Jill the Reckless

dition out of theplace. Sensitive to atmosphere, he had found his share in the dinnera little trying. It had been a

rkfor the evening, like her husband's, was over. Presently what istechnically called a "useful girl" would come in to wash the dishes,leaving the evening fr

e?" she asked, following

this ear, smelt it, clipped off the end, and lit it. He took thedeca

ght', I don't think. I wish you'd have had my job ofwaiting on 'em, Ellen, and me been the one to stay in the kitchensafe out of it all. That's all I say! It

than a stalled ox and 'atredtherewith,"

rds?"Parker shook h

nd goggle.""How did her ladyship seem to hit it off w

f strange dogs watching

all that was pleasant andnice-spoken. She's al

eap about in theirseats and make me spill good wine. (You'll see the spot close bywhere you're sitting, Ellen. Jogged my wrist, he did!) I'd like toknow why people in the spear of life which these people are in can'tbehave themselves rational, same as we do. When we were walking outand I took you to have tea with my mother, it was one of thepleasantest meals I ever ate. Talk about 'armony! It was alove-feast!""Your ma and I took to each other right from the start, Horace,"said Mrs Parker softly--"That's the difference.""Well, any woman with any sense would take to Miss Mariner. If Itold you how near I came to spilling the sauce-boat accidentallyover that old fossil's head, you'd be surprised, Ellen. She just satthere brooding like an old eagle. If you ask my opinion, MissMariner's a long sight too good for her precious son!""Oh, but Horace! Sir Derek's a baronet!""What of it? Kind 'earts are more than coronets and simple faith thanNorman blood, aren't they?""You're talking Socialism, Horace.""No, I'm not. I'm talking sense. I don't k

. I wouldn'tcare, only you can see the poor girl is mad over the feller. What shefinds attractive in him, I can't say, b

ker s

teruse than advising the guv'nor to lock up the cigars and trouser thekey, I'd be better pleased. If there's one thing I can't stan

at came from. Out of evil cometh good," said Parkerphilosophically. "If the guv'nor hadn't been in such a overwroughtstate tonight,

heatre, it is remarkable that dramatists everfind it possible to divert and entertain whole audiences for a spaceof several hours. As regards at least three

ng the records for an adequately gloomyparallel to the taxi-cab journey to the theatre which followed it,one can only think of Napoleon's retreat from Moscow. And yet

tainedthree tickets for "Tried by Fire." The unexpected arrival of LadyUnderhill had obliged him to buy a fourth, separat

he thought of beingseveral rows away from Lady Underhill had restored Freddie'sequanimity like a tonic. It thrilled him like the strains of somegrand, sweet anthem all the way to

e final issue, itwould do at least one night's business. The stalls were ablaze withjewelry and crackling with starched shirt-fronts; and expensivescents pervaded the air, putting up a stiff battle with the plebeianpeppermint that emanated f

her. The worst,she told herself, had happened. She had met Derek's mother, andDerek's mother plainly disliked her. Well, that, as Parker would havesaid, was that. Now she j

beyond the curtain. T

into her seat, and slipped her hand into Derek's. Shefelt a glow of happin

was unfolding on thestage. It was one of tho

es over the audience at anopening performance when it realises that it is going to be bored. Asort of l

o much plot. Tonight he seemed to have fallen avictim to that spirit of ambition which intermittently attacksactor-managers of his class, expressing itself in an attempt to provethat, having established themselves securely as light comedians, theycan, like the lady reciter, turn right around

miliar brand of goods to hispublic, had dropped his customary debonair method of delivering linesand was mouthing his speeches. It was good gargling, but badelocution. And, for

y one other seat in the row, and, as Derekhad placed his mother on his left and was sitting between her andJill, the latter had this seat on her right. It had been empty at therise of the curtain, but in the past few minu

tter of insincere applause from the stalls, echoed in thedress-circle.

hat do you think of it?""Too awf

ir and a humorous mouth. His age appeared to be somewhere in themiddle twenties. Jill, in the brief moment in which their eyes met,decided that he was ugly, but with an ugliness that was ratherattractive. He reminded her of one of those large, loose, shaggy dogsthat

that somewhere shehad met this man or somebody very like him before, but the impressionvanished. She also had the impre

aisle until it was clear that LadyUnderhill's attention was engaged elsewhere, had occupied a seat inthe row behind which had been left vacant temporarily by

topping musicalcomedies, I feel like kicking myself with some vim. But, honestly,how was I to know? I never dreamed we were going to be let in foranything of this sort. Portwood's play

evolted. A voice from thetomb could hardly have shaken him more. All the traditions to whichhe had been brought up had gone to solidify his belief that this wasone of things which didn't happen. Absolutely it wasn't done. Duringan earthquake or a shipwreck and possibly on the Day of Judgment,ye

mayas well be toddling back. See you later and so forth."And with

le in front. She turned to the man on herright. She was not the slave to etiquette that

d him!" she s

't it!"It was Jill's turn to be start

He didn't seem to know you.""These are life's tragedies. He has forgotten me. My boyhood friend!""O

citedly. "But _I_ used tolive near Freddie in Worcestershire myself when I was small. I knewhim there when he was a boy. We must have met!"

dit ofmy parents that they let me grow up. It would have been so easy tohave dropped something heavy on me out of a window. They must havebeen tempted a hundred times, but they refrained. Yes, I was a greatpest around the home. My only redeeming point was th

?" asked the man

"Youaren't Bobby Morrison?""I am not. What is more, I never was!"Ji

nosyllable in the language." He looked at herthoughtfully. "It's odd how little you've altered in looks. Freddie'sjust the same, too, only larger. And he didn't wear an eye-glass inthose days, though I can see he was bound to later on. And yet I'vechanged so much that you can't place me. It shows what a wearing lifeI must have led. I feel like Rip van Winkle. Old and withered. Butthat may be just the result

I feellike getting up and making a public apology.""But . . . Oh

the present moment, it may be that life holds some happiness for methat's worth waiting for. Anyway I'd rather not be torn limb froml

Besides, why should I care? Let 'em suffer. It's their ownfault. They _would_

ite_ the play?

ve me!""I mean, I wouldn't have said . . .""Never mind. You didn't tell me anything I didn't know." The lightsbegan to go down. He rose. "Well, they're off again. Perhaps you willexcuse me? I don't fe

g to the programme, is John Grant. Never heard ofhim before. Jill, I wish you would not talk to people you don'tknow," said Derek with a note of annoyance in his voice. "You cannever tell who they are.""But . . .""Especially with my mother here. You must be more careful."The curtain rose. Jill saw the stage mistily. From childhood up, sh

object to her chatting with a friend of her childhood, even if she

to produce any juvenile Jo

become almost continuous. The stalls, supported by the presence oflarge droves of Sir Chester's personal friends, were strugglinggallantly to maintain a semblance of interest, but the pit andgallery had plainly given up hope. The critic of a weekly paper ofsmall

ut you never know. Call no evening dull till it is over. Howeveruninteresting its early stages may have been, that night was to be asanimated and exciting as any audience could desire,--a night to belook

ress-circle sniffed. Floating up, it smote the silentgallery. And, suddenly,

lisp, who had been listening in a perfunctory manner to the longspeech, screamed loudly. The voice of an unseen stage-hand calledthunderous

t Jill's elbow, "what the play needed!" The