MUNDANE MUSINGS

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 67, 10 June 1927, Page 4

MUNDANE MUSINGS

“AN EXCELLENT MOUSER”

There is one thing I can say in George’s favour—he is an excellent mouser. Looking back over my past, I have come to the conclusion that it was George’s skill at mousing that finally decided me to marry him. I always hated mice, especially in my bedroom. In fact, as we lived in an old house, a great portion of my childhood was made miserable by them. Marrying George seemed a way out, says an English writer.

So it was with the old familiar horror that I awoke the other night to hear scratch, scratch, scratch! Scrabble, scrabble! It was one of my old enemies, and I shook with fear. I didn’t want to wake George, who was sleeping the sleep of the exhausted after a. very thick day—he works terribly hard at his golf, poor darling—so I just miaowed—quite gently at first, so the mouse would think I was a cat and go away. But not a bit of it. I suppose it’s the modern spirit mice have as well as everyone else; anyway, that mouse took no more notice of my miaowing than if I’d twittered like a thrush or made earwig noises. So I turned up the light, and threw everything I could lay hands on at the corner from whence the scrabbling came. There was silence for a minute, and it began again. Then I knew that George would j have to be wakened. I was sorry, because, however much my actions may seem to contradict the fact, I am really a deeply unselfish woman, and it was far more painful to me to have to wake George than it was to him to be waked. I explained this to him, when he had roused himself enough to understand me. I also pointed out that I had tried everything else before disturbing him —such as making cat noises and throwing everything within reach at the mouse. George didn’t like it a bit when he found I’d thrown the photo-graph-frame with his mother in it that stands on the table by his bed. But, as I said, when one’s in the grip of frenzy one can’t think of people’s mother’s photographs, and George said if I was the kind of woman to be driven frenzied by anything so ridiculous as a mouse, he was sorry for me. So I said his sorrow had better take a practical form. George got out of bed at that, got the poker and set to work while I stood and shivered on the landing. There was an awful noise of breaking glass and furniture falling. At last he called out to me: “Come in, I've got him!” and I went in. The water-bottle was smashed, and the water dripped off the washstand on to the floor; there was a pool of Quelque Fleurs on the dressing-table. I told George afterwards he ought to have some wives. I’m sure L was most moderate. All I said was: “And you’ve had to wreck the whole room to kill one poor little mouse!” Men are so touchy. He flung the corpse into a corner of the room and said he’d be dashed if he put himself out another time if the room was crawling with mice. I was just going to argue about it when, to my horror, the corpse moved. “George,” I cried, my eyes bulging with horror. “It isn’t dead. It is moving! ” “I’ve done with it,” said George morosely. “But, George darling," I said in my most caressing voice, “you can’t leave the mouse about, can you? I mean, you can’t leave it to crow over you! Besides, it’s been so deceitful, shamming dead like that, hasn’t it. George dear? I can’t bear to think of a great fine strong man like you being outwitted by a mouse!” George got up and finished the job. But would you have thought a mouse could be so false? GOVERNMENT HOUSE DANCE Government House, Wellington, was a very pleasant place on Tuesday evening, when a dance was given by their Excellencies the Governor-General and Lady Alice Fergusson, as a farewell to their son, Mr. Simon Fergusson, who is leaving shortly for England after a visit to New Zealand. Part of the large ballroom was used for dancing, while the upper end was carpeted with the new blue velvet-pile carpet, and arranged with handsome pot plants, stands of flowers, comfortable chairs and sofas, where a number of the guests were able to look on at the dancing very pleasantly. The drawing-rooms were cheei’ful with bright fires and many flowers, and supper was set in the dining-room and entrance hall, the decorations being of pink and white camellias in silver bowls, and high golden candelabra, the lights being shaded in pink. The music was inspiring, and as usual a reel had a place on the programme and was danced with much zest to pipe music. Their Excellencies entered the ballroom at half-past eight, Lady Alice Fergusson wearing deep coral pink georgette, with bands of the same edged with brown fur, and touches of silver, and she also had a handsome wrap of cream ostrich feathers. Among those present were the Prime Minister and Mrs. Coates, the latter wearing pale pink embroidered georgette over silk of the same shade. Their Excellencies’ nieces, the Misses Fergusson, were in pale pink georgette, with pearl cuirass bodice, and lettuce green georgette patterned with gold paillettes, respectively. Other guests included Mrs. Florance, Mrs. P. Castle, Mrs. Peters, Mrs. Pomare, Mrs. Morice, Mrs. Elliot, Mrs. A. M. Johnson, Mrs. Falla, Mrs. Symond, Mrs. D. Stout, Mrs. Harding, Mrs. Lorimcr, Mrs. M. Litchfield. Mrs. Gladstone Ward, Mrs. Maurice Myers, Mrs. Hodson, Mrs. H. Johnson, Mrs. Bird, Miss Norwood, Miss Corkill, Miss Bell, Miss Noli Blair, Miss Morice, Miss Dyer, Miss Jessie Elliot, Miss Dalziell, Miss Dorothy Hadfleld, Miss Macassey, Miss M. Ward, Miss Margery Gray, Miss A. Duncan, Miss Rose, Miss M. Morice, Miss Enid Lawson. Miss M. Morpeth, Miss Una Curtis, Miss Frazer, Miss S. Darling, Miss Mary Richardson, Miss Cooper, Jliss McClure, Mlhs Buokleton, Miss Betty Menard, Miss J. Leckie, and many others.