HEADS OR TAILS?

Waikato Argus, Volume IV, Issue 278, 23 April 1898, Page 1 (Supplement)

HEADS OR TAILS?

1 Marie,' I began awkwardly, for I had never proposed before ' you must know—you must have seen for a long time that—that—l love you." Mane said nothing, but sat looking down at her hands, which were twisting a bit of lace that she called a handkerchief. She was smiling beforo 1 began. She now looked dis ressod. I do not like for Marie to look distressed, for she then looks as if she wore going to cry. And a crving woman is not pretty. So for a minute I laid aside my own affair to comfort Marie.' ' Marie,' I began, venturing with much trepidation to lay my hand softly upon both of hers,' ' what's the matter V She looked up. Her lips were quivering, and a tear, balanced for a start, stood in each eye. ' T don't know what to do,' she whispered, brokenly. 'Well?' 1 said, inquiringly, inviting her to continue. She hesitated nervously for several seconds. Then she went on almost inaudibly :—■ * You see, Mr Transome told me last night what you told me just now.' ' Damn Transome 1 1 said to myself ; awd to Marie : J Well, Philip Transome is a" fine fellow, you know.' ' Of course.' said Marie, acquiescing a little too readily, I though", 'And he's good looking.' ' Yes.' ' And rich.' ' Yes.' This itemising a rival's good points to comfort the woman you love is rather straining on one's, generosity. It isn't so bad if the woman rewards your generosity, as of course should. But Mario didn't. So 1 stopped. 'Well, where's the trouble, then V I asked at length. ' I don't know what to do,' she replied, repeating her former wail. I began to see. It was hard to decide between two lovers. 1 could sympathise with Marie, for I had once been in a similar predicament myself. ' You don't know which of us to take !' I suggested, after a minute or two of silence, attempting »to put some sympathy into my voice. Marie did not notice the sympathy. She merely looked uncomfortable at this bald statement of the difficulty. But she did not deny it. ' You like me, don't you Y I ventured, with some fear in my heart. M-irie nodded. I felt very complacent. ' And you like Philip Transome: Y I continued. She nodded a second time. I believe I swore at Transome again. 'But you can't decide between us. Is that it!' ' That's it,' acknowledged Marie weakly. ' Y"ou have tried it every way Y ' I have, and I can't'—here Marie blushed, but it was a blush I did not like, because it was for Transome as much as it was for

! me —'and I can't tell which of you [ like the hotter.' The person who sits in tho scat of the undecided sits nob easily. This I knew. And any decision is better than no decision. This also I knew. So out of tho sympathy which I had for Marie I made up my mind to help her arrive at some decision, oven though I lost by it. But I did not intend losing if I could help it. I thought for a long time, but nothing came. Then I looked up at Marie. Her eye 3 were fixed expectantly on trie, as though she had instinctively learned of my intention to help her and was awaiting my plan. ' Well,' said I, seizing on an idea that just then popped into my head, ' since you have tried all other ways, suppose you toss up for us.' ' What!' exclaimed Marie, half starting from her chair. " Toss up for us,' I repeated calmly. Marie sank back in her chair and gazed at me in amazement. Marie's surprise at ray suggestion angered me somewhat. Of course I can understand that choosing a husband in such a way may seem a little queer to some girls. But thoy needn't act as though it were so unusual. Besides, there are worse ways. ' Toss up for you!' Marie managed to gasp out at length. ' Certainly,' I replied, with some asperity. ' Have you anything better to suggest V A reluctant 'No ' came from Marie. ' You'd better toss up, then,' I said decisively, drawing a quarter from one of my pockets and offering it to her. She took it and gazed at it for a long time. I began to grow impatient, for the coin was like any other of its kind, and I could see no reason why she Should study it. Then I saw that her look was the look of one that is thinking. Suddenly she raised her head and gazed steadily at me. And then a smile that I liked strangely well slowly came into her eyes. ' No, you do it,' she said, returning the coin. 'T don't know how.' We both stood up. ' Heads, it ie Transome ; tails, it is I V I suggested briefly. Marie nodded. I balanced the coin on my first finger. I felt sure of the result, for the man never lived who is as lucky as I am. I even began to pity poor Transome. But before this feeling had much opportunity to grow I flipped the quarter whirling into the air, and as it struck the floor placed my foot upon it. I looked at Marie. ' Which shall it be ?' I asked softly. ' You ' she whispered, I slipped my foot aside, and we both stopped. The laurel-wreathed head of liberty was up. ' It was Transome ! We both straightened up. I looked at Marie, and Marie looked at me. She was pale, and I could not have been otherwise. I had risked all on the turn of a coin—and it had turned the wrong way. Without a word, for I was not wise in the ways of woman, I walked out of the room, secured my hat in the hall, and started to open the door and go out into the street. As my hand was turning the knob something touched my arm. I turned aud looked round. There stood Marie, with a little smile—a little beseeching smile—on her face. ' Dick,' she whispered, and then was silent. I still held on to the door knob. ' Dick '—this time the smile was still more beseeching—' can't you see it 1 It's—it's you, anyhow.' I saw, and my hand left the door knob. And in the little excitement that followed I also may have kissed Marie. Such things, have happened-—'Times Democrat.'