THE GREAT HUSBAND HUNT

Ladies' Mirror, Volume 3, Issue 3, 1 September 1924, Page 47

THE GREAT HUSBAND HUNT

by MABEL BARNES-GRUNDY PART XII.

r F , IIAT he should have elected to go first for a wash was unpardonable, Miss Oakwood considered. “He saw that we were ready, yet he brushed past us with his towel and soap and sponge. You are going to have a more selfish husband than I imagined, Peronelle. I had always thought Martin a particularly considerate, unselfish young man, but — was that?” The sound of angry voices and the kicking of a door came to our ears along the corridor. “Why, it’s Martin! She tore out. I tore after her; and I noticed the people in the next compartment, aroused from their slumber, were peering through their windows. Martin, his face purple with temper, was shouting outside a door at the end of the corridor, rattling the handle and kicking the lower panels with his boot. “Come out of this, sir! Have you taken this place for good? Eemember there are other people on the train who will be glad of a wash. . . . What’s that?” (A sound of an aggrieved, choking voice from within. “You say you haven’t been five minutes! Well, I say it’s a lie!” ‘ ‘ Martin, Martin! ’ ’ Miss Oakwood had flung herseH upon him, reasoning with him, expostulating; but firmly, though gently, he pushed her away. ‘ ‘ Please don’t interfere. This gentleman, no, unmannerly cub, within, must be taught a lesson. I say, sir, are you coming out?” Again he assaulted the door with heavy kicks (several persons by this time had arrived with bulging eyes and open mouths to find out the cause of the disturbance). “Or are you not? If you’ve not finished having your bath in ten seconds from now, 1 shall summon an attendant. Please, Miss Oakwood, don’t interfere. This is my affair and not yours. This scoundrel must be made to understand there are other people in the universe besides himself. You are waiting, Peronelle is waiting. 7 am waiting. All these patient persons are waiting. ’ ’ “But,” reasoned Miss Oakwood, “there’s another lavatory at the other end.” ‘ ‘ That, too, is occupied by another blighted blighter.” “I beg your pardon, sir,” came a shrill voice from a pointed-nosed, freckled lady, whose head was tied up in purple tulle, “it is occupied by my daughter, who has not been there a counle.of minutes. I must ask you immediately to withdraw your most outrageous and unmannerly assertion. ’ ’ Martin apologised, and the freckled lady sniffingly withdrew. Again he attacked the door, and then nearly fell forward on to his nose as it suddenly opened and a furious-look-ing young man emerged and brandished his sponge in Martin’s face. “How dare you, sir?” ne shouted, “how dare you insult me in this monstrous fashion?” “Insult you! Why, your behaviour •’alls for more than words. If we

were not so unfortunately placed in the confined space of this train I should ask, nay, insist, upon settling it in a more practical fashion. In fact ” he squared his fists. “Martin, oh, Martin,” screamed Miss Oakwood, “don’t! You can’t fight here. What are you thinking of? And this poor young man hasn’t been very long. ’ ’ “I have not been five minutes, madam, I think your friend, if friend he is, is demented.” The young man’s nostrils dilated with suppressed anger, and his face was scarlet. “I have never been so insulted in my life, never, and for two pins I would give him in charge when we reach Paris. “Oh, don’t! Let me entreat you! It would be terrible I” In her emotion Miss Oakwood pressed her sponge-bag to her eyes. “Believe me, Mr. Synge is usually most peaceable and polite and considerate to everybody. I cannot imagine what has come over him.” To my dismay I saw Martin’s lips begin of a sudden to quiver and his chest to heave, and then the young stranger’s did the same, and 1 knew they were threatened with laughter. Each turned his back on Miss Oakwood, and I shivered with apprehension. Were they going to give the show away? Miss Oakwoou was staring anxiously at Martin’s back. I believe she thought he was about to have a fit, the result of his outburst of passion. “What is it?” she inquired. “Martin, what is the matter? Are you ill?” In a rather shaky voice Martin answered: “I think I am. This has been rather too much for me. I must sit down. He staggered toward the carriage, and with an expression of immense relief, Miss Oakwood followed him. The young man, with one look at me, disappeared as fast as his legs would carry him, the audience melted away, and I went and had a wash. The only comment Miss Oakwood made to me about the affair was that she thought Martin had temporarily gone off his head, another phase of his queer moods, another distressing result of the War. “I had a serious talk with him, and he was very penitent and ashamed. He said he felt ho could not bear that you and I should be kept waiting, that he had conceived the idea I was a little impatient as a travellerl suppose because I was annoyed at the waiter refusing metea —and so forth, and the very thought of that poor young man keeping us standing in the corridor made him ‘see red.’ I believe he has apologised to him, but the whole affair has been very distressing. I only hope he won’t give way to these sudden gusts of temper with you. I replied that 1 sincerely hoped he wouldn’t. Her behaviour throughout the remainder of the journey was so exemplary that Martin and I were quite touched.

. I make my Confession IT was over. I had screwed up my courage between Dover and London, and told them my reason for taking a companionship and going to Mentone. For some moments they sat round-eyed, open-mouthed, and stared at me. They stared till my pulses beat convulsively, my chest heaved, and I felt as though a stream of liquid fire had poured into my cheeks, staining them as scarlet as a pillarbox. How were they going to take it? “Oh,” I cried at length, “say something! Don’t look like that. I know how you must feel and think, but just say it, or —I shall sob.” And Martin then, regardless of Miss Oakwood, and with an “Oh, my dear, my dear!” took me in his arms and kissed me. And then if he didn’t fall into laughter, and if Miss Oakwood didn’t join him, and if they didn’t laugh so Martin’s convulsive movements actually caused me to bob up and downthat I felt compelled to join them, and we all laughed together! It was Martin who was the first to regain control of himself; mopping his eyes, ho murmured: “I know you he the death of me some day, Peronelle! ’ ’ Miss Oakwood agreed. “And all for the sake of supplying her with an endless succession of silk stockings. To think you have been caught for that! Deliberately hunted, pursued, caught, landed, Martin! And she looked so innocent.” “I know. Those eyes, that air of ingenuousness, that candid manner! And all the time she was viewing me through a foreground, a setting, a background, a framework of silk stockings! And when silk stockings possibly palled through their übiquitousnessl can conceive that the mental eye might tire even of silken hosea thousand pounds has filled the visionary outlook.” “And you, like the proverbial pound of tea, have been thrown in, as a husband, because the other two—the stockings and thousand pounds —would have been unobtainable without you,” chipned in Miss Oakwood. “Poor Martin! I’ve heard of the cup of humiliation being drunk to the dregs, but this ... ! ” “I know,” he sighed. I said nothing. They continued in this strain, till, becoming bored, I essayed to get up, but Martin clutched at me. “And you have nothing to say—no apologia ? ’ ’ ‘ ‘ None. ’ ’ “You’re hardened, just hardened! ” “Yes, if you like to put it that way. ’ ’ “What other way can it be put?” “Any other, because it’s not true. I’m not hardened. I’m not even ashamed. I am ashamed that I accepted Uncle Tom’s challenge and went out to Mentone solely to look for a husband, but I’m not ashamed of what happened after.” “And what did?” “I met you. I could hunt no longer. I wrote to tell Agatha so.”

“You mean ? ’’ Martin’s bantering, teasing manner fell away from him as his eyes looked into mine. “I learnt to love you. ’ ’ For a moment my gaze met his unflinchingly, then my eyelids drooped. Oh, my dear one, ’ ’ he whispered, ‘ • and to think how nearly I lost you ! ’ ’ Softly, upon some pretext or other, Miss Oakwood slipped out into the corridor and left us to ourselves. But for the remainder of the journey every now and again she broke into gentle little chuckles, and only ceased when she met my eye. The Winner of the Prize 7E were seated, the four of us — W Agatha, Eleanor, Honesty, and — (this, it will be recollected, was how my story opened) in the drawingroom, around a wood fire, as the April evening was chilly. Agatha was patching, not a camisole on this oceason, but a fine lawn nightgown, which had “gone” beneath the right arm. Eleanor, clad in the weird, straight, green tea-gown, stood, as of old, in front of the fire, and we all wished she wouldn’t. Honesty, reclining on the couch, was knitting a new kind of jumper, unattractive in colour, but of a better shape and less lumpy than those she had been accustomed to knit, and I was doing nothing. It was between six and seven. I had arrived at four o’clock. Martin and I had taken an early train down from town; we had stayed the previous night with Miss Oakwood at her house in South Kensington. At the junction, a couple of stations' before Silvertarn, I requested him to get out and come on by a later train. There was one at halfpast six, which would enable him to reach us in time for dinner. “I want to tell them alone,” I explained. He rather demurred. What was he to do, he demanded, for over three hours by himself? “Why, go for a walk,” I said, firmly. Our country is lovely, and look at the spring green. If you liked you could walk over to Silvertarn across the moors, and your luggage could come on by train. Goodbye!” Laughingly I waved and kissed my hand to him as a porter banged the door, and he was left disconsolate on the platform. Now the great moment had arrived, or nearly arrived. Uncle Tom, after tea, had gone out as usual with the dogs, informing us he would be back between six and seven, “to hear our confessions. ’ ’ Eleanor and Honesty had returned the previous day. On hearing of my impending arrival, he had summoned them home. “As you both are returning,” he had written, “you might as well come at once, and get the disturbance of a family reunion and settling-in effected at one go. ’ ’

To this they made no demur. They were pining for home. Uncle Tom, it appeared, had refrained from questioning them anent their matrimonial prospects till my return. “We will get it over all at once, take you each in turn. I could not stand the ploughing up and harrowing of my feelings twice, ’ ’ Agatha told me he had remarked, with a twinkle, and when Eleanor said they had nothing to tell he merely whistled and marched away in a hurry. My heart, I must confess, was beating a little excitedly as I watched the hands of the clock, and the moment in which I was to make my momentous announcement came nearer and nearer. My cheeks became hotter and hotter, and my head seemed to swim. Asking the others if they objected, I opened a window, and a scent of cool, sweet wallflowers was wafted into the room. Putting my head out, I drank it in, while trying to compose the words I should use when telling them that Uncle Toni’s Prize would be mine. I would say, ‘ ‘ The thousand pounds I care not a jot about. It’s the man that matters, and oh, he is nice! You will all love him, and I am so happy! ” “Peronelle, I wish you’d shut that window. It downright cold, and there’s an awful draught.” It was Eleanor, of course, who spoke, and she sounded cross. course ” I retorted, drawing in my head, but my sentence remained uncompleted, for Uncle Tom had arrived. He sat in his old corner of the couch. I sat as close to him as I could get. This time he did not repulse me and' jerk me over to the other end ; indeed, he allowed me to snuggle under one of his heathertweed arms. One is always kind to people who are newly returned. Agatha continued her patching, Honesty her knitting, Eleanor to block the fire till she was requested by all of us in a breath to sit down. “Now,” said Uncle Tom, and he beamed upon us, “here we all are again! Aren’t we?” As this statement was incontrovertible, none of us spoke. “And very glad I am to see you. I may mention I’ve missed you. ’ ’ We thanked him. “Following the usual precedent, Agatha being the eldest, I should question her first as to her matrimonial prospects, but, seeing she has never left this house for a night since your departure, and knowing that not a single young man has crossed this threshold but Mike in the same period of time, I think we may safely rule her out of the running for my prize—eh, Agatha girl?and pass on to Eleanor. ’ ’ “By the way, where is Mike?” I inquired. “He returned home, poor chap, yesterday, to make room for you girls. We enjoyed having him, didn’t we,

Agatha, and I think we managed to cheer him up. Now, Eleanor, speak up. Any young man in tow?" "No. And, as I think you are all quite aware, I didn't go away to search for one, so it is no disappointment. The very idea was repugnant to me—horrible!" ' Honesty and I looked at each other and smiled; Eleanor caught it and became indignant. "It's true. I went away for a change of scene and to see how I liked work. I don't like it—at least, not work amongst goats and hens. T stuck it out for the sake of Mrs. Barton, who was not a had sort. I never saw a young man >" "What about the one in corduroys gentleman, who, you said, was rather attentive to you?" inquired Agatha, gently. "He was not a man; he was an agricultural text-book that had materialised. One evening he talked to me for a solid hour of phosphates." Her scorn was intense. "I would rather be single for ever than listen to a man talk of phosphates." In our hearts we agreed with her. It seemed a dull subject. "So I take it you have not secured a husband?" Uncle Tom's face was very grave, but I, being so close to him, detected the twinkle in the corner of his eye nearest to me. "No," she snapped, and if to secure one, as you so crudely and horribly put it, he has to be hunted, I shall remain Eleanor Dobson till I die. Even in the twentieth century there are a few girls left with some delicacy and refinement of feeling, I'm proud to say." In her vehemence she had again stood up ' and was blocking the fire, and once again we begged her to sit down. "Humph!" observed Uncle Tom, but in so quaint a manner I had difficulty in suppressing my laughter. "Now, Honesty, you come next." "Nothing doing!" Evenly she continued her knitting. "I told you

so. The Dobson nose is too much for any young man. A mouth one may alter, eyes, or their expression, one may alter, hair one may alter, but a nose is a fixture. Always it is there, immovable, immutable, never varying but in tint." She sighed, and we sighed in sympathy. "I received one small attention from one young man during the whole of my stay in Liverpool. I choked in a ward, and he offered me a jujube. He was a medical student with a propensity to colds, hence his jujube equipment. I don't regret my experience; it has taught me the value of my home." Luxuriously she nestled down amongst her cushions. Then Uncle Tom turned to me, and, with the inquiry: "And what has Peronelle found?" he pinched my cheek, My moment had come, but I could find no words to speak, so suffocating were the beats of my heart, so mad was the racing of my pulses, They awaited my reply. Agatha put down her nightgown, Honesty her jumper, Eleanor, who was about to poke the fire, sat with the poker arrested in mid-air, Uncle Tom, on the point of altering the position of his legs, didn't alter it. They continued to wait, immobile they sat, attentive. Suddenly I laughed, and the joyousness of the sound, the happiness, the triumphant note it contained, startled even my own ears, and I felt ashamed. How could I give vent to such exaltation in the face of Eleanor's and Honesty's admitted failure? It was heartless of me, cruel. 1 must subdue my ecstasies, I found my voice, and succeeded, if not actually rendering it lugubrious, at least free from elation; Agatha, Eleanor and Honesty should bring no charge of unmaidenly and immodest puffed-upness against me. Casting my eyelids down, I said: "Your prize has been won, dear Uncle Tom. I'm going to be married

to the man I’ve referred to once or twice in my letters Martin Synge.” ‘ ‘ Martin Synge! ” I wish it lay in my power to express in words the varied intonations of my cousins’ voices and Uncle Tom exclamation of; “ Great Jupiter!” I nodded. “You said he was engaged!” “You said you were too busy to pursue any man.” “Oh, Peronelle darling, I am glad! ’ ’ Thus Honesty, Eleanor, and Agatha. “He was engaged. I did not pursue him. Thank you, Agatha.” They sat staring at me till their astonished senses returned to them. Then Uncle Tom began to laugh, and his big shoulders heaved up and down, causing me to heave with him. Finally he raised my chin and planted a hearty kiss upon my lips. At this all my power of restraint went to the winds, and I just let myself go. ■ “Isn’t it too lovely, darling?” I whispered. “I am so happy I can scarcely bear it. You can’t imagine what Martin is like. He’s too wonderful, and I love him so! “Speak up, commanded Honesty from the other couch “it silly to whisper it all into Uncle Tom’s ear. We’ve got to hear about it, Peronelle, sooner or later, so it might as well be now. Are you really speaking the truth, or are you ‘having us on’?” “The absolute truth!” Disengaging myself from Uncle Tom arm, 1 got up and stood before them. “Martin teas engaged to a very beautiful girl named Elisabeth Jefferson, so beautiful that when you came to look in your own glass you nearly cried as you thought of —and she is just as nice as she is beautiful. But Martin and she discovered they did not love each other enough to get married, and Martin does love me and I love him, so we’re going to be married.” “And where is he?” Eleanor asked.

“He will be here in less than an hour. He is walking over from Little St. Martha. I wanted to arrive alone, and that we should be by ourselves round the fire with Uncle Tom while we told him of our—our experiences. And while we are about it I have something else to tell you, something not nice, and I hope you won’t be too hard on me. Uncle Tom already knows part of it ” “One minute, interrupted Agatha. “Do you say Mr. Synge will be here in time for dinner?” “Yes.” “And will stay the night?” Of course; several, I hope. Agatha rose and rang the bell. When Rachel appeared, she gave instructions for an extra cover to be laid and the spare room to be prepared. “Now,” she said, “go on.” But I found it more difficult after .this interruption. Before I was wound up; now such practical directions as to hemstitched linen pillow-cases, and opening a tin of peaches to help out the sweet, dried up the words on my lips. “Well,” I said baldly, “I lost a hundred pounds in gambling at Monte Carlo, and I nearly went off with a man to Paris least, I didn’t nearly go, but I might have gone, and probably should, but for you, Agatha ’ ’ “I?” She looked white and scared, and as for the others. . . . ! Bits of their bodies lay about the room, so to speak. “Yes.” I had usurped Eleanor’s place and was standing with my back to the fire, confronting them defiantly. I didn’t feel defiant. I felt like crawling to Uncle Tom and hiding my face on his chest and begging him to forgive me, but, without the assumed defiance, 1 knew I should never get through with it, never tell them all the wicked part of my story till I

eventually arrived at Martin and happiness. “Yes,” I repeated, “you, Agatha, because of your own goodness. All the time I was gambling CHILI doing things with —that was the man’s namel knew I shouldn’t, you danced before my eyes. I got quite tired of you, Agatha; always I could hear your voice and your wise advice and your admonitions, always I saw you doing nice, unselfish things and thinking about me, while I . . . Well, never mind. Here I am safe and sound and undeservedly happy, while you ” I stopped in consternation, for I saw that Agatha’s eyes were full of tears. “What’s the matter?” 1 asked. “Don’t! ” she cried, holding up her hand. “Don’t say things like that, for they are not true. I’ve not been thinking of you lately. My thoughts and heart were very occupied with somebody else my future husband, for I, too, am engaged to be married. I ought to have told you at the beginning, but you passed me over. She looked at Uncle Tom with a smile hovering in the corners of her mouth. “You said you knew that 1 was out of the running, and so you passed me over, and I bided my time. I am engaged to be married! I can scarcely believe it myself, but it’s true.” I don’t know who pronounced the words “To whom?” but somebody did, faintly, as one speaks with lungs deflated and holding one’s heart, but distinctly; and when Agatha softly replied, ‘ ‘ Mike Thaxted, ’ ’ a silence fell upon the room, and only the ticking of the old grandfather in the corner could be heard for quite a considerable interval of time. “I know about you and Mike,” continued Agatha presently, addressing me. “He told me he’d asked you to marry him” —she ignored Eleanor’s and Honesty’s separate —“the night that Uncle Tom challenged us to find husbands. ’ ’

“He didn’t care a rap about me. “No,” agreed Agatha, evenly. *• He did it to save you from some other man. ’ 1 “I know. He offered himself to me out of pure altruism. It was very kind of Mike. I was grateful to him, though his relief at my refusing him was rather unflattering. I’m glad he’s going to be your husband, Agatha. He deserves a nice wife.” I went across and kissed her, and warmly she returned it. “I’m so glad about you and Martin.” She whispered several other loving things into my ear, till Uncle Tom broke in. “May I speak now?” he asked. “Have you two quite finished? Because, if so, I’d like to get in a word. You seem entirely to forget I am here —l, your uncle and guardian, and who can refuse admittance to either of these fellows you calmly announce are to be your husbands. I’ve been trickedyes, tricked, and I’m not feeling too pleased about it.” He glowered at us, or tried to glower. 1 ‘ Here has Agatha, the quiet, shy, modest, retiring Agatha, got engaged right beneath my very nose and said not a word about it. Deceit, I call it, deceit!” “But you might have seen had you looked. ’’ “Looked! My eyes can’t be everywhere, and I was busy with Peronelle, answering anguished telegrams, receiving anguished letters. ’ ’ He got up and walked testily about the room, the dogs walking after him. 11 But aren’t you pleased ?’ ’ Agatha got in front of him and placed her two small hands — only takes a five and a half glovein his, and looked up into his face. He hesitated, then smiles irradiated his dear countenance, and with an “Of course I am, Agatha girl. I love Mike as much as if he were my own

son,'- he stooped and gave her a resounding kiss. • • Agatha won the prize, and not I! I became engaged to Martin on a Thursday at four o'clock in the afternoon, Agatha to Mike at two o'clock of the same day. She beat me by a couple of hours, and I think I was more pleased than she. When Uncle Tom handed a cheque to her for £I,OOO we all clustered about her like bees, and hummed. Agatha! A thousand pounds! Mike! A rich husband! And she patched

nightgowns! One was rolled in a bundle in her arms now! She stood, a grey-clad modest figure, a smile on her sweet face, happiness in her eyes. ''You don't mind, Peronelle?" she whispered. "Mind!" I replied, as I nearly hugged the breath out of her body, "I mind nothing on earth now I've got Martin." "I think," said she, "I hear him coming. Mike, too, will be here for dinner." They came into the house together. (The End.)