THE PHOTOGRAPH.

Otago Witness, Issue 2813, 12 February 1908, Page 90

THE PHOTOGRAPH.

Br Herbekt Jamieson

liis Cheetham was dispensing afternoon tea in the drawing room when the news ot her fiance's perfidy was bioken to her. "Iris," said Mrs Hanbury suddenly, reaching for her second "maid-of -honour" and seeking some verbal cover for the act, "how did Mr Newton enjoy his motor ride on Monday?" Miss Cheetham was too su'rpiieed to be discreet. Had she been on her guard, she would have smiled pleasantly, replied nonchalantly, "Oh, very much, I believe," and passed on to inquiie affectionately after Mrs Hanbury 's baby. Taken completely aback, she merely exclaimed, with 'openeyed wonder : "Motor ride? I never knew ' "Ah, then, perhaps I shouldn't have said anything about it. But Mr Newton seemed to be enjoying himself so much that I made sure he would have told you." It was useless to pass the matter off now. Four pairs of eyes — and all feminine — were closely watching her. "Where did you see him?" "He was in a motor coming up Highgate Hill. I was going down in a tram ; of course, he dida't see me. It was the Dod-

.son.s' car. Thero were only Mies v Dodson and -Mr Newton in it." "Xo chauffeur ■'"' inquired one horri- ■ fied listener. "Oh, of course there was the chauffeur, but he sat in fiont. I didn't reckon him." " Highgate Hill." said Ivis, shortly, "is not the kind of hill one likes to walk up." But that did not settle the matter-:— at least, not for her. Two questions were still unanswered. Why was Alfred Newton in the neighbourhood of Highgate Hill at all ? Also, why was he ascending it in the Dodsons' motor car, tete-a-tete with the undeniably pretty Milly Dodson ? The Abernethy road, where the Dodsons and Cheethams both reside, is a select suburban thoroughfare. No one in it keeps less than two servants, probably half-a-dozen (at the most) ri&e to three. The Dodsons are the only people that attain to the dignity and luxury of owning a motor car. That car, kept at a local garage, is at once the pride and envy of all other inhabitants of the road ; to the Cheethams, indeed, it is a veritable thorn in the flesh. The Cheetham girls — there is a younger one than Iris at college — have publicly given out that their father, Major Cheetham, is too devoted to horses ever to take to motoring. To his intense personal discomfort the Major is made to hire* a horse about once every two months in order 'to give artistic verisimilitude to the statement. Now, that explanation is long, but every word of it is necessary. You understand perfectly now how Iris Cheetham felt when she learnt that her lover had been spen with the Dodson girl in the obnoxious motor. That night Alfred Newton came, as usual, to the Cheethams' house. Iris received him coldly. After drumming a little with his fingers on the elbow of t\>e sofa he asked bluntly what was wrong. "I don't think, Alfred," she' pouted, "that there ought to be any secrets between us." " My dear girl, T have none." " OOrh r yes, you have. You never told me about your ride in the Dodsons' motor car." He laughed. "Who told you?" "Never mind! You were seen, that's quite sufficient, and there's a dreadful lot of gossip about it. I must say I do think it fast.". ffe " Fast ! Why, their chauffeur drives, the thing at the pare of a hearse. But there, you're not in the mood for being teased. What else did you hear ?" " Only — who was the other occupant of the car?" / "Oh. I say, don't be jealous! There was really no cause. Shall I tell you how it all came about?" " If you promise to tell me the absolute truth."" "Of course! There's nothing to keep back. Well, Miss Dodson drove Into town to bring her father out. She often does that, I believe, on fine days. ■ Dodson's office is next door to mine in Leadenhall street." " Indeed !" "I can't, help it, of course, but it is next door ; there's no getting over that. I had knocked off business for the day, and came out of the building en route for the railway station.- There was the Dodsons' car standing by the side of the kerb, Milly Dodson in it. and her father ! on the pavement talking to her. I bowed, and was passing on, when he caught me by the arm. ' Newton,' he said, ' how would you like to drive home in our car ? Milly has come to fetch me, but I've an important board meeting . on, and can't possibly leave for an hour and a-half at i the earliest. Do jump in — 'there's a good ( fellow — and take my place.' Well, of course, it isn't .every day .that one gets the chance of a soin in .a motor. I juirjped in,, and — that's all." Jris looked stonily in front of her without speaking a word. " Haven't you anything to say ?" he asked. * ' " Only this.: Suppose the chauffeur had been alone in the car, would you have got .in ?" " Certa^inlv ! Look here. Iris, you're niost absurdly iealous. There's not the slightest ground for it. I can't think how you can possibly be so small." "Small? I?" He was really angry now. "Yes; small and petty in the extreme." There was no reply from Iris, save tears alone. They wpic falling when, half an hour "earlier tha.n usual, Alfred look his unhappy leave. Subfonuentlv in the piiwry of her room. Iris dri~d her eyes and proceeded io- the concoction of a scheme of revenoe. He had accused her of smallness and pettiness. From any man the accusation would have been insulting : from a lover, who ought to say nothing but what was pleasant, it was positively hateful. Was Alfred's own nature so big and aenerous that he could afford to launch these untrue charges at her ? Had he not a taint, at any rate, of the jealousy which he had declared was devouring her ' Ah. that was it. She must make him jealous. Not only make him jealous, but make him aJmit his jealousy. Then peace would be re-established between ■ them, and the sun would shine once more. Now, how was the'thino to be worked? The idea came with morning light. Years ago, before her engagement to Alfred, there had been another aspirant to her- hand — a distant cousin of. hers, Ned Morris by name.- Ned, although a nice boy. had,. one of those hopeless artistic temperaments that fall short of artistic fulfilment ; he never succeeded in anything, was usually in debt, and, of course, wholly impossible as a husband. Alfred, a practical business man without any artistic leanings, naturally despised him

' To have brought Ned now himself upon the field-would have been lovely, but that, - alas ! was impossible ; he was m a distant' j part of the world, and had not been heard of for monthg. _ However, she could, and! ' would, do -the next best thing. In at , drawer" upstairs full of odds aad-ends; there ' was a large photograph"' of Ned, taken i« costume, on an occasion when he .and) I she were acting in some amateur thea- ! tiicals. Once Alfred .had expressed- at f dislike to the photograph (he bated "to ( see <a fellow make such an absolute I of himself), and she — these were -tha early days of the engagement, of coarse — had promptly banished it to obscurity..Now she would resui-rect; She wouldl place it in the very centre of the drawingroom mantelpiece, where Alfred would be( suie to see it at once. She pictured) i his disgust as his eyes fell on it. -She ■h ould let him think that since last even- ', ing's estrangement her heart had been ( turning fondly to Ned, and that that was j the reason of the picture's sudden resurrection. Then, of course, his jealousy, ' would blaze forth. She would accuse him of &mallness and pettiness. After the firsti 1 shock of surprise he would surrender 'and , plead her > forgiveness. There would be tender words of reconciliation, sealed* by, kisses, and all would be as belore^ . the j likeness that had worked the oracle being packed upstairs again like a disgraced! f child. ■ t . j By 10 a.m. Ned's .photograph, „cleanedT with breadcrumbs, occupied the 'prenuer position on the drawing room mantelshelf. It was 3 o'clock tiie same .afternoon. "A gentleman has called to see you, miss." -i . - . . " "Not Mr "-'Newton?" Her thdughts harped "on" the v one string. » "No, miss ! A 'gentlenian "I've never seen before. " . I've asked" Knn "intb ," the drawing room." ' •-'-•" -'« ■■ I "But didn't he give you. his .name?" "No, miss, he wouldn't.. But he lookei quite the gentleman, miss, or I shbjijctn't, of course, have let him .ip<" .- . Iris flew to her room to tidy her hair. Persons who gave no names were usually after subscriptions, but whoever the mysi teiious visitor might be, nothing was to be gained by appearing dowdy in his presence. She had a slight suspicion, t to», that it might be a friend of Alfred's with an olive branch. She turned the drawing-room handle and entered. A man was standing on. the hearth-rug, ,with his back .to her, keenly; j contemplating N€d',s photograph on . the j mantel-pieced The "figure swerved round, and she. faced— Ned Morris himself.. ' In her surprise she stood like a statue. I 3ie came forward, botH) .. hands'— big, bronzed hands — outstretched. "Ned !" she cried. "Come backf' "Yes, I'm back. Don't look so startled ! I'm far too much sunburnt to be a glnbst.""But — you — never —wrote." T>' "Not to a living soul. I wannest to take 3'ou all by surprise. IrisJ^.how , you've grown !" "Nonsense!" ' t -_ . "Oh, but you're inches higher, or, is lit the heels? It's good to be home again — good to come back and find such a-;wel-corae awaiting one. All: the wayvhere I was thinking — how would Iris receive me? How would' she look upon one who, i fl\e years back, dared to love her? -Then ' I was shown into this room, and 'there, staring me in the face, was that old photograph of mine. I almost went down on my knees with gratitude; the relief, was 60 tremendous." "Ned, you don't think " '•Think? I "know. Who could hava -kept, the photograph, in place o£ honour for five long .years but you, .Iris? And why? Don?t blush! .It was the nicest way of Keeping me in mind, was n ' fc I it? It's -a beast .of X photo, but how much it has meant to you all thase yea*s ! Don't speak! - let me finish firsti Now I can speak with perfect confidence. liis, you know in the old days how I loved you?". "Stop!" . "Why, what's the mattei? "Oh."- can'.t you see?' She held up her left hand. "I'm engaged— have been ■ for nearl> two years now. It's-r-Alfred Newton." - ■ . - .- ' * Ned's next, behaviour - was truly astonishingT -Instead of quivering like a dog under the- lash, he flung himself into a. chair, and fairly rocked- with, laughter. "Yes, I .knew that," ¥ ■ - . "Knew?" „ • .. - . • . "Alfred .told' me . himself .an Junir ot two ago. We met one auotiier 'in the city, had'"a wh— cup of. coffee .together. I I was only joking just now. The^idea ! :ame when I «J)w that 'beastly photographl lup there. Did I ever look sudh a fool as that picture represents me? Oh, by, the way, Alfied gave me a note for you. He was going to nost it ; but thought it would save time if I brought it, as I was coming here. Better read it. Dontj mind me !" I Iris did read it— promptly. Her^ face I beamed. A darling note! Alfred must have ransacked the dictionary forewords* of contrition. The storm was over"; tha sun ■elione agnin. I Ned was standing at the mantelshelf. 1 Suddenly he seized the photograph and! i tore it aoros-f>. "It's all right. Iri«. 11l give you another likeness of me— a recent one. I'm; going" to put this in the fire. I shouldn't like my wife to sec it." "Your wife?" "Yes, she's waiting in a hansom at that corner. May I bring her in?" — M.A.P..

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