Part 31 (1/2)
”Is my little girl going to be happy?”
”I don't know,” said Cinderella anxiously. ”There's just a chance.”
The chance must have come off, for, once in the carriage, Cinderella gave a deep sigh of happiness.
”Well, dear?” said her mother again.
”You'll NEVER guess, mother,” laughed Cinderella. ”Try.”
”I guess that my little daughter thinks of running away from me,”
said her mother archly. ”Am I right?”
”Oh, how lovely! Why, running away is simply the LAST thing I could do. Look!” She stretched out her foot-clothed only in a pale blue stocking.
”Cinderella!”
”I TOLD you they were too tight,” she explained rapidly, ”and I was trodden on by every man in the place, and I simply HAD to kick them off at supper, and--and I only got one back. I don't know what happened to the other; I suppose it got pushed along somewhere, but, anyhow, _I_ wasn't going under the table after it.” She laughed suddenly and softly to herself. ”I wonder what they'll do when they find the slipper?” she said.
Of course the King's son (or anyhow, Mr Hogbin) ought to have sent it round to all the ladies in Mayfair, taking knightly oath to marry her whom it fitted. But what actually happened was that a footman found it, and, being very sentimental and knowing that n.o.body would ever dare to claim it, carried it about with him ever afterwards--thereby gaining a great reputation with his cronies as a nut.
Oh, and by the way--I ought to put in a good word for the G.o.dmother.
She did her best.
”Cinderella!” said her mother at lunch next day, as she looked up from her letters. ”Why didn't you tell me your G.o.dmother was ill?”
”She wasn't very well when I left her, but I didn't think it was anything much. Is she bad? I AM sorry.”
”She writes that she has obtained measles. I suppose that means YOU'RE infectious. Really, it's very inconvenient. Well, I'm glad we didn't know yesterday or you couldn't have gone to the dance.”
”Dear fairy G.o.dmother!” said Cinderella to herself. ”She was a day too late, but how sweet of her to think of it at all!”
A LITERARY LIGHT
ANNESLEY BUPP was born one of the Bupps of Hamps.h.i.+re--the Fighting Bupps, as they were called. A sudden death in the family left him dest.i.tute at the early age of thirty, and he decided to take seriously to journalism for a living. That was twelve years ago. He is now a member of the Authors' Club; a popular after-dinner speaker in reply to the toast of Literature; and one of the best-paid writers in Fleet Street. Who's Who tells the world that he has a flat at Knightsbridge and a cottage on the river. If you ask him to what he owes his success he will a.s.sure you, with the conscious modesty of all great men, that he has been lucky; pressed further, that Hard Work and Method have been his watchwords. But to the young aspirant he adds that of course if you have it in you it is bound to come out.