Substitute

By L. A. PAVEY.

T was to be a tremendously important afternoon, and for a wonder it seemed that, people were very anxious that he and Helen should make a proper im- pression. He couldn't remember that what he thought About anybody, during the whole of his years, had ever mattered except once or twice when it had made people laugh, or say, " How quaint of him ! " Still, he supposed you didn't often get a new Mummie—at least it hadn't happened to him before. 'Course it hadn't, 'cos it was only a year since he'd had one. And it seemed shorter than that, for the housekeeper had let him do all sorts of things he'd never done when Mummie was in the house. But it hadn't been so much fun, he'd found, as he thought it would. He'd rather have had Mummie. When he'd been listening one night and hadn't been noticed, his aunt had been calling her careless and wicked and all sorts of things, and telling his father to have nothing more to do with her ; and he'd gone up to her and cried, " She's not ! She's not ! " And it had startled them ever so. But lie couldn't understand why Mummie didn't come to see him and Helen. She'd always seemed so warm and loving and lovely ; yet his father, who hadn't been at all like that, stayed with them. It was one of those wrong things that grown-ups would never be able to explain to him, even if they wanted to.

It would be terribly difficult having a new Hominic after you'd got used to one. She would look and sound and feel altogether different, he thought. But perhaps she wouldn't bother him very much if he was polite....

She was very tall and gracious when she Caine, and be and Helen were very shy. But he began after a time not to be so shy because—and this was a 'straordinary thing he'd never known happen before, his father was really shy and nervous, too, and kept looking at him and at Helen and back to the lady (the new Mummie, he cor- rected himself quickly, as he'd been told to). But just as he was listening specially politely to what she was telling him about her house and garden he suddenly re- membered how he'd always refused to speak to strange ladies when he'd been with Mummic and how she'd laughed at him (that nice, slow laugh of hers, with a kind of tinkle in it) for a " little goose." And tears came into his eyes and lie had to choke them back. He could sec his father didn't like that a little bit, and the new Mummie (she wasn't really yet, but they had to think of her as that because she was going to be so soon) had got rather red and flustered.

Afterwards he watched her so closely that he noticed every time she looked at him, even when she thought he didn't ; and he could even sec when she was trying to make up her mind abOut something or other. Then she would say—almost whisper—little things to his father,

or ask him something he didn't seem to want to answer very much. He could see she wanted Daddy to think much more of her than he ought.

She had brought a big box—bigger than he'd ever secn —of the most lovely sweets, not ordinary chocolates at all, and he took one out of politeness every time lie was asked to. As for Helen, she seemed to bins to have all eyes and ears for the lady—the new Mummic—and he

began to think, with a burning shame for her, that she must almost have forgotten the old one, who he was sure, with a sudden passionate upwelling, he would never forget as long as he lived.

Critically, with still face, he watched the new Mummic's face soften into a smile as she looked in his direction.

But he wasn't deceived. That was too easy, he thought.

She could go on doing that every minute. And he could see her wondering at the back of her stalk how she could manage him—why couldn't she leave him alone ? Why didn't she just come -to see him and Helen, if she liked Daddy, and not pretend to be a Mummic at all ? She wasn't a Mummic. Mummic had done all sorts of things he was certain she couldn't have done—sung him to sleep, told him the most wonderful stories (there was one long one she'd never finished, and -which he knew this one couldn't if she tried). It was no good her pretending that she was smiling in the right way—but—but it was puzzling to see Daddy liking it, because he hadn't seemed to bother when his real Mummie had been jolliest-

" I expect," she was saying, "that Johnnie does quite hard things at school now. Big multiplication sums, I darcsay, don't you, Johnnie ? "

Johnnie ! And he was John, always, and no more ! And how could he be expected to answer when he could see she only just meant him to think she minded about him and his 'rithmetic! He knew she didn't really. She was just a grown-up, a strange grown-up, saying things, and she oughtn't to be trying to be their Mummie at all.

If only it didn't make him so uncomfortable inside, so that he could hardly keep himself from bursting right away out into the garden ! He could feel his foot tapping.

If she hadn't been there, Daddy would have told him sharply not to fidget. And if only Helen was on his side—but you could never tell with is girl ! She kept laughing and chattering away, just showing off, as she always had done when anybody strange came into the house. She must have forgotten what she'd said to her real Mummic once, " Sometimes I have a realize, and when I do have a realize it's a big realize, how good you arc, Mummie ! " or she'd never have been able to go on like this with any new Mummie in the world. They'd both loved the little bits of Mummie at the corners of her mouth that had laughed at them when they said things she liked, but this one's mouth seemed to be nearly straight, although she kept on smiling.

There was Daddy telling her about the time when he, John, had said to Helen she could jump on him if she kept off his tea and his funnybone, there, she was laughing at that ! He hated her laugh, hated it ! She mustn't laugh at things between himself and Helen and Daddy ! There was Helen laughing too—he'd feel the tears inside himself soon, he knew he would. ...

They'd never know any more than himself how he'd managed to keep polite up to the time she'd gone. But he had, quite polite, and had said good-bye very nicely.

Helen had gushed, of course. Daddy hadn't said a word to them afterwards, but had gone off somewhere, looking

ever so sad and thoughtful. He knew somehow Daddy wouldn't dare to ask him how he liked his new Mummie, whatever he asked Helen It was agony to lie there in bed that night and not,

somehow, be able to cry about it. If only 3funuide were here to tell—If she had been, you silly, there wouldn't be this new one . . . .

What was that ? That was Helen, he thought. Yes! Was she—was she crying ? Oh, he hoped she was, and that she really cared ! He opened the door, and listened, eager-eyed. Helen was sobbing, sobbing, " Oh Oh ! " He went to her door, and tiptoed in like in the old days, and crept in beside her.

" Oh, John," sobbed Helen, " she doesn't smile right ! " He cuddled her tight, trying to keep brave himself now. That was it, she didn't smile right. But he didn't mind so much now they were both in it.