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THE SPARE ROOM.

(Saturday Rivivw.) A young couple setting up house in the country, however small may be the*ir income, and however limited the number of their servants, never dream ©f denying themselves the convenience *f a spare room. The expense of receiving an occasional visitor is trifling ; the ordinary domestio arrangements are scarcely disturbed ; ifc is a treat to fM a fresh face at the dinner table, and pleasant to have a chat with someone outside the small circle of home and its neighborhood. Time is sometimes father a drug, particularly in the •veiling ; so the hours spent in lounging about the garden in the moonlight are nob regretted. The lady of the honße has probably a basket carriage in which she can take her friends short

•xeursions through the cool green lanes. The few pleasures within reach are Lot •rally; there are no new books which must be read and returned to Mudie. Earing tea out of doors is often suffifieat excitement for a whole afternoon, tad blaokberry-gathering for another. Wet mornings are spent in looking out initable extracts for the penny read-! fogs, or in knitting comforters for the ©ld men in the village. The hostess feels herself quite under an obligation to the visitors, who bring a little change into her quiet home. She knows ft is only affeotion which induces them to come and stay with her. But in London the case is widely different. To busy people of moderate wealth the acknowledged possession of a spare toora represents an income-tax of •everal shillings in the pound. It means • to be forced to take in lodgers all the year round who do not pay, but who expect as much attention a* if they were in an American hotel—to be obliged not only to supply them with free quarters, but to amuse, fcdvise,' chaperon, perhaps even' nurse and bury them. When one of the ■quire's many daughters marries her •ousin in the Bluetape Office »nd they establish themselves in a tolerably comfortable, if single-trick, house at Ken-

Sington, they agree that their income does not allow much margin for hospitality. It would be unwise to start a guest-chamber, which in all probability would never be empty. In consequence of thisf sensible deoision the servants are comfortably established in separate rooms, none of them in the *egion of the cellars or black-beetles. The master of the house has a roomy, veil-appointed; dressing-room, a cosy ■kudy, and even a den in which ho may make a mess with shavings or sollodion. The lady of the house tejoices in a little corner cupboard •where she can piizzle undisturbed over the J weekly bills, and write home letters descriptive of her happiness and her husband's extraordinary popularity amongst his new relations. The servants she represents as perfect treasures; but as the cook has had no opportunity Of displaying her ignorance, because the young couple have dined out nearly every day, and as the housemaid has had an unlimited number of evenings to devote to her youn<j man, this is not SO very surprising. That such a state of things should go on for ever is perhaps scarcely desirable, but there is little chance of it, for one afternoon the bride's brother arrives unexpectedly from Calcutta. Accustomed, like all Anglo-Indians, to give and receive unbounded hospitality, he never dreams of going to an hotel, but, collecting his innumerable traps, and a perfect menagerie of birds and beasts, drives at once to his sister's house. She is at a conoert, but he stacks his portmanteaux in the hall, takes the monkeys to the kitchen, and hides himself in the drawing-room to surprise his sister when she returns home. The" young wife screams at some one, Hot her husband, who darts out from behind the portiere and clasps her in arms, and then half cries with delight to aee the youngster who used to be the plague of her life grown into a handsome bearded man. Of course he is quite right to be sure that she can take him iu; the fatted calf is immediately killed ; the cook improvises for dinner an extra dish, which she fondly believes. to be a Madras curry, the table-maid gives an additional polish to the spoons, and a bottle of champagne makes its appearance from the cellar. Borne sort of shakedown is arranged in the dressing-room, probably composed o£. a small iron bed, with an arm-chair at the foot to lengthen it, for six feet three does nob repose comfortably on a fiix-feet stretcher. The reason why so many people living in London avoid having a spare room is not because they do not wish to take in a friend, but because they find it impossible to protect themselves from acquaintnces they dislike. And this* ifc'the case with our.young couple. The thin end of the wedge once introduced r tbeir house is turned by a little andacitv-*»io aLcheap ajid _ pleasant hotel. Soon -comes a letter, full of the most affection, from an aunt by 1 no means beloved in the family. She" is delighted to hear what a charming bijou of a house her dear niece has got, and is longing to have the delight of watching how she does the honors oi her own table. Besides, she is dying to become better, acquainted with a nephew of whom she everywhere hears the moat fluttering descriptions. Could heir dear nieod find any little corner for her, no matter where, in the garret, on a sofa, or a mattrass on the floor ? The pooT 'innocent young couple have not Strength of mind to risk a quarrel by taking; No, and they cannot,plead not Having a corner, after takiDg their

brother m ; so they tender an unwilling hospitality, with what grace they \ cau muster, and prepare to make the 1 best of cirouinstances. Again the I dressing-room has to be turned upside down, and the boots, brushes, and j razors removed, this time to a comfort- j less closet under the stairs, in which it is impossible to turn round. The victim has not now the consolation of giving up his comforts for the sake of a fellow \ who is at least good company and with whom he can hare a comfortable smoke after dinner. Then, too, it is almost impossible to give an elderly lady of vast proportions a small emigrant bedstead on which to lay her portly form ; so a more imposing structure of brass has to be purchased, as well as a hanging wardrobe in which to stow away the new dresses which she

has come to town to buy. The result j is that a rery considerable cheque has ] to be drawn, and that the dressing-room ' is promoted to the dignity of a guestchamber. The aunt arrives; there is much display of enthusiastic affeotion amidst the pile of boxes and other litt«£ that block the narrow hall, the passage, and the stairs, whilst in the background looms helpless and unprovided for an unexpected addition in the shape of a French maid. But, unabashed, the selfinvited visitor explains that she has brought Frisette with her, and hopes her dear niece does not mind, and that if there is no cupboard in which she can be put, they will now go out and look for a room in the neighborhood. She found that she really had so much to do and was so easily knocked up when without proper attendance, thab Frisette in the long run would Bave trouble; besides, it was necessary to let her see the'fashions at least once a-year. Bjp-and-bye the husband returns. For the first time he does so almost reluctantly, and no wonder, for the evening drags along wearily in conrulsive attempts at conversation.

Permanent link to this item
Hononga pūmau ki tēnei tūemi

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/ESD18760804.2.28

Bibliographic details
Ngā taipitopito pukapuka

Evening Star, Issue 4193, 4 August 1876, Page 4

Word count
Tapeke kupu
1,293

THE SPARE ROOM. Evening Star, Issue 4193, 4 August 1876, Page 4

THE SPARE ROOM. Evening Star, Issue 4193, 4 August 1876, Page 4

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