BEDTIME STORY

Taupo Times, Volume II, Issue 100, 18 December 1953, Page 7

BEDTIME STORY

sparrows Some months ago my nephew George came to see me. A serious young man, but,, in the matrimonial sense, an extremely eligible one. j He owns a very valuable, wellstocked farm, inherited without a penny of encumbrance, which he runs successfully. He is highly respectible, and therefore a trifle dull. Definitely not a ladies' man. "Well, George," I said, "What's on your mind?" I should explain that when George haas something on his mind he usually unburdens himself to me. A little red in the face, he said: " I wanted to get a few hints about — about—" he stopped. "About what?" I said. "Well," he replied, after a pause "I would like to get married." This was big news, I was immediately intrigued. "Well?" I encouraged. "I don't know how to go about it," he said. "It's not easy," he added. I looked at him. "Don't be an ass, George," I said. This is the Twentieth Century, not the Nineteenth! Not easy! My good bumpkin, its as easy as falling off a log. Don't you realise that you are the most eligible bachelor for miles around? Dash it, I can think of at least half-a-dozen really nice girls whom I would have no difhculty at

all in sooling on to you!" He sat up. "I don't want anybody sooled on to me, as you put it. Besides, he added warningly, "this is all confidential. I just wanted a few tips about, well, the technique of making the approach, so to speak." "Look George," I said. "In this game there are no tips and no rules. You'll either marry some girl, or some girl will marry you. If you don't make the approach shots, she will, believe me." "I see," he said, "That explains it." "Explains what?" I asked. "Oh, nothing," he said. But I heard all about it later. George had been invited to a picnic party not long before and during the afternoon found himself alone with a charming lady. This interesting propinquity however, merely intensified his shyness, and having j no small talk he became mute. Now, there is no surer way of getting a farmer to talk than leading him to discuss the advertities of his calling. Droughts, fioods, bad harvests, plant diseases, crop failures, and so forth, will unlock the floodgates of his woes. The young lady knew it, and on this theme song proceeded to thaw out George's reserve. She played up and down the score, and finally P came to farm pests. "Pests," she said, "must be very trying," "Yes." he agreed. "Caterpillars and grubs, now. What do they do?" He told her. "Worms are awful, too" she said, perseveririgly. "Have you had worms?" He stared at her, grew red in the face and made noises in his throat. "Or sparrows?" "I've never had sparrows," he spiuttered. But she got him. I'd like to know bow she did it. They never tell, do they?— "D."