Papurau Newydd Cymru

Chwiliwch 15 miliwn o erthyglau papurau newydd Cymru

Cuddio Rhestr Erthyglau

17 erthygl ar y dudalen hon

OUR SHORT STORY.I

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OUR SHORT STORY. I MAKING POPPA PAY. I By RADCLIFFE MARTIN. I For two years Arnold Wilkins had been engaged to Doreen Angus. It was a good, old-fashioned, tennis-club engagement. II the Government wishes to send up the mar- riage rate it will scatter tennis-courts over the land. Almost any girl looks marriage- able in white with a green sward back- ground. Mrs. Angus, who had planned the engagement months beforehand and had commented bitterly on the slowness of the Wilkins man, wept happy tears of surprise when the engagement was announced to ber. Mr. Angus did not weep. Under the pretence of taking the young man to look at the kitchen-garden he catechised him severely about his position, income, and pro- spects, and cautioned him that he must save his money. On principle, said Mr. Angus gravely, he strongly objected to a father paying for the furnishing of hie daughter's future home. All went well for two years. Arnold saved his money, dined with the Anguses every Sunday, and sat with his beloved either in the drawing-room or the summer-house two nights a week. Gradually friends were beginning to realise that the wedding-pre- sent era had arrived. The young couple's unpopularity was consequently rising to its aenith. Arnold Wilkins had spoiled his Sunday trousers by wandering through the lime-pit entrenchments builders leave round half-iinished villas. The happy hour was surely approaching, when the Rev. Pon- sonby Clyne was appointed to the curacy of the parish church. When it became known that dear, dark-eyed Mr. Clyne had in- herited ten thousand pounds from an aunt, and consequently had a great career in the Church before him, the interest of the young ladies in the parish work rose to fever heat. When Arnold Wilkins objected to attend- ing evensong every night on the ground that it cut short his courting evenings, she promptly broke off the engagement. She said she could not possibly marry a man who had no respect for the Church. The jilting came like a bolt from the blue to Arnold Wilkins. His engagement had become a habit, and it is a terrible thing for some men to break off a habit. There was a certain coldness shown to him by his acquaintances. All at once consolation came to the afflicted youth. He remembered that he had three hundred pounds saved. Instantly be became more lavish in his expenditure. He exchanged his third-class contract for a first-class. He dropped his pipe and took to smoking excellent cigars. He often took taxis home from the station in the evening. He displayed a partiality for half-guinea stalls at revues. He joined the most expen- sive golf-club in the district. He even in- dulged himself in a fur-lined overcoat, which people guessed must have cost fifty guineas, and actually cost twenty-five. In the meantime the curate was sympa- thising with Doreen Angus. He was given every opportunity. He was almost as regular at their supper table as she was at the Church services. Then one fatal evening there came a note from the curate stating that he had been offered a chaplaincy abroad, and would have to leave at once without even having time to say good-bye to his best friends. Mary Angus, who was at the candid flapper age, made the unfortunate remark, "You've missed him, after all, Doreen, and I'd bet Nellie Higgs a. box of chocolates you'd nab him by Easter," and was in- stantly sent to bed supperless for using grossly improper language. Then there came a dreadful silence of a month. It was broken by a postcard from the curate to Mr. Angus, saying how much he enjoyed his new life. Mr. Angus looked ominously across the table to Mrs. Angus. A few weeks later came another message from the curate saying that he was en- gaged. It would be a privilege to introduce his fiancee to the dear friends who had shown him such an ideal picture of married life in his first parish. "Well. I'm-" said Mr. Angus, adding » participle which ought to be excised from the vocabulary of churchwardens. "The idea," exclaimed Mrs. Angus. "Wanting to bring a girl here whom he can't have known long, and yet has got engaged to. She shall not come under this roof. I always thought him a very hot- headed, foolish young man, and I don't doubt now that he has ruined his life." Doneen Angus said nothing, and her flapper sister, feeling that the loss of break- fast would be a serious thing, suppressed the scathing comments that were on her lips. That night, as Mrs. Angus brushed out her hair, she remarked to her husband: "I think Doreen was a little rash in the way she treated young Wilkins." "What I thought all along," replied her husband, "but I wasn't allowed any say in the matter. Here you have a decent young fellow, good salary and prospects, and that silly girl throws him over for a fad." "I never like to contradict the dear girl, but I had grave doubts." "He must be doing very well. Men dop't buy overcoats as women buy fur coats. They are not such /fools. It means money. It's a pity they can't make it up." "I think you might make a point of being very polite to him." "I ddilt mind that, but I'm blessed if I'm going to ask him to get engaged to Doreen again. That's not a mans job. Two or three days later Mrs. Angus acci- dentally—she had missed him on the pre- vious evenings-met Arnold Wilkins as he came home from business. "Oh, Arnold!" said Mrs. Angus, bursting into tears. "What's the matter, Mrs. Angus?' said the startled youth. "I know Doreen would never forgive me if I said a word; but, Arnold, the poor child is breaking her heart. Just in a rash moment, because she was tired of waiting to be married, she ruined her own happi- ness." "Do you mean to say-" began the youth. "Not for worlds would I violate a daugh- ter's confidence, Arnold, but if you saw her—— No, I must not say another word. Confidences, you know. Good evening, my dear boy." That evening, strangely enough, Doreen was at the tennis club, and as she was going home alone met Arnold at the gate. In two minutes they were engaged again. When they reached the Angus's house the young couple received a hearty welcome. After supper, Mr. Angus took Arnold out for a smoke in the garden. "Look here, my boy, now you've got over this little hitch—which was a great grief to me, but there's no accounting for women -what I say is that you should get married at once. There's nothing like a marriage for settling a girl. Don't you agree with me that's the best courser1 "Yes, sir," said the youth, a trifle un- So the next day it spread all over the suburb that Arnold Wilkins and Doreen Angust were reconciled, and that the mar- riage was to take place at once. Malicious ladies remarked kindly to Mrs. Angus, 1 do hope that you'll be able to get dear Mr. Clyne back to marry them. It would be so nice, considering what friends Doreen and Mr. Clyne were." Only after a day or so Arnold Wilkins ap- proached Mr. Angus. "We've got the house, sir, but there's one little difficulty about the wedding." "What is it, my dear fellow?" "Well, you see, sir, I thought that the engagement was off altogether." "You don't mean to say that y<u've been carrying on with someone else?" "Oh, no, sir; but having no particular reason for saving money, I stopped saving it. In fact, I blued all my money in. I don't quite see how we are to furnish." Mr. Angus made bitter speeches on the rash folly and inexperience of youth. He said he had never heard of anything so preposterous in the whole of his life before. But the wedding was forthwith an. nounced. Something had to be done at once, however, and the miserable and un- happy Angus had to furnish the house im- mediately for his prospective son-in-law. Yes, they are quite happy in one of those canary-creeper, square-porch, white-painted houses. Mrs. Wilkins kisses her husband proudly as he starts off to business in the only fur overcoat in the row. Happy, too, is Mr. Wilkins, as he sits opposite his bride in the evenings, and reflects cheerfully that not only has he gained the girl of his heart, but he has never had to spend a single cent on house furniture.

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