FICTION.
KRIS-GIRL.* Ix her now story Miss Beatrice Grimshaw has deserted New Guinea, the scene of her most thrilling romances, for a region more in touch with the amenities of civilization—the Dutch East Indies. We travel on sumptuously equipped liners, visit palatial mansions, and are entertained by bejewelled hostesses, arrayed in ultra- Solomonian glory. But the magic and glamour and savagery of the East are there all the while—hurricanes and volcanoes, gorgeous scenery and luxuriant vegetation, natives who alternate between genial indolence and spasms of homicidal mania. The romance of these islands and those seas is not forgotten ; Miss Grimshaw lays on her local colour with excellent effect and from firstehand obser- vation. But there is this great difference between her method and that of Mr.-Conrad, that in his Malayan romances the natives are often the-central:figures, and oven the Europeans are acclimatized —sometimes half denationalized. Here the principal -personages are birds of passage or travellers, not interpreters of the magic of the East, but often in abrupt and violent contrast to it. We are not complaining of Miss Grimshaw's method, -but pointing out its limitations. As for the story, it tells how an Englishman, bound for the Dutch East Indies on business, was marooned on the Celebes with two -fellow-passengers—a young lady and her companion— and was drawn into their orbit with results which were agreeable, exciting, and romantic. Why Cristina Rape was called the Kris- Girl and why Mrs. Ash accompanied her may best be set forth in the words of John Garden, the narrator. It should be explained that their steamer had suddenly departed, and that the trio had been hospitably entertained by the Australian widow of a Dutch planter: " Next afternoon, the sulkies came round again, and we started off for -what proved to be a fairly extended drive, along a shaded
• forest track. The place was full of magnificent butterflies, like floating flowers ; parroteepainted in all the colours of Joseph's coat, flew squawking in and out of the trees ; once and again a furry, mocking little monkey face peered down and disappeared. It was atrociously hot, but Mrs. Ash, whom I was driving, looked as dry • Eris-Cirl. By Beatrice Grimshaw. London: Mills and Boon. [Gs.] and cool as a chi pp More in order to make conversation than any- thing else, I askeerher what site had thought of the rubber plantation. Didn't look at it,' she said woodenly.—` Don't you like that kind of thing ? ' Tasked..—` My good man,' replied the old lady, in a sudden spate of communicativeness, ' I like London, Kensington, coal fixes, and concerts at the Albert Hall.'--`..Then why—' I began.—` Because one must earn ones salary honestly. 'Play the game, as they say now-a-days. It's in the job. Seeing things, I mean. Liking them isn't in the bargain. I hate 'em. Hate moun- tains, lakes, castles, Swiss railwasys, gondolas, Buddhist-ruins, mines, plantations, savages, hate steamers, hate:hotels, hate travelling:— Good gracious ! ' was all I found to.say.= Rut I'm honest,' she went on. I'm paid -well, and I earn it. I'm worth any money. You can't get a chaperon like me now-a-days. There aren't any real old ladies left. . . . •Cristin.a knows-I'm worth_all she can give. It's not in the job that-I'm to take an interest, but.I have to go and see, with her. Seen the Kremlin, Taj Mahal, Bore Bodeor, Rio Harbour, Pyramid", Sphinx, Niagara, Victoria Falls, wistaria festival in Japan, Chinese. New Year in Canton, Brittany Kermesse, Panama Canal, Midnight Sun. Don't remember twopence-ha'penny- worth of the lot, don't want to. Been out hunting nasty tigers on the back of a nasty elephant. Been camping in -disgusting. damp jungles full of dirty lions. Got two more years of it, and then I'll go baok to my decent home in Kensington, and buy it—own-it—live there. Never take a ticket as far as Brighton again.'—` Why two years ? 'I asked.—` Cristina wants to travel for five, and we've only done three,' was the mystifying answer.= -What's that for ? I asked unashamedly ; and Mrs. Ash, biting her words off as we bumped faster and faster in chase of the sulky ahead, replied : Wouldn't tell if I knew, but I don't. Some fad. Cristina can be close. I respect her for it. Everyone knows about her fiancé's dreadful death three years ago—bitten by a reed dog, and died snapping and howling. She doesn% take it as well as you'd think. even yet. Never has that ring off, night or. day, in her bath or out of That curious old ring, like a long marquise ? Yes. Chinese toceringreally. I've never seen her without it.; she had it -when we first met. She started travelling just after he died, and nothing can stop her since. Five years I'm engaged for, and I'll go through with it, if it kills me. She pays well. And she's a good girl. And as for cleverness, she's got a great deal more than any girl's got any business to have.'—` Why do they call her that odd name ? I was utterly ashamed of myself, but could not stop asking questions.- ` The Kris-Girl? Malay name ; she's become quite celebrated since we began travelling, for what the natives here call cutting knots. Give Cristina something to disentangle that nobody else can make head or tail of, and see her cut it clear with a sweep. She's won- derful. Ought to have been a diplomat's wife—or a detective's. Or something in a circus ; sho can juggle with her hands as well as with her head. But I don't hold with any of it. In my time, girls who had-lost their lovers stayed at home, and-took an interest in the poor. A great deal more sensible, and more refined, too. But Cristina's parents are dead, and she does as she likes.' "
The sequel resolves itself into a series of episodes, in every one of which Cristina solves the problem or saves the-situation—whether it be the union of a pair of lovers kept apart by a will, or the discovery of hidden treasure, or the laying of a ghost, or the foiling of an incendiary Dyak. It is all told with great spirit, and Miss Grimshaw —herself -a daring and adventurous traveller—proves her broad- mindedness by enlisting our sympathy and respect for Mrs. Ash, who had hitched her home-keeping wagon to the meteoric Cristina, and, though her heart was always yearning for Kensington, uncom- plainingly adapted herself to the most exotic and disconcerting surroundings.
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