A SLIGHT FLIRTATION.

Globe, Volume VI, Issue 653, 22 July 1876, Page 3

A SLIGHT FLIRTATION.

Ip Mr Maldon suffered his thoughts to wander from bis newspaper for an instant upon a 'certain beautiful spring morning, as he sat in his pretty little drawing-room, not so very many years ago, they would probably have taken the shape of self-congratulation on the fact that the money he had spent upon the musical education of his younger daughter, Rosie, had certainly not been wasted; for she played something more than nicely. We all know what ‘nicely’ means ; we know what ‘ nice-looking' people arc ; we know what a * nice sort of a fellow’ is ; we know what a * nice’ house is; wa know what the jeunesse doree is trying to explain when it says that something or somebody is * awfully nice’; in short, wa know that * nice’ is a very equivocal term, and therefore it could not be applied as an epithet or distinguishing mark to Rosie Maiden’s manipulation of the keys of the piano, because she really understood what she was about, and threw into her performance a far more than average amount of feeling and intelligence.

But it is doubtful whether Mr Maldon appreciated his daughter’s sensibility and talent. For many years he had been a hardworking barrister, and had only been induced to quit his profession because the foul atmosphere of the courts of law of this great country had had a bad effect upon a constitution which, through some mistake or other, as he was always destined for the Bar, was not composed of .iron, and because a distant relation had thoughtfully died at the proper time, and bequeathed to him a comfortable fortune. He bought a charming little place in the country, and carried his legal knowledge and habits to the county bench and parochial committees, with great benefit to his immediate neighbours, rich and poor, and decidedly to the advantage of the principles of justice and of common sense, which are not unfrequently obscured in agricultural districts.

Still, if on this particular beautiful spring morning he preferred cross-examining the leading articles in the Times to listening to his daughter’s fantasia, or whatever it might have been that she was executing, it was sufficiently plain that a certain Mr Arthur Armidale, who was sitting in an arm-chair very close to Miss Rosie’s music-stool, did not ; and when that young lady finished the if tie

* Indeed I do. It is deliciously soft and dreamy. What an exquisite thing it is to sit comfortably in an arm chair, and listen to such music as yours.’

Rosie’s fingers still lingered on the keys as she replied : ‘ But you know it is very idle of you—so early in the morning.’ Armidale jumped up from his chair as if he was shot, and exclaimed : ‘ Oh, my dear Miss Rosie, pray don’t talk to me about idleness ! You have no idea how that word has haunted me from the early days of my nursery governess to the last hours of my poor father ! I was always being told to beware of idleness, and I did beware of it. I bewared of it to such an extent, that I ran away from school rather than be talked to about it; and when they mentioned it at home, I preferred the solitude of my own apartment and a cheerless diet of bread and water.’

Rosie’s fingers still wandered over the keys as she returned, with the slightest possible accent of sadness in her voice: ‘ And don’t you ever do anything ?’ ‘Well,’ answered the young gentleman, somewhat puzzled for a reply, ‘I consider that I perform my duties as a member of society. I assise at keeping the social machine going^’ Rosie’s fingers left the keys now, and she gave a half twist on the music stool, and looked Mr Armidale full in the face, and replied quickly : ‘ Indeed ! Like the fly on the wheel, I am afraid. I think, if I were you, I should scarcely be content with performing my mere social duties. Of course, it is very kind of you to take even that amount of trouble for the sake of society in general, and I hope your self-sacrifice is properly appreciated; still, for your own sake—and that is the strongest appeal one can make to a man—l should advise you to try and do something more than what is merely required of you.’ Armidale relapsed into the arm-chair. ‘ You are dreadfully severe, Miss Rosie,’ he said; ‘ but I think I understand you. You mean, be ambitious. But what is the use nowadays ? Ambitious men are always pushing men, and a pushing man now is called a snob. Besides, the only real ambition now is to get more money than your neighbour; and as I can’t steal a colliery, finance a company, or start a foreign loan, it is no use my asking about ambition.’ ‘Ob, Mr Armidale, I can’t bear to hear you say such things ! ’ exclaimed Rosie, as she left the piano and went to the open windows which gave upon tl e garden. Armidale followed her quickly, and, doubtless, was going to express his repentance for ■what he had said, when Mr Maklon jumped up from his chair, shook his glasses from his nose, and declared emphatically : ‘ Rubbish ! I don’t believe a word of it!’ ‘Good grreious, papa? what has happened ?’ cried Rosie. To l)e continued.