The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXV, Issue 2, 10 January 1907, Page 3

The Storyteller

A WOMAN'S PLEDGE

The woman who pledged herself-. to/~speak the truth on all occasions^ was, fagged .out after a trying day. 1 John,' she said to heiMiusband, c ca ter having gazed into vacancy for -a .-quarter of an hour, 'it is almost necessary to lit;, isn't it ? That is, it 'is better to

refrain' from speauing all - the "truth on all occasions;

perhaps that would be the better ,way' to -put: it.' 'Why?' asked her husband, " wandering whence the cargo for this train of thought, 1 Well, the other day I fell to thinking of the numberless petty lies we women tell every day, ah<l the far higher self-esteem that would. come from trutti^and candor.' ' < , "— . '^Yes,' assented "her husband. ' And- I • registered a mental pledge to tell the truth • at all times, and, to abstain from, the nasty -'little fibs we think we" have to tell. 1 _ ' ' Well'? ', ' You see, my pledge took effect this morning, "and , ' the first person -to come to the house after, .you left was that Holmes woman.' .. ' I'm listening. ' ••<. " - s 1 She wanted us to come tor"a'*card .party, an informal" affair, she" said ; arid the way. she slobbered over me made me sick. S}obber- is the only word that Expresses it, ' John. "You know, I' always "did despise that woman, it is only by- the greatest effort that I can be civil to her. Ordinarily I' would -have flbbed and told her how delighted we would 'be to come. But the passion for truth was on me, and, as nearly -as I can remember it, this is ,what I said: ".Mrs. Holmes, neither my husband nor "I care for you." We not enjoy oursel\ws in your company, and we dislike to be under , any obligation to -you,- for - we - must return it, and that we do not care to 'do." ' John WJiistled— a long-draw.n, contemplative whistle. ' You were telling the truth for the 1 family,* 1 "he observed. „. 'it would- not have been- so bad, John, if"-I had stopped there, but when the truth "started from my - lips, it seemed so good it overpowered my prudence. ''' You* entertainments are alwars>prosy,".l said, "and you Shaven. \t a bit of tact in the world.- You insist on inviting three or four couples who don't speak to each other and expect to mix them round card tables and work out a complete scheme in social harmonies. Your refreshments are abominable, and -your guests poke fun at you behind -your back. Your house always . smells as if it didn't get an airing for a month, and ■^ have a headache whenever I go there.' So, if you please, John and I will not come." ' 1 Don't you think you told a little more truth than - was absolutely necessary ? '.. asked her husband reflectively. - .**.'" ' I fancy - I did, John ; but, as I told you, it' got away from me. -You should have- seen hlr, John.-,-She turned red and blue and white and green, and fairly choked with rage ' when she found I- meant it. I told so much truth it hurt. She called' me a jealous scold, and said she never wanted me at - all, but always invited- us because we had so few friends and went 'out so little. That was a stinger, wasn't it ?' c I can hear the echo of-, the hammers .now,' "was John's solitary comment. ' About.- -how' far did this mania for truth - carry you during the day ? . You .might as well tell it- all now.' • ' Well, to^go on, the Rev. Mr. Prosey -dropped in about 11.30 "o'clock. You know he always comes about the time you are trying hardest to do something, says he knows he's intruding, excuses himself every five minutes, and stays about,, three hour's. He - vcame to the door when 1 had .both hands "covered with flour, making pastry, and I know he saw me wiping them on my , apron. When I opened the door he said he knew his call was iR-timed, but he was - passing- and could not resist the temptation to drop 1 in 1-'1 -' " ' ''".-'.■'■ • ' Then you . said you were delighted to have him, . and that if he would come in you would make a cup of tea -for him? 1 - -< ■ '■ ,~ . ''Indeed, I did nothing .of .the- ssort-/t t - / That passion for truth overcame me again, and I stood in the door without inviting him in: " Mr. Prosey," I said, " I am busy- making pastry, and I knowj^ou .saw me wiping the flour oft my hands when I came to the door. If I should invite you in I would be guilty of deceit, for I do not want you. You would interfere v with my domestic arrangements, and in my perturbed and irritated state of nAnd I do not believe any spiri-

>tual advice you might oiler would fall on fertile soil. So I shall ask you* to excuse me and Hereafter to time your calls more opportunely." ' - 'Try. for the / -laity ,* said John, who was an old Rugby football jjlayeiv., V - " ' The poor old soul looked so shocked and bewildered I' was tempted ip vioiat/e my pledge and° go back' to fibbing, but I stayed firm and sh-ut the di>pr as gently as "I could, .but no less decisively.'. 'The next propaganda ? '. ' This afternoon Mrs. Merrill brought ' that ' boy of hers overhand, planted herself for the usual two hours, while % her infant" destroyer should roam at large among - my bric-a-brac. She has done that same thing, John, until., she- .has .worn my patience to a nervous frazzle. I. don't know why people never appreciate the value of other people's things. - They let their youngsters roam" about like mad, and if you reprove them or attempt - to- cheok their impetuous destructiveness, you get a frosty cough, and a " Come, Jack, I think it is time for us to go'," with the emphasis on the " us." Now, Mrs. Merrill's boy has marred and broken all. of my~ property I intend he-shall, so when she came this afternoon I was all on edge to tell her a few truths.' First act. 1 ' She said she couldn't stay a minute, and pro- , ceeded to**take off all of -her things and Jack's, and set him down right in front of that mahogany cabinet 'with the vases on it. Then she forgot all about him and untied her bundle of gossip for me to look at~ the patchwork. In the meantime Jack pulled down a Sevres vase > that mamma gave me and broke it into^ a thousand pieces.' """". •Then you said.it didn't matter, that it was 'a cheap little thing and you .didn't care for "it in the ' least ? ' suggested John

■ Did I ? Well, I -don't recall it if I did. I said, " Mrs; Merrill, thai, is about 'the tenth time that illreared child of yours has , broken some one "of my prized possessions. It isn't accidental ; it's simonpure, inexcusable intjuisifciv.eness and ill-behavior. *I am always glad to have you come here, 'but 1 don't like that boy of yours, and I don't • think vhis bringdng-up reflects much credit on you as a mother.' Unless you can teach him to keep his hands off my. things, ' Ishall ask you to leave him at home." ' ' About how high did the balloon 'go up ? ' - ' She was torrid, I tell you. She snatched Jack up and kissed him— imagine kissing a child who has done a trick like that !-^,nd said if I would get their things for them it would probably be the last time I would" have that pleasure, with the shading' on the "pleasure." Oh, but she-was sour!-. She setmy teeth all on edge with a glance-, and the air -tasted like acid. .And she- llounced out like an offendedlgod.dess, carrying that unruly child as if he were rare china.' - * ' Any more pages in the book of truth ? ' asked John. ' ' ' Mrs. Buzzell ,came' in about 5 o'clock to ask me about music lessons for Jane. John, I was honest, as could be with her. I 'told her that Jane had no" talent f or . -music, -but that she did 'have some for dressmaking and . millinery, and that she would better make a good milliner or dressmaker of her than a poor pianist. There wasn't anything so awfully bad about that, was there ? ' ' Mrs. Buzzell struck the ceiling there, near the chandelier ? ' he inquired.. ' Whew! John, I" was frightened. Did you ever see a quiet old hen ruffle up her feathers and attack a dog that was nosing abou.t among her chickens ? Well, John, she was Mrs. Quiet, Hen. She flew at me, and said I didn t know a nocturine from a soup ladle, les, she did say noc (.urine, John; and you- needn't laugh, for it wasn't funny^ a bit. I- wish it had been - you instead of me. Why; John, she would have • scratched, me, -I do believe, she was so angry. """After fifteen years •of friendship," she said, " to have jealousy T™ ln am * destroy it. all, and you an old married woman too.' 1 She shot out like a gasolene' explosion, trying to J^lain * ff ° 1 ' haK an ' hOUr While * Wa£ * 4- J.T ha ? ls abo , ut three tlies and a goal for the home ' - aI ?' T observed John thoughtfully-: that all ? ' - i^itt • ■ tha }> • all, -John. There hasn't been any- - body m since dinner,' -•cf^V? 11 ? ra 7 to S eth <* th at no one comes,' sugSim / /LTI7/ LTI7 - ' Ancl Does~ lie cam, S3? in ?ace ? T m - the « hOR6Sty '«« I -. don>t know ' J e»n,' doubtfully. *Jt»rf Did T I° n fJ eT " hear *° f Alexander Selkirk, Mollie ? ' asked John, after a short pause.' - he ?' )Why> yCS ' II(^ Was aII alone somew here, wasn't

' Exactly. He was all alone somewhere. Do you pine for solitude, v and to be known as the female Alexander Selkirk ? ' • . - ; . 'Why, nor Certainly not.'" _ „ ~ " 1 Then this night, we' will cail off the dogs-of truth, and to-morrow morning, bright and early, ' the social fib will be restored to its former lirst.place^among! the Lares and Penates, will it not '!■' _ " _- ' ' Well, if you think it best. But there -are a few other -persons I~ wouTd like to, meet before — '■'. ■ 1 There, there,' said John, putting his arm about her ' lovingly.— Exchange.. ' -