THE STORY-TELLER.

Waikato Times, Volume XXXIX, Issue 3201, 31 December 1892, Page 5 (Supplement)

THE STORY-TELLER.

' A TRAVELLING COMPANION.

Mr Cat.f.i; I'iitki.e. as lie sat in his eminently respectable Club, was in n very bad temper indeed. It was certainly annoying, and even a more patient temperament than Caleb's would have been rallied to no slight extent by the circumstance?. For fifteen years, as regularly as the procession of the seasons, had he been accustomed to spend the summer months travelling from one pleasant retreat to another, accompanied by his friend. General Boatman, K.C.H. , with whom his acquaintanceship dated from their Eton days, and with whom he was in that condition of thorough sympathy and accord which is the only sure tie between travelling companions. This year everything had promised for a trip of unusual pleasantness, and for weeks Caleb had gloated over the prospect, only at the last moment to receive a cheek in the shape of a letter from the General to say that the breaking out of old wounds prevented his being abV lo stir for six months at least. Caleb's cup of disappointment and chagrin fairly brimmed over. What was he to do ? He would rather not travel alone, and it was

now July, and the season was too far advanced fov liini to look for a travelling companion. Everyone he knew had already either left London or was on the point of so doing. In another week town would be absolutely empty; and as this ghastly certainty impressed itself on his mind he happened to glance out of the window, and surveyed the broad street with the pavement apparently as crowded as in the height of the Season. Perhaps others were in his own sad plight; may be some of those very passersby found themselves at the last moment bereft of valued travelling companions ; doubtless—and an idea flashed across the tobaccosoothed brain of Mr. Buckle, the very originalitj' of which caused him to gasp so that he swallowed a mouthful of smoke and indulged in a fit of coughing which completely spoiled the peaceful doze of the solitary waiter. Mr. Buckle's idea, however, was of too startling a nature to be acted upon at once; nor, indeed, did he fiud himself able at once to consider it calmly and judiciously in all its bearings. So he began to think of Sumethin<r else as hard

as lie could. In his case the " something else" resolved itself into a consideration of a disquieting epistle that lie had received that morning. Caleb, though a bachelor, stood in the somewhat anomalous position of guardian and trustee to his onlj' niece, a pretty girl of eighteen, who had always lived with her mother's people. She was the daughter of Caleb's younger brother, a former Colonel in a Cavalry regiment, who had provided that his daughter should be debarred from enjoying the fairly substantial fortune Lie was able to leave her should she marry before the age of twenty-rne without her uncle's consent. It was a provision of tho will which had never given Caleb the least uneasiness, but now here was his niece writing to tell him that she was engaged to be married to a young man of whom he had never heard, and that she counted upon receiving his consent as a matter of course. Now, Caleb was not only as selfish as men of his age and mode of life are apt to be, but he was also conscientious. lie felt that he could not grant his consent without careful inquiry into tho young man's antecedents and prospects, and this he knew would entail upon him a vast amount of bother and annoyance in any case ; and, possibly, should he disapprove of the match, a vast deal more.

made to himself were somewhat thickly uttered and incoherently composed. JTe had the sense though to know that lie had gone far enough, and in the final desperation of loneliness he picked up a morning paper from one of the lounges and vainly tried to read. He was about to throw the paper down and seek metal more attractive elsewhere, when a paragraph caught his eye and led him to read (it carefully over. "That'sh funny!" he murmured. " Seems to me I know tho addresh, an' yet I don' know who lives there!" And he read it over once more. Then a gleam of amusement caused the ends of the fair moustache to trend in an upward direction, and Lieut. Sotheran chuckled audibly. He chuckled as he drew out a dainty littlt note-book, and among a few betting hieroglyphics jotted carefully dowii an address which, he copied from the newspaper. He chuckled as he walked downstairs and indued himself with his overcoat and hat; and he continued chuckling as he directed the hallporter to call a hansom, into which with much solemn deliberation he stepped, and still chuckled. The direction that, with a regular explosion of good-humoured chuclclings, Mr. Charles Sotheran gave the. driver, led him no great distance from his starting point, for it was in one of the side streets leading from St. James's-street westward

that the cab drew up at the door of a small house of staid respectability. That the windows were all dark and even the ghost of a glimmer wanting in the hall, so far as could be seen through the old-fashioned fanlight, was a matter of no concern apparently to the fare, who, with a like deliberation to that with which he had entered, emerged from the cab, and, supporting himself by the iron railings which guarded the porch on either side, began to hammer steadily and forcibly with the knocker at the dingy old door. He banged away on fche defenceless door, playing popular airs, as though he were a performer in the regimental band; till at last his efforts were of avail. A first-floor window opened, and a very red face surmounted by a veiy white nightcap —for night-caps are still worn by elderly gentlemen in this year of grace 1892—was protruded therefrom.

" Who are you, and what the something or other do you want ?" growled the night-capped one. " Are you—" replied Lieutenant Sotheran, with a sweet smile, " or rather are your initials ' C. B. ?" " My initials are '0. 8., sir ; but what the dickens is that to you ?" " Then in Heaven's name come down instantly ! My business does not admit of delay." And so insistent was the visitor's tone that the head disappeared, and sundry sounds echoing through the empty house proclaimed the fact that the owner was making his hasty way downstairs. The door suddenly opened, and Lieutenant Sotheran, who was leaning against it, lurched forward somewhat precipitately into the hall; but he recovered himself, and, leaning against the wall, gravely contemplated the somewhat remarkable figure presented by Mr. Caleb Buckle, who, caudle in hand and attired in a garment of engaging brevity, stood glowering watchfully at him. " So you are '0. B. ? " queried Charlie, sweetly ?" " I am, sir ; and now what is the urgent business?" " And you inserted the advertisement for tho travelling companion in to-day's Times ?" "I did, sir; but you must be aware that this is no time to—"

" And you want someone to travel with you, do 3'ou, 'C. B. ?" went on his questioner, as though he had not heard the interruption. "I do, sir; but I should never dream, alter this outrageous intrusion " " Well, I hope you'll have a pleasant trip 'C. B.' I thought I'd come round, late as it is, to tell you " "To tell me what ?" cried the amazed Mr Buckle. " To tell you," drawled the other, " simply that I can't come! " And in another instant he was in the cab dashing down the street, while Caleb Buckle danced in impotent rage on the doorstep. " Yes, it wasn't a bad joke for a dull Johnnie like me to play off," said Mr. Charlos Sotlieran a year later to one of hi 3 fellow-officers. " But when I found out that the old duffer was my fiancee's uncle, and when he recognised me and rofused his consent io our marriage and when I think that we have to wait two years before wecau marry whj, I don't think it quite so rousingly funny as I did, don't you know !"—Vanity Fair.