The Amateur Cynic.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLVII, Issue 25, 19 June 1912, Page 45

The Amateur Cynic.

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GRIFFIN BARRY

•' Sbey were talking of love, standing meanwhile in a crowded railway-station. It was an odd place for such a subject but the tall young man had hooked his (junior by the arm, and seemed determined to make him change his mind about it then and there. “Never think of marriage until you forget what your brown old meerschaum is for, or they tax bachelors out of existence,” he said as if he meant it. The boy was nearly angry. “You talk like the cynic's calendar,” he said. “I suppose you'll tell me next that you never thought anything about what kind of a girl you’ll marry!” “I'd just as soon speculate on the figure on my monument,” the other said, quite seriously. The youngster looked up, astounded at his friend’s cynicism. “Piffle! I’m going, anyway. She's waiting,” he cried, making for a big gate about to close. “Jim, stay here. Think what you’re Jdoing!” The tall fellow held the other gently back, talking down into his ear. When

their faces were near together, it could be seen that they'-were brothers. Before the pair reached the gate, it clanged to suddenly, and the train behind it moved slowly off. 11. Six months later the elder of the two attended his first house-party. It was in the country, where the snow was deep, and there was no getting away ■from the house full of people. Lawrence Haight made ten years of rather lonely hard work an excuse for keeping clear of the other sex; but what he thought •was boredom passed into excitement after the second evening, when the spirit of the place caught him. And the excite ment eventually became deep content at the slightest sign of favour from one guest. Of course, -when lie fell in love, he fell deep. From something of a hermit, ■he became very much of a lover. People said he fed out of Gretchen’s Wall’s hand and it was nearly true. Matters moved quickly to the proposal He made it in the garden at sunset, for love had touched him with poetry, and he recited all the verse-he knew to help out what he was trying to say. The poets had figured it all out ahead, ho said, and put it far better than he could;

■but even with trimmings from the poets, she laughed at .the idea. First she dodged the issue by saying that she waa not the marrying kind of girl. Then she declared that they had been merely playing a game, with chances even on both sides. Then she grew serious, and told the truth.

“You are the only man whose propos al I ever cared to hear,” she said. “Yes? Then I’ll make it again and again until you know it by heart.” “But I only wanted to refuse you. You see, I imbibed your views on marriage one day last summer, when you were talking to your brother in the Grand Central Station. And I have taken pains to see that you should be rejected. You interested me, and I thought you needed the experience.” ‘‘Did Jimmy tell you what I said? I’ll wring his nec.k!” “IDon’t. He didn’t tell me. I was standing at your elbow at the moment.” in. Lawrence Haight retired in good order, He took his hunt pride back to his law-office, and' almost forgot it in work. He was that kind of man; he could drown himself in a brief and forget what season of the year it was outside his office window.

But Gretchen Wall was not that kina of woman. She ‘would have liked to talk further on matrimony in the abstract. Only Lawerence had not tarried long after his rejection. Even his brother neglected her. Jimmy used to coone often for good advice ano the new jokes, but of late he had stayed away. Then a letter with an Arizona postmark came. At the end of sixteen pagre about gold and opportunity, Jimmy had written: Out here I have remembered something you said about Lawrence being a cynic. Don’t you believe it; that’s all put on! He confessed as much to me the next week after he held your sex up to scorn in the Grand Central to prevent me marrying the wrong girl. He said she was the wrong girl at the time; and as she ran away with a man in the same chorus three days after I broke my date with her, I guess she iwas. But as Larry’s recent letters hint at somebody who won’t stay out of his thoughts, he’s forgotten all the cynicism he never had, anyway, and . . .

All she could do was to mail a humble request for a call, and run the risk ot being the rejector rejected; but after he had taken her in his arms, he said he wasn’t cynic enough for that.