the hall, surrounded by his fluttering satellites. “But he wouldn’t be here in an hour! It’s got to be turned off at the head. There must be a place—where is it?” “Mrs. Hale knows,” replied Marial promptly, with the manner of one offering important and opportune assistance. “But she isn’t here!” shouted Gilbert. “Don’t any of you know?” Doesn’t anyone know anything?” “I think,” blandly volunteered Pamela’s maid, urged to a tremendous effort of thought, “that Tim, the gardener, could tell.” “Run! Run! Dolison, and find him!” Gilbert commanded. As the envoy moved away at the utmost speed which » thoroughly competent English lady's

maid, who had lived in the “best places,” was ever known to have attained, Gilbert continued: “The rest of U 3 had better go to the drawing-room to take care of what we can!”

With his diminished cortege, he hurried along. As he entered the state apartment of the house, a glance showed him a dark,, irregular splotch of spreading moisture in the delicatelytinted ceiling. At the same instant his

ear caught the continuous drip of falling water, and the fact became painfully manifest that a steadily growing’ stream was descending on Pamela’s new grand piano. ' Lame as he was, lie flung himself at it. He was unable to stir the weighty mass. The casters, buried deep in the soft, thick rug, held the great instrument as immovable as the house itself. “Quick!" he shouted. ‘'Get oilcloths, and—and pails, and mops, and—all that sort, of thing!” Both his coadjustors obedienty flew to execute his bidding, and he was left oppressively alone. In the hope of working some alleviation of the situation, he caught up another rug, and 'hastily spread it over the top of the inundated piano. Then he sprang to rescue a pink satin chair from beneath another menacing downpour. HI. Ten minutes later, Gilbert pause#, iwiping the perspiration from his brow. A gradual cessation of the 'destructive torrent led him and his fellow toilers to desist from their labours. Almost synehronioally, the assemblage was further increased by the entrance of Dobson, proudly convoying her capture of Tim, the gardener. “He’s turned it off, sir,” she 'began, and paused in consternation as she beheld the spectacle of devastation presented by the drawing-room. “What ever will Mrs. Hale say?” “I don't know what Mrs. Hale will say,” muttered Gilbert to himself. “I know what I say!” “Please, sir,” the faithful Maria hereupon interposed, reappearing from the dial] after a mysterious summons to the door, “the automobile hasn't come back, and Eliza says ” “Hang Eliza!” exclaimed Gilbert. “I’ll telephone Mrs. Hale at once.” A wrong number was given him, and his fervid inquiry as to whether he ■was speaking with his own office was met by the calm information that he was addressing the local ice company. Finally, however, he obtained the presence of his managing clerk at the end of the line. “Is Mrs. Hale still there?” “She was here, sir, but she’s just stepped out.” “Where?” “I don't know, sir. Mrs. Hale did not say where she was going or when she’d be back.” . “But—why—never blind. Is the automobile there?” “Yes, sir.” “Tell the chauffeur to bring the

motor here immediately. Say to Mrs. Hale that she must come out in the trolley, or wait until I send the machine for her. I need it immediately for the dinner ”

“Yes, sir,” the subordinate replied, ie a tone to which distance lent no veiling of the distinct note of surprise.

Gilbert hung up the receiver with an impatient gesture. When he turned,

he discovered the parlour maid waiting to speak to him. “Excuse me, sir,” she heralded. “Miss Whitelaw's just telephoned, sir, that her little niece is took with the measles, and she can’t come to dinner.’’ “But that throws the table all out!” exclaimed Gilbert, in consternation. “However, I can’t remedy that.” For the .present, at least, his. troubles seemed to be over. He could return tc peace and “I.e Comte de Monte Cristo.” In his pleasant nook on the verandah he could remain until the general disturbance subsided, , or until Pamela, came to quiet it. Of course, something should be done about getting someone to fill Miss Whitelaw's place at dinner; but Pamela could see about that. For a time lie strove to read. “Please, sir!” Maria’s tone was deeply solemn. At the sight of her, and at the sound of the inevitable formula, apprehension unavoidably seized his soul. He at once put down the book. “Yes,” he replied despairingly. “The cook, sir ” “Good Heavens, am I to hear nothing except about the cook? I arranged about the dinner.” “That’s just 'it, sir. I told her, and her feelings is hurt. She says that if nil the confidence you places in her is to bring a pack of outside interlopers about the house, why, they’d better just do all the cooking. She says she washes her hands of it, and she’s gone lip to pack her trunk.” “But—but that's nonsense!” stammered Gilbert, in the extremity of his consternation. “There are a number of important parts of the dinner to which she must attend. T know the club people are coming, but they are only going to see about some of the entrees and entremets, which she could not get readv in time with the materials spoiled.” “It makes no difference, sir,” Maria declared, with a full acceptance of the cordon bleu’s point of view, and a lurking sympathy with it. “Her feelings is hurt. She says if she ain't good enough for all, she ain’t good enough for “Can’t she see that it was simply that she couldn’t io all ■” “She has took her stand," Marla declared with finality. “And Mrs. Hale isn’t here yet!” he exclaimed desperately. As if the statement offered a straw at which to clutch before the waves closed over him. Hale returned with all speed he could to the telephone. The communication with the office was this time but the work of a few moment*.

“That you, Benson?" he demanded. “Has Mrs. Hale come in?” "Yes, sir, the announcement lame 'back promptly. “Mrs. Hale was hero not five minutes ago. Mrs. Hale telephoned Airs. Jameson, though,, and Mr*. Jameson came witn her motor, and Airs. Hale has gone off to luncheon with her. Airs. Hale said she did not know when she would get home, but to keep the automobile when it came." “Oh, yes —that’s all, Benson,” Hale concluded; but with the security of the suspended receiver, he continued under his breath: “Zounds! Also gadzooks!” The attitude of meek helplessness observable in the waiting Maria worked as a further irritant to his nerves. “There won’t be no dinner, sir,” she enunciated in fateful warning. The fidl significance of the impending descent of tiie greatest and gravest of household catastrophes was not lost upon Gilbert. He paused, facing the horrors of the situation. Before he could come to any determination, he was disturbed by the dramatically startling appearance of Dobson from the right upper entrance, who advanced down stage swiftly. “Mr. Hale! Mr. Hale!” “What's the matter?” Gilbert demanded. “They’re pullin’ in the coal, sir! With the water all cut off, sir. there’s no way of moistenin' it. and the coaldust is blowin’ in all the windows of the west wing!" “Shut them!” “But the black’s gettin' over everything! It’s even got in upstairs, and it's ruined Airs. Hale's dress for this evening, sir, that I had out!” “I'll see about, it.” Gilbert set off resolutely. Before he could reach the door, his progress was checked by the entrance of the parlourmaid, once more in a state of much excitement. ■ ‘ ‘ ; . “Oh, sir,” she exclaimed; “there's men stringin’ a wire across the lawn, and. they’re cuttin’ away the brandies of the tree that you admires so much!” “What’s that?” he cried, suddenly stopping, and quickly starting on again. “Aly favourite elm?" Ho had hardly attained the hall when his farther advance was arrested by the onrush of a female of ample proportions and ruddy countenance from 1 the backward regions of the house. In a rapid succession only to be equalled by tho messengers 'in .Greek tragedy, the heralds of fresh disaster were arriving. Like another but blameless Orestes, Gilbert stood bewildered by the blows of fate. - . “Who are you?” he thundered in rising exasperation. “It's the cook—Eliza, sir,” prompted Maria reproachfully. “Oh—ah—yes, to be sure,” Gilbert continued, with a lightning transition to propitiatory mildness.

"Mushm Mush*!** Eliza began, before Hale could make more fitting amend* for such ignorant oversight. "All th* silver, sir, that was in the pantry from the breakfast ” “What?” “It’s not there, sir! The window’* been open, and nobody's been about to look out for it, and some thafe must have broken in and stole it!” "Come on,” summoned Hale, and he plunged onward again, accompanied by a retinue in a state of seething excitability. Ho had not taken a dozen steps when he was confronted by the second maid, who stood holding out a yellow envelope which she had received from the boy at the open front door beyond. Ha’es seized the dispatch and hastily tore it open. His eye ran along the lines, read ing them at a glance: Arrive this afternoon. Meet me the station. Aunt lane. IV. Ihe afternoon shadows were slowly lengthening. Already the sun hail fallen below the clump of trees .'by the entramo gate. The birds gave utterance to twitterings and warblings, which proved th it they had taken note of the approaching evening. In the garden, the flowers appeared to 'bend on more languorous stem, and several had commenced io withdraw within themselves, in preparation for the dark. Such darting things as began their activities with the twilight wore already on the wing. Indeed, the night aspects of nature were about io replace those of the day. An automobile sped up the drive. At the main portal of the house, a dishevelled and impatient figure awaited its approach. “I'm perfectly wornout!” Pamela announced, as she descended with manifest weariness from tho motor. “I know-—I know," Gilbert interrupted inattentively; “but ” “I went, to the office,” she continued, “and gave them the prints. They wanted to ask my advice about a new wallpaper they were going to put on the designing-room. When I got back, they said the automobile was gone, and I telephoned Eleanor Jameson to go out for lunch. I knew you were having a nice, quiet time at home ” “A nice, quiet time!" gasped the indignant Gilbert. ‘iSee here. Pamela. You said something about Hercules. I'd rather have his job—go through tho whole of the twelve labours, from downdug the . Lerna can hydra to getting the gold apples of the Hesperides—than put in another such day! There has been the mischief to pay. I don’t believe there is going to be anything for dinner.” “Gilbert!" she exclaimed. “Tho drawing-room is Hooded.” “Gilbert!" she cried in a crescendo ot emotion.

"The silver from the breakfast-table is gone."’ ■Gilbert!"" “Aunt -Tane telegraphed that she was coming this afternoon.” "'Gilbert, dearest!” V. Thi last guc-t had departed. Together the host and hostess strayed from the portico, where together they had sped the last diner in the last motor. As Gilbert lit a cigarette, they strolled out on the lawn into the moonlight. The short grass was still warmly dry from the summer heat, and her delieate train trailed as softly as over a carpet. "Pamela,” said Gilbert slowly, "I've been thinking.” "Far he it from me,” she replied demurely, "to express surprise.” “I am afraid that last night I was very ill-tempered.” "Never mind, Gilbert, dear,” she answered, as she slipped her hand through his arm and bent her head for an iast. ■ t against his shoulder. “You say those were only ordinary household incidents ” "Why, of course. Eliza was satisfied at ome when I arranged her to go and see her married sister, and gave her a bonnet. The silver I had put away myself before I left, since I knew no one would take care of it. You were all too excited to find out if it was where it belonged. Aunt Jane had written to me by which train she was coming. I went to meet her in Mrs Jameson’s automobile, and took her at once to see her old friend Mrs Milmore, who was going away this evening. Then I sent for her after I came home, and she was just in time to rest comfortably and take Miss Whitelaw’s place at dinner. If I had been here, and talked prettily to the men. I know that they would not have cut off so many branches of the elm "Pamela,” Gilbert interrupted, "Job, Machiavelli, Napoleon, and several others whom I might name would not, combined, be in it with you on the housekeeping racket!” He paused for an instant. "Which was it you said that yon wanted—the necklace, at Markoe’s or the old china tea-set at K rby-’s?” "I think,” she answered softly-, with a swift upward glance, "that I said I wanted both!” “Of course! How stupid of me! Pamela. you’re entitled to both,” lie concluded with great conviction. ,