Going to the Ball this Evening?

Feilding Star, Volume XV, Issue 67, 16 September 1893, Page 1 (Supplement)

Going to the Ball this Evening?

By Robert C. Y. Meyers.

"Then everything is over between us," returned Ewy in his own manner. Her mother wrung her gloved hands. "Be still, mamma." said Ewy, herself on the verge of desperation. "There will certainly be a way out of it. Ralph is nearly frantic." "Come, monsieur, '■ said Jardine. "Explain to him." whispered Ewy to her lover, a heightened color in her face, "and we are strangers from this night on." But Jardine paid no attention to her. "Monsieur?" he called peremptorily. The marquis ambled away from the table. "I am wiz you, moncher," he said. Then gallantly to Ewy, "Mees, I congratulate yon; you are Mistair Tommy's best girl," and with a profusion of bows and apologetic gestures he followed after Jardine, who carried himself like a ramrod. Only then did Marie put down the picture of Ralph. "Good," said she. "Now, I wiz ze mama and zo sistair of ze man zat teach papa ze beautiful E-enjrlish. I love my Ralph first because he teach papa ze beautiful E-english. You catch on? I may make ze mistake ten times out of nine, but if madame or mees vill tip mo ze vink I vill make ze regular circus every time. See? I am ze tal\er from Talkerville. See?" Mrs. Cathcart sat heavily down. "Was there ever such a horror?" she asked of space. "Marie"— said Ewy, then stopped, for what had she to say? Marie looked timidly at her. "But my E-english is beautiful?" she asked deprecatingly. "It is not passee? It is moderne?" "Ver} r modern," answered Ewy, with meaning; "very, very modern." "Ah!" cried Marie gleefully, "I liko ze mode — my costume dv bal is ze mode. lam ze stuff. I vill paint ze town." Ewy caught her arm. "My poor Marie!" she said. "Oh," viciously, "if I had my will of Ralph!' "Vill!" echoed Marie, "Vill of Ralph I Vill — zat means ze test'meut of ze man vat pass in ze checks, kicks ze bucket and leave ze boodle. Ralph— Ralph is not ill!" "I should like to make him so," replied Ewy. Marie jerked herself away from her and drew herself up. "Mademoiselle,"' she said, with considerable hanteur, "you must not sit on Ralph— ze persou zat give my Ralph ze cold shake is N. G. Yon hear nxe?" Mrs. Cathcart had split one of her gloves in pieces. "Marie," she said with hysterical determination, "come witli me; I must explain this awf ulness to you." But she had her daughter to contend with. "Mamma," said Ewy, "remember! Ralph loves her. Separate tiiem and I do not know what will happen." "I will not allow this to go on," returned her mother. "Marie!" "But ze bal!" demurred Marie; "do we not attend ze bal, vare I shoot off my E-english?" "I must speak with you," said the excited matron. "Ralph has not been kind to you." Marie started, but looked incredulous. "Not kind!" she repeated. "Vy he teach papa ze E-english. Veil, I vill listen, but Ralph you cannot make not kind. Zat is ze size of it. Ta, ta, Mees Ewy! So long!" 111.

Left alone Ewy was torn with conflicting emotions; she really feared for Ralph's reason, from what she had witnessed of his manner in the conservatory, and then Tom had presumed to do what she had not wished him to do. She sat there, angry with Ralph, pitying him; angry with Tom, and not pitying him. And thus Tom found her. He raised the door curtains and regarded her troubled face. "Ewy!" he called softly. Her face froze at once. "Sir!" she said. He entered the room, swishing the curtain after him. "At least," he said, "you might remember who I am." With elevated brows she answered that there was small danger of her forgetting his identity. He was somewhat meeker as he said that he had done nothing. "Nothing," she echoed. "You went deliberately against my expressed wishes." "May I ask in what way?" asked he. "Where is the marquis?" she inquired. "Iv the garden," was the answer, "extolling to nature the beauties of the American language, and contracting the grip." She turned her face a little toward him. "Then you have not told him?" "Did you not say I must not?" he demanded aggressively. "Oh, Tom!" she said; "dear Tom!" and slid into his arms. What could he do then? "But, Evvy," he complained with clouded brow, "my silence does not make the matter any the less outrageous. Rather more bo." "Yet," she said, raising her face to his, "you respected my wishes." He patted her hand.

"But what is to be done?" he asked. "We cannot let these people go on in this way. Imagine them at Mrs. Montgomery's ball this evening!" "We will not go to the ball," said Ewy. "But," he persisted, "the old man is wild to go, that he may see an assembly S>f polite Americans." Ewy thought a moment. "I might faint," she mused. "Would a mere faint keep your guests at home?" he asked quickly. "Ralph could take them — cards have come for them." "Then," said Ewy with determination and breaking from him, "Ralph must do something — he must have hydrophobia, or something — Fido shall be forced to bite him. Ralph!" she called, "Ralph!" Ralph had not been far off, and here he was, as crushed a specimen of the genus homo as any flagrant scientist would care to see. He threw himself upon a sofa^ '•Ewy," he said, "what have 1 done!" "It is not what } - ou have already done," she responded with some asperity' "it is what you have yet to do. You must have a fit or commit suicide, a something that we may have an excuse for staying away from the ball. " "Let it be suicide/ 1 lie said sepulchrally, and they both looked at him — even Jardine felt a little less hard. He would have read Ralph an improving lecture had not Marie put her pretty face into the room. But her face waa frightened too. "Ralph!" she said, looking helplessly at Ewy and Jardine, "Madame say Ralph is not kind, and I say 'Rate!' when she cry out and ze femme de chambre say madame have ze hystrike, and fire me out." "Oh," cried Ewy, "poor mamma!" and agitatedly left the room. Then Marie saw Ralph on the sofa. She flew to him. "Cc pauvre, Ralph!" "Oh, Marie!" he groaned. She kneeled beside him, laying her hand on Ins hot head. "You are not well," she said. "No," he answered; "oh, no." She stripped off her gloves. "Zen I go not to ze bal," she said, "to sit on ze dudes." She turned to Jardine. "My festive friend," she said, "please tell papa I remain in ze house tonight; his nobs is not well." Jardine brightened a little. "That makes four at home," he said, "Ewy, her mother and these two. Maybe I can frighten the old man with tales of tiie Indians that may swoop down upon us," and lie made for the garden. "All," said Marie to Ralph, "it is ze large head. 1 will baze it — ye vill get ze bulge on ze headache," and going to a jar filled with roses she dipped her handkerchief into the water there and brought it back to the sof.i. "Oh, Marie!" said Ralph, as the cool water trickled around his ears and down his back. "Eaul" said Marie, "yes, itisl'eau. Zat ia all — l'eau." "Oh, Marie!" "Owel" she laughed tenderly; "you owe me noziugs — it is mere vater on ze brain," and she bathed his brow again. "Owe! Zat Bounds like ze pawn man, ze oncle, ze spout, ze hock. But you do not laugh! Ah, ze head aches — ah, ze head so full of ze beautiful E-english! Ze plasir for me to speak wiz you in your own tong." "If you only could not," he groaned to himself. "If you only could not." But she heard him. "You vish I could not!" 6ho cried. "Merci! Dites-moi cc gui en est. Vat you giving vs — did you not teach us ze tong, you, «c savant, ze college man? Give us ze rest! Zat is too thin! See?" Ralph writhed. "Marie, listen," he said. "This is torture — it has been torture ever since 1 met you." Marie rose to her feet. "Vat!" she cried. "Since yon met me! You love me not — you vould shake me!" Ralph caught her gown. "I would die for you," he said. "Zare is nozing mean about me," she said rather suspiciously; "live for me. I care not for any die in mine. Every time." Ralph raised himself on hia elbow. "Promise me," he said, with wild energy, "that, come what may, you will not leave me." "Go back on you?" she said. "Nevair — bo help me gracious!" "You will always believe in me, Marie — always?" "Alvays. Did you not teach us ze E-englisb? You are shouting." Ralph fell back, burying his face iv the sofa cushions. "Vat's up?' cried a voice, and the marquis came iv from the garden with Jardine. "Is ze skates here yet?" Jardine went up to the sofa and tool; by the shoulder the recumbent form there. "Old man," he said, "I think you'd better tell the truth." "He would uever forgive me," returned Ralph, louder than ho had meant. "Forgive me," said the marquis soberly. "Zare is somzinga to forgive." "Much," said Ralph. The marquis went to Marie. "You hear," he said. "Quel inal heur. Zare is somezings to forgive! Nevair! You mean you have deceived Marie— you no longer love her. Sacre" "Papa!" screamed Marie, "dry up!" '•I love her with all my soul," yelled Ralph. "Zen," Baid the marquis sententionsly, "zare is nozings to forgive. You have ze jag, as Arritbioherstowe say." "There is," cried Ralph, "there is much to forgive." "Sare!" "It is your English." "Mon Anglaisl" and the marquis glowered. "Zare is no fliea on my E-english. Did you not teach it to me? Are 3 r ou not ze college mau, ze savant? You mean Marie and Ive not ze tight twisted— ye catch not on? Sare, lam ze Fr-rench gentilhoinine, I ve&x ze cordon rouge" "No, no," cried cut Jardine, "he meant nothing disrespectful, believe me, maram*"

"Vat did he mean?" demanded the now irate old man. "I vill not have ze bulge tm zne, sare. Ze duel is not ex-extinct in Fr-rance" "He means" "1 mean," groaned Ralph, "that I am , dying." "Deraisonner!" said the marquis, "is sat all? It is ze yin, and don't you forget it." But Marie was crying: t "Papa, he is dying. Madame! Mees Ewy! Tommy! He is dying— il est , Bort!" Her voice was piercing, and it brought Mrs. Cathcart and Ewy to the sofa, as it did the others. "There is nothing the matter," Mrs. Cathcart said sternly. "It is Ralph," wailed Marie. "It is ze E-english language," said the marquis. "Wait! Wait!" cried Ewy. She looked witheringly down upon Ralph. "It is indeed the English language," she said calmly. "Come! Are we going to the ball this evening?"' "Not zis evening; some ozer evening, as Mees Anna Rooney say," said the marquis pleasantly. "Bal," echoed Marie, "yen Ralph he is so mixed zose children up— so played out —so scoooped in." Mrs. Cathcart turned her back on the eofa. "Monsieur," she said to the marquis, "I am acquainted with the nature of my son's ailmeu*." "Certainment, madame," returned he. "Is it vat ze sveet Binger de Michegan call ze D. T.?" "Ze skates," interpreted Marie. "Papa have zem like ze leetle man." Ewy took the arm of the marquis. "It is the English langnage," she said dryly. "Monsieur, you know we are a very progressive people." "I salute Ameriqne," he returned, placing his thin finger to his lips ami wafting the kiss to the outer air. "Amerique is so fly. It is ze sur-r-pris-ing country, mademoiselle. Ze fly country." "Thank you." Ewy smiled mechanically. "Then it will be easy to explain to you. Well, it is Ralph— he is dreadfully sorry, and he is sick over it, but the English language has clmnged." There was an exclamation. "The fact is," she continued, "the American language changes on an average every half year. When Ralph taught yon he was correct according to his lights." "Electric lights," Tom remarked. "But he had been away from home some months," Ewy continued, with a look that squelched her fiance, "and during his absence the language underwent ft change." "Precisely," stuck in Jardine. "The English he taught you is now no longer elegant— is only used by ordinary people." There was a leap from the sofa. "Yes, yes," cried Ralph, "that's the racket That's what made me sick — the thought that I had taught you wrong." "My angel," murmured Marie, "zey only have zo dead wood on us." But the marquis was overspread with gloom. "I am ver disappoint," he said, with a shrug of the shoulders, "zat ye know only ze faulty E-english. But les convenances" "Oh, we will soon rectify all faults," Interposed Mrs. Cathcart, "only tonight you had better use the French— you and my charming Marie — every word. Tomorrow we will all of us begin to show you the correct English.'' "Merci^ madame!" laughed Marie. "Ye vill catch on. Ye are not ze slouch, cher papa." "Ye vill not get left," returned the marquis, only conventionally cheerful. "Yet it vas Ralph's kind heart vat mek him seek. He is as 'good as zey make 'em,' as Emerson say. You are mon fil.s Ralph! Marie, give Ralph your hand to kiss!" "But the ball?" hastily said Mrs. Cathcart. "Ah, ye vill have zo dandy time," Marie cried heartily, clutching Ralph's arm. "But in French— in French," Ewy said earnestly, "every word in French." "Ye vill get zare all ze same, Meea Ewy," tenderly said Marie. "Ye vill all get zare," cried the marquis gallantly, "ze whole caboodle of us, as Benjamin Franklin remark, Dust! Marchon!" And bo they went to the ball. TUE END. A Newspaper Critic. It is certain that journalism has no severer critics than some of those who are found in its own ranks. The other day a man who works on an evening sheet was asked something about an articlo that had appeared in that paper. He knew nothing about it. "What!" said his questioner, "don't you read your own newspaper?" "Read my own paper!" he answered scornfully, "that reminds me of the story of Blobbs and Jinks, you know. They were Bohemians and had got dreadfully run down. One day Blobbs went into a horribly cheap restaurant and sat down at n table to orier a meal, when up rushed Jinks iv a Waiter's apron to get his order. Blobbs was struck nearly dumb, but he managed to blurt out, 'Good heavens, Jinks! you don't mean to tell me'— Jinks looked at him very loftily. 'I wait here,' said he, in a crushing tone, 'but I don't eat here!'" The inquirer was left to make his own application of the story. He had no difficulty in doing so. Tl i Retelling si Bright Remark. We heard a friend speak of a little episode in the W. C. T. U. meetings when Miss Willard, the president, was presented with an acre of land on Mount : Desert, state of Maine, and upon receiving the gift thanked the W. C. T. U. > and the Maine-iacs who were so geni erous. Our friend remarked, "Mifls Willard waa very happy in her reply, and ; expressed her gratitude to the W. C. T. U. and the other lunatics who so kindly remembered her." ' ? — T\ d