A Modern Cinderella.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLVII, Issue 12, 20 March 1912, Page 41

A Modern Cinderella.

Once upon a time there was a beautiful girl who lived in a mansion in Park Lane with her mother and her two sisters and a crowd of servants. Cinderella, for that was her name, would have dearly loved to hare employed herself about the house sometimes; but whenever she did anything useful, like arranging the flowers or giving the pug a bath, her mother used to say, “Cinderella I What do you think I engage servants for? Please don't make yourself so common." Cinderella’s two sisters were much older and plainer than herself, and their mother had almost given up hope about them, but she used to drag Cinderella to balls and dances night after night, taking care that only the right sort of person was introduced to her. There were many nights when Cinderella would have preferred a book at home in front of the fire, for she soon found that her partners' ideas of waltzing were as catholic as their conversation was limited. It was, indeed, this fondness for the inglenook that had earned her ths' name of Cinderella, One day, when she was in the middle of a delightful story, her mother came in suddenly and cried: ‘‘Cinderella! Why aren't you resting, as I told you? You know we are going to the Hogbins’ to-night." “Oh, mother,” pleaded Cinderella, “need I go to the dance?” ‘•Don't be so absurd! Of course you’re going!” “But I’ve got nothing to wear.” “I’ve told Jennings what you’re to wear. Nov go and lie down. I want you to look your best to night, because I hear that young Mr. Hogbin is back again from Australia.” Young Mr. Hogbin was not the King’s son; he was the son of a wealthy gelatine manufacturer. “Then may I come away at twelve?” begged Cinderella, “You’ll come away when I tell you.” Cinderella made a face and went upstairs, “Oh, dear,” she thought to herself, “I wish I were as old as my two sisters, and could do what I liked. I’m sure if my godmother were here she would get me off going.” But. alas, her godmother lived at Leamington, and Cinderella, after a week at Leamington. had left her there only yesterday. C inderella indeed looked beautiful as they started for the ball; but her mother, who held a review of her in the drawing-room, was not quite satisfied. “Cinderella” she said. “You know I said you were to wear the silver slippers!” “Oh, mother, they are so tight,” pleaded Cinderella. “Don’t you remember I told vou at the time thev were much too small for me?” “Nonsense. Go and put them on at once.” The dance was it full swing when Cinderella arrived. Although her lovely nppcarauee caused several of the guests to look at her. they did not ask each other eagerly who she was, for most of them knew her already as Miss Parting-ron-Smith. A brewer’s san led her off to dance. The night wore on slowly. One young man after another trod on Cinderella’s toe-*, trotted in circles round her. ran her violently backwards into some other man or swooped with her into the fireplace. Cinderella, whose feet seemed r.utiiarically to adapt themselves to the interpretation of the Boston that was forming in her partner’s brain, bore it from each one as long as she could; and then led the way to a quiet corner, v l-ere she confessed frankly that she had not bought all her Christmas presents yer. an.’ that she was going to Switzerland for the winter. The gelatine manufacturer’s son took her in to supper. It was noticed that Onderdella looked much happier as soon as they had sat down, and indeed throughout the meal she was in the high est spirits. For some reason or other she seemed to find even Mr. Hogbin endurable. But just as they were about to return to the ballroom an expression of absolute dismay came over her face. “Anything the matter?" said her partner. “N-no,” said Cinderella; but she made no effort to move. “Well. shall we come?” “Y-yes.” She waited a moment longer, droppeg her fan under the table, picked it up slowly, and followed him out. “Let's sit down here.” she said in the hall, “not upstair*.*'

They sat in silence; for he had exhausted his stock of question* at the end of their first dance, and Kid told her all about Australia during supper; while she apparently had no desire for conversation of any kind, being wrapped up in her thoughts. “I’ll wait here,” she said, as a dance began. “If you see mother, I wish you'd send her to me.” Her mother came up eagerly. “Well, dear?” she said. “Mother,” said Cinderella, “do take n-.e home at once. Something extraordinary has happened.” “It's young Mr. Hogbin! I knew it!” “Who? Oh—er—yes, of course. I'll tell you all about it in the carriage, mother." “Is my little girl going to lie happy?” “I don’t know." said Cinderella anxiously. "There’s just a chance.” The chance must have come off, for. once in the carriage. Cinderella gave a deep sigh of happiness. “Well, dear?” said her mother again. "You’ll never guess, mother.” langhel Cinderella. “Try.” “I guess that my little daughter thinks of running away from me.” said her mother archly. “Am I right?" “Oh, how lovely! Why. running away is simply the last thing I could do. Look!” She stretched out her foot — clothed oniv in a pale-blue stocking. ‘•Cinderella!” “I told you they were too tight.” she explained rapidly, “and I was trodden on by every man in the place, and I simplyhad to kick them off at supper, and—and I only got one back. I don't know what happened to the other; I suppose it got pushed along somewhere, but anyhow, I wasn’t going under the table after it.” She laughed suddenly and softly to herself. “I wonder what they’ll do when they find the slipper?” she said. (»f course the King’s son (or anyhow, Mr. Hogbini ought to have sent it round to all the ladies in Mayfair, taking knightly oath to marry her whom it fitted. But what actually happened was

that a footman found it, and!, being ver, •entimental and knowing th.it nobody would ever dare to claim it, carried it about with titu ever afu*rward>—there by gaining a great reputation with his cronies a* a nut. Oh. and by the way—l ought to put in a good word lor the godmother. She did her best. “•Cinderella!” *aid her mother at lunch next day. as she looked up from her let tens. a *\V hy didn't you tell me your godmother was ill?” “She wasn’t very well when I ’eft her, but I didn’t think it anything much I< she bad? I am sorry.” “She write* that ahe ha* obtained me-iAlea. 1 suppose th.it meami yoti’r* infectious. Really, it*< very inconven. ent. Well. l*m gl.i.t we J:<ln*t know yes terday or you couldn't have gone to the dance.” “Dear fairy godmother'” taid tinier ella to herself. *\Sbe was a day tot late, but hour sweet of her to think it at aII!”—A.A.M.. in “Pum’li.”