THE STORYTELLER.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LI, Issue 72, 14 March 1908, Page 3

THE STORYTELLER.

THE EJJJUVEMKSCEMCE OF THE

BACHELOR

(By V. L. Wtntz.) it wat not yet eight in the morning. And luch a morning! The rain of the night had vanished, save for the last gossamer shimmer oi silver on the grass and under the rose-bushes. All its moisture seemed to have changed, fairylike, into a dripping fragrance of earth, and trees, and flowers. The 'Bachelor was having his breakfast served in his garden under the foliage that was almost heavy with olive-grten and gold sunlight. But he was reading his paper, and was dead to the beauty of the morning. "I've seen the new tenants of your cottage," said Martha, the old housekeeper, as 9hc placed the strawberries on the table. She pointed with her thumb over her shoulder and towards the high, wistaria-covered wall. "Any women!" asked the Bachelor bluntly, putting down his paper. "There's a girl and The Bachelor grunted and put the loaf sugar on his strawberries. Martha • coughed, and handed him the soft sugar, i "And an old woman and a child," finished she. Presently—" Is she pretty!" said the J Bachelor, biting a piece of buttered 1 toast. i

" The old woman 7 She has grey hair and wears sjpectacles," answered Martha tersely.

The Bachelor pushed away his bacon. " Idiot!" commented he, his eyes lighting upon a playful squirrel in the branches of the big elm. Mr. Armitage Melville Charteris was the name to be seen upon the Bachelor's cards, and on the numerous invitations that incumbered his desk in his town lodgings near his favourite elub. M Army" was the name by which his familiars had known him since college days. Of late, however, he had received a disagreeable reminder of the flight of years through a certain prefix: "Old Army," " Good Old Army."

The first time he bad beard the prefix was at a winter dance. He bad winced perceptibly, and instead of staying till the end, as wag bis wont, he went to Ms lodgings, turned the electrie lights full on to his dressing mirror, and Studied his reflection anxiously. Since then—well, be had got used to the fart that his head was balder than he liked; that mothers with marriageable daughters considered him " absolutely safe,*' and that he was the very man in social functions to act as dragon to blooming creatures of seventeen.

41 Grey hair and wear* spectacle*," repeated the Bachelor, with a bitter little laugh, his eyes still upon the squirrel. "Why, of course, Martha thought I meant the old woman!' 1

later in the morning he was up on a ladder trimming his wistaria. He was humming a tuneless song when, out of the cottage door, across the stone wall, came a girl as slender and straight as the silver birches; her gown was soft and filmy and white, open at her rouni, young throat; her eyes yere pools of purple—they put the deepest tints of the wistaria bloom to shame, and her lips were crimson, like the Bachelor's Jacqueminot buds. She raised a firm, brown hand to one side #f that crimson mouth, and called to someone who was just entering the garden gate: "Hullo! Any luck!" "So," sang back the boy with the creel slung over his shoulder. He was • youngster of twelve, perhaps. Evidently Martha's " child," commented the Bachelor.

"Sever mind, Sis," said the boy, as he approached his sister and saw the look of disappointment on her face. "To-morrow's another day; I'll try earlier in the morning." The girl kissed his cheeks twice ex überantly. The third kiss she let fall neatly upon his chestnut head. "All right, Ted," said she cheerfully. Then they both disappeared in the cottage.

The next morning, early, the Bachelor Alao went fishing. He met the boy at & turn of the stream. The boy wasn't rery lucky in his catches, iint the Bachelor was. Before they reached Iwme, all the fish had been emptied into tie youngster's creel; and the Bachelor was casting about in his mind to secure a continuance of the acquaintance thus begun. "You ride!" he asked, as thev halted for a second at the back gate." Well, drop over to-morrow at seven and have a. canter with me."

•As the gate swung to, he caught another passing glimpse of the goddess. Now, there was a tiny window up in the Bachelor's den that overlooked the cottage. In the interest of his beloved garden, the Bachelor was consulting some dry books on how to get rid of caterpillars, when the sound of a girl's voice drew him to the window. In the cottage garden was the goddess again! She was stooping forward playing with a large greyhound. The Bachelor stood and watched, hid3en, as he thought, by the muslin curtain, till a gust of wind came and blew it far out into the air. The slight movement caught the girl's eyes. She looked up; her smile vanished. "Go down, Comrade," she called severely, and walked quickly into the cottage with as much dignity as nineteen la capable of.

Tie next day, thanks to the youngStWj he met her. From this time on. lilrbecame unreal and bewitched to the BiMfefor. His books got very dusty, and his flowers were neglected. He cultivated the society of the boy in the day; and at night he was allowed to waft and talk in the garden with the girl On the evenings when he would meet the tpll, fair young man with his hair

parted in the middle, he would go back I to his own garden, and, sitting in a i dark corner of the arbour alone, meditate upon murder. " I uked him to give me four months free," aaid Cynthia one day in a burst of confidence, a tiny storm-cloud perched upon her piquant eyebrows, "and he contented; but here he is again!" "Four months free2 Consented? I don t understand," said the Bachelor. "Ob, of course,' agreed she. "Well,

I suppose if you're to help me at all, 111 have to tell you that we are engaged. You see, Reggie is one of the priacipal young men of our town, and is very well connected and all that, and he's considered to be very handsome. But he is cruel to persecute mo so. I began it in fnn when I was only sixteen, and he's vowed never to give me up. When he's near, I'm never myself. It isn't fair—that's why I asked him lor time to make up my mind." Tears welled into her purple eyes. "He's a cad and a poltroon!" said the Bachelor to himself between his teeth. And aloud: "But how can 1

help you, Jlios Cvmthia!" '' Why." she cried, with a -pice of •roguery, "on the days when lie', likely to turn ii)) —you sec. I dou'i know any men about here but you—you could take me .jut driving, or we lould go lor a long walk, or—well, you could sort of monopolise me, you know." "Von permit me a very' great honour." said the Bachelor briefly, kissing one of the little, brown hands.

The girl's April fact* cleared. **Aunt Jane suggested it,'- remarked she with a *mi!e. "By the way, sho wants to know if you found the muffingoo9 that she sent you this morning!' After that, in his friendship with Cynthia. tho Bachelor found himself minding his p's and •!*■* to an extent hitherto unbelievable. Actually, he altered the cut of his heard, brushed his ! hair another way. and walked with a) freer stride, all because she had men ted upon hi* former methods of accomplishing tlie.<M* things. Xnt only di 4 she bring him tip with a jerk of the* rein- alHiut ),i- Bachelor peculiarities but -In: arraigned hint for n«rt dom-p fulbr ju*»tU'C t«» hi- nunly abilities. <or leading a pi»r|M>*elei»* lite, in general. And no Uw> I'fdden summer vnro aa-tv. the ro*e* had given place to the dahlir»>. Another week and the cottage would lm de«ert"d. fn the twilight of the September cvcninir. the Rar*iclor rr«'pt up to hi- jii'.l diluted hi- m«jfleetei| honk®.

"We mu-t live without her." he .-aid Then )'<■ fa-vied !'•' «rfv hair hi Ms t I'tnidr rind lii- wilrfv broke: "Such a f.-..l .he .hi in" it." Up whisperrd. "su.-h an old. <>l.l fo..l!" A neal of r<M.-hed hi 11 thrnuch the own "imlow. Shown having fri»n.l- t'nt ewi.in" half.ido7en vonnf i ■<>''•■ tr-.m th- t..wo Win, . >ir 11... I?.-,.!..-'...-drmy the 1.1ie.! ' ■ -'"it .-of 111.- K'rrrv prone vi.nil. - lr- hie!'. VJP»on iiiL-. at tli" of lii^ Old. "1.1 book-.

About ten o'clock he heard the front bell ring. "The boy t'rom the cottage," sail Martha, comiug up to the den with ix frown on her brow. Sis wauti to net* you," explained the youngster-, who luid run up the two steps at a time. ** Her company"* t jusi gone, and—why haven't you be mi j j over tor nearly a week?' he asked eud- . deuly, .sticking his hands in his pockets. 1 ihe lxuljelor laid down hi* bouk. "Oh, because- "he smiled. M \V?il, you have all been bu-iy, and -?u have 1. I've had bulbs and other dry and commonplace things to atteud to." "Anyhow, bis suvs she wishes you'd run over for a little while. She gay* she cau't go to oed while tiie moon's shining so bright, and she wants your advice 011 something." The lSachelor came and stood in front of the boy. He put both hands on lii-j shoulders and gave him a little shake ••Did she say that—did she?" The boy looked at liiiu with sudden embarrassed understanding, and dim his I heels into the matting. -No wonder Cynthia couldn't go to sleep in the (ace of such beauty as this! thought the Bachelor, a, he stepped into her garden. The moon was making of '< the night-time a wonderful, silver dav. At that very moment, down the silvery path of dahlias tripped Cynthia. | Oh, Mr. C'harteris. you'll never guess ' what I've done,'' exclaimed she eon- 1 fusedly, motioning him to a seat on the rustic bench under the elm. "Ueg"ie was here to-night, and—l've promised * to meet and marry him in secret ne*t 1 week." ' 'J

"Heavens, child!" with a gasp. "You don't—don't want me to give you awsv or anything?"

"On the contrary, I want you to—to prevent it." She was nervously crushing the carnations that she wore in h»r belt. " You see, you lmd deserted Jne, and "

She alarmed him by bursting into a storm of tears.

" Little girl, I deserted you*!" llis voice was thick with suppressed emotion.

[ "'-M-h'm! Yes. you had. I missed your heljj and advice. There was nobody else to whom I dared speak of him —Aunt Jane hates him so. And you see, the four months are just lip. •<> to-night I determined to put an end to it all by promising to marry him next week. Oh, you can scold me, if you like. But, anyhow, he loves me more than anyone else does." The Bachelor drew himself away from her with a jerk. He walked as far as th<> dahlia bed. That cad—love little Cynthia better than—the idea was preposterous! Then he came back to the bench where she had begun to orv softly again.

"I see." she sobbed, "you have 110 sympathy with my weakness. Reggie is the only '

"Hang, Reggie! If 1 have to carry you off aud lock you up in a castle myself, he sha'n't get you.'' "O-oh!" cried the girl fervently.

It was a strange little exclamutioi. Involuntarily, the Bachelor's two hands wen! to each side of the oval of her face, and in the moonlight he turned it up to his. What lie saw there mailt; him utter a great cry. And the garden, glorified with the whiteness of the night, suddenly became to him the Garden of Paradise.

"You see, dear"—they were still sit ting together on the rustic bench, and she had not yet loosened her grip upon his hand—"l am really the very worst and boldest and maddest girl of your acquaintance. The real truth is, lteggie wasn't here at all to-night. So, of course, I didn't promise to marry him. I've rid myself of him :;!!• L'ether sin-'e you taught me what a poltroon he was. lie's even engaged to another girl! But —I sent for you to-ninht and told you that brazen story just bcause I knew that—that you cared for me, and that—that I'd have to help volt tell me so, you—vou dear Old Army."

For the first time in his life this li.it.nl prefix did not make the Bachelor flinch; lie squared his splendid shoulder.', and was strong in the consciousness of its manifest inappropriateness.

The neit morning, when Mr. Armitage Melville Charteris came down to breakfast, Martha eyed him curiously. ■' i'ou are old," she commented with the freedom of long service, "to look so gay." '•Old! Who said I was old'.''' cried lie. with a happy smile. " you'll be fifty-three your next birth (l.iv." pursued Martha drily. For a second the smile died out of the man's face; then he looked at the suuflooded elm in the neighbouring garden and laughed like a boy.

"Ob. Martha, you're wrong, you're wrong." he cried gaily, kissing her on her witliered cheeks, " I'm just twentvoncV