A Slight Mistake.

Thames Star, Volume XVII, Issue 5203, 19 September 1885, Page 1

A Slight Mistake.

It was not the quantity he had taken— it never is; but that ridiculous mixing. So Snelling—he was a commercial traveller, returning to Peutonyille after a. fortnight's absence—agreed with himself. The sherry at Reetfqrd would quarrel with the brandy-and-water at Grantbam, and the bitter beer and whiskey at Peter* borough, and the glass or two of stout, with a nip of gie, on reaching town. Perhaps the contents of his own flask, and a bad cigar on the road, might hare helped ; but certainly when he reached bis own house be had to steady himself against the lamp post before going in. " She isn't there," he muttered, looking up at the lighted window of the little drawing room, which : at that moment showed several figures in silhouette. " Why, I'm hanged if she isn't eDjoying herself in the midst of a madding crowd in her husband's absence." With a spluttering Yesuvian,Mr Snell- | ing made certain of the brass.number on the door. No. 6it was. I A mixture of liquor always makes a key I turn rather hard, but at length Shelling got the door open. Cautiously, like an inebriated burglar, be entered, and he flopped into a chair in the lobby. Be would get his boots off, and steal quietly upstairs to bed. He wrestled with them and conquered ;- and sneaking along in his stockings, was supporting himself by the talusters, on the second step of the stairs, when the creak of an opening door sent him up at a headlong stumble. He could bear a voice—his wife's, he thought—complain* ing of the heat, and deep bass tones in reply. " Hot!" echoed Snelling, on the landing above ; " pretty cool, I should call it, that sort of thing, when a man's away. Who's that bassoon she's talking to, I should like to know ?" He was getting angry. Could this be his Nellie? If so, " Frailty thy name is woman !" I A chiU gust of night air came up the | stairs. "Holloa! they've opened the door at the back." Snelling was rapidly sobering. "They're going out into the garden. What shall Ido ?" He paused a moment, bemusedly considering. Then, " Hang me, if I'll have my wife perambulating by moonlight with a bass-viol! Perfect stranger to me, I'll swear !" Snelling had gone upstairs a lamb; he went down a lion. He flung aside his boots and his fear of detection together, and descended. There, as he bad guessed, was the door, open, and on the moonlit sward beyond he could see—Yes—Oh, misery!—that was his Nellie's favorite costume of white and scarlet! It was a caution to gardeners to see Septimus Snelling get over that somewhat limited lawn in his stockings. Like an overgrown Puck, he (ripped across flower beds and dewy grass. His uushod feet made no sound, and his wife and her companion talked on uointer* rupedly, their backs turned towards him. " What ought the back of an enemy to suggest to a brave manP" the jealous Bnelling aiked himself. "To me it s'ug-

gests a desire for loots] However, here goes." .„ „ , f ,._ .„„....;,;..^,.,, : ,,^-^.-~> ; , With this he poised himself the most emphatic kick he could under the cireuK* stances. A man can but do his best. The well-meaning Snelling did that—and he got his reward. The bass-voiced stranger turned on the instant, and, as he did so, our " commercial" saw more stars than were ever beheld by an astronomer. About the same time he sat down with commendable promptitude on the wet grass. The lady in scarlet and white gave a little scream, and Snellipg, as he took his astronomical observation, heard her cry: " Good gracious, Tom, it's surely little Mr Snelling, of No. 6 3" The prostrate Septimus opened his dazzled eyes and groaned. He was sober as a judge now. "And pray what does little Mr Snelling of No. 6,' mean by forcing his way into No. 9, and kicking me ?" asked the stalwart Tom. Snelling rose painfully. He felt he had made some terrible blunder. "If this isn't No. 6, he said, meekly* "I must be a wretched, drivelling lunatic, anh I authorise you to lock me up in the the nearest asylum', Miss Oakey. Pretty Miss Oakey laughed merrily. " Oh.that miserable number I" she said. " I told papa yesterday that something unpleasant would come of it if it wasn't looked to."

She fluttered on before them to the house, the scarlet ribbons that had deceived poor Snelling all awave. " Come, both of you," she said. "In three minutes I'll make you apologise to one another for your rudeness.''

As Snelling again looked at the unlucky brass number, this time with sober eyes, a light dawned upon him. "By jove !" he ejaculated. M It's as clear as glass to me now. The top screw of the No. 9 has come out, and the horrid figure has reversed itself into a 6." "Of course," smiled Miss Oakey, " and now, perhaps, you'll shake hands with" my brother Tom, who's only just come home from America, and—and tell us why you kicked him ?" Poor Sneliing ! he blushed like a bashful school-girl, and looked very uncomfortable as he told the story of his little mistake. When, at last, he had waded thoroughly through it, pretty Miss Oakey was sniggering behind her handkerchief, and brother Tom was one vast grin.

It was certainly very unpleasant for Snelling. Ten minutes afterwards, as be stood on the step of the veritable No. 6, he raised his hand to the calm night sky and registered a couple of vows }■ first, to quit a terrace where the houses were all alike and tbe locks were seemingly the same; and, secondly, henceforth to avoid mixing his liquors.