LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 1927, 28 April 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

NEEDLE AND THREAD. • An old bachelor?’ said Honor ' That’s what he told me, just in so many words,’ said Mrs Pennypacker, who_ stood on the threshold of her best room, with her head tied up in a pocket handkerchief, and a hair broom In her hand, wherewith she gesticulated, after a tragic fashion, as she talked; while Miss Maywood, tall and slender as a wild lily, stood in the hall, with a roll of music under her arm, and her slight figure wrapped up in a shabby black shawl, ‘And he’s willing to pay my price, cash down every Saturday night. Never attempted to beat me down a penny, if you’ll believe me, my dear.’ ‘ Why should he V said Honora. •Most people do, my dear,’ said Mrs Pennypacker. ‘ A wrinkled old widow woman like me, who has her living to earn, is mostly fair game for everybody. But he never objected to my terms. A real gentleman, my dear —every inch of him. But he’s a little particular I’m afraid.’ ‘I suppose most old bachelors are,’ said Miss Maywood, smiling. ‘ Yea, my dear, yes,’ nodded Mrs Pennypacker. ‘ But this gentleman is beyond the average, I think.’ ‘ And if ho is!’ ‘ Nothing,’ said Mrs Pennypacker, making a dab with her broom handle at a stray moth-miller that was fluttering blindly against the garnet damask window curtains ‘ nothing except that one don’t know quite where to have him. He drinks only English breakfast tea, aud he wants his piecrust made with the best Alderney butter instead of lard, as is good enough for other people, and ha must have ventilators to all the windows, and an open grate instead of the bare burning stove; and—l hope you won’t be offended, my dear,—bat he particularly dislikes a piano.; ‘ Dislikes a piano V said the little music teacher, reddening in spite of herself. ‘And he says, says he, “I hope, Mrs Pennypacker, that there’s no piano in the house. A piano,” says he, “ plays the deuce with my nervous system, with its everlasting turn turn !” Those were his very words, my dear. So I courtseys, aud says I. “ You'll not be troubled with one here, sir,” And so, ray dear, I’ll be grateful if you don’t mind doing your practising until he’s out for his daily;walk ; from one till three, just as regular as the clock.’

Miss Maywood looked piteoufly up in the old landlady’s face.

‘I will do anything to oblige yon, Mrs Pennypacker,’ she said earnestly. ‘ I haven’t forgotten how much I am indebted to yon, both in actual money and in kindness, which money can never repay. ’ And her soft blue eyes filled with tears as she spoke.

‘My dear, don’t say a word,’ said Mrs Pennypacker, hastily. ‘ you’ve bean sick, and you’ve got a little behind hand, and it’s quite natural yon should be a little lowspirited now and then, but you mustn’t get discouraged. Things will look up after a while. And your quite welcome to stay on hero until you’re able to settle np your little account. ’

Honora Maywood sighed, as she remembered how often her little advertisement had been inserted in the daily newspapers, without attracting the least notice from the world of patrons and pupils. There were so many ‘ capable music teachers, willing to give lessons at moderate prices ’ nowadays, and how was anyone to know how sorely she needed the money ? And, as the time crept on and no pupils came, Honora began seriously to ask herself whether she should go out in soma menial capacity or stay genteelly at home and starve. * Clothes, ma’am!’

Honora started from her reverie as the washerwoman’s stumpy little girl banged herself, like a human battering ram, np against the door with a preposterously big basket on her arm.

‘ Yes,’ said Honora, colouring. ‘Pat them down, Sally. But I—l’m afraid it isn’t convenient to pay your mother to day.’ ‘ Mother didn’t say nothin’ 'bout, the pay,’ said Sally, wiping her forehead with a whisk of her arm, and sniffing herself well nigh off her feet. ‘I was to leave the clothes, with her ’umblo duty, and she ’oped they’d suit; but it was that damp and muggy on Monday and Tuesday, as starch wouldn t stick. And she ’opes you’ll excuse all mistakes, as they shall be done better next time.’

* I dare say they are quite right,’ said Honora, with a little sigh, as she marvelled at this unexpected act of courtesy on the part of her Milesian laundress.

But when Sally had stumped off down stairs, her flapping slippers beating a sort of tattoe as she went, and Miss Maywood took off the fringed towel that covered the basket af clothes, she gave a little start. ‘ Shirts, ’ said Honora, ‘ and socks, and turn-over collars, No. 16, and great big pocket-handkerchiefs, like the sails of a ship, and white vests, and—goodness me, what does it mean 1 Mrs Mulvey has sent some gentleman’s wardrobe by mistake. I must send these back at once.’

But then Miss Maywood looked down at the articles in grave consideration. * I never had a brother,’ mused Miss Maywood, “and I can’t remember my father, but of this I am quite certain, if I had either one or the other, I should thank any girl to mend their dilapidated wardrobes, if they looked like this. And Mrs Mulvey can’t send before night, and unfortunately I’ve nothing to do, so I’ll just mend this poor fellow’s clothes, whoever he may be. A half starved theological student, perhaps, training for the Polynesian Islands, or perhaps a newspaper reporter, or a pale clerk, under the dazzling skylight of some drygoods palace. At all events, he’s worse off than of am, for he can’t mend his own clothes, and I can.’

And the smile dimpled around Honora Maywood’s little rosebud of a mouth, as she sat down to darn holes, sew on tapes and insert patches. ‘ He’ll never know who did it,’ said Honora to herself; ‘ but I dare say he’ll be thank ful, and if one can get a chance to do a little good in this world, one ought not to grudge one’s time and trouble.’ And as Honora stiched away site mused sadly whether or not she ought to accept a position which had offered itself of assistant matron in an orphan asylum, where the worn would be almost unendurable, and the pay almost next to nothing, with no Sundays or holidays, and a ladies’ committee of three starched old maids to * sit upon, her, the first Friday of every month, * I almost think I’d rather starve,’ said Honora. ‘ But dear me ! starving is a serious business when one comes to consider it face to face.’

Sally Mulvey came back, puffing and blowing like a human whale, in about two hoars.

‘ Mother says she sent the wrong basket,’ said she breathlessly. ‘I thought it very probable, Sally,’ said Miss Maywood. ‘ And mother’s compliments,’ added Sally, ‘and she can't undertake your things no longer. Miss Maywood, ’cause she does a cash business, and there ain’t nothing been paid on your account since June. ’ Honora felt herself turning scarlet. ‘lam very sorry, Sally,’ said she, ‘tell your mother I will settle my bill as soon as I possibly can.’ Sally flounced out of the room, red and indignant, like an overcharged thunder cloud; and poor little Honora, dropping her head on her hands, burst into tears. * » » * *

‘Pretty girl, that—very pretty,’ said Mr Broderick, the old bachelor, to his landlady. * Do you mean— ’ ‘ I mean the young lady boarder of yonrs that I see on the stairs now and then,’ said Mr Broderick. * Nice figure, big soft eyes, like a gazelle. Didn’t some one tell me she was a music teacher ?’

‘That’s her profession,’ said Mrs Pennypacker. ‘ But there ain’t many pupils as wants tuition, and, poor little dear, she has but a hard time of it.’

‘ Humph I’ grunted Mr Broderick. ‘ What fools women are, not to have a regular profession. If I had a daughter I’d bring her np a self-supporting institution.’ And Mr Broderick disappeared into his room, in the midst whereof stood a girl with flapping slippers, a portentous shawl, and a bonnet which had originally been manufactured for a woman twice her size.

‘ Who ate you V demanded Mr Broderick. ‘ Please, sir, I’m Sally the washerwoman’s Sally,’ was the response. ‘ And what do you want here ?’ said Mr Broderick.

‘ Please, sir, I’ve come to bring your things,’ said Sally, chattering off her lesson like a parrot. • And, please, sir, her ’amble duty, and she ’opes they’ll suit, but it was that damp and muggy Monday and Tuesday, as starch wouldn’t stick; and she ’opes you’ll excuse all mistakes, as they shall be done better next time, sir.’ 1 Who mended ’em ?’ demanded Mr Broderick, whose hawk-eye had already caught sight of the dainty needlework upon his garments.

‘Nobody mended’em,’said Sally. ‘And mother she says it's easy to see as the new gent is a bachelor, on account of the holes in his heels and toss, and the strings off his dickeys.’ ‘ I can tell you who mended ’em,’ said Mrs Pennypacker, ‘ for I seo her at it, the pretty dear—Miss Maywood. And, says she, ‘ I don’t know whoso they are, Mrs Pennypacker, but,’ says she, ‘ they need mending—and a kind action never comes amiss,’ No more it does, sir. Lord bless her.’ . . ... ‘Humph!’ said Mr Broderick, ‘ she s right—no more it does. And she’s a regular scientist at the needle, is Miss Maywood. Jnat look at that patch, Mrs Pennypacker ! ‘Euclid’s Geometry’ couldn’t produce a straighter line or truer angles. Sea the toe of that stocking. It’s like a piece of Gobelin tapestry. That’s the way I like to see things done.’ And Mr Broderick never rested until he bad boon formally introduced to Honora Maywood, and he thanked her with equal formality for the good offices she had nn wittingly rendered him. *****

It was a golden October evening that Honora oime down to the kitchen, where Mrs Pennypacker was baking pies for her eccentric boarder, with the crusts made of the best Alderney butter instead of lard. ‘Oh dear, oh dear!' said Mrs Pennyracker; ‘what a thing it is to bo an old bachelor.’ ‘He won’t be an old hacheior much longer,’ raid Honora, laughing and coloring as she laid her cheek on the good landlady s cushioning shoulder. • What do you mean ?’ said Mrs Pennypacker. ‘He has asked me to marry him, said Honora, • after only two weeks’ acquaintance. He says that a girl who can mend stockings as Ido needs no other test. And ho says he loves ma ; and and ’

«Well V ‘ I almofat think I love him!’ whispered Miss Maywood. And so, the problem of Honora s solitary life was solved, and through the magic influence of ‘Needle and Thread/