SELECTION FROM "THE BLUNDERS OF A BASHFUL MAN."

Wairarapa Daily Times, Volume 5, Issue 1288, 27 January 1883, Page 4

SELECTION FROM "THE BLUNDERS OF A BASHFUL MAN."

(By the Author of "A Bad Boj's Diary.") HB GORB TO A. TEA-PARTY. The widow Jones got her stockings the next day. As I left them at the door she stuck her head out of an upper window and said to me that "the Sewing Society met nt her house on Thursday afternoon, and the men-folks was coming to tea and to spend the evening, an' I must bo sure an 1 come, or the girls would be so disappointed," and .Bhe urged and urged until I had to promise her I would attend her Booiable.

Drat all tea-parties! say I. I was never comfortable at one in my life. If you'd give me my choice between going to a tea-party and picking potato-bngs off the vines all alone on a hot summer day, I should'nt hesitate a moment between the two. I should choose the bugs; and I can't say I fancy potato-bugs either. On Wednesday I nearly killed an old lady through putting up tartaremetic for cream-of-tartar. If she'd eaten another biscuit made with it she'd have died, and I'd have been responsible. Father was really vexed, and said I might be a lighthousekeeper as quick as I pleased; but by that time I felt as if I couldn't keep a lighthouse without Belle Marigold to help me, and so I promised to be more careful, and kept on clerking. The thermometer stood at 80 degrees in the shade when I left the store at five o'clock on Thursday afternoon to go to that infallible tea-party. I was glad the day was warm, for I wanted to wear my white linen suit, with a blue cravat and Panama hat. I felt independent even of Fred Hencoop as I walked aloiif; the street under the shade of the elms; but the minute I was inside Widow Jones' gate, and walking up to the door, the thermometer went up to Somewhere near 200 degrees. There were something like a dozen heads at each of the purlor windows, and all the women's heads at that, Six or eight were peeping out of the sitting-room, where they were laying the table for tea. Babbletown always did seem to me to have more than its fair share of female population. I think I would like to live in one of those mining towns out in Colorado, where women are as scarce as hairs on the inside of a man's hand. Somebody coughed as I was going up the walk. Did you ever have a girl cough at you I—one of those mean, teasing, expressive little coughs. I had practiced—at home in my own room—taking off ray Panama with a graceful, sweeping bow, and saying in calm, well-bred tones: " Good evening, Mrs Jones, Good evening, ladies. I trust you have had a pleasant as well as profitable afternoon." I had practiced that in the privacy of my chamber. What I really did get off was something like this—,f Good Jones, Mrs Evening. I Bhould say, good evening, widowsladies, I beg your pardon," by which time I was mopping my forehead with my handkerchief, and could just ask, as I sink into the first chair I saw.

"Is your mother well, Mrs Jones 1" which was highly inopportune, since the said mother had been years dead before I was born. As I sat down, a pang sharper than some of those endured by the Spartans ran through my right leg. I was instantly aware that I had plumped down on a needle, as well as a piece of fancy.work, but I had not the courage to rise and extraot the excruciating thing. I turned pale with pain, but by keeping absolutely still found that I could endure it, and so I sat motionless like a wooden man, with a frozen smile upon my features, Belle was out in the other room, helping set the table, for which mitigating circumstances I was sufficiently thankful. Fred Hencoop was on the other side of the room, holding a skein o£ siik i'ui Sallie Brown. He looked across at me, smiling with a malice which made me hate him. Out of that hate was born a stern resolve I would conqupr my difficence; I would prove to Fred Hencoop, and any other fellow like him, that I was as good as he was, and could at least equal him in the attractions of the fair sex.

There was a pretty girl sitting quite sear me, I had been introduced to her at the picnic. It seemed to me that she was eyeing me curiously, but I was mad enough at Fred to show him that I could be as cool as any-body, after I got used to it. .1 hemmed, wiped the prespiration from my facecaused now more by the needle than by the heat—and remarked, sitting stiff as ft ramrod, and smiling like an angel: "July is my favorite month Miss Smith—is it yours ? When I think of July I always think of strawberries and cream, and ro-oh-oh-ses I" It was the needle. I had forgotten in the excitment of the subject and had moved. " Is anything the matter 1" Miss Smith tenderly inquired. " Nothing in the world, Miss Smith. I had a atitch in my side, but it is over now." "Stitches are very painful," she observed, sympathisingly. " I don't like to trouble you, Mr Flutter, but I think—l brieve—l guess—you are sitting on my work. If you will rise I will try and finish it before toa." No help for it, and I arose, at the same moment dexterously slipping my hand behind me and withdrawing the thorn. "Oh, dear, where is my needle?" said the young lady, anxiously scrutinising the crushed wool work. I gave it to her with a blush. She burst out laughing. . " I don't wonder you had a stitch in your side," she remarked, shyly. " Hem 1" observed Fred, very loud; " do you feel 6ew-sew, John f Just then Belle entered the parlor, looking as sweet as a pink, and wearing the sash I had given her. She bowed to me very coquettishly and announced tea.

"Toobad,"continued Fred; "you have broken the thread of Mr Flutter's discourse with Miss Smith. But I do

not wish to inflict mdlt-lm p»fo) »o I -will not betray him," ~ ' ' ~~~ '• I hope Mr Flutter is not in trouble again," said Bolle,.quickly, "Oh no. Fred is only trying to say something sharp," said I. j " Come with me, I will take caro of, jrou, Mr Flutter,'] said Jelle, taking my arm and marching ih'e out into the sitting room, where;' a;. long table was heaped with inviting eatables. She sat me down.by her, Bide and I felt : j comparatively safe. But Fred and Miss Smith were just opposite, andj they disconcerted'me. , ■. " Mr Flutter," said the hostess, when it came to my turn," will you have tea or coffee T' " Yes'm," said I. <•' Tea or coffee 1" "If you please," said I. , " Which," whispered Belle. " Oh, excuse me, coffee, ma'am." " Cream and sugar, Mr Flutter]" "I'm not particular which, Mrs Jones." _• " Do you take both f she persisted, with everybody at the table looking my way. ' ' " No, ma'am, only coffee," said I my face tho color of the beet pickles.; She finally passed me a cup, and in my embarrassment I immediately took a swallow and burnt my month. " Have you lost any friends lately 1" asked that wretched.Fred, seeing the tears in my Ryes, I enjoyed that tea party as geese enjoy pate de foil gras. It was a prolonged torment under the guise of pleasure, I refused everything I wanted, and took everything I didn't want. I got a back of the cold chicken; there was nothing of it but bone. I thought I must appear to be eating it, and it slipped out from under my fork flew into the dish of preserved cherries. We had strawberries, lam very partial to strawberries and cream, I got a saucer of the berries, and was looking about for the cream when Miss Smith's mother, at my right hand, said: "Mr Flutter, will you have some whip with your strawberries 1" Whip with my berries! I thought she was making fun of me, and stammered—"No, I thank you;" and so I lost tlie delicious, frothy cream that I: coveted. The agony of the thing was drawing to a close. I was longing for the time when I could go home and get some cold potatoes out of mother's cupboard. I hadn't eaten worth a cent. Pretty soon we all moved back our chairs and rose, I offered my arm to Belle, as I supposed. Between the sitting room and parlor there was a little dark hall, and whon we got in there I summoned up courage, passed my arm around my fair partner, and gave her a hug, " Ygu nm't, ko bashful as you look," said she, n . i stepped into the parlor, and i luiu.d I'd been squeezing Widow Jones's waist. She gave me a look full of languishing sweetness that scared me nearly to death. I thought of Mr Pickwiokand Mrs Bardell. Visions of suits for. breaches of promise arose before my vision. I glanced wildly «puml in search of Belle; she was hanging on h young lawyer's arm, and not looking at me. " La, now, you needn't color up so," said the widow coquettishly: " I know what you young men are. She said it aloud, on purpose for Belle to hear. I felt like killing her. I might have done it, but one thought restrained me-I should be hung for murder; and I was too bashful to submit to so public an ordeal. ; I hurried across the room to get rid' of her. There was a young fellow standing there who looked about as outrof-place as I felt, I thought' I would speak to him. • "Come," said 1, "let us take a little promenade outside—the women are too much for me." He made no answer. I heard gigling and tittering breaking out all round the room, like rash on a baby with measles. "Come on," said I, "like as not they're laughing at us." ■ " Look-a-here, you shouldn't £peak, to a fellow till you've been introduced," said that wicked Fred behind me. "Mr Flutter, allow me to make you acquainted with Mr Flutter. . He's anxious to take a little walk with you." It was so; IhacLbeen talking to myself in a 4ft looking-glass. ' ' I did not feel like staying,for the ice-cream and kissing plays, but had a sly hunt for my hat, and took leave of the tea-party about the eighth of a second afterwards.