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diff --git a/78216-0.txt b/78216-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fe7157a --- /dev/null +++ b/78216-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3844 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78216 *** + + + + + Transcriber's Notes + + Italic represented by underscores surrounding the _italic text_. + + Small capitals have been converted to ALL CAPS. + + + + + THE DASHWOODS + + + A SEQUEL TO + “ON AN AUSTRALIAN FARM” + + BY + STEELE RUDD + (A.H. DAVIS) + AUTHOR OF “On Our Selection;” “Our New Selection;” + “Sandy’s Selection;” “Back at Our Selection,” &c. + + _With Fifteen full-page Illustrations by Claude Marquet_ + + N.S.W. BOOKSTALL CO., LTD. + SYDNEY. + 1920 + + _All Dramatic and Picture Rights Reserved._ + + + + + _Copyrighted, 1911 by_ ALFRED CECIL ROWLANDSON, + _26 Cremorne Road, Cremorne, and 476 George Street, Sydney,_ + _Australia_. + + + Wholly set up and printed in Australia by + John Sands Limited, Sydney. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER I. Page. + STAUNTON, JUNIOR 1 + + CHAPTER II. + IT WAS WILL 21 + + CHAPTER III. + THE FAMILY VISIT THE THEATRE 34 + + CHAPTER IV. + THE SHERIFF’S FAITHFUL MAN 60 + + CHAPTER V. + A LEADING BARRISTER 87 + + CHAPTER VI. + MEETING McCLURE 104 + + CHAPTER VII. + JAMES AND PETER ATTEND CHURCH 122 + + CHAPTER VIII. + IN THE PUBLIC DOMAIN 132 + + CHAPTER IX. + PETER IN THE BREAKERS 143 + + CHAPTER X. + HOME AGAIN 154 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + + Page. + IN THE SALE ROOM 13 + + A BREACH OF FRIENDSHIP 25 + + AT THE THEATRE 41 + + MARIA’S BABY 51 + + DEALING WITH THE JUDGE’S ORDER 65 + + IN THE WRONG BOX 85 + + ONE IN THE MORNING 91 + + “BOOTS O!” 99 + + MCCLURE’S HAT 109 + + DUNCAN APPROVES 117 + + THE CHURCH COLLECTION 129 + + “NOW, THEN, SPOFFORTH!” 135 + + “GUESS WHO!” 141 + + IN THE BREAKERS 151 + + PETER’S LATEST 161 + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +Staunton, Junior. + + +The Dashwoods had been a full week in the great metropolis. Each day +they visited different localities, and each day fresh wonders and +glories were revealed to them. + +They all enjoyed the city—all but Mrs. Dashwood and Maria. The former +tired of it after the first day, and saw nothing to enthuse about. +There was nothing real, nothing natural there, to appeal to her homely +spirit. In her heart she longed to be back at “Fairfield”—longed to +be amongst the fowls, and the ducks, and the dairy cows, and to see +again the great wheatfields, and the blue peaks of the ranges, and vast +plainlands stretching far away to the boundless west. But for the sake +of the others she endured, without complaint, the stuffy, noisy, dirty +streets of the artificial city, with its crowds of jostling humanity. +She even pretended to share the joys and excitements of her family, and +almost ran her legs off chasing trains and trams to please and humour +them. An unselfish mother was Mrs. Dashwood, who lived to make life +light and bright for those around her. + +As for Maria, she liked the city “right enough,” but nobody, she +reckoned, “could see anything, or go anywhere in peace with a blessed +baby to look after.” And one day, when in extreme distress about the +infant, she threatened to leave the encumbrance at home with its father +the next time she came to town. To which resolution Tilly fervently +said “Amen,” and fired Maria’s family pride. She flew into a temper, +and proceeded to call Tilly names, and to remind her of things she +did when at school, but Mrs. Dashwood intervened in time to save the +situation and preserve the family name. + +“Well, Ah baint be goin’ weth yow to-day,” old John informed the +family at the breakfast table, “mah old friend, Robert Staunton, has +herd we’re dahn, an’ writes sayin’ as he wants to see me perticler. He +called twahce a’ready, but we moost abeen aht soomewheres he thenks.” + +Mrs. Dashwood wondered how the Stauntons were getting along. + +“They roons a produce place soomewheres,” old John answered, “but Ah +don’t know wheres exactly yet, Eliza.” + +Hailing a waiter scurrying past with two trays of “returned empties” in +his hands, old John questioned him. + +“Staunton & Staunton, Solicitors?” interrogated the waiter. + +“Hoh! hoh! hoh!—Noh-h,” laughed old John, “none o’ thet kidney. He be +too honest for thet; Robert’s a big man—bigger’n _me_; an’ his wahfe’s +a big woman. Theey’re both old friends o’ ahn—ever since theey coomed +to th’ coontry, and——” + +The waiter was impatient and broke in on old John. + +“Well, there are several gentlemen in the city bigger than you, sir,” +he answered, “but I’ll enquire at the office,” and away he glided. + +“Ah-h,” muttered old John, “Ah-h!” + +Tilly and Polly followed the flunkey’s flying coat-tails with their +eyes, and smiled. + +“A wery erbligin’ young man thet be,” said old John, “wery erbligin’.” + +“When there’s half-a-crown put into his hand, father. Ha! ha! ha,” from +Peter. + +“Well, Ah dedn’t give ’n no half-crahn, lad,” replied the parent, in +defence of the waiter. + +“No, but I did, yesterday,” from Peter. + +James looked up quickly, and stared at his brother as at one who had +suddenly gone out of his mind. Tilly and Polly opened their eyes in +wonder, and exclaimed simultaneously: + +“_You_, Peter?” + +James struggled hard to suppress his merriment. + +“What, _yow_ gin him half-a-crahn?” old John asked, in astonishment. + +Peter nodded, but deemed it wise to offer no explanation. + +“Did you give it to him in mistake for a penny, Peter?” Tilly asked, +with a nasty giggle, in which the others joined. + +“No,” Peter answered; “a gentleman was leaving in a cab yesterday, and +he left it with me to give to him,” and he let off a laugh that made +even those at the most distant table look up. + +Tilly and Polly and James felt ashamed of their brother, but old John +saw only the joke. + +“Wery good,” he said; “yow hed ’n all thet tahme, lad, yow hed ’n raht +enoof.” + +They finished breakfast. + +“Well, we’re going for a trip in the _Kangaroo_ to Bung Island,” Tilly +said, rising; and speaking for the female portion of the party; “I +don’t know what James and Peter intend to do.” + +“I’m off again in that train that goes to America,” Peter said, with a +cheerful chuckle. “It’s the best fun of th’ lot.” + +“To Amerikee?” old John repeated curiously; “yow’ll want summat to go +theer with, lad.” + +“Well, I want a couple o’ shillings, anyhow,” Peter said, glad of the +chance to apply for some more funds. “I haven’t a sixpence left,” and +he turned a pocket of his vest inside out. + +Polly and Tilly accused Peter of imposing upon the good nature of +their parent, and declared he hadn’t spent a shilling of his money. + +“H’m!... Ah-h,” said old John, thoughtfully, then turning to his other +son: “An’ where be yow goin’, James?” + +“Oh, I don’t know,” James drawled, “I mightn’t go anywhere.” + +“What’s the use of asking _him_, father?” Peter said, with a grin, +“he’ll be off to spend the day again in the Art Gallery, gaping at +those old mares with their heads and tails cocked, squealing for their +foals. ‘The Cry of the Mothers’; isn’t that what it is called, James” +(grinning at his brother). “He looked at it for two hours yesterday.” + +James treated his brother with contempt. + +“Oh, well,” Polly said, fumbling with her gloves, and glancing round +to see that no outsiders were listening, “when James goes home, Peter, +perhaps he’ll be able to paint a picture of a donkey with its ears +cocked, which he’ll call ‘The Bray of the Brother.’” + +James treated his brother to a broad grin, while Peter forced a short +“ha! ha!” and rolled his eyes about. + +“She wer’ too smart for yow thet tahme, lad,” old John said, with a +broad smile. “Too smart!” and, rolling his serviette into a heap, he +rose and led the way out. The others followed in single file. + + * * * * * + +The meeting of old John and Robert Staunton, the burly produce dealer, +was a strenuous and boisterous affair. They greeted each other like two +roaring lions conducting a courtship. Their handshake was an exhibition +of strength and endurance. + +“Blest if I ever saw you looking so well, John,” Robert hollered, +caressing the plump hand of his country friend and looking into his +eyes. “Why, you’re got up like a Suffolk Punch.” + +“Ah-h,” rejoined old John, “An’ Ah’ve sin wus Clahdesdales nor yow, +Robert. Hoh! hoh! hoh!” + +Then they “hoh-hoh-hoh-ed” together, and hit each other on the back, +and rocked about, and finally adjourned to the “Lounge” room, of which +they soon became the sole occupants. + +“Oh, Ah’ve been adoin’ well for a long tahme, now,” old John said, in +answer to the other’s enquiries about his welfare. “Seasons baint be +lahke ’n were in olden days, Robert. Markets are fairish, now, an’ +lan’s gone oop won’erful. People on th’ lan’s doin’ pretty well, an’ +they’ll do a lot better yet. There be soome as be a bit frahtent, tho’, +o’ th’ Labour Party an’ th’ Lan’ Tax, but——” + +“But surely _you_ don’t believe in a Land Tax, John?” Robert broke in +in tones of surprise. + +“Ah _do_, then, Robert,” was the answer, “an’ Ah thinks it’s what’ll +make th’ country all round—anyways, thet’s how it seems to me.” + +“For the life of me, John, I can’t see how it’s going to do anything of +the kind. How can it, when it’s going to tax the farmer right off his +land?” + +Old John laughed. + +“Robert,” he said, tapping his friend on the shoulder, “thet’s what th’ +noospapers tells yow, them as will have to pay for theer footin’. But +don’t yow believe ’n. They only wants th’ farmer to fight theer battles +for ’n. No, no-h, th’ Lan’ Tax won’t hurt th’ farmer what _farms_, +it’ll _help_ him. But the one as don’t farm, but sits on the land lahke +a dug in th’ manger, will have to skedaddle and make room for him as +wants it; an’ where theer be only one farm now, theer will be three +or four bahme-by, which will all mean, Robert, thet theer will be a +lot more produce for yow to sell on commission, an’ a lot more boots +an’ shoes an’ tea an’ kerosene sold by th’ storekeeper, and a lot more +drays and waggons and horses used up. Anyway, thet’s what it all seems +to me, Robert, but if yow can show as it waint be thet way, well, Ah’m +prepared to listen to yow.” + +But Robert held no views other than what he had already briefly +expressed. + +“Well, of course,” he said, slowly, “if they don’t touch the small +farmer, it will be all right, I suppose. And if, as you say, it will +mean more produce for me to sell, well, then, John, I’m with it all the +time,” and he laughed cheerfully. + +“Yow be a hopportunist, then, Robert,” and old John laughed on his own +account. + +The conversation turned to family affairs, and, according to Robert, +two of his daughters were married and living happily with their +respective husbands on allotments in the suburbs. Another, Mary Ellen, +was only “engaged,” and was employed in the “fancy” department of one +of the large establishments. + +“But, Will, my eldest boy,” he went on, “I’m not sure what to make of +him. I’d like him to take to the land if he would; but I wanted to get +your advice about him first, John, before putting out money in a farm +for him. You see, I don’t want to find out that he’s not fitted for it, +or that it’s not fitted for him, when it’s too late. I want to be sure +beforehand.” + +“How old be ’n?” asked old John, with the air of a medico inquiring +about the constitution of his patient. + +“He’s getting on for twenty,” Robert answered, “but to look at him, +I’m blowed if you would think he was more than fifteen,” and added, +with a look of pride in his eye, “all our youngsters look a lot younger +than they are, though. You remember how young and frisky my old father +looked at seventy-five, and who would ever think that I was getting on +for fifty?” + +“Fefty,” soliloquised old John; “Ah thought yow wer’ a lot more ’n +thet, Robert.” + +“Get away with you,” and Robert worked back to the merits of his son +Will. + +“Is ’n any size?” inquired old John. + +“Well, of course you know,” the other answered, “youngsters brought up +in the town don’t grow like they do in the country.” + +“H’m! Ah-h,” reflected old John; “an’ have he a lahkin’ for farmin’?” + +“A liking!” and Robert laughed a grim sort of laugh. “Th’ blinded +young scamp, he hasn’t got a liking for anything except billiards, and +football, and hanging round street corners at night.” + +Old John shook his head gravely. + +“Well, my attitude in the matter is this,” said Robert; “I was thinking +if I could only get him on to the land with someone, someone who would +work the devil out of him, and, at the same time; take an interest in +him, you know, that it would make a man of him.” + +“H’m!... Ah-h!” mused old John. + +Robert stroked his chin thoughtfully and waited. + +“Ah-h!” old John murmured again. + +Robert saw the futility of beating about the bush, and came right to +the point. + +“Would _you_ take him for a while, John?” he asked. “He’d go to _your_ +place, I believe, and of course I wouldn’t expect a wage for him, or +anything like that.” + +“Well,” answered old John, slowly, “Ah only took one yoongster in thet +way in mah life, Robert; an’ Ah sed to the wife at th’ tahme thet Ah +would never take anoother.” + +“Just so,” from Robert, disappointedly. + +“But,” old John proceeded, “seein’ as it’s to do a good turn by _yow_, +Robert, Ah might change mah mind.” + +“I wouldn’t forget it if you did, John,” Robert said, with a pleased +look. + +“Well, then, Ah would lahke to have a talk along wi’ him,” the other +suggested, “a talk wi’ himself, yow un’erstand, an’ without ’n knowin’ +as who Ah em.” + +Robert entered into the idea with enthusiasm. + +“An’ Ah could tell yow then, Robert, if wert wise to spend mooney on +’n.” + +“Well, if you’ll come along and jump on a tram with me, now,” Robert +suggested eagerly, “we’ll go down to my office, and you can have a chat +with him there without him knowing who the deuce you are. But, mind +you, John” (the light of parental pride filling his eyes) “he’s as cute +as you make them, is Will.” + +“Ah-h,” from Old John. + +Then they rose and left the hotel together. + + * * * * * + +“You know,” Robert said, when they were seated in the tram, “the young +devil is full of brains if he likes to use them. ‘Look here, Staunton,’ +his schoolmaster said to me one day, ‘don’t you take that boy away from +me yet; you leave him at school for another couple of years, and I’ll +make something of him for you. There’s nothing he can’t do if he only +makes up his mind to it.’” + +“Ah-h,” answered old John, with a humorous twinkle in his eye, “then it +wer’ a pety, Robert, thet yow didn’t leave ’n at school.” + +“Well, yes,” Robert mumbled, “it _was_, and I can see it now. No doubt, +no doubt!” + +They alighted from the tram while it was in motion, Robert landed on +his feet, and old John on top of his head. + +“God bless my soul, are you hurt?” Robert exclaimed, rushing to his +friend and standing him up. + +Old John spat out large samples of the city soil, and brushed some more +from his swell suit, and tried to laugh, and said: + +“Well, Ah dedn’t mean to come dahn thet way.” + +“You might have been killed,” Robert said, with much concern. + +“Well, Ah ain’t, Robert,” and old John laughed again, and pulled on his +hat, which had left him when he struck the street. + +They proceeded along a footpath to Robert’s place of business. + +“Well, now,” Robert said on nearing the entrance, “I’ll go in first, +John, and walk through to my own office, and you follow in a minute or +two. You’ll see Will at the desk in the auction room, along with young +Henry, the message boy. You can’t mistake Will, and he won’t know who +you——” + +Old John motioned Robert off in a way that plainly indicated he +required no instructions. + +Robert passed in. + +“Was anyone looking for me when I was out, Will?” he called on reaching +the door of his office. + +“Anyone looking for the boss?” Will said, in undertones to the message +boy. + +The message boy shook his head in the negative. + +“No one,” Will shouted, confidently, and resumed the useless occupation +of pasting “questionable” postcards into an album. + +Presently old John, with an air of studied indifference, sauntered +clumsily in and began mooning round the auction room. He paused before +a rusty-looking oil-painting suspended from the wall with cob-web and +vermin, and gaped at it. The oil-painting was supposed to represent the +figure and features of a State Premier. + +The message boy drew Will’s attention to the visitor. + +[Illustration: IN THE SALE ROOM.] + +Will looked up, and for a moment or two eyed the broad back and long +coat of old John. + +“It’s lost its mother,” he said. + +The message boy giggled; Will was a constant source of humour to the +message boy. But for Will the message boy’s existence would have been a +dull and uninteresting one in the office. + +Old John, in admiration of the work of art, grunted: “H’m,” and “Ah-h!” + +Will, on hearing the noise, looked up again, and, placing a thumb to +his nose, worked his fingers at old John. + +The message boy ducked his head under the bench and gave way to mirth. + +Old John fixed a pair of spectacles on his nose and proceeded to +examine the picture closely, like a woman judging fancy work at a +country show. + +Will became interested. He reached to the floor, and, lifting a stray +onion that lay there, pelted it hard at old John’s head. The onion hit +the State Premier in the stomach and made a hole in him. + +Old John jumped round. + +“Nit yer bloomin’ larks, now!” Will said seizing the message boy by the +neck, “an’ garn outer this an’ do yer work. Chuckin’ onions about!” + +The message boy snatched up a bunch of letters that required posting +and fled, leaving a train of giggles behind as he disappeared. + +Old John, with a serious expression on his face, approached Will. + +“Yow should’nt let ’n do thet,” he said, pointing to the punctured +Prime Minister. “Thet be a shame!” + +“_Let_ him!” Will answered, in a voice of scorn, “I can’t stop him! But +if I was the boss here I would. I’d spear him without warnin’. But the +ol’ man, he’s far too easy, mister. ’Tween you and me he ain’t fit to +be over a hen coop.” + +“Be yow a son o’ Mr. Staunton’s?” old John asked, tactfully. + +“Well, so far as I know, I am, mister,” Will replied, “but I couldn’t +swear to it,” and he grinned. + +Old John looked shocked. + +Will laughed, and added: + +“They say it’s a wise bloke that knows his own Pa—ain’t that so mister?” + +Old John, half inclined to laugh, half inclined to administer a rebuke, +was lost for a reply. + +But Will neither waited nor looked for one. + +“_There’s_ a pair o’ good legs,” he said, shoving one of the postcards +into old John’s hand. + +Old John glanced at the card, then burst into a loud “hoh! hoh! +hoh—hoh! hoh! hoh-h-h!” and dropped it on the floor. + +“You wouldn’t guess in a year o’ Sundays where I got that from, +mister,” Will said, picking up the card. + +Old John, with tears in his eyes, stared curiously at the son of his +friend Robert. + +Will cast a cautious glance at his parent’s door. + +“I got that one,” he whispered in confidence, “locked up in the old +man’s private drawer.” + +“Hoh! hoh! hoh! hoh!—hoh-h-h!” and old John swung round and stamped +hard on the floor. + +Hearing the roar of laughter, Robert stealthily opened his door and +looked out and smiled. + +“Will’s amusing Dashwood, as I thought he would,” he murmured proudly +to himself, and quietly closed the door again. + +But the turn the interview had taken was not what old John desired. + +“What Ah’ve coome abaht, young man,” he said, approaching Will again, +“is th’ price o’ maize. How have it been sellin’ wi’ yow people?” + +“_Maize?_” said Will, assuming an important business air. “_Dead_, sir; +a perfect drug. So’s wheat, and potatoes are a bally pest.... Why, are +you a farmer, mister?” + +Old John saw his opportunity. + +“Ah-h; Ah em, lad, an’ Ah’m proud on it.” + +“You look it,” said Will, “you’re fat enough for one; but I’d have +taken you for something better than a cocky.” + +“There be things a lot wus nor cockyin’, don’t you think?” replied old +John. + +“Doing time would be, I suppose,” said Will, with a chuckle. + +Under ordinary circumstances old John might have warmly resented the +slander. But he overlooked it. + +“No, don’t you thenk, lad,” he said, “thet yow would be mooch better +orf setting behahnd a team o’ horses an’ a plough than cocked oop theer +on thet stool every day?” + +“Who, _me_!” indignantly from Will. “_Dicken!_” + +“Ah-h, yow lad.” + +Will laughed. + +“Why, that’s what the old man is always preaching,” he went on, +lighting a cigarette and blowing long thin streaks of smoke at old +John. “The old cove” (glancing again at the door) “has tried lots of +times to get me to go on the land. He wanted me to go with some old +coot up Fairfield way—old Dashwood. Do you know him at all, mister?” + +Will waited for a reply. + +Old John appeared to be in difficulties with himself. + +“Ah-h,” he muttered at last, “Ah knows him a leetle.” + +“A silly, religious old goat, ain’t he, says grace before pluggin’ +into the pumpkin?” further enquired Will. + +Old John’s eyes and mouth opened wide. + +“He’s got a couple of jolly fine daughters, though, I believe,” Will +went on, rummaging himself for a match, “as good-looking as he’s ugly.” + +Old John’s features started to work as if he was chewing something +hard, and his fists closed and opened automatically. + +“It’s curious how a lot o’ these ugly old blokes,” Will went on, +growing philosophical, “have such good-looking daughters.” + +Old John made an effort to speak, but couldn’t. + +“How do you account for that, mister?” + +A volcano seemed to be silently at work somewhere in the interior of +old John. + +“I reckon,” said Will, “if I went to his place it wouldn’t be driving +teams I’d be at, I’d be driving those tarts around pretty slick. An’ +I’d be huggin’ ’em an’ muggin’ ’em in the dairy. Oh, laws!” (Will +placed his hand over his heart and sighed.) “_What_ a time I’d have, +mister!” + +Old John staggered back, and made a choking sound in his throat. + +“I wouldn’t be there long,” laughed Will, “before old Johnny Dashwood +would be wanting to know what I meant by——” + +“_Damn_ yow for a ill-bred city skunk!” old John burst out violently: +“Do you know who yow be atalkin’ to?” and he leaned over and glared +ferociously at Will. + +Will, suddenly turning pale, deserted the stool and placed his back +against the wall. + +“_Ah’m John Dashwood_, Ah em,” fairly shouted the other. + +“Strike me curly, what am I up against!” said Will, and snatching up +his hat, darted through a side door into the street. + +[Illustration: Decorative Image] + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +It Was Will. + + +In the heat of temper old John turned on his heel, and abruptly left +the auction room without reporting his opinion or impressions of Will +to Robert Staunton. + +Robert, in his office, sat waiting the result of the interview. He +waited till the clock pointed to lunch hour. Then, curious as to the +cause of the prolonged absence of his friend, he opened the door +noiselessly, and looked out. There was no sign of John or of the +“staff.” Robert lifted his voice and called: “_Will!_” + +There was no answer. + +He called “_Henry!_” + +There was no Henry about, either. + +“Will’s up to some of his games, I know,” Robert said to himself. +“Slipped Dashwood home for dinner, I bet. That’s where I’ll find them,” +and, turning to a basin that sat under a brass tap in a corner of his +little den, he proceeded to wash his hands. + +“About five minutes to catch the tram,” he murmured, glancing at the +clock, when suddenly the door, as though a heavy horse troubled with +mange had rubbed against it, burst in and revealed old John, with +solemn, set countenance, standing like the statue of Captain Cook upon +the threshold. + +Robert experienced a pleasant surprise at the unexpected appearance of +his country friend. + +“Where the deuce have you been all the time?” he said, giving his hands +a final rub in the towel. “Why, I was just going to run off home to +hunt you up. I made sure Will had put you up to playing some joke on +me——” + +Then, as he adjusted the towel in its place: “What do you think of +Will? How did you get on with him, John? Do you think you can make a +farmer of him?” + +“_Robert!_” began old John, in tones of sorrow mingled with anger, “Ah +dersent want to saay nothink whatsoomever abaht yower son; let thet be +oonderstud clear atween us, oncet an’ for ever!” + +Robert opened his eyes and stared as though he had been hit with +something. + +“Ah dersent thenk,” old John continued, “thet he’s a credit to yow, +Robert, or thet yow, as his faither, has been a credit overmooch to +him.” + +Robert was a man of quick temper, and there was a lot of conceit and +false city pride about him. + +“_What!_” he said, staring at old John as though he couldn’t believe +what he had heard. + +“Just what Ah sez, an’ nothink more, an’ nothink less,” replied the +other, with firmness. + +Robert was satisfied he had heard correctly. + +“To _h—l_ with you,” he shouted, upsetting his office stool by the +excited motion he made with his hands, the noise of which made a +fitting accompaniment to his outburst of temper. “Would you insult me +and my son—an’—an’—an’ in my own _office_? It’s like your d—— cheek! +And I won’t stand it, not from _you_ Dashwood, nor from _anyone_! I +wouldn’t stand it from the King of England! By heavens I wouldn’t; +and I’m an Englishman, as good an Englishman as was ever _born_!” He +thumped the table hard with his soft, flabby fist. Then, puffing and +blustering like a whale, glared at old John. + +“Ah insults _no one_!” old John roared back, squaring his shoulders +and standing his ground. “Do you hear _thet_?” (a dramatic pause). “Ah +insults _no one_, Robert Staunton! But what Ah thenks Ah means to say, +and——” + +“You _won’t_!” Robert interrupted furiously. “You _won’t_! By heavens +you won’t; not in _my_ office!” + +“Ah _will_” yelled old John, “an’ Ah will say it here, an’——” + +“You d— well _won’t_, I say,” howled Robert, shoving his face +close into John’s. “If you utter one more word you’ll go out of +here—by—by—by——” + +In his fury the right word failed him. “_Dashwood!_” he bellowed in +a higher key, “don’t you compel me to strike you, or by my soul look +here!” He seized a chair with both hands and waved it over old John’s +head. At the same moment Will, who meanwhile had returned to his desk, +overhearing the noise, stealthily approached the open door of his +parent’s private office, and stood, a silent spectator of the quarrel. + +“Don’t yow do anythink you’ll be sorry for, Robert Staunton!” roared +old John, without flinching from the uplifted chair. + +“Get out of here, then,” roared the other. + +“When Ah’m ready!” said old John. + +“Well, get ready, set, go!” came suddenly from Will, and with a violent +pull of old John’s coat-tails he dragged him to the broad of his back +and made a great noise with him on the floor. + +Old John was never more surprised in his life than when he found +himself on the floor. With the howls of an enraged animal he struggled +to his feet and pursued Will round the auction room. For a moment or +two it was all joy to Will. He gloried in the exhilarating sport of +evading capture, and chuckled as he dodged in and out and round about +bags and bales and miscellaneous cargo. + +“Scotch him, Spider,” He shouted to the message boy, who chanced to +return to his post just in time to share in the excitement. “Scotch +him!” + +[Illustration: A BREACH OF FRIENDSHIP.] + +The message boy seemed to understand well enough what Will required +of him, but, like a growing pup that experiences for the first time +a desire to take part in the frolics of older dogs, he hesitated and +frisked nervously about in the one spot whenever old John shuffled past +him. Once he made a half-hearted attempt to seize hold of old John, but +courage seemed to fail him. + +“Scotch him, darn it, Spider!” Will cried again, then slipped on a +banana peel, and sprawled on the floor. + +“Yow yoong dug!” cried old John, “Ah’ve got yer now!” and with open +hands bent down to scoop him up. + +“Yer fritent scowser, Spider!” Will yelled. “Scotch him!” + +The messenger danced about like a chained monkey for a second or two, +then finally rushed forward and shoved old John hard in the rear while +he was in the act of stooping. Instead of securing his assailant old +John fell head first over him, and made more noise than the dropping +of several hundredweights of iron dumb-bells upon the boards. Will was +relieved; and, struggling to his feet, he hopped away on one leg, and +disappeared. The message boy had dived out in advance of him. + +Old John rose and glared all about, then brushed himself with his +hands. He groaned several times, then approached Robert’s office door +again. + +“What Ah coomed here to say te yow, Robert Staunton, wer’ this,” he +said, doggedly. “If you dersent keep a taht rein on thet there son o’ +yow’n, he’ll get ’n into trouble one o’ these days! Gud day!” + +Then, turning away, he went into the street, and made for his hotel. + + * * * * * + +Will, delighted with the turn things had taken, frisked into his +father’s office to glean further information about the quarrel. + +“Did you ever in your life hear such infernal impudence?” puffed the +parent, his passion not one bit abated, “for a d— pumpkin man like that +to come here and insult me in my own office!” + +“I’m blest if I could make out what the deuce had gone wrong when I +heard yer both slingin’ off,” said Will, cheerfully, and added: “He +wanted to deal it out to you, did he, dad?” + +“He wouldn’t deal much to me, I’ll warrant!” and the burly produce man +walked savagely round his dingy little den. + +“I made sure yer was goin’ to spread him out with th’ furniture,” Will +ventured, with a grin. + +But other thoughts began to occupy the mind of the parent. + +“What did _you_ say to him?” he demanded, turning suddenly upon Will, +and fixing him with angry eyes. “Did you say anything to offend +Dashwood?” + +“_Me?_” and Will struck a surprised attitude. “Offend Mister Dashwood? +Why, I didn’t know he _was_ Mister Dashwood!” + +“That’s not answering the question I asked you! Did you say anything, +or do anything to him at all?” and the parent lifted his voice in a way +that made Will start. + +“Oh, I spoke to him, of course, when he spoke to me,” Will answered +slyly. + +“What th’ devil was it you said to him, then?” demanded the parent. + +“What was it I said to him?” Will repeated, sparring for time. + +“Yes!” and the parent clenched his fists. + +“Oh, he just asked me how produce was going, and——” + +“And what?” + +“Well, he said something er—about—er——” + +“About what?” loudly from the parent. + +“Er—about _farming_.” + +“What about farming?” + +“Well, I think” (hesitating) “that he asked me if I’d care to go on a +farm!” + +Robert felt he was on the right track for a solution of the trouble, +and yelled at the top of his voice: + +“And what th’ devil did you say in answer to that; out with it!” + +“Oh, I said it would be just the glassy marble—the sort of thing +I’d like to be at, that is, as near as I can remember.” Will was a +brilliant liar. + +Robert was baffled. He felt convinced of his son’s innocence, and old +John’s attitude was surrounded with deeper mystery than before. + +“An’ that was all he said to you?” he asked, in a calm mood. + +“He went away then,” said Will, committing more perjury, “and I never +saw him any more till I see you going to wooden him with the furniture.” + +“Curious!” reflected the parent, “d— curious!” and, seating himself in +his chair, sat thinking the matter over. + +Will lost no time getting out of the office. It was too warm an +atmosphere for Will’s frame of mind just then. + +“The boss is in a devil of a pelt,” he informed the message boy, whom +he encountered on his way in with a letter that had arrived for the +“firm.” “Be careful what y’ say, Spider, if he asks anything, or he’ll +sack y’ sure as yer livin’!” + +If there was one thing in this world that the message boy dreaded +more than another it was the thoughts of losing his five shillings a +week. And, whenever the bare possibility of such a disaster was even +suggested to Henry, painful visions of the distraction and penury +his mother would be reduced to in consequence rose up before him and +disturbed his peace of mind. + +“Who’s that from?” his employer growled, as the boy nervously placed +the letter before him on the table. + +He ventured no reply, but commenced a hasty retreat. + +“Henry, come here!” and Robert called him back. + +Henry’s heart went cold, and he returned, looking pale as death, and +trembling like a captured hare. + +“H’m!” mumbled Robert, as he finished reading the letter. Then, putting +the document aside and turning to the boy: + +“Oh, I wanted to ask you, Henry, if by any chance you happened to say +anything to Mr. Dashwood when he was in this morning that annoyed him, +though I don’t think you did, did you?” + +Henry went to pieces. + +“It wasn’t me, sir!” he blubbered, “it—it was _Will_!” then he opened +his mouth and bawled as though he were being tortured with hot coals +and molten lead. + +Robert sprang from his chair. + +“It was Will, was it?” he repeated. + +“Y-y-yes!” howled Henry. + +“Now, don’t be afraid, I’m not going to say anything to you, Henry; +just be quiet and tell me what you know about it.” + +“He—he” (sob) “he” (another sob) “he—he” (several sobs) “threw—threw” +(some more sobs) “a onion at—at—him.” + +“_Who?_ At Mr. Dashwood? _Will_ did?” Robert gasped. “By heavens!” + +“Y-y-yes, s’!” moaned Henry. + +“_That’s_ it, is it! Th’ d— young liar!” The outraged parent bit his +lip. “I see it all now! Th’ confounded young blackguard!” + +Then addressing Henry again: + +“Just tell Will to come here; I want to see him.” + +But Will, who had been listening at the door, made off, and, on +reaching the street, turned and shook his fist threateningly at the +message boy. + +[Illustration: Decorative Image] + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +The Family Visit the Theatre. + + +In the evening the family met together round the hotel tea-table. Peter +and Tilly supplied the greater part of the conversation. All the fresh +incidents and impressions they had to relate would alone have filled a +book of fair dimensions. Old John himself was silent, and seemed in a +melancholy mood. Mrs. Dashwood shared his reflective spirits, and sat +as one over whom a cloud of gloom was resting heavily. At intervals, +when appealed to to settle some point of difference, old John would +grunt “h’m” or “hoh!” + +“Any letter from William to-day?” James, who harboured a suspicion that +something had gone wrong away back at the farm, enquired of his parent. + +“Noh, noh; not to-day, lad, not to-day,” was the reply. And, leaning +back in his chair old John seemed to become deeply absorbed in the +senseless chatter, and the bowing and pawing of the bare-necked, +white-fronted group of superior people who occupied the adjoining +table. But in reality he neither heard nor saw one of them. + +“How did you get on with Mr. Staunton, father; did you see him?” Peter +asked abruptly. + +Mrs. Dashwood, who was already in her husband’s confidence as regards +the day’s doings, turned her eyes sympathetically upon old John. + +Peter repeated the question, and the absent-minded parent came to his +senses with a start. + +“Ah-h! oh! Ah-h yes; I seed him, lad!” he answered, clumsily striving +to treat the question in his most natural way. + +“Father and Mr. Staunton had a good fly round together, I’ll be bound,” +Tilly ventured, playfully, and added, with a deep sigh: “Oh, I’d just +love to be a man in a big city!” + +Peter drained a glass of ginger-beer, and, setting the glass down, +chuckled: + +“Yes; you’d make such a splendid man, you would, Til. Ha! ha! Remember +when you put on James’s trousers?” + +Tilly scowled at her brother, and then choked back a giggle. + +“Sh!” Polly said, nudging Peter, “don’t let people hear you, you silly!” + +“Well, she might make a good enough man,” Maria growled, “for she ain’t +such a great success at what she is, or someone would be wanting her +before this.” + +“Well I won’t be afraid to refuse the first one that _does_ come along +lest I should never get another, Maria!” Tilly fired back, with blood +in her cheeks. + +Just here a waiter, plying for custom, broke in on them. + +“No more for me,” old John said, and the rest of the family nodded +their heads in the negative. The waiter bowed like a willow stick, and +fluttered off on his rounds. + +“Are we going to th’ play to-night, father?” Peter asked, folding his +serviette anyhow. + +Old John shook his head dismally and mumbled: “Ah-h dern’t know, lad!” +and Tilly said she “guessed father would be going out somewhere with +Mr. Staunton.” + +Old John stared pathetically at his daughter. + +“I think father has seen all he will ever want to see of Mr. Staunton,” +Mrs. Dashwood remarked, meaningly. + +The family began to “smell a rat,” and looked hard and wonderingly at +their downcast parent. + +“Ah! H’m!” murmured old John, and rising, once more led the way from +the noisy, busy dining-room. + +They all ascended in the lift together, and, arriving at No. 2 +floor, collected in a circle at one end of the luxuriantly furnished +sitting-room. Then by degrees, and in disjointed fragments, full +particulars of the episode in which Will Staunton played such an +interesting part were passed from one to the other, and feelingly +discussed. + +“And do you mean to say the old scoundrel was going to hit you with a +chair, father?” James asked, with an angry frown on his face. + +“Well, Ah thenk he would ’a’ done, lad!” old John answered quietly. + +“And fancy that Willie Staunton pulling father down on the floor!” +Tilly flared. “I could wring his neck!” + +Polly summed the Staunton family up as “a bad lot,” and reckoned they +weren’t worth talking about. + +“Did you say as someone wer’ _shot_, my dear?” Granny enquired of +Polly. But no one was in the humour to go into details in the interests +of Granny. + +“By Xmas! I wish I’d been there!” Peter broke out, with fight in his +eye. “I’d have settled mister Bill Staunton.” + +“It mighn’t be too late yet,” James remarked, with a quiet, +no-confidence smile at his brother. + +“By Xmas I would!” Peter said louder. + +“It would be just as effective to-morrow,” James drawled advisedly. + +“No mistake I would!” Peter repeated. + +“We might come across him before we leave town,” James suggested +knavishly. + +“Who th’ deuce is Bill Staunton, I’d like to know!” Peter stormed, +unmindful of James. + +James winked at Tilly. + +“Well, Peter,” Tilly said, “really, you just look as if you _would_ hit +somebody.” + +“Oh, well,” Maria growled, as she danced the baby up and down, “I’m +glad it’s happened for my part; we won’t have to be bothered calling +on them now, and they never did like to see anyone come with a baby to +their place, anyway!” + +A porter, with his hair beautifully arranged for the evening, and a +silver tray in his hand, entered the sitting-room and stared about from +guest to guest. + +“Mr. Dashwood?” he said, addressing a sour, grizzled-featured, +bald-headed old swell who sat by himself, scowling on all around him. + +The bald-headed one shook his head. Our friends all turned their faces +towards the porter. “Ah-h, here,” cried old John, catching his eye. +And those hotel porters _have_ eyes! The reputation enjoyed by the +Australian aboriginal for seeing things early is a fraud in comparison +to the quickness of _their_ vision. + +Gliding lightly and gracefully across the crowded room, the porter +placed a card in old John’s hand. + +“The gentleman is waiting to see you down stairs, sir,” he said; “most +important.” + +Old John stared at the card: Mrs. Dashwood stared at it; the whole +family crowded round and stared at it. + +“Mr. Robert Staunton, ah-h,” murmured old John. + +The family looked at each other. + +“Wants to see you?” said Peter. + +“Perhaps Will is with him,” James remarked; looking meaningly at Peter. + +“Don’t you go, father; don’t you,” Polly and Tilly advised earnestly, +and Mrs. Dashwood murmured: “Don’t mind him.” + +“What answer, sir?” from the porter, who was becoming restless. + +“Well, _noh_!” blustered old John; “Ah won’t see him.” + +“Tell him you’re not in, sir?” suggested the porter, from force of +habit. + +“But Ah _em_ in,” cried old John. “Yow tell him Ah dersent want to have +ennerthin’ more to do with th’ lahkes o’ him.” + +The porter smiled. “Yessir,” he said, and glided off again. + +“Did yer ever hear th’ lahkes o’ thet!” said old John, tearing the card +to pieces. “Noh! Ah’m done wi’ Robert Staunton. Ah’m done wi’ him.” + +For quite a while the family sat in silence. + +“Have you been to the theatre to hear ‘In Australia’ yet, Mr. +Hall-Smith?” a female voice rang out across the room. + +“Bai Jove! Ai reallay am ashamed Ai hev not, Miss Brown,” came the +answer, “but Ai’m told it’s awfullay delightful.” + +“Terribly funnay,” from a second female. “We were there the naight His +Excellency attended, and we literally screamed the whole taime.” + +Our friends from the country looked enquiringly into each other’s faces. + +“That’s where we should go to-night,” Peter said, and Polly and Tilly +quickly approved of his suggestion. + +Mrs. Dashwood looked kindly at old John, and thought it would do him a +world of good to go out for an hour or two and forget unpleasant things. + +Old John brooded on in silence a while longer; then, as though his +senses had suddenly returned, said with a glow of enthusiasm: + +“Ah-h, why not; the whole lot on us. You too, Maria.” + +Polly and Tilly cast an anxious glance towards Maria, with a hope +in their wildly-beating hearts that their married sister, with the +squawking encumbrance, would elect to remain behind and take care of +the hotel. But to their chagrin Maria was delighted with the idea. +She hadn’t seen a play “since Joe Miller’s niggers performed in the +goods-shed at Chatswood,” but they would have to wait until she “put +another dress on the baby.” She went off and put another dress on the +baby; also an extra pink ribbon or two on herself. And when all were +ready Maria was curious to know if the baby would understand anything +of the play. Polly nudged Tilly, and Tilly nudged Polly; then they all +hurried down the stairs, dragging each other after them. + +[Illustration: AT THE THEATRE.] + + * * * * * + +The Company’s manager, the courteous “Goody,” smiled a droll sort of +smile as he turned to watch the last of old John’s numerous party trail +in at the door of the theatre. + +They were late. The play was in full swing when they entered, and +the trouble they had to discover seats for themselves exasperated a +section of the audience. City people take their “theatres” as they take +themselves, seriously. They called upon the late comers to “sit down” +before they could see where to sit, or what to sit on. + +“Don’t yow be in a hurry,” old John called back to them. “We got plenty +to sit on, but where to put it be th’ trouble.” This caused a laugh, +which brought a number of people at distant parts of the house to their +feet. They seemed to think the play had shifted venue and that they +were missing some of it. Others then followed their stupid example till +the whole audience, except those near by, were staring in the direction +of our country friends. + +“Why didn’t yer bring th’ plough with yer?” enquired a thin voice from +a dark corner of the pit, and a burst of merriment rang out in that +quarter. Finally, however, our friends all sank down out of sight. Then +Granny, thinking she was at home on the farm, started to make more +trouble. At the top of her wheezy voice she desired to know if Mrs. +Dashwood was “quite comfortable,” and if she was “sitting in a draught.” + +“Oh, dry up!” came from the seat behind; and Polly and Tilly took +Granny in hand to silence her. But they were up against a difficult +proposition. + +“Have yow th’ little yun wrapped well up, my dear?” she enquired +of Maria. Then Maria began a conversation with her on the amiable +characteristics of the infant. + +“Order! Order!” commanded a number of angry people, and one was heard +to growl: “They’ve come to the wrong shop; it’s at Dunwich they ought +to be!” + +Tilly pinched Granny hard to suppress her, but only provoked her to +loud remonstrance. She rebelled in a sharp, squeaky voice and addressed +her grand-daughter in an incoherent sort of way. + +“Put them out!” came from away back in the pit, while a voice that +seemed affected by a bad cold cried; “Sit on their chest!” + +“Oh, ain’t it awful!” Tilly murmured to Polly, and old John at last +shook Granny hard, and warned her to be silent, by holding up his big +finger and shaking it close to her nose. + +Then Granny settled down, and the family fixed its eyes on the play. + +A bush scene was before them. An old selector in his shirt sleeves, and +with large patches on his pants, was wildly haranguing his daughter +into marrying the fellow for whom she had no love. + +“You’re mad—mad as a March hare,” he exclaimed. “Could you compare the +two men, could you? Is there any comparison between them?” + +“No, there is not, father,” the girl answered, looking very love-sick +and pretty, “Jim is poor, and hard-working and good-looking and honest, +and—and—he _loves_ me.” + +“Well, and what is th’ _hother_?” yelled the boisterous match-making +parent. + +“Oh, well, he’s an Inspector of Police, father, that is all.” + +The old selector walked at racing-pace up and down the boards for +several turns and threw his sledge-hammer fists wildly about before he +spoke again. + +“That is all, eh?” he yelled. “Where’s his big screw, and his +hinfluence in th’ country, eh? Ain’t he got them?” He walked up and +down again, and, when he got tired, paused before the girl, and +bellowed: “Damnation to it! are yer goin’ to have him—yes or _no_?” + +“_No_, a thousand times no, father!” + +“Then _damn_ yer! yer’ll have to!” and off he went again in a canter. + +Just here the person involved, the uniformed Inspector himself, entered +in a most unexpected sort of way. + +“God bless me, Inspector,” said the artful old selector, suddenly +becoming as cheerful-looking as a bridal party, “it’s you, is it? Why, +we was just talkin’ about you and sayin’ how long it is since you were +here,” and he nearly wrung the official’s arms out. + +At this period of the performance Peter thought “it up to him” to have +a laugh. And a man sitting in front of him who received the full blast +of the mirth in his right ear looked round and said: “Steady, old man!” + +“Well, I hope I am not intruding,” spoke the brilliant Inspector, with +one eye on the girl, “but an important case which I have in hand, in +this locality brings me here at this late hour.” Here he gazed at the +audience and sighed: “Ah, what a divine creature! If she will only be +mine!” Then he faced the old selector’s daughter, and bowed profusely +to her, and addressed her as “Kate,” and assured her of the pleasure it +gave him to find her looking so cheerful and well. “Kate” bowed coldly +and stiffly to him, and plunged a needle into a scrap of calico she +was supposed to be sewing. + +“A case in this district, eh, Inspector?” the old selector said, +fussing round. + +“Yes. Some rascals have been slaughtering Grey’s cattle for him, and +doing it pretty clumsily, too, I can tell you.” + +“Yer don’t tell me,” gasped the old selector. + +“Quite true, confound them! We came across the head of one scratched +out of the ground by the dingoes, and the tail of another in an old +fire.” + +The old selector thought he saw some humour in it, and said: + +“Heads you win and tails they lose, eh, Inspector, ha! ha! ha!” + +“Well, win or lose, I’m making a house to house investigation and +asking them all to turn out what hides they’ve got about their places.” + +“Well, I’ll very soon show yer mine,” said the old selector, and off he +bolted. At the door he paused and observed to the audience: “I’ll give +them plenty of time ter themselves. That’s all he’s after.” + +Then, while the audience breathed heavily, the Inspector addressed +himself affectionately to the daughter. + +“I hope she won’t have him!” Tilly murmured excitedly into Polly’s +ear, and at the same moment something went wrong with Maria’s baby. It +squealed without giving any warning of its intention, and Maria shook +it, and “cooed” and crooned to it. “Sit on it!” cried a disagreeable +individual. “Chuck it out!” another, with no sympathy for children, +advised. Maria scowled all round like a lioness at bay, and said: “I’d +like to see any of you try it!” A great number of silly people laughed, +and Mrs. Dashwood pulled at Maria and told her to take no notice, which +Maria did forthwith. + +“Why this silence, why are you so cold to me, Kate? Have you not one +little word of love for me? Ah-h!” and the Inspector went through a +series of tragic antics peculiar to people who love to excess. But +it was no use. All the response he could extract from the girl was a +long, far away sigh. The Inspector tugged at his sleeves and displayed +symptoms of desperation. + +“Then you refuse my love?” he yelled in a violent outburst. + +Kate answered with a faint bow. + +“Ah-h-h! Then you love another?” + +“Yes, she loves another!” came unexpectedly from the hero of the play, +who strolled in and calmly confronted the Inspector. “And what have you +to say to him?” + +The official one was knocked all of a heap for a second or two. + +“Oh, Jim!” gasped the girl, clutching at space. + +“Scoundrel!” yelled the disappointed Inspector, “who admitted you here?” + +Jim drew out and delivered the police his best punch, and knocked him +longways across the sofa. Then, while the audience cheered and hurrayed +and laughed, Jim took Kate in his big, hairy arms and hugged her. He +enjoyed the hugging process so much, and kept to it so long, that the +prostrate Inspector was given time to regain consciousness and to +calmly consider what was best for him to do. He considered the best +thing to do was to draw his revolver. And, notwithstanding that Peter +called lustily to him to “look out,” Jim neglected to turn his head +until requested in a triumphant voice by the Inspector to “leave this +house or die the death of a villain!” When he did turn he found himself +looking down the barrel of the regulation revolver. + +The audience clutched each other for support. Polly and Tilly closed +their eyes. “Oh, my God!” Maria said, “he’s going to shoot!” + +Then the awful suspense was broken by Jim calmly spitting into the +barrel, and defying the revolver to go off. A loud yell of delight rang +out, and Jim spat into the barrel again. Then down went the curtain. + +“Ah-h, he’s a proper Hostralian, that cove!” old John observed, as he +wiped the excitement from his brow with a handkerchief. + +Then the light was turned full on, and a murmur of voices filled the +house as the audience began to converse freely with itself. + +In the babel of tongues about our friends a female voice was heard to +say, in a grievous way: + +“Fancy bringing a baby in arms to a theatre! How ridiculous!” Maria +turned her head quickly and located the owner of that voice. + +The proprietor of it was a lady with a long, lean neck, and a bare, +bony chest. She looked through a pair of gold-rimmed glasses that were +secured to some part of her by a magnificent chain, and she sat up very +straight and dignified behind a fan that would have made a peacock weep +with envy. + +“If you had one like it,” Maria said, straight at her, “you’d bring it, +too; but I don’t suppose you ever had one, or ever will,” and concluded +by making an ugly face. + +The lady with the long, bare neck screened her blushing face behind the +gorgeous fan, and whispered things into the ear of a male companion. +Tilly and Polly both tugged at Maria, and threatened to leave and +return to the hotel if she “went on like that any more.” Maria growled +audibly to herself and hugged the precious infant closer to her bosom. + +“Chocolates here! One shilling a box!” cried a youthful vendor of +sweets, pushing his way between the rows of seats. + +[Illustration: MARIA’S BABY.] + +“Got a shilling, father?” Peter whispered to his parent. + +“Ah-h!” answered old John, pushing his fist into his pocket. + +Peter beckoned the youth along, and plunged into the chocolates. Old +John paid for them with a half sovereign. + +“She’s enjoyin’ herself, mister,” the chocolate boy said, with a grin +at Granny. Old John glanced quickly at the aged one and discovered she +was fast asleep. + +The boy laughed sociably. + +“Wake up, moother!” said old John, giving Granny a shake; “it’s going +to begin agen now!” + +Granny declined to wake up. + +“Don’t you disturb her, mister,” the boy said advisedly; “she won’t +miss anythink!” + +“Yes; leave her, John,” Mrs. Dashwood urged; “she’ll be all right!” + +John left her, and the boy moved off without leaving any change. + +Then the curtain rose again, and showed to the world some more of the +Australian bush. It was a wild, grand sort of scene. A mountain pass +in all its ruggedness stood within several feet of the audience. Wild +birds were calling and whistling and laughing among the mountains. A +police constable and two black-trackers were pitching a camp at the +mouth of the mountain pass. All their baggage and accoutrements lay +about. The audience murmured in admiration. + +“It’s too bad to let her miss all on it,” old John said, and made +another attempt to wake Granny. But the effort was futile. + +One of the black-trackers stared up into the foliage above his head, +and said: “Moomoomby.” His brother tracker shook his woolly head, +and contradicted him: “Baal, moomoomby,” he jabbered. “That pfellow +petebroo.” Then they argued the point until the constable tossed an +empty billy-can at their feet and hollered: + +“Shut ye’s jabbering jaw and go and fill that at the creek. Hurry +up, or befure we have the tea ready the Inspector will be here, and +there’ll be th’ divil to pay.” + +“You been fetch it, Charlie,” the first tracker grumbled, shunting the +job on to his brother. “I been bring it water alonga dinner-time.” + +Charlie also demurred. + +“Oh, by cripes,” he growled, “I been bring it water last night two +times twice.” + +The audience laughed at the simple humour of its countrymen. + +“Go arn wid y’; the two of ye,” thundered the constable. “Y’ pair o’ +lazy divils. All ye’re good fer is stuffin’ ye’re skin, and shleepin’. +And look here, when I think of ud: Let ye’s keep me awaake to-night the +way ye’s did larst night wid ye’re snorin’ like pigs, and be my soul +I’ll put a hot fire-stick up ye’re noshtrils!” + +Howls of delight from every part of the house. + +“You been do that,” said Charlie; “we couldn’t smell it no more to make +it a livin’ for our missis, and we get it compersation then from it +Labour Party.” (Yells of laughter from the “fat” section of the house.) + +“Oh, my word, yes,” Norman said, in confirmation, “we get it plenty +pfellow compersation then all right for not bein’ able to smell it +track no more,” and both niggers laughed and grimaced like children. + +“Shmell a thrack!” snarled the constable, “the only thrack ever I knew +ye’s to shmell wer’ th’ thrack of a damper, or a lump o’ beef. Go arn +wid ye’s and fetch the water, or I’ll kick ye’re ribs in!” and he aimed +a place kick with his number ten at Charlie, which went wide of the +mark. (More joy for the audience, during which Peter wriggled in a sort +of fit across the knees of his parent and kicked Granny back into the +land of the living again for several seconds.) Charlie started off, +billy in hand, and, hanging over the edge of the stage while Norman +held him by the two legs, dipped some water out of the creek. + +“Now, gather plenty o’ wood fer th’ night!” ordered the constable, “so +as we won’t be scratchin’ about in th’ dark forrit, and be pickin’ up +shnakes.” + +“By cripes!” gasped Charlie, suddenly becoming reminiscent, “I been +pick it up two big pfellow snakes one night.” + +“Ye’s did, yer black divil! And what did ye’s do?” + +“By cripes, I been-jump it nearly into th’ plurry moon,” answered +Charlie. And the laugh he raised would have emptied a hospital. + +“Well, be th’ saints above,” said the constable, “I wish ye’d pick one +up now!” + +Charlie proceeded cautiously to collect wood. As he bent down Norman +threw a stick, which fell at his feet. Charlie, with snakes on his +mind, took fright. He bounded into the air like a piece of whalebone, +then stared about suspiciously. The audience entered into the joke +with enthusiasm. Satisfied nothing had attacked him Charlie continued +to scrape up more wood. As he stooped again a snake of tremendous +dimensions gradually lowered its length from the limbs above till its +large head, with wide, open mouth, was within a foot of Charlie’s +woolly head. (The audience started to get excited, while Norman +fled at sight of the reptile and took refuge behind the constable.) +Charlie filled his arms with sticks, then straightened up. His head +bumped into the dangling boa-constrictor. He looked up quickly to see +what was there. He saw what was there, and dropped his bundle to the +accompaniment of an unearthly yell. The snake concluded the time was +ripe to commence operations. It commenced by falling in a number of +long, heavy coils upon Charlie, and winding itself around him. Talk +about excitement! A wild, desperate struggle started off, and rolled +itself several times across the stage. The audience began to kneel on +each other’s shoulders. + +“Don’t y’ think we had better get out of here, father?” Peter cried, +with fright and frenzy in his rolling eyes. Old John didn’t hear him. + +The struggle for life on the one hand, and for a meal on the other, +continued to roll across the stage. The constable seized a rifle, and, +pointing it in the direction of the danger, sat prepared to defend +himself. The snake coils slackened and Charlie slipped out into the +fresh air. He lay full length on his stomach, exhausted. The snake +struck a similar attitude. Their heads were near each other’s. They +glared at each other. Charlie groaned. The snake opened its mouth. +Charlie gazed far away into the recesses of its lengthy interior. He +groaned more. (“Oh, we’d all better go; it’s going to swallow him!” +came apprehensively from Maria). Something seemed to go wrong with the +reptile internally. It suddenly developed several bulging compartments +along its stomach. It was all stomach. It opened its mouth wider—still +wider. It struggled, strained, wriggled and contorted; then a kangaroo +rat jumped out of him, and raced for dear life across the stage. +(Yells of surprise from the house.) Then “bang!” went the constable’s +rifle and the rat fell just as it was in the act of jumping upon the +orchestra. Such howls and yells and jeers as followed were never heard +in any play house before. And before the people could calm themselves +the snake let loose two half-bald old ’possums upon the evening. “Bang! +bang!” from the constable’s rifle, and both ’possums lay shivering on +their backs. + +“Well, damme!” said John Hop (popping more cartridges into the +magazine) “if this ain’t th’ besht bit of spoort I’ve had since I jined +the foorce!” + +Then the voice of Charlie was heard to call out in feeble pleading +tones: + +“Oh, why you not been shoot it th’ plurry snake!” + +“I wud,” cried the constable, “but how do I know there isn’t a mahn in +him, and twud be manslaughter!” + +But Mrs. Dashwood had reached the limit. She could stand no more of +that play. + +“I’m going!” she said, rising; “I’m going. Some one will be shot, and +it might be one of us!” + +Maria, in the interests of her offspring, agreed with her mother. + +“Just as yer like,” old John said, and off they all went. + +[Illustration: Decorative Image] + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +The Sheriff’s Faithful Man. + + +After breakfast, old John, as he left the hotel alone, stood on the +large stone steps for a moment or two, gazing in wonder at the volume +of traffic that seemed to be ever and ever increasing. A well-fed, +greasy, sleeky individual, accompanied by a lean, pallid person in +a small straw hat and a large paper collar, and one who would have +had difficulty in passing for anything other than what he was, an +attorney’s overworked and underpaid office-hack, hung about the +pavement, eyeing him closely. + +“Are you sure he’s the man?” the well-fed one murmured _sotto voce_, as +he pulled some papers from his pocket, and examined them. + +“Sure? Absolutely,” replied the clerk. “I saw him as he left the boat +yesterday. But don’t let him bluff you. Our principals say he is as +cunning as a fox.” + +Old John descended slowly, and, as he reached the pavement, the greasy, +sleeky man, who, of course, was none other than the boss bailiff of the +State, smiled an oily smile, which was the most valuable part of his +stock-in-trade, and accosting him, said: + +“Oh—er—Mister Brownloe, half a moment, please.” + +Old John paused and stared at them both. + +“You’ll excuse me, won’t you?” and the bailiff proceeded to grapple +with a number of documents, which seemed to evade the touch of his fat +fingers. + +“Ah’ll excuse yow,” answered old John, with a broad smile, “but Ah +ain’t Mister Brownloe.” + +The bailiff laughed affably. + +“Oh, we understand each other, Mister Brownloe,” he said. “It takes +an old dog for a hard road, eh, Mister Brownloe?” and he laughed some +more. “But if you won’t mind stepping round the corner for a moment +where it will be more private, we——” + +“Dang you!” blurted old John indignantly. “What do I want to go round +the corner with yow fer? Who be yow, eh?” + +“Well, really,” and the bailiff laughed pleasantly, “you’re about +the hardest case I’ve met, Mister Brownloe, and I’ve met some queer +ones—thousands of them. You know well enough” (producing a sealed +document) “that I’ve got a warrant of _Ca. Re._ against you! Really I +don’t know how you can take it so calmly,” and another pleasant ripple +of official mirth came from him. + +“A _w-what_!” cried old John. + +“Well, you _are_ a caution,” pursued the hypocritical bum. “I’ll just +read it to you: + + ‘_To James Ballantyne, my Chief Bailiff, greeting:—By virtue of a + writ of Capias ad Respondurdum to me directed, I command you that you + take Robert Brox Brownloe if he be found in my bailiwick, and him + safely keep until he shall have satisfied the sum of £850, which sum + was ordered to be paid by the said Robert Brox Brownloe to William + Smith, plaintiff in this suit, together with office fees, legal and + incidental expenses, besides interest at the rate of £8 per centum + per annum. Hereof fail not. William Thomas, Sheriff._’” + +“What have all thet rigermarole got to do wi’ me?” exclaimed old John. +“Ah ain’t Brownloe, or ennerone else; Ah’m John Dashwood. And look yow +here, and just listen to me: Ah’ve heerd o’ your sort often enoof, so +just yow get on abaht your business and doan’t interfere wi’ me else +Ah’ll call a perleeceman and give the two on yow in charge.” + +The bailiff rubbed his hands, and laughed in a most friendly fashion. +“Well, if you ain’t just the coolest fellow that ever I have come +across in all my experience, Mr. Brownloe, and I can’t help but admire +you. It’s a pleasure to meet a man like you. But, really, you know, and +you mustn’t blame me or my friend Mr. Tomkins, here. I’ll make it as +pleasant as I can for you, but you must consider yourself my prisoner +until the sum is paid, together with the office fees.” He repeated +“office fees” several times, and each time smiled most seductively, +for that was where he himself came in. Then he placed his hand on old +John’s shoulder to administer the legal official “touch,” without +which, according to George the Fourth or someone of ancient descent, +the “arrest” would not be good business. + +Old John side-stepped and, striking a Jack Johnson attitude, used +threatening language. + +“Now really,” and the bailiff laughed once more, “you _are_ a gallant +old man, Mr. Brownloe, but I wouldn’t fight with you for a good deal, +no, not me! Many a fellow you’ve knocked over, I know! But we musn’t +waste too much time, for I’ve got to be back at the court at 11.30, and +here is a copy of the summons, and a copy of the judge’s order.” He +calmly offered the documents to old John. + +Old John punched a hole in the judge’s order and danced on the summons; +then invited his interviewers to stand up and be made chopping blocks +of. + +The affable bum deemed it judicious to enter into further particulars. + +“Like a good fellow,” he said, in his best smoodging voice, “just +listen to me, just listen to me for one minute, will you, Mister +Brownloe? + +“I’m the sheriff’s chief officer” (he never encouraged the use of +the term “bailiff” at all). “This gentleman”—turning to the sweated +hack—“represents Messrs. Jones and Robertson, Town Agents for the +Plaintiff’s Solicitor. Now, like the sensible man that I’m sure you +must be, if you will only think the matter over one minute and just +come along and see the sheriff it will save a lot of trouble. If you +refuse, you know, I must only call a policeman, and oh! really, Mr. +Brownloe, I wouldn’t like to cause a scene here, more for your sake +than for my own.” And, gathering up the scattered documents, he tried +old John with them once more. + +Old John took them in his hand and savagely tore them into many pieces. + +A look of horror filled the eyes of the astonished bum. He saw +sacrilege and contempt of court written all over the scraps that were +fluttering innocently away, and making off down the street. + +“Oh, you bad old man!” he gasped. “Do you know what you’ve done, Mr. +Brownloe?” + +“Ah knows what John Dashwood’s done,” was the answer, “he’s tore ’em +up.” + +At this stage a stalwart policeman strolled along on the opposite side +of the street. + +[Illustration: DEALING WITH THE JUDGE’S ORDERS.] + +The bailiff hailed him by name. The bailiff was intimately +acquainted with the police of the city; and the police of the city were +acquainted with the chief bailiff of the State. John Hop, scenting +trouble, puffed out his chest, and responded to the call. + +The bailiff explained the position to his contemporary in the law. + +The policeman frowned upon old John, and said in a voice of tremendous +authority: + +“Now, get along wid Mister Ballantyne and pay ye’s debts!” + +Old John looked bewildered. + +“But, policeman, Ah’ve told him Ah dersen’t owe ennerone mooney. And +mah name’s John Dashwood. Ah’m a farmer, coome here fer——” + +“Go arn! Go arn wid ye’s!” interrupted the policeman, “that’s an old +yarn! Get awaay to th’ sheriff!” + +Old John began to see the matter was genuine and that further +resistance was useless, and the humorous side of the situation started +to strike him. + +“Well, if this doan’t beat all,” he said, with a broad smile, “an’ Ah +coomed here to th’ city wi’ mah wife fer a holeeday——” + +“An’ ye’ll get it, Oi’m thinkin’,” grinned the bobbie, “though Oi +wudn’t say ye’ll spend it wid your wife.” + +The bailiff smiled pleasantly again, and addressed old John: + +“Well, shall we take a cab and drive down, Mr. Brownloe?” + +“Takes whatever yow likes, seems to me,” and old John laughed. “Ah +dersen’t seem to have mooch say in it atween th’ lot on yow.” + +“Oh, you won’t be kept long, I’m sure of that,” said the cheerful +bailiff. “You’ve got a pretty long cheque book. Oh, I’ll bet you have +Mister Brownloe!” and, clapping old John affectionately on the back, +added: “Come along; come along!” + +Old John went along, and the cabman scarcely pulled rein till he drew +up at the large front door of the Supreme Court. + +It was a busy morning at the court. The criminal sittings were to +open at ten o’clock. The calendar was a heavy one. It was full of +charges of murder, burglary, forgery, bigamy, robbery, horsestealing, +and attempted suicide. Officials of the court—registrars, deputy +registrars, associates, tipstaffs, chief clerks, first clerks, ordinary +common barn door clerks, messengers, bailiffs, assistant bailiffs, +bum-bailiffs and sundry other servants of the Crown were running here +and there with books and papers in their hands, and an air of great +importance on their faces. It was one of the red letter days of the +court, and a great day for the officials. They bounded up the broad +staircase that led to the temple of justice like kangaroos ascending +the wall of a range, and bounded down it again. Along the main corridor +of the building moved a stream of humanity which included all sorts +and conditions of people—people with money and position, people with +neither; people with ambition, people without any; people fresh from +the university, people who had never heard of such an institution; +people who preached the gospel of Christ, people who picked pockets. +And mingled with the mob were lawyers laden with bundles of papers +tied with green tape; pressmen trailing walking sticks after them; +doctors in gold-rimmed spectacles; inspectors of police in uniform; +jurymen, lost and helpless looking, enquiring of others where they +were to go; witnesses making similar enquiries; the downcast father, +the broken-hearted mother of an unfortunate son on trial; then last +but by no means least, quite a small army of clean-shaven gentlemen +wearing long black gowns that flogged their heels, and crowns of +horse-hair, with idiotic “pumpkin” curls dangling to them, swaggered +along as though their absurdly-decorated heads contained all the brains +of the world. In their hands they carried, by way of advertisement, +imposing-looking volumes of the law. And from out this profane medley +of humanity old John emerged at the sheriff’s office. The bailiff +opened a door which had printed upon it in large ornamental letters: +“Chief Bailiff,” and invited his prisoner to take a chair and make +himself comfortable and happy. Removing his coat, which he brushed +carefully, he washed his hands and face and combed his hair and +whiskers. Then, after considering himself in a shabby little mirror, +which he extracted from a cedar press, he looked at his watch, a +Waterbury, secured to his vest by a magnificent brass chain. + +Old John sat and stared about the room. It was a cold, dingy-looking +crib, that deserved to be tenanted by a bailiff. The kalsomined +walls were as bare as blazes and disfigured with blobs of grease and +ink-splashes and pencil writings of every hue. A photo. print of the +Attorney General of the day, cut from the morning newspaper, was pasted +over the fire-place. It was pasted there in the hope that the original +of it might look in one day and, seeing it, decide upon giving the +bailiff a rise of screw for his devotion and loyalty. The bailiff +learnt this wrinkle from his under-secretary, an imported cuss who, by +similar servility, achieved the sensational act of scaling the walls of +the service in a pair of policeman’s boots. + +No covering was upon the floor, but the presence of stained borders and +a number of battered tacks bore testimony that it had been carpeted, +before the bailiff entered into possession of it. “Higher officials” +have no respect for the comforts of a bailiff, except when their tailor +issues a writ against them. And then, but only then, they weep on his +neck and hold his hand in a brotherly way. + +Standing stolidly in the centre of the room was a large pine table, +on which stood three glass ink-bottles labelled “red,” “black,” and +“purple” respectively, a grimy old tumbler half filled with dirty shot, +a wonderful variety of pens and pencils, sufficient to set up a country +school, and a large quantity of foolscap, some of it torn, some of it +scribbled on, some envelopes of all lengths and shapes, and blank, +printed forms galore, some headed in large type: “Jury Summons”; some +“Warrant on Ca Re”; some “Warrant on Ca Sa”; some “Warrant on Ha Fa”; +some “Warrant on Fi Fa”; and some more “Instructions to Bailiffs.” + +And it was all chucked about in any order, and no order at all. + +Before this jumble of stationery the bailiff calmly seated himself in a +heavy chair, the legs of which scratched channels in the floor when he +dragged it under him, and proceeded to arrange the papers “Smith _v._ +Brownloe.” + +“Well, now, Mr. Brownloe,” he said, turning to our patient friend with +a winning smile, “before we go in and see the sheriff I’ll just endorse +the warrant with your answers. You refuse to pay me this £850 because +you say you are not the defendant mentioned in the warrant. Is that so, +Mr. Brownloe?” + +“Just as Ah told yow afore,” answered old John. + +The bailiff nodded, and proceeded to write things on the back of +the warrant. When he had finished his face assumed a serious, +saintly expression, a habit he had acquired from long practice as a +lay-preacher. + +“Of course you know, Mr. Brownloe,” he said, rubbing his hands +together, “and I only mention the matter now in your interests, you +know, entirely in your own interests, and you’re a man I can’t help +respecting, really I can’t; in fact I’ve taken quite a fancy to you in +the short time that we’ve known each other, so I have, and what I would +impress on you to be really very careful about is that the plaintiff’s +solicitors, you know, will fight this matter to the bitter end, and +if it should turn out after all that you really _are_ the defendant +mentioned, my word, then I wouldn’t like to be in your shoes, Mr. +Brownloe, oh, not for thousands, not for all the gold in Australia”; +and the bailiff opened his eyes and shook his head gloomily. Then, +breaking into a friendly laugh. “Oh, I fancy I can see you in that box +upstairs with Mr. Bumpkins, the barrister, at you! Besides,” he added, +“you would have to stump up a lot more then than it will cost you now. +Even my own costs would be ever so much greater. They don’t come to +very much just yet. Let me see” (makes a calculation), “yes, only five +pounds ten, including cab fare. But just think for a moment what the +solicitors’ costs would come to” (here he leaned back and laughed +loud). “I don’t suppose anyone in this world, Mr. Brownloe, could say +what _they_ would come to.” + +“Well, all that’s got nothing to do wi’ me!” old John answered, +shortly; and the bailiff lost hope. + +“Well, you _are_ a determined man, Mr. Brownloe,” he said. “I _do_ +admire you for it,” and jumping up he opened a small trap window in the +thick brick wall and looked out upon a nest of clerks assembled in the +next room, munching fruit. + +“Ha! ha! ha!” he laughed. “Did I give you a fright, Mr. Maypole?” + +“I thought you were that rotter of an under-secretary spying round +again!” a voice was heard to say, which was followed by a burst of +clerical laughter, and a large banana that whizzed through at the +bailiffs beard. + +The bailiff closed the trap window with a loud bang, and stood +listening to things rapping the other side of it that sounded like +hail-stones pelting a roof. + +“They’re such awful beggars in there,” he said to old John, +“for playing jokes. Oh, dear me, I _would_ enjoy myself if the +under-secretary were to pop in here just now and open this window. He +_would_ get such a one in the eye!” + +“Ah-h,” remarked old John; “who be he?” + +“Who _is_ he!” and the bailiff looked as though amazed to find that +any person living did not know that exalted being, the under-secretary! + +“Oh, he’s the head of the department—the head of us all.” + +Cautiously he opened the trap window again, and, finding the clerks had +settled down to work, called out: + +“Mr. Maypole, is the sheriff in his office do you know?” + +“Yes, I suppose so,” came the answer, “if he’s not gone into court.” + +“Well, look here, Mr. Maypole, I’ve Mr. Brownloe with me, and I must +see the sheriff most urgently.” Then, catching Mr. Maypole’s eye, the +bailiff winked a wink, the meaning of which was perfectly understood by +the gentleman, at the head of the clerks’ quarters. + +The bailiff seated himself at his table again and commenced writing at +a wonderful rate of speed. + +Next moment Mr. Maypole, with a pile of papers in his hand that might +have referred to all the matters in the department for ought he knew +at the moment, entered the room, and, as an excuse for his appearance, +asked a fictitious question about the service of a jury summons. + +“I’ll tell you all about it in two minutes, Mr. Maypole, if you just +sit down for a while,” answered the busy bailiff; “I want to catch the +sheriff first, before he goes into court,” and, rising, he rushed off +to capture his boss. + +And Mr. Maypole, the clerk, was left in charge of the prisoner, which, +of course, was the object of his entering the room. From behind the +folds of a closely-written document, which he pretended to study very +hard, he started to stare curiously at old John. Old John took little +or no notice of Mr. Maypole. Old John was lost in meditation. Mr. +Maypole went red in the face. He smiled a little; then, taking his eyes +off the prisoner, he rose quickly and referred to defendant’s name in +the official documents lying on the bailiff’s table. + +Looking up at old John, he asked, with a broad smile: + +“Your name is not Brownloe, is it?” + +“Well,” old John answered slowly, “Ah can’t get this gentleman yere to +believe as it ain’t, and that’s why Ah’m yere.” + +“You’re Mr. Dashwood, ain’t you, from Fairfield?” this with a broad +grin of proud recognition. + +Old John gave a start, and stared at Mr. Maypole. + +“Do you know me, then?” he cried, the light of joy rushing to his eye. + +“Oh, yes, I ought to know you,” with a continuation of the grin of +recognition, “I’m Jim Maypole, Mr. Dashwood.” + +Old John gave a bigger start. + +“Why bless my ’eart, where wer’ me eyes! Yower father’s place be just +next to mine. Hoh! hoh! lord yes, why yower th’ one as we used to call +little Jimmy, an yow went to school wi’ my James!” And old John nearly +shook the clerk’s arm out of joint. + +“I was over at your place last Christmas,” said he, “when on a holiday.” + +“Oh, don’t Ah remember,” gushed old John, “but you’ve growed lad; +you’ve growed.” + +“And what the deuce are you doing here on this matter?” asked Mr. +Maypole; pointing to the official documents. + +All old John’s good humour had returned to him. + +“Hoh! hoh! hoh!” he laughed, “this man yere” (meaning the bailiff) “and +a policeman, and another fellow as left us dahn th’ street, and a cab +wi’ two grey horses in it fetched me here, Jimmy.” + +“Jimmy” laughed. + +“Ah-h,” went on old John, “and the missus and Granmoother and all of +’em don’t know where I are.” + +“What! are they all down with you?” cried the clerk. + +“All on ’em were inside the poob when Ah were collared ahtside!” + +The clerk saw the humour of the situation and broke into mirth. + +“Ah-h,” continued old John, “and them wer’ sure my name was Brownloe +or summit, and ’em only asks me to pay eight oondered for th’ tahtle, +Jimmy.” + +Jimmy had to hold his sides. And old John rocked about in the chair. + +Their enjoyment was interrupted by the hurried entrance of the excited +bailiff. + +“I’m awfully sorry, Mr. Brownloe,” he gasped, “I really must apologise, +but the sheriff has gone into court and——” + +“Well, _you_ are a chump, Ballantyne!” the clerk said, wiping the tears +from his eyes, “this is not _Brownloe_, this is Mr. Dashwood from +Fairfield, an old friend of my father’s, and I’ve known him since I was +a kiddy.” + +“Ah knowed Jimmy yere,” old John laughed, “since he wer’ in napkins!” + +The bailiff went white, and sunk backward against the closed door. + +“Our nearest neighbour for years,” added the clerk. “How on earth did +you come to make such a bloomer?” + +“Oh, I can’t be blamed! I can’t! I can’t! It’s not my mistake. Oh, that +awful fool of a clerk that Jones and Robertson sent to point him out!” +and the bailiff showed symptoms of becoming seriously ill. + +Mr. Maypole stood and grinned. + +“Oh, dear, this is awful!” whined the bailiff. “Oh, _do_ ring up Jones +and Robertson like a good fellow and ask one of the firm to come up at +once! I’m too unnerved to do anything myself. Oh, there will be trouble +over this! Oh, let me have a drink of water!” + +“That last case of wrongful arrest,” remarked the clerk maliciously, +“cost the office what, about nine hundred pounds, and two men their +billets.” + +“Oh, _do_ ring up the solicitors!” cried the miserable bailiff, while +his knees rattled together like the hangman’s when on duty. + +The clerk rang up Jones and Robertson, and, after answering several +questions, and chuckling cheerfully into the machine, turned and said: + +“Mr. Jones is coming himself, and is bringing along a gentleman who +knows the defendant Brownloe well.” + +The bailiff attempted to make a grateful response, but lost control of +his bottom jaw. “R-r-r-r-r-r R-r-r-r-r!” went his teeth, as though set +in motion by intense cold. + +Old John, taking compassion upon him, assured the bailiff that so far +as he “wer’ concerned no harm wer’ done.” + +The bailiff pulled himself together, and paced restlessly about the +room. + +Suddenly a messenger, out of breath, burst into the room, and gasped +out that William James, a juror, had failed to answer when his name was +called, and that the judge was in a terrible rage, and the sheriff in +a blue funk. “You’re to come up to court at once Mr. Ballantyne,” he +concluded, in a shout, and rushed away again. + +The poor bailiff! He collapsed again. “Oh, my heavens!” he moaned, “oh, +my stars!” and placed his hands to his head. + +But just then the clatter of shoe leather was heard racing up the +corridor and the form of the absent juror streaked past the open door. + +“There he is!” shrieked the bailiff, “there’s Mr. James!” and he +bounded out in pursuit. Next moment he was hanging round the juryman’s +neck beseeching him in the name of heaven, in the name of himself, in +the name of the judge, to hurry into court. + +“Oh, to th’ devil with th’ judge! My watch just makes it five minutes +past ten!” growled Mr. James, and on he trotted. + +“Oh, what a blessing he’s come!” sighed the bailiff, returning to his +table and mopping the perspiration from his brow. “I needn’t go up now! +Oh, there will be a row when he goes in!” + +And there _was_ a row! In less than three minutes juror James came +rushing back to the bailiff’s room. + +“Where’s your telephone?” he roared, angrily. “That infernal old dog up +there has fined me ten pounds! But I’ll show him if I’ll pay or not!” + +He turned the handle of the machine with great violence. + +“Give me the Attorney General!” he shouted “Confound it, are you deaf! +The _Attorney General_! No, d— it! I don’t want your under-secretary. I +want to speak to Mr. McBrown himself! Eh? Mr. James of James and Black +speaking!” + +The clerk looked across at the bailiff; the bailiff looked across at +the clerk. + +“Is that Mr. McBrown?” continued juror James. “Oh, how are you, Dan. +Look here, Dan, I’m in trouble. I was five minutes late on the jury +just now—and the common jury, no less—and this old barbarian that you +keep on the bench here fined me ten pounds!” + +There was a silence, during which the conversation was conducted by +“Dan,” the Attorney General. + +Then juror James began again: + +“Oh, right you are, Dan,” he said, “I’ll come round and see you right +away!” and, dropping the ’phone he winked triumphantly at the bailiff +and hurried away. + +“That’s strong, if you like!” remarked the clerk. + +The bailiff chuckled. + +“Catch Mr. James paying a fine,” he said; “not while he’s one of Mr. +McBrown’s chief political supporters!” + +“And they say the course of justice is never interfered with in +Australia!” remarked the clerk again. + +“Oh, _never_!” said the bailiff, with a broad smile; “never! never! +_never_!” + +And the incident had hardly closed when Mr. Jones, of Jones and +Robertson, accompanied by the gentleman acquainted with defendant +Brownloe, arrived. + +One glance at old John satisfied the said gentleman. He turned to the +lawyer and shook his head in the negative. The lawyer flew off the +handle. + +“Have you arrested this gentleman as the defendant?” he asked, in +scornful tones of the bailiff. + +The bailiff fairly trembled. + +“Your clerk pointed him out, Mr. Jones, and I couldn’t——” + +“I don’t know anything about what our clerk did!” interrupted the +lawyer, “but I presume the sheriff’s office knows its business, and if +it is pleased to arrest the first man it meets in the street, while the +real defendant is allowed to escape by its neglect, then of course it +must put up with the consequences. We want that writ against Brownloe +executed, Mr. Ballantyne,” and the lawyer, with his companion, turned +and left. + +A cold shiver came over the bailiff and he sunk in a limp heap into his +chair. + +“Well, Ah suppose they don’t want me any more, Jimmy?” old John said, +addressing the clerk. + +“No, Mr. Dashwood,” the clerk answered, “not unless you are going to +issue a writ against the office for wrongful arrest!” + +Old John shook his head contemptuously, and held out his hand to say +good-bye. + +“Good-bye, Mr. Dashwood,” the clerk said, “but you ought to go up and +spend half an hour in the court now that you are here. You might hear +something amusing up there.” + +“Ah-h,” said old John, falling in with the idea, “an’ which way do yow +go, Jimmy, to get in there?” + +“Just round the corner of the passage, here, Mr. Dashwood,” answered +the clerk, pointing out through the door. “The stairs are there on your +right; you can’t miss them. Just go up them and you’ll see a crowd of +people hanging about the door. Go right in; but I don’t think you’ll be +able to get a seat.” + +“Ah, well, Ah don’t soopose they’ll hang me,” answered old John +cheerfully, and, shaking hands with Jimmy again, added: “Ah’ll tell +father as how Ah saw yow when we goes back to Fairfield.” And off he +rocked in search of the court-room. + +The mouth of another wide corridor leading to the judges’ private +chambers was all that caught old John’s eye, and down that dull and +gloomy corridor he fearlessly stalked. At the bottom of it be found a +staircase, a narrow staircase, sacred to the use of judges only, and by +which their Honours always ascended to the bench. For any other court +official to make use of that staircase was a felony! + +Without a moment’s thought or hesitation old John mounted those stairs +and, with the clumsiness of an elephant, up he climbed, step after +step, until finally and suddenly he landed on a Brussels carpet and +stood in full gaze of the crowded court-room and the bar, and within +a kick of the sheriff and the gorgeously-gowned and heavily-wigged +judge. Oh, horror! Had the Kelly Gang, armed to the teeth and with +its hat and armour on, arrived on the bench by those stairs at that +moment the court and spectators could not have looked more staggered or +astonished. The hair on the head of every policeman reared up on its +end, and their mouths opened like caves. The crown prosecutor, in the +middle of his address to the jury, shut up like a shop, and stared as +though the ghost of all his past sins had suddenly risen up before him. +The judge, hearing something grunt behind him as old John negotiated +the last step, swung half way round in his chair, and, suddenly +crouching low as one in the act of dodging a revolver shot, held up his +bejewelled hands as if silently imploring mercy. The sheriff, whose +duty it was to protect the person of His Honour, even at the sacrifice +of his own life rose to the occasion. The sheriff had been a military +man, and was no coward. In fact it was the one opportunity he had often +longed for through his long, sleepy official career. But before he +could grapple with the intruder the latter had disappeared down the +stairs again. The sheriff disappeared in pursuit. Then there was a +commotion! Every policeman, plain and fancy, every official in court +rushed out by the front way and threw himself down the broad staircase +in order to intercept the offender before he could reach the street. +Arriving at the ground floor they encountered the sheriff in tow with +the runaway. The former had a pleasant smile on his face, and old John +was waving his large hands about and making loud efforts to explain +that he had merely wandered up the stairs to see how the court managed +its affairs. “Jimmy Maypole,” he said, “told me the way, but Ah moost +have made a mistake.” Along with a score more excited-looking clerks +Mr. Maypole came skipping along to witness the fun. He got a surprise +when he found it was his friend Mr. Dashwood who was the cause of the +trouble. And the truth of the situation dawned on him at once. + +“Why,” he said, pushing his way through the crowd to the side of old +John, “you must have taken the wrong stairs, Mr. Dashwood!” + +[Illustration: IN THE WRONG BOX.] + +The sheriff didn’t want any further explanation. “Merely a mistake,” he +said, smiling pleasantly upon old John and the police. Then he left +and returned to court to console His Honour. + +“Well, Jimmy,” said old John, addressing Mr. Maypole once more. “Ah +thinks Ah better get out o’ this yere city an’ be off back to th’ farm +afore Ah gets into more trouble.” + +[Illustration: Decorative Image] + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +A Leading Barrister. + + +While the rest of his family preferred the pleasures of a Melba +concert, held in the Town Hall, old John chose to spend the evening +with an old friend, who, with his family, resided far out in the +suburbs, and who, like old John himself, possessed an overweaning +predilection for draught playing. These two old fogies pored over the +board until such a late hour that old John narrowly escaped missing +the last tram back to town. And before half the sections had been +traversed he was the one solitary occupant of the car, and the only +passenger left to alight at the terminus. Prompted no doubt by the +glad feeling of having at last finished for “the day,” the conductor +called out a cheerful “good-night” as our quaint friend crept down +off the footboard. Old John paused for a moment to study the lay of +the town, then directed his footsteps for the hotel. The smellsome +street was dark, and dull, and empty. Not a sound, save the echo of +his own footsteps ringing out on the hard, hollow pavements, pervaded +it. The crowds of jostling people had gone; all the theatre-goers had +long since wended their way to their homes and lodging places; street +singers, cheap jacks, and beggars had departed; the sin and vice of the +city that was usually flaunting round in paint and powder and all the +alluring colours of the rainbow had disappeared as completely as though +swallowed by an earthquake. A light, drizzling rain was falling, and +wretchedness and misery seemed to hang like a shroud over the dazzling +city. A few lights still flickered afar out on the silent, ghostly +waters of the dark and distant harbour. Mayhaps, in the absence of the +great shop illuminations, the pallid gas-lamps holding sentry at the +street corners burned brighter than they were wont to do. + +A night-porter unbolted the large front door of the hotel with grating +noise, and with a series of bows and succulent smiles admitted old John. + +“Ah’m late, eh?” he said, apologetically. + +The porter smiled some more. + +“Not the latest, though, sir,” he answered, in a consoling tone of +voice. “There’s any amount more to come after you.” + +“What, to-naht?” and old John looked surprised. + +“Oh, I don’t know about to-night, sir,” with a significant grin, “some +of them generally turn up about morning.” + +He bolted the door again, and old John peregrinated in the direction of +the elevator. A light was burning in the hotel office. Two gentlemen +were leaning on the bottom half of the double door that guarded it, +conversing volubly. One had been to the theatre and still wore his +dress suit, and a large diamond stud shone in the centre of his +starched shirt like the morning star. The other wore a long top-coat, +buttoned all the way down, beneath which a pair of carpet slippers +protruded. A couple of empty glasses stood before them, resting on the +door ledge. + +The one in the long coat and carpet slippers greeted old John +boisterously. + +“Hello!” he cried, “this is a nice hour for a respectable married man +to come in!” + +Old John, who had made the gentleman’s acquaintance during the course +of numerous quiet chats in the smoking-room, laughed, and said: + +“Ah-h, but that be th’ pot calling th’ kettle black. Why ain’t _yow_ in +bed?” + +“Well, I was,” answered the other in extenuation, and throwing open +his top-coat displayed a suit of gaudy pyjamas, “but my friend, here, +dragged me out to come down and have a drink with him. Let me introduce +you” (turning to his friend). “Mr. Dashwood, one of our wealthiest +and most successful farmers. Mr. Portland, Mr. Dashwood; one of our +country’s brightest barristers. In fact, I might say the brightest +counsel in the Commonwealth. I suppose you’ve heard of him.” + +Old John had heard of barrister Portland, and proceeded to make a +great mouthful of the circumstance. He was overjoyed at making the +acquaintance of such a noted person. + +“Oh! Ah-h! Mah word!” he exclaimed, seizing hold of the great counsel’s +extended hand, “Ah wer’ on th’ jury once, when yow were defenden th’ +presoners.” + +Barrister Portland’s eye began to sparkle with the glow of professional +pride. + +“Indeed,” he said; “when was that, Mr. Dashwood?” + +Old John gave him the day and date, and the name of the presiding +judge, and those of the prisoners, with a few remarks thrown in on the +personal inconvenience he himself underwent during a busy harvest time +to attend the assizes. + +Mr. Portland remembered the sittings, and all its attendant +circumstances and triumphs perfectly. + +[Illustration: ONE IN THE MORNING.] + +“Oh, by Jove, yes,” he observed, turning with enthusiasm to his +long-coated companion. “I defended six prisoners that day, Murphy, +five of them as d— scoundrels as ever looked a judge in the eye. The +other was a harmless poor devil of a nigger, who seemed to regard his +trial for murder as a sort of bora ceremony. In fact, I had an idea +all the time that he thought we were marrying him to a nice little +gin, and that I was there simply acting as best man, and old Judge +Browser tying the knot.” (Here Murphy laughed heartily.) “Well the +five d— scoundrels, I might tell you, that I reckoned on having a +devil of a fight for, I got off without turning a hair. ‘Not guilty,’ +said the jury” (here Mr. Portland laughed himself). “But to my utter +astonishment your friend here” (smiling at old John) “and his brother +jurymen put the rope round the poor unfortunate nigger’s neck without +leaving the box.” Then, addressing old John: “I could never understand +that verdict, Mr. Dashwood!” + +“Ah, well, yow see,” answered old John, “we let five on ’em go, an’ it +would a looked bad to let ’em all off!” + +“Ah! and so you hanged the nigger for preference!” said Mr. Portland. +“Well, that’s candid, and it shows that there are occasions in +Australia when a nigger is chosen for a job before a white man.” Then +turning to the night-porter, who stood behind the office door listening +to the conversation with a broad smile on his clean-shaven, flinty +face: “Fill those up again. What are you going to drink, Mr. Dashwood?” + +Old John hesitated. + +“Well,” he drawled, “Ah dersent drink but very little as a rule.” + +“Well, you are going to break the rule this time,” insistently from the +great barrister. “You see, Mr. Dashwood,” he added, “I don’t know when +I might have you on one of my juries again.” + +“Ah, well, a little port wine,” said old John to the porter. + +The three glasses being filled, they drank to each other’s health, +wealth and continued prosperity. Then the leading counsel of the +Commonwealth, who had accounted for numerous drinks during the +evening, talked with increased volubility, and grew reminiscent of +his Bar experiences. With a profundity and fluency that was amazing +he poured forth anecdote after anecdote, recounted stories of the +various judges that would have made their Honours blush to hear, and +related sensational instances of juries being bribed and intimidated. +He mimicked the mannerisms and styles of speech that characterised his +less successful brothers at the Bar, till his friend Murphy, the porter +behind the “door,” and old John were forced to hold their sides in +order to prevent internal dislocations. + +To old John in particular the great barrister’s company was heaven +upon earth. It was the first time in his long life that he had been +privileged to share learned society. Besides, the port wine was of +the best. And taking advantage of a lull, while Mr. Portland lit for +himself a large superbly-flavoured cigar, he said, with enthusiasm, to +the porter: “Just fill them yere glasses up again, my boy!” + +The porter filled those glasses again; and old John, rummaging his +pockets, discovered they were empty of silver. + +“Oh, it doesn’t matter, sir,” said the porter accommodatingly. “I’ll +mark them up, and you can pay for them in the morning.” Then, as if to +emphasise his confidence in old John, he spilled one out for himself, +which he also marked down to old John. + +“Never worry about owing a few drinks here, Mr. Dashwood,” the famous +barrister remarked off-handedly, “the hotel belongs to a wealthy +temperance syndicate. A good harvest, Mr. Dashwood.” Down went the +whisky in a gulp, then, smacking his lips a few times, Mr. Portland +took a pull at the cigar, and plunged into a story about “a deaf and +dumb fellow, a college chum of his who turned out to be one of the most +capable and eloquent pleaders at the Bar in Mexico.” + +Suddenly and solemnly the great city clock, a mile up the street, +chimed out the hour as 1.30 o’clock. The great barrister stopped in +the middle of his story, pricked his ears, and quoted a weird lump of +Latin verse that had particular reference to graves, and the dead, and +midnight. + +As the melancholy echoes of the clock died away several solemn, +dusty-looking hotel-hands, habitues of the scullery, appeared, shoving +before them a lengthy four-wheeled trolly, upon which was stacked to an +alarming height a magnificent pile of boots and shoes—males’, females’ +and children’s—and the soles of which were numbered in chalk. + +“Upon my honour, just look here,” exclaimed Mr. Portland, upon +observing the cargo of shoe leather that had been “put out” by the +lodgers to be cleaned while they themselves slumbered peaceably in +their hired beds, “now isn’t that a sight worth sitting up to see—eh? +Isn’t it?” + +“An’ that ain’t all of ’em,” sorrowfully remarked one of the dusty +boot-blacks, while his two companions stood beside the pile and grinned +grins of irony. + +“You don’t say so!” cried Mr. Portland enthusiastically, “and are you +fellows going to polish that ship-load before morning?” + +“Before mornin’?” grinned one. “It’s that now, sir!” + +“Then before you start on your long and early journey round those +number nines, gentlemen, you had better have a drink.” + +The boot-blacks required no second invitation. And they didn’t wait to +make enquiries as to the respectability of the person who desired them +to drink with him. Boot-blacks all know the dangers of delays. Their +feet didn’t hit the floor once before they arrived with a loud bang +against the office door. + +“Brandy, Billy,” they all said in the same breath. + +Mr. Portland bowed interrogatively to old John. Old John said he’d +“have port wine again.” + +Mr. Portland himself and his friend Murphy remained true to whisky. + +“Best respec’s, sir,” said the boot-blacks, up-ending their glasses. + +“Your very best health, gentlemen; and a pleasant morning,” responded +the noted barrister—“a pleasant morning.” + +He emptied his glass and strode over to the heap of shoe leather and +surveyed it. A huge, ugly male boot of great length caught his legal +eye. He lifted it, and stared long and studiously at it. “Enough to +give any man ten years!” he said scornfully, and dropped the boot back +on the pile. + +The boot-blacks grinned. + +“That’s Judge Yorrick’s,” one of them said. “He’s here to-night!” + +“Heavens!” cried Mr. Portland, lifting the long, ill-shaped boot again, +“so it is! I should have known it by the utter look of imbecility it +has about it; by the woeful lack of decision and direction that’s +stamped all over it; and, above all, I most certainly should have +recognised its distinguished owner in it by the almost entire absence +of a sole! Poor old Yorrick! I know you too —— well,” and once more +Mr. Portland dropped the boot on the pile. Looking further afield his +eyes rested on a lady’s shoe with “21” chalked on the sole of it. He +took it in his hand and turned it over and over tenderly. He pressed it +to his starched bosom and said: “Ah, th’ dear, dainty little thing.” +(Old John and Murphy laughed.) “Could that innocent, empty little shoe +but speak!” + +The chalked figures on the sole caught his eye, “Ah! and your owner is +only 21. A tender age! The bloom and bud of life!” + +“Twenty-one!” growled one of the boot-blacks. “Yer wouldn’t say so if +yer see’d her upstairs, sir. A leather-necked ole hen, what’s nearer a +century. ‘Twenty-one’ is only the number of her room!” + +“What!” cried Mr. Portland sharply, “that’s—that’s _my wife’s_, then!” + +Then all at once it seemed to come upon him from different directions +that he had been basely insulted. + +A burst of laughter greeted his ears. + +“You d— ruffian!” he shouted and flung the shoe at the head of the +offending boot-black, who promptly ducked and took refuge in the dark +shades of the elevator encasement. The two remaining boot-blacks +entered into the humour of the situation. Mr. Portland turned his wrath +upon them. + +[Illustration: “BOOTS O!”] + +“Scullery rats!” he cried. “Take that! and _that_!” aiming in quick +succession at them Judge Yorrick’s large ill-tempered-looking boots. +The shoe-blacks dodged this way and that. The leading counsel of the +Commonwealth armed himself with a fresh supply of clog-hoppers, and +pursued them with vengeance in his eye. The night-porter and Murphy and +old John pursued Mr. Portland, calling upon him to “take no notice.” +The affrighted shoe-blacks flew up several flights of the great stairs. +Mr. Portland pelted them up on to the fourth landing. Here he was +overtaken by the night-porter, his friend Murphy and old John. They +beseeched him in the interests of the slumbering lodgers, and in the +good name and reputation of the hotel, to desist. + +Mr. Portland desisted. + +“Well, call the scavengers back,” he said, starting to descend the +stairs, “and we’ll have a doch-an-doris.” + +The night-porter called them back. With grins on their faces the +shoe-blacks returned cautiously to their pile of boots. + +“A doch-an-doris, you sweeps,” called out the great barrister to them, +“and I’ll file a _Nolle Prosequi_ against you, and let you off without +a stain on your blackened characters.” + +The three shoe-blacks came up to the office door again, smiling. + +They all drank again. + +“Well, we’ve had a very pleasant evening,” Mr. Portland said, +addressing his friend Murphy, “taking it all in all. And Mr. Dashwood,” +turning to old John, “I have to thank you for the pleasure of your +company this evening, and I’m quite alive to the fact that your stay +with us was prolonged at acute personal inconvenience and sacrifice to +yourself. Porter,” to the night officer, as he pointed to the lift, +“lead thou the way to that virtuous bug-roost for the joys of which I +am paying four guineas a week!” + +The porter led the way; and the merry trio ascended in the lift to +disperse on different floors and seek their respective rooms. + + * * * * * + +Next morning, old John, with some silver in his hand and a look of +repentance on his brow, sought the night-porter. + +“What is it Ah owes yow for last naht,” he enquired, in a confidential +whisper. + +With a meaning smile the porter referred to the pages of a pocket book. + +“I thought we were going to have some trouble, last night, sir?” he +began. But old John wasn’t to be drawn. He had no inclination whatever +to discuss the doings of “last night.” + +“How mooch, lad?” he whispered again, glancing restlessly over his +shoulder to see if Mrs. Dashwood was hovering near. + +“Yours come to—let me see—one pound two and sixpence,” and the porter’s +face never moved a muscle or disclosed the slightest suspicion of his +feeling in any way the pangs of a guilty conscience. + +Old John staggered visibly. + +“Eh?” he said, “Ah only put down one lot o’ drinks, weren’t it?” and he +glanced back over his shoulder again. + +“I don’t suppose you remember, sir,” said the unblushing flunkey, in +low, guarded tones that insinuated scandal and disgrace, “y’ know you +were shouting right and left for all hands. Oh, you were _terrible_ bad +last night, sir, terrible bad!” + +Here old John observed Mrs. Dashwood making towards him from the +breakfast room. + +“One pahnd two an’ sex,” he murmured, dropping the coin into the +porter’s hand. + +“Right, sir, thank you, sir,” said that gentle, obliging rascal, and, +with a heavy sinking feeling at his heart, old John turned away. + +[Illustration: Decorative Image] + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +Meeting McClure. + + +Monday. + +“_Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-g-g-g._” And the +great town-clock, towering in solitary state above the noisy, dirty +city, proclaimed it one o’clock. One o’clock! The hour when the great +army of poorly-paid clerks, clerks with little lungs, little vitality, +and less prospects, clerks with wives and large families dependent +upon them, put down their pens with weary sigh, and, turning to the +modest sandwich bulked in the packet with a banana, begin their mid-day +meal; the hour when ministers of the crown, heads of departments, +proprietors, directors and managers of business houses, bank managers, +promoters of gold mines, coal mines and delusive oil mines, and the +horde of affluent purse-proud members of city society swagger forth +with air of rare importance into the main thoroughfares to advertise +their persons and prosperity and to dine largely and expensively at the +clubs, the grand hotels, and the swell tea-rooms. One o’clock! the +hour when doors of smellsome factories open to emit teams of men and +women, boys and girls, into the open for a mouthful of fresh air, some +to collect in circles about the doors, munching their bit of lunch, +some to hang round the nearest street corner, others to play quoits +or gamble for pence on some vacant allotment or down a dark lane; the +hour when followers of the turf or football and cricket congregate +before the sporting rendezvous to smoke cigars and cigarettes, and +to criticise all that happened, or that should have happened, on the +Saturday before; the hour, too, when the labour agitator, seizing time +by the forelock, takes the stump in park and square to straighten out +the political question of the day and arrange things with the working +man for the effective belting of “boodle” with the heavy end of the +ballot box. + +And, standing beneath that great clock, old John and Peter stared up +at its giddy height and wondered by what means it was ever elevated to +such a position. And while they debated the matter with each other a +burly, hairy form in a new roomy tweed suit and a new hat waddled from +the crowd and greeted them in cheery, familiar voice. + +“Mah gracious me if ’n ain’t Duncan McClure!” cried old John, holding +out his hand, while Peter started to laugh with delight at the welcome +and unexpected appearance of their good-natured country cousin. + +“By criky!” said Duncan, his humorous little eyes twinkling merrily +from behind the rolls of fat that gathered in his hairy cheeks, “I was +standin’ ower there a’maist cryin’ harrd, while I was listenin’ tae a +chap singin’ ‘Th’ Bonnie Hills o’ Scotland’ when I keeked ower here +an’ saw ye. ‘By cripes!’ I said, ‘if that’s no auld John Dashwood an’ +Peter, I’ll eat ma bloomin’ bonnet.’” + +“Ah-h,” laughed old John, “you’ve good eyes, Duncan; an’ yow won’t have +to eat yow’re hat.” + +“By gosh, an’ I’m jolly glad aboot it, for Ah jist bocht it oot o’ a +shop the noo, and it cost me five an’ saxpence,” and, taking his hat +off, McClure invited his friends to pass their friendly opinion upon +the merits of his purchase. + +They both gazed on the felt and at McClure’s bare head and smiled. + +“Dae ye no think it’s dirt cheap at five an saxpence?” asked McClure +proudly. “It’s sic a lang time sin’ I bocht onything mysel wi’oot th’ +wife that I had maist forgotten hoo tae make a deal wi’ th’ skaff-raff +ahind th’ coonter.” + +Old John dragged his own “nail-can” off, and answered: + +“Well, Ah paid fourteen shillins for yon.” + +“Holy Smoke!” and McClure pulled a long and serious face. “Ye maun be +gaun balmy.” + +“It’s a good het, though,” John said, in justification of the +expenditure. + +“Weel, it’s a different sorrt tae mine,” Duncan drawled, “that ane o’ +yours is th’ sorrt Tam o’ Todshaw an’ auld George Reid an’ some o’ th’ +blackfellows that gets hats gi’en tae them for naething wears. I dinna +care for that style mysel’ a bit. They look well eneuch on you, though, +Dashwood; a lot better than on George Reid.” + +Peter removed _his_ head-gear and remarked that he only paid “eight +bob” for it. + +“I wadna be seen deid wi’ a hat like that, Peter,” Duncan said. “By +cripes, I dinna ken where ye got ane like it.” + +Peter laughed, and all three replaced their hats on their heads, quite +oblivious of the fact that a number of people standing by were smiling +hard at them. + +“I didn’t know yow were dahn here, McClure,” old John remarked, opening +up fresh conversation. + +“Tae tell th’ truth,” Duncan answered, “I didna mean tae come doon till +I kent ye were here yoursel’, Dashwood. ‘I’ll swear be ma soul,’ I said +tae the wife, ’auld Johnny Dashwood’s hae’n a deil o’ a gude time o’ +it,’ an’ she said: ‘Well, can ye nae gang doon yoursel’?’ ‘By cripes, +now,’ I thocht, ‘I just will,’ and I had nae sooner thocht it than a +chap frae th’ railway came along an’ telt us a’ aboot th’ cheap fares——” + +Here a sudden gust of wind lifted McClure’s hat from his head and +propelled it into the centre of the street, amongst the traffic. Peter +pursued it on Duncan’s behalf. Before he could rescue it, however, a +cabman’s horse put his foot in it, and cut gashes in the crown of it. +Peter, smiling, returned with it in his hand. + +“By cripes, now!” Duncan said, staring at the ruin, “isn’t that a holy +terror. It’s eneuch tae make a bloomin’ pairson swear.” + +Old John went off into laughter: “Hoh! hoh! hoh! hoh! hoh!” he roared, +while he rocked and rolled about on the pavement. + +“Bust ye!” Duncan said, and, punching the damaged felt into some sort +of shape with his fat fist, pulled it over his head again, leaving a +tuft of his hair sticking up through it like the comb on a cock’s head. + +Old John and Peter laughed more. + +“Yow can’t wear yon now, McClure,” old John said, advisedly, “yow moost +get anoother.” + +“I’ll need tae get a bit o’ a snack first,” answered Duncan, plunging +both hands into his roomy pockets and looking quite happy as he stared +about him. Then after a silence: + +“Hae you fellows had a feed yet?” + +Neither old John or Peter had had lunch, but both were hungry. + +[Illustration: MCCLURE’S HAT.] + +“There’s a rrattlin’ gude place just roon this corner,” McClure +suggested. “A blackfellow keeps it—weel he’s na exac’ly a blackfellow, +either, he’s mair o’ a yaller fellow, but he keeps gude stuff, an’ he +gi’es ye a grreat lump o’ steak what’s a’ fu’ o’ juice. By crikey! an’ +when ye takes a mouthfu’ o’ it ye hae tae eat like a rracehorse tae +keep it frae a’ rinnin’ oot down yer cheeks,” and, waddling off through +the thronging people, McClure conducted John and Peter to his favoured +restaurant. + +When they had comfortably seated themselves at a small table, and given +their orders to a robust-looking waiter, Duncan, staring before him, +observed dryly: + +“By Christmas, that’s a braw necktie ye hae on, Dashwood. I can see it +quite plain i’ that lookin’-glass ower there!” + +Peter, starting to giggle, began adjusting his tie in the mirror. + +“Oh, yours isn’t nearly sae gran’, Peter,” Duncan added, noticing the +action of the other. + +But old John offered no remark. He neither excused nor denied the +gaiety of his neck adornments. He merely groaned, and glared about to +see if there were any signs of the lunch arriving. + +Duncan, catching Peter’s eye in the mirror, winked and remarked further: + +“It reminds me o’ a grreat joke I used tae hae wi’ auld Sam Snather +and Paddy O’Regan th’ first year that I started selectin’ at Craig-lea. +I’ them days we a’ had tae borrow quite a lot o’ things frae each +ither, an’ these twa auld beggars that I’m gaun tae tell ye aboot were +as harrd as th’ deil hissel to borrow a thing frae. De ye recollec’ any +o’ them, Dashwood?” + +Old John said he remembered them well. + +“But Peter wadna,” Duncan continued, “he was anely a wean then crawlin’ +aboot pu’in’ th’ cat’s tail. Weel, when it became rreal necessary tae +beg th’ lane o’ onything frae auld O’Regan I used tae pu’ roon’ ma neck +a wallopin’ grreat green muffler, an’ bring th’ end o’ it richt back +roon’d me waist an’ ride ower wi’ it showin’ like a rainbow. An’ auld +O’Regan he’d be sae awfu’ pleased that he’d gie me anything he had +aboot th’ farm. In fac’ I believe he’d hae gi’en me his auld saw o’ a +wife tae take away on ma shouther for th’ askin’.” + +“I didn’t know he had a wife,” old John remarked. + +“By cripes, then,” said McClure, “if it wasna his ane it was some ither +yin’s. There was ane there. But wi’ auld Sam Snather,” he went on, “it +was dufferent. Sam, he was one o’ them wild, blatherin’ Orangemen, +an’ when Ah wantit tae borrow onything frae Sam I was a’ways maist +carefu’ tae pit on a grreat yaller muffler. An’ soon’s I came beside +th’ hoose wi’ mae heid concealed frae view ahint th’ peach trees, I’d +start whusslin’ ‘Th’ Battle o’ th’ Boyne’ michty harrd. By crikey, auld +Sam wad be awfu’ pleased. He’d bring me intae th’ hoose tae show me a +pictur’ o’ th’ grreat battle whaur William fought an’ bled——” + +Here the waiter turned up with the “juicy” steak, and all three eagerly +settled down to business. + +“Dinna yae think it’s gude beef, Dashwood?” Duncan enquired, eating +noisily. + +Old John agreed that it was. + +“D’ ye like it, Peter?” and Duncan looked to see how Dashwood junior +was faring. + +Peter’s mouth was too full to reply at the moment, but his eyes and +bulging cheeks conveyed all the answer that Duncan required. + +For quite a long interval no conversation was carried on, but as the +steak disappeared from his plate Duncan found his tongue again. + +“Auld Dill Mackay’s a grreat Orangeman,” he said “Hae ye ever heard him +preach, Dashwood?” + +Old John said he hadn’t. + +“Naither hae Ah,” said Duncan, “but Ah hae seen a pictur’ o’ his legs +i’ th’ _Bulletin_. D’ ever ye rread th’ _Bulletin_, Dashwood?” + +Old John shook his head. + +“I suppose you rread th’ _Maissenger_. Ah rread that, too, sometimes, +but there’s a deil o’ a lot o’ religion in it. Th’ _Bulletin_ is +deefferent tae th’ _Maissenger_. It’s a maist irreverent bloomin’ +paper, an’ I dinna see what’s tae preevent them as write it frae a’ +gaun tae hell thegither; but this pictur’ Ah’m tellin’ ye aboot wi’ +auld Dill’s twa legs wi’ his trews rolled abune th’ knee, would make +th’ deil himsel’ laugh, by cripes it would. An’ by crikey, he’s got +sic’ grreat legs, too. Oor auld pairson hasna got legs near like +them. We keep him too beggarin’ puir tae let them get as fat as Dill +Mackay’s. Cripes, he maun eat an awfu’ lot tae get legs like what he +has. Mine are pretty big anes——” + +Duncan was interrupted by the waiter enquiring if he’d take +plum-pudding or rice pudding. + +“Weel,” he said, “Ah’m no a beggarin’ Chinaman. I’ll hae a lump o’ +ye’re plum-puddin’.” + +Peter said he’d have some rice pudding. + +“By cripes!” Duncan said, staring solemnly at Peter, “ye’ll hae tae eat +it wi’ twa lang sticks!” + +Peter’s eye started to dance with painful apprehension, and he gasped: + +“Eh?” + +“Ye will that, Peter!” and the solemnity of Duncan’s face increased the +other’s feelings of apprehension. + +“Oh, here; heigh! heigh!” Peter called to the departing waiter, “I’ll +have plum-pudding, too!” + +Duncan laughed inwardly at the simplicity of Peter. + +“I don’t want any of their sticks,” Peter growled in a determined sort +of way. + +“It’s a gude job ye had me wi’ ye, Peter,” Duncan said, slyly, “or ye +wad hae had them, though!” + +Peter agreed that it was. + +Luncheon over the three were ready to leave. + +“That adds a big lump tae th’ expense o’ my trip doon here, Dashwood,” +Duncan said, with a sorrowful look on his face as he regarded his +damaged hat reflectively. + +“But hadn’t yow better make haste an’ buy anoother yun,” replied old +John, “yow might as well go bare head as wear that!” + +Duncan thought hard for a while. + +“Ah’ll telt ye what Ah’ll dae, Dashwood,” he said, with a roguish look +in his eye, “Ah’ll toss ye tae see whither ye pey for th’ three dinners +or buy me a new hat,” and he took out a silver coin and began spinning +it in the air. + +Old John was in sporting humour. “Spin yow th’ coin, then,” he said. + +“Wha’ ever wins takes th’ choice,” Duncan explained, as he twirled the +coin. + +“Heads!” cried old John excitedly. + +“Gosh, no! it’s a bloomin’ tail!” shouted Duncan, securing the coin +again. “Ye’ve tae buy me a new hat, Dashwood.” + +Peter laughed and jeered at his parent for having lost. + +Old John accepted the verdict in silence. + +Duncan paid three shillings in settlement of the bill of fare, and off +they trooped into the street again. + +“By crikey!” Duncan said, as they approached a draper’s shop, “that’s +the first time I ever won a wager!” + +A few steps further on and a shopman in a long-tailed coat greeted them +as lost brothers. + +Old John acted as spokesman. + +“This way, sir,” and the shopman led the way past piles of drapery and +goods of all descriptions to a small counter at the far end of the +building, where he introduced old John to a pale, youthful counter-hand. + +McClure and Peter loitered in the rear, examining the general display. + +“Listen here, lad,” old John whispered hoarsely to the pale, youthful +counter-hand, “Ah only wants a shellin’ hat. I don’t want any other +kahnd!” + +“About what size, sir?” + +“The biggest yow can get. It’s to fit mah friend comin’ along there,” +and he pointed down the floor to the burly McClure. + +“We have a line of shilling hats, sir,” said the counter-hand, “but I +couldn’t recommend them. If——” + +“It doesn’t matter what they be lahke so long as they’re only a +shellin’,” old John interrupted eagerly. + +[Illustration: DUNCAN APPROVES.] + +The counter-jumper went away and returned with a pile of flimsy felt +hats and stacked them on the counter. + +Old John beckoned Duncan forward. + +Duncan breasted the counter and breathed heavily on the display of +head-gear. + +“Now, dinna ye buy anything that’s rreal dear, Dashwood,” he said, as +though his conscience was smiting him. + +Old John winked at the counter-hand. The counter-hand seemed to sum up +the situation, and assured Duncan that “they were a very reasonable +line.” + +Duncan selected one from the pile, and, removing his own, fitted it on +his head. + +“By crikey!” he said, “th’ vera first fits me like a glove.” + +“And it suits yower complexion,” old John remarked. + +“There’s a glass there, sir,” from the counter-hand. + +Duncan turned and surveyed himself from head to toe in a large mirror. + +“Crikey!” he remarked philosophically, “I never thocht I was sae fat +as that.” Then, as he straightened the hat and pulled it well over his +ears. “This one’ll do gran’ if it’s nae costin’ a lot o’ money.” + +“I don’t think you’ll find it too dear, sir,” the counter-hand said +reassuringly. + +“Oh, Ah have na got tae pay for it,” Duncan said, with a pleased laugh. +“I won it i’ a toss.” + +Old John winked at Peter. Peter had a vague sort of idea that there +was a joke lurking somewhere about his parent, but he couldn’t exactly +locate it. + +“Is there anything else, sir?” asked the counter-hand, as he handed old +John a slip for the amount of his purchase. + +“Ye’ll get nae mair oot o’ him th’ day,” Duncan informed the shopman, +with a chuckle. + +The counter-hand smiled and bowed, and his custom departed. + +When they reached the street, Duncan said: + +“I don’t want tae be too harrd on ye, Dashwood; an’ sae as tae make +things a little bit even I think th’ three o’ us’ll gang an’ hae a +drink o’ something.” + +Old John consented, and the three of them marched into the nearest +hotel and drank eighteenpennorth, for which Duncan promptly paid. + +“That clears ma conscience a bit anyway,” Duncan said, with a feeling +of satisfaction, as they reached the street again. + +Old John winked at Peter, and Peter felt more mysterious than ever as +to the whereabouts of the suspected joke. + +“Weel, noo,” McClure said, “I’ve got a lot o’ things tae look after +yet, sae I hae’d better gang awa’. I’ll call roon’ though sometime and +see ye a’ at yer pub.” + +“Well, yow had better take this with yow,” old John said, handing +Duncan the shopman’s slip for the price of the hat. + +“Oh, by crikey, yes,” Duncan said, putting the slip into his vest +pocket. “It’ll do when I get hame tae show th’ wife hoo I got th’ best +o’ auld John Dashwood,” and off Duncan wobbled along the street. + +“Hoh! hoh! hoh! Hoh! hoh-h-h!” laughed old John as he and Peter went +off the other way. “Do you know how much Ah paid for the hat, lad?” + +Peter hadn’t the slightest idea. + +“A _shellin’_!” + +“Hah! hah! hah! Hah! hah!” and Peter jumped about and slapped himself +on the knee and attracted the attention of the police and passers-by. +“By George it takes you, father! It takes you! I knew you had something +on!” + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +James and Peter attend Church. + + +Sunday. + +Old John, Granny, Mrs. Dashwood and the girls had accepted an +invitation to tea and to spend the evening in the suburbs. James and +Peter were alone at the hotel. They moped about all the afternoon, and +time hung heavily on their hands. After tea they retired to their room +and moped more. For want of something better to do James turned his +pockets out and counted his money. + +“That’s all I’ve got left of my lot,” he said, producing a half +sovereign and two sixpenny pieces. + +Peter chuckled and said it was more than he had. “I’ve none at all,” he +added, “unless I can get some more out of father!” + +James doubted Peter’s chances of raising any more funds from his +parent, giving as a reason, that “father was buying a traction engine +to-morrow!” + +“Well, lend us five bob of yours?” Peter said. + +James smiled and returned the money to his pocket James had lent Peter +“five bob” before. + +They lay across their beds and stared at the ceiling. After a while +James said: + +“Suppose we go to church somewhere?” + +“Anywhere you like,” Peter answered, with a chuckle, and off they went. + +Out in the street James paused and said: + +“Well, where are we going—to what church?” + +“The Scotch church,” Peter answered. Peter had an idea that the Scotch +church was better than other churches. Peter held curious ideas about +churches. + +“Well, it’s down this street and up the next,” James said, leading the +way. + +“Are you going to walk there?” Peter asked in surprise. + +“And back, too,” James answered, “unless you’re going to pay for the +tram.” + +Peter laughed. He also walked. + +Presently they were approaching the sacred edifice. They could see the +lights in every window. The bell was tolling in their ears. + +At the large gates guarding the entrance they paused a while and held a +silent consultation. + +“Well, what do you think?” James said. James’s spiritual courage was +dwindling. + +Peter glanced at the imposing-looking building and chuckled. “I dunno,” +he answered, “perhaps we had better let it rip and come some other +evening.” + +James glanced wonderingly toward the open door, then up at the sky to +see if there was any signs of rain. But it was a bright night, without +a cloud in sight. + +“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawled doubtfully, “perhaps we had better go in +now that we’ve come so far.” + +The last of the congregation passed in. + +James and Peter sauntered closer to the door. They posted themselves, +one each side it, and took observations. They could see the interior +of the building ablaze with light. They could see the draped pulpit. +They could see the great organ. They could see a sea of heads packed +together, like sheep in a yard. + +The last bell rang dolefully. + +“Well,” James whispered, “what do y’ think?” + +Peter thought the place was full. + +James said he could see an empty seat “on the right.” + +There was a brief silence. + +“Well, you go first,” Peter suggested, “and I’ll follow. Ha! ha!” + +“_Sh-h-h!_” from James. Peter’s mirth sounded like sacrilege to James. + +Peter craned his neck to locate the empty seat that James had in view. + +He drew back and said he “couldn’t see it,” but he “could see a +Chinaman.” + +James shook his fist threateningly at Peter. + +“Well, go on,” Peter said, with a grin. + +James almost took a step forward, but halted in the middle of it. Peter +stifled a laugh. James scowled at him. + +The organ started to play low and soft. James glanced wistfully back +at the street, but only moths and night flies, fluttering round a dim +gas-lamp, were there. Then he glanced interrogatingly at Peter. Peter +glanced at James. + +Suddenly the organ burst into loud thundering peals that startled them. + +James couldn’t stand any more. He gripped his hat firmly in his fist +and took the fatal step. In long, quick strides he set out for that +empty seat. Peter started after him, taking even larger strides +and tramping on James’s heels, and attracting the attention of the +congregation Peter thought James would never arrive at that empty seat. +It seemed more than a mile away. But James reached it at last and +dropped with all his weight into it. Peter dropped on James. It was a +swell seat, too—covered with a luxurious cushion. They both breathed +hard, and stared silently and strangely about. On a card let into the +cedar panel before them was the name of the Premier of the State. +Their eyes rested on the name, then they looked meaningly at each other +and thought hard. An ugly suspicion that they were trespassing crept +all over them and made them go cold. + +Several moments of heavy suspense passed. Then a venerable churchwarden +glided down the aisle and hovered over them. His long, grey whiskers +fell about their necks. They both thought their hour had come. The +ancient warden whispered things to them through his hands, and pointed +with his thumb to the rear of the church. But he might as well have +talked to them on his fingers. They didn’t understand. + +At last he gave them up and retired to consult with a brother official. + +A broad man with a red face and a double chin and a heavy gold chain +linked across his stomach, carrying a kid glove and a walking stick +in his hand, closely followed by a tall lady, covered with finery and +perfume, paused at the seat James and Peter had “jumped,” and glared +at them. It was a trying moment for James and Peter. They “shoved up,” +and crouched together till they resembled compressed fodder. The lady +clutched her skirts in her hand and hesitatingly sat down beside Peter. +The burly Premier, glaring at the occupants of his “reserved” seat, sat +with a series of grunts. + +The lady opened a large fan and talked behind the battlements of it to +her Premier husband. + +James and Peter heard her say: “Outrageous!” and “all sorts of people!” +and it made them feel faint. + +A moment later the parson appeared, and the service commenced. It +commenced with a hymn. The congregation stood to it. So did James and +Peter—stood like fools, for they were unprovided with “hymnaries.” +Not that this made any difference to the singing. But in the absence +of “Sankey” they felt that the eyes of the congregation were all +upon them. Suddenly the gloved hand of a lady in the seat behind +thrust an open book under their nose. Her thoughtfulness went near to +ending their lives. That all the eyes of the congregation _were_ upon +them now they had no doubt. Peter wished James had been seized with +appendicitis before he started to induce him to go to that church. +James mechanically reached for the book, and holding it upside down, +nudged Peter to join with him in song. Peter responded in a series of +hysterical laughs, which were drowned by the voices around him. All +the same that hymn-book helped them on a long way. It made them feel a +little at home, and more like the rest of the congregation. + + * * * * * + +The parson rose and preached his sermon. It must have been a good +sermon. No one disagreed with it. There was not a solitary dissenting +voice. When he concluded his “third part” and sat down, a mild +commotion set in away at the rear of the church. Several church +officials left their places and moved about the aisles. The organ +played again. James and Peter wondered what was going to happen. A coin +dropped on the floor and rolled round on a solemn excursion of its own. +Some more started to jingle in a plate; then they fell thicker and +thicker. A collection! Peter’s heart gave a jump. He became uneasy. +The Premier’s wife took out a purse and rattled the contents. Peter +remembered seeing “escape door” printed up on the walls of the theatre. +He looked round to see if there was one in the church. There wasn’t. +By the ring of the silver Peter knew the plate was coming nearer and +nearer. He began to perspire. James dug his hand down into his trouser +pockets. Peter glanced pleadingly at him. + +“I’ve two sixpences,” James whispered, and pressed his hand against +Peter’s. Peter clutched at the proffered coin and nearly took a joint +of one of James’s fingers with it. + +The plate arrived. Peter planked his piece on top of the pile. It gave +the man behind the plate a surprise. It gave Peter one, too; and it +nearly took James’s breath away. It was a gold-piece—James’s only _half +sovereign_. + +The Premier and his wife seemed to take a different view of Peter. +They looked as though they would be pleased to know him. Peter, +himself, suddenly felt on an equality with them. He sat up straight, +and his eyes gleamed with the light and consciousness of wealth and +philanthropy. But James felt different to Peter. A heavy, sinking +feeling seemed to come over him. His teeth rattled, and he dug his +finger nails into Peter’s thigh. But Peter only listened to the organ. + +[Illustration: THE CHURCH COLLECTION.] + +The benediction pronounced, and the congregation rose and started to +file out. James and Peter were almost last to leave. + +At the door the man who took up the collection was waiting with +beaming countenance. He shook hands with Peter, and enquired if he was +a stranger. Peter said he was, and told him where he came from. The +churchman said nothing to James. + +He shook hands with Peter again, and hoped to see him become a regular +attendant at the services. Peter smiled and hurried after James. They +passed out the gate and walked through the streets for about a mile +before James spoke. + +At last he looked at Peter, and said: + +“Of course I only lent you that half sovereign, remember!” + +“Hah! hah! hah! Hah! hah! hah-h-h!” came loudly from Peter. And a +solitary policeman standing on the opposite side of the street stared +wonderingly across. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +In the Public Domain. + + +Sunday again. The whole family rambling through the great public +park. Mrs. Dashwood and the girls in heaven amongst the panoply of +flowers, ferns, artistic nooks, and bowers and shapely shaven lawns. +They dragged old John here, there, and everywhere, around this bed, +down that path, and from hill-top to water’s edge. They searched for +historical spots and monuments, for sights they had heard others talk +of, and for sights they had never heard of at all. + +Peter and James struck out on their own account. Flowers and ferns, +with a gloomy weather-worn old monument or two thrown in, were not in +their line. They became interested in the forms and types of humanity +that were around them. And such forms, such types! Verily, it were +as though all the freaks and misfortunes of nature had been gathered +together from all parts of the earth and emptied into that domain. The +blind, the stunted, the lame, the halt, the limbless, the lungless, the +hopeless, the homeless, all were in evidence there. On every hand, at +every turn, they were crouched beneath the spreading trees, unnoticed +by the hordes of leisure seekers, as unregarded by the world in general +as though they had never lived. + +Aged and decrepid pensioners hobbled feebly about on sticks; careless +nurse-girls, with other peoples’ infants hanging anyhow in their arms, +loitered around; girlish wives, with boyish husbands at their sides, +pushed the precious first-born along in its new gorgeous perambulator; +crowds of merry children, let loose for the day, romped riotously +over everything. From improvised platforms stump-orators shouted +themselves hoarse for the benefit of jeering, cheering crowds that +out of curiosity assembled to hear their mouthsport. Cricket pitches, +tennis courts, and bowling greens were in full play. And as interested +spectators of the latter James and Peter, in the course of an hour or +so, found themselves seated at the butt of a large shade tree. + +The rinks were sprinkled with tottering old grey-beards and +grandfathers, big-bingied, stiff-backed old fogies who did nothing all +the week but smoke cigars and pose as “leading citizens.” There were a +hundred or more of him in short sleeves and flannels, and a faithful +portrait of any one of him would have been a valuable asset in the days +of the humorous valentine. + +What the game was all about or what constituted the skill of it or +what didn’t, James and Peter hadn’t the remotest idea, but they saw +great fun in it, and sometimes laughed till they nearly hurt themselves. + +“Look, look at the old cove in the middle, with the braces; watch +_him_!” Peter cried, tugging hysterically at James. + +James fixed his gaze on that “old cove” and followed his movements +closely. + +The “old cove,” with one withered hand supporting the bowl, the other +pressed against his left hip, bent down, carefully and cautiously, +till he was almost sitting or lying on the lawn. A blatant, breathless +sort of individual of the larrikin class, standing in the vicinity of +James and Peter, groaned a loud, satirical groan, in the interests of +the feeble bowler, that added to the enjoyment of our two friends. +They turned their attention to the larrikin. Delighted to find he was +affording amusement to some one he lifted his voice a note or two +higher and called: “Now, then, _Spofforth_!” + +The hoary bowler bent some more, and, satisfied that his feet had a +grip of the earth, and that his sight was correct, slowly extended the +bowl to arm’s length. + +“Now, then! ah-h!” bellowed the larrikin, and James and Peter broke +into fresh merriment. + +[Illustration: “NOW, THEN SPOFFORTH!”] + +But the warrior didn’t deliver the bowl just then; he drew his hand +back again until the bowl touched his side, then once more he pushed +it to arm’s length, and for several moments repeated these movements +until he seemed to be imitating a man with a saw. Finally the bowl slid +from his palm and started off on a peaceful rolling excursion down the +rink. As it travelled the old cove’s arms went out each side of him, +his chin went forward, his eyes started to jump out of his head. The +bowl started to deviate to the right. The aged sportsman resorted to +will-power to guide it. He hung over his left side and strained all his +shrunken sinews to haul that bowl to leeward. Instead of responding +the bowl started to show symptoms of spent energy before it had +travelled half way down the rink. It got down to snail pace and began +to flounder. The old cove worked his head and hands up and down like a +pump and “hooshed” it. The bowl wobbled, then made one more revolution +and stubbornly lay down on the green and sulked. The old cove spun +stiffly round on one leg and, in a hollow, broken voice, shouted: + +“Ech! damn it a’!” + +“Hoh! hoh! hoh! Poor old Daddy Christmas!” cried the larrikin, +sympathetically, and, swinging round, walked abruptly away. James and +Peter, having had their fill of excitement, followed his example. + +“Well, I dunno!” James murmured, coming to a standstill, after they had +explored the great park from end to end, “but it beats me where they +can have got to!” + +Peter, with tears in his eyes, gazed about like one abandoned to the +heartlessness of the cruel world, and whined: “I’d know them if I saw +them, though, by Maria’s red dress!” + +They moved on, and strolled round the base of a drowsy old monument +that never got tired of standing in the one place on the brow of a +hill. Numbers of people of all kinds were lounging round, reading +newspapers and feasting on fruit in the vicinity of that monument. +James and Peter scanned the faces of them all, but no! there was no +father, no mother, no Polly, no Tilly amongst them! + +They were in the act of abandoning the search and returning to the +hotel when Peter’s eyes suddenly lit up like the morning star, and he +uttered a short, happy laugh. + +“There they are! Ha! ha!” he said, pointing to a red dress, amongst a +number of others, on a long rustic seat, and off he scampered. James +followed him slowly. James always took his joy calmly, and suppressed +all symptoms of excitement. Besides, James wasn’t so confident about +the discovery as Peter. But Peter’s assurance increased as the distance +between himself and the objects of his sudden happiness was reduced. +Once he glanced round to see if James was following, then raced on +again. + +[Illustration: “GUESS WHO!”] + +The female in the red dress sat with her back to Peter, so did her +companions. They were talking about the next Government House Ball, +and the lady in red had just remarked that she “was afraid Sir Thomas +would be leaving for Japan,” when Peter, stealing up on tip-toe, and +smiling like a picture, blindfolded her with his hot, clammy hands, +and held her back hair firmly against his manly bosom. The lady gasped +and strained and tried to rise, but Peter had a firm grip of her. Her +friends on either side turned their heads and glanced up curiously +at Peter. Peter, still smiling, glanced down at them. But instead +of encountering the eyes of Polly and Tilly he beheld the faces of +two absolute strangers. Peter nearly dropped dead. He staggered back +several yards. He was still staggering when the outraged one, finding +her feet, demanded to know why “he dared lay hand on her?” + +“Call a policeman, Lady Fitzsmith!” one of her companions, both of whom +were now facing Peter, excitedly advised. + +Peter didn’t wait for any more. He bolted, and didn’t draw breath +or look round till he reached the iron gates opening on to the busy +street. There he waited until James came up. James, who had also deemed +it advisable to run, came up with perspiration and a scowl on his face. + +“Well, you are an idiot of a fellow,” he said, “an awful d— idiot!” + +Peter sparred for wind, then gasped: + +“By—by Jove, I thought she was” (puff) “_Maria_, didn’t you?” + +[Illustration: Decorative Image] + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +Peter in the Breakers. + + +Since arriving in the metropolis the family had witnessed many scenes +and sights that had filled them with wonder and surprise, but when +they stepped from the jangling tram-car to the great sand beach by the +sea and beheld the mixed mass of humorously-clad humanity plunging and +flopping in the roaring, rolling breakers, the limit was reached. + +“Dear, oh dear! oh dear!” Mrs. Dashwood gasped, “just look at the +women!” + +Polly and Tilly giggled. Old John and James and Peter stared hard, then +burst into laughter. + +So that visitors might study and enjoy the awful sights that rolled +and stalked about the sand an enterprising management had furnished +the beach with chairs at a penny a time. Old John took ten pennorth of +chairs, and secured positions of advantage in the front row. Then the +eyes of the family began to roam over the scene before them. + +And such a scene! Such a display of bare arms, bare necks, bare +legs! Such a hideous exhibition of ill-shaped humanity! Such clumsy, +clothes-bag corporations! Such crooked trunks and winding limbs! Such +a galaxy of fat, flabby women of forty! Such a multitude of thin, +skinny women of fifteen and fifty! And such odd women, with no chests, +and legs rolling with fat to the ankles! Verily it was a great sight, +worthy of a great city. It seemed as though nature were out for the +day, as though she were holding a grand parade, a parade of all her +best jokes, her most humorous works of art! + +And as the mellow, moaning breakers rolled in on the heels of each +other, flinging and flashing flakes of froth and foam before them, the +bathers were tossed sportively about on the crests like so many scraps +of cork. + +Now and again a large female would be lifted off her legs and thrown +into the arms of some frail, bald-headed old fool, who, in his +excitement, had forgotten to remove his spectacles when undressing, and +together they would turn turtle to the great delight of the spectators. + +A broad-backed man, with a heavy stomach and bow legs, arrayed in a +suggestion of blue short pants and a handkerchief, crawled out of the +water and stood with his back obscuring the view of our friends. There +was sand in his hair and his ears. The salt water trickling down his +hairy back dripped off him on to the sand. The Dashwoods looked at +each other, then blushed and laughed. This man was the mayor of the +great city, but he might just as well have been one of the council +cart-horses for all the notice that was taken of him. + +Mrs. Dashwood voiced a desire to return to the city; but old John +opposed the proposition. Old John was beginning to see the fun of +surf-bathing. So was Peter. + +“By Jove, I don’t know,” Peter said enthusiastically, “I wouldn’t mind +having a dip in it. Will you come in, father?” + +“Go on with you, boy!” Mrs. Dashwood interposed, “your father would +never be so stupid.” + +“Well, now, Ah bain’t be sure,” old John put in, with a short laugh. +“Everyone be agoin’ in, an’ Ah thenks it’s good for yow.” + +Tilly took alarm. + +“Oh, father’s going in, too!” she said to Polly, with a look of horror. + +“He’s _not_!” sceptically from Polly. Polly was sure her parent would +never do anything that would lower the family pride. + +“Well, only for the baby,” Maria said bluntly, “I’d go in myself. I +don’t see where the harm comes in so long as you have got something on.” + +At this Polly and Tilly tittered, and Mrs. Dashwood said: “_Maria!_” + +But Maria was prepared to argue the matter. + +“Now, what’s wrong about it?” she insisted, turning to her mother. + +“There bain’t be nothin’,” old John put in, “an’ Ah’ll go wi’ yow, +lad,” he added, addressing Peter. + +Peter jumped at the suggestion. + +“Come on, then, father,” he said, and off they went to join the throng +of fresh arrivals that were crowding into the paling yards which served +for dressing-rooms. + +They were absent for quite a while. + +At intervals Mrs. Dashwood and the girls would glance nervously around +to see if old John really meant to join the surf-bathers. + +Eventually old John and Peter appeared, garbed like a pair of circus +clowns. Stepping tenderly over the pebbles in their bare feet they +advanced to the water’s edge. Old John, with his ponderous corporation +covered with red, his long, hairy arms dangling about, and his long +feet poking out before him, formed an interesting addition to the many +humorous surf sights. Peter, in blue pants that were mostly trunk, +might, at a distance, have passed for a girl. + +At sight of them Mrs. Dashwood felt the family virtue had gone for ever. + +“I never thought they could be such fools!” she moaned plaintively. + +“I don’t think they’re fools!” Maria growled stubbornly. “Do you, +James?” she asked of her staid brother. + +But James didn’t know what to think. He could only stare and chuckle. + +“Good gracious me!” Tilly murmured, as she felt cause for fresh alarm, +“I do hope they won’t come over here, near us.” + +“Well, _I_ won’t stay if they do,” and Polly glanced along the crowded +beach. + +Old John and Peter took boldly to the water. They paddled through the +shallow parts, one behind the other, like King Sandy and his gin out +ration-hunting. The tail-end of a wave flew up at their heads. It was a +cold tail-end. They gasped, and laughed and pranced about. They waded +further, until the water rose above their knees, then anchored awhile. +And while Peter scooped up fistsful of brine to wet his head as a +protection again sunstroke, old John gave his whiskers a drenching, and +adjusted his red garment, which showed an inclination to part company +with him. Both looked back at their friends on shore and waved. + +“Don’t notice them!” Mrs. Dashwood advised. + +“Pretend you don’t see them!” Tilly added. + +But Maria’s heart was with the surf-bathers. She took out her +handkerchief and waved back, and waved again, until the front seats +resembled a flag station. Then, elevating her infant in her arms, she +called upon it to gaze afar out upon “grandfather.” People sitting near +her smiled and turned their eyes upon the attractive form of old John. + +Old John and Peter ventured some more. The water was now up to their +waist. A great wave came breaking in, bearing back to shore scores of +bathers on its bosom. Quite a column of them were shooting straight for +old John. John saw the breaker coming. He put out his chest and stood +to it bravely. The breaker struck him, and the head of a flying female +struck him too. It bunted him in the stomach and knocked him back. Like +a sunken ship old John went down in three feet of water. At the same +time, though, his hands went out like grappling-irons. They gripped +the offending female and dragged her under also. Then for a moment two +pairs of unevenly balanced legs were seen walloping the surface water +into foam and fury, just as though two monsters of the deep were there +engaged in deadly combat. The half-smothered female came to the surface +first, and, with a gurgle and a splutter and an hysterical squeal, +floundered off in pursuit of her friends. Then up rose old John like +a whale, and, discharging quite a cargo of salt water, dragged at his +whiskers and joyfully roared his appreciation of the rough-and-tumble. +The spectators joined with him in his merriment. The more they saw of +old John the more they enjoyed him, and so as no mistakes would be +made when they were pointing him out to each other they designated him +“whiskers” and “old red-skin.” Some others who had overheard Maria +familiarly referred to him as “grandfather.” + +At intervals Polly and Tilly would glance round to see what like those +people were who would make _their_ parent a butt for jokes. In fact, +they became very uneasy, and as a way out of the predicament Tilly +suggested they all take a walk along the beach. But receiving no +encouragement from the others she contented herself through the few +remaining miserable moments by prodding the sand at her feet with the +point of her parasol. + +Encouraged by the example of experienced bathers around him, Peter +set his mind upon swimming out to meet the breakers. He swam out. In +fresh water creeks Peter was a fair swimmer; amongst the breakers, +of course, he was a fool. Peter swam out further than the boldest of +them. Then he attracted notice. A chorus of voices called warningly +to him. He rounded and turned his head for shore again. Then suddenly +something went wrong. He struggled, and splashed, but made no headway. +He lost ground. The angry sea was carrying him out, bearing him off +another victim! Peter yelled. A hundred others yelled. All hit out +hurriedly for shore till all that could be seen in the surf was Peter’s +black head bobbing about afar out. The alarm went up and down the +beach. Everyone rushed to the same spot, and the crowd thickened and +thickened. The spectators stood upon the chairs. + +“It’s _Peter_!” Tilly shrieked. + +“Oh, my God!” and Mrs. Dashwood fainted into the arms of James. Then +lusty cries of “_Marcee! Marcee!_” rang out, and were echoed all +around. The stalwart, sinewy, scarred form of the hero of a hundred +rescues, life-line in hand, eyes open wide, nostrils distended, raced +from the dressing-room and took to the water. The crowd watched +silently, breathlessly. Out forged Marcee, arm over arm. Nearer and +nearer he drew to Peter. Still not a murmur from the multitude on the +beach. The dropping of a pin on the sand would have made a big dint in +the silence. Then, like a clap of thunder the break came. “_He’s got +him!_” burst on the air like the belching of twenty thousand guns. For +just a moment Marcee and Peter seemed to grapple with each other. Then +the iron-like fist of Marcee was uplifted and Peter received the punch +of his life on the head. + +“It was to stun him so as he wouldn’t hold me!” Marcee explained +afterwards. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: IN THE BREAKERS.] + +When Peter came to again he was lying in a hotel by the beach, and +a doctor in bathing costume, and the whole family and a number of +sympathetic old women, were watching over him. + +“Why—what th’ deuce are you all doing, eh? Is it dinner-time? What?” +and Peter stared strangely about. + +Then Mrs. Dashwood fell on his neck and shed tears all over him and +called him her “darling boy.” + +Old John, who had been bellowing like a pen of bull calves, threw his +arms round the doctor. + +“He’ll be all right now,” the latter said, with a smile, and went off +to the beach again. + +[Illustration: Decorative Image] + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +Home Again. + + +A fortnight since the family, weary and dusty, with all the parcels, +bundles and battered baggage, arrived home at the farm. A fortnight! +And that holiday still fresh and green and going strong! The trip to +the city was thought of, talked of, laughed over, morning, noon and +night. Incidents were recalled, re-enacted and served up at breakfast, +dinner and tea. Friends who called at the home to welcome the family +back were treated to the minutest detail of the things that happened. +They heard it all from Mrs. Dashwood, from Tilly and Polly and from old +John; heard it from them severally; heard it from them jointly; heard +it from them backwards; heard it from them frontwards; heard it from +them endwards and sidewards. It was a great holiday—the greatest of +all holidays—that holiday of the Dashwoods. It was excelled only, if +excelled at all, by Noah and his ark and all his animals. + +But the trip did the family some visible good. It worked wonders in +their methods, and gave a universal aspect to their outlook. + +And upon none was the influence more marked than upon Peter. Peter +showed reform in his very walk, in the cut of his hair, in the shape of +his boots, in the odour and quality of his pocket handkerchiefs, and in +the wonderful variety of tooth-brushes and razors that now adorned his +bedroom. But it was the distinct and complete change in his studious +pursuits that rendered the reformation of Peter complete. Ambition set +in strong upon him. He hungered for fame. In his heart he secretly +longed to do something that would put all the great minds of the world +in the shade. + +Peter turned his attention to invention. + +Once, for about six months, while it was new, Peter rode a bicycle with +tremendous enthusiasm, but, tiring of the toy, which cost old John +fifteen guineas, discarded it in favour of a mule that arrived on the +farm, and hung the wheels up on the walls of the barn to harbour vermin. + +Peter’s attention now reverted to that bicycle. Acting upon an +inspiration which came to him in the city, he locked himself in the +barn along with that bicycle and worked hard and mysteriously upon it +for many weeks. But what service it was that Peter hoped to render +humanity and the world _per_ medium of said bike no one had any idea. +Whether he had any himself or not remains to be seen. + +“Goodness only knows,” James sniggered, in answer to his sisters one +day upon the matter, “I don’t think he knows himself. A new sort of +life buoy, perhaps, to take with him the next time he goes for a swim +in the breakers!” + +The peals of laughter that came from the sisters reached the ears of +Peter. He threw open the door of the barn and thrusting out his head +enquired the cause of their mirth. + +“Oh, something good, Peter!” from Tilly. + +“They’re laughing at this invention of yours,” James said, with a grin. + +“By Jove, then,” Peter answered, in a self-satisfied sort of way, “it’s +all right. It’s finished now, and I’m just going out to give her a +trial!” + +The girls threatened to go off their heads with joy. They ran inside +for their hats, and loudly proclaimed Peter’s announcement to their +parents. “The great invention is finished!” they cried. “Come and see +it working.” + +The parents, grinning broadly, came and saw. + +Old McMurdy and his wife, passing in a sulky, pulled up at James’s +invitation and waited near the gate to witness the unveiling of the +miracle. + +They hadn’t long to wait. The barn door opened wide again and Peter, +with the bicycle rigged in full canvas like a sailing boat, appeared. + +His appearance was greeted with loud merriment. + +But the mirth didn’t disconcert Peter. + +“Wait till you see her going!” he said, with a grin. + +James, who had laughed least of any, suddenly evinced an interest +in the invention. He stepped forward and held its head while Peter +re-adjusted the setting and rigging. + +When a number of small things were attended to Peter mounted, and, +seating himself somewhere between the lower topsail and the flying +jib, invited James to give the brig a shove off. James shoved her, and +Peter, grinning, peddled cautiously to keep her balanced. Suddenly a +gust of wind came up and, catching in the topmast staysail, the craft +made a lurch to leave port per the open gate-way. + +“Hah! hah! hah! h——” roared old McMurdy from the seat of the sulky, but +his mirth was short-lived. It was the first time his sulky horse had +set eyes on a sailing craft, and it reared, then flew round and bolted +up the road as though suddenly possessed of several devils. + +When the brig cleared port and arrived in the middle of the road-way +it stopped and languished for want of wind. The sails started to flap +uselessly, and Peter had to pedal hard to keep her afloat. + +Fresh merriment and jeers came from the family. But Peter propelled +assiduously with his feet, and worked his passage for about fifty +yards. Then a change came over the weather conditions. Up sprang a +breeze with some life and devil in it. It filled the flapping sails +till they looked like balloons, and hurried the barque off up the road +at full speed. Peter’s bosom filled with joy. He felt he had achieved +a triumph. He was sure he had conquered the world. Raising his legs he +rested them on the handle-bars as he whirled along. Peter believed in +taking success calmly and contentedly. Talk about ploughing the deep +and the main! Peter was ploughing the main stock route. + +As she glided and wobbled along, the craft looked a strange quadruped. + +Terence Blaises, a Justice of the Peace, who had just turned in at his +slip-rails, with a cart of empty milk-cans from the factory, observed +the strange white object floating calmly up over the horizon. Terence +put up the rails and, leaning both arms on them, waited wonderingly. + +“Now, what th’ divil is it at all?” he murmured, as the brig came +rattling and “swishing” along in the wind. But the banging of milk-cans +in the rear caused Terence to jump round quickly and shout: “Woa, boy! +woa!” The horse didn’t “woa” worth considering. It flashed its glaring +mongrel eye upon the craft, then off, knocking down trees and throwing +empty milk-cans at the clouds. Terence pursued him till he fell over +a milk-can, and gave up. He looked back pathetically at the sailing +craft. The sails dipped and ducked as though saluting Terence in +passing, but further than that no communication passed between him and +Peter. + +Successfully negotiating a corner in the road without going to pieces, +Peter set sail for the township. The township was situated in the +middle of a great plain. It sat, simmering there like a steak on a +grid-iron. The road to it was level, and as good as could be expected +from the average Australian Shire Council. There were numerous +deformities along it, of course, many of which bore evidence of the +Council’s intention to wipe them out some day. In fact, like the road +to hell, the township road was paved with good intentions. + +A fair wind and a nowing sail drove the barque over the rolling plain +in gallant style. + +A mile or so ahead a hooded gig, drawn by a sleepy rheumatic steed, +hove in sight. It was the township lawyer making for his branch +office, the local store at the next railway station, where, amongst +the rock-salt and empty crockery cases, as per advertisement in the +_Settler_, he journeyed bi-weekly to consult with farmers and dairymen +having grievances, and to lead them into trials and tribulation for +a modest fee. A few moments more and the distance between the brig +and the gig was reduced to chains. Then the sleepy, rheumatic steed, +suddenly waking up, stopped dead and stared like a brumby for the +first time looking at a wind-mill. The craft came on like a great +white eagle. The township lawyer, to satisfy himself it was not a +hallucination, popped on his gold-rim glasses and eyed the advancing +brig closely. He gave a short chuckle. He raised a hand and was about +to hail the captain to enquire the name of the vessel when that +rheumatic steed gave one decisive snort, and, swinging round, flew +like the wind for the township. The lawyer’s hat came off and flew out +the back way; then his glasses followed. The barque rode tranquilly +over the lost apparel. For about a mile Peter kept just behind that +flying quadruped; and whenever the lawyer got a pull on, and the animal +seemed inclined to reason with the bit, the “swish” of the barque in +the breeze would put fresh terror into the brute, and away he would go +again. + +“D—n you!” the lawyer shouted, but his blasphemy didn’t reach Peter. +Then for fully three miles, until a cross road afforded a haven of +safety, that lawyer was driven before Peter like Cain flying before +Jehovah. + +Having lost so much ground, the lawyer abandoned his mission and +decided to return to the township, permitting his steed to jog along at +a safe distance behind the offending craft. + +[Illustration: PETER’S LATEST.] + +With a full sail, and the mast dipping and bobbing as the brig rode +over the hills and hollows in the ill-formed street, Peter started +to enter the township. No band played; no chorus of voices sang the +“Conquering ’Ero”; there was nothing to greet or cheer Peter. But +there must have been as many as fifty horses standing calmly between +the shafts of vehicles outside the shops, and as many more fastened +to posts by their bridles. And Peter had not proceeded twenty yards +along that street when there wasn’t an animal in sight. They all became +obscured in a cloud of dust that was rolling out at the other end of +the township. And all that was to be seen in the street was a mob of +excited men and women, pieces of sulkies, broken lamp-posts and the +maimed and mangled remains of a Councillor, whom the Shire Clerk and +the newspaper editor were supporting in their arms. + +“Don’t! Don’t hold her there!” Peter cried, when the rough hands of two +furious policemen seized hold of the sails of his craft. “You’ll spoil +her!” + +“Phwat game is this?” yelled one of the bobbies, while the other, +seizing hold of Peter, hissed: “Yis ’ll paay fer me mahn, if yis ever +paid fer anythin’!” + +Peter started to protest wildly. Peter was in trouble. But soon numbers +of friends had gathered round him. + +The township lawyer, having arrived in good time, pushed himself +forward, and, planting a card in Peter’s hand, said: + +“I’ve seen the whole thing; I’ll defend you.” Then the local +representatives of six banks jostled with each other for possession of +Peter’s ear. + +“On deeds, or any security like that,” each of them said, “I can let +you have whatever you want.” + +“Deeds!” growled the police, “there is his _deeds_!” and they pointed +scornfully to the maimed Councillor being borne off on a hurdle. + + THE END. + + + Wholly set up and printed in Australia by John Sands Ltd., Sydney. + + + + +Transcriber’s Notes + + + New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the + public domain. + + The following are corrections to the original text: + + Page Correction + ---- ----------------------------------------------------------------- + 1 Opening single quote removed from (to be back at “Fairfield”). + 10 Apostrophe added to (have a talk along wi’). + 16 “adminster” changed to (inclined to administer a rebuke). + 19 “he” changed to “be” (An’ I’d be huggin’ ’em). + 20 Closing quote changed to double in (am I up against!” said). + 23 Opening quote added to (“You won’t! By heavens you”). + 32 “be” changed to “he” (wasn’t me, sir!” he blubbered,). + 44 “squeeky” (sharp, squeaky voice). + 47 “be” changed to “he” (At the door he paused). + 48 “calmy” changed to (strolled in and calmly). + 49 Closing quote and punctuation added to (“he’s going to shoot!”). + 67 “resistence” changed to (resistance was useless). + 70 “a” added to (a Waterbury, secured to his vest) + 81 “imp” changed to (sunk in a limp heap). + 99 Opening quote added to caption in (“Boots O!”). + 101 “night-porter” hyphenated to match the rest of the text. + 113 “Dashwod” changed to (ye rread th’ Bulletin, Dashwood?”). + 119 Period added to caption in (Duncan Approves.) + 120 Period added to (couldn’t exactly locate it.) + 127 Opening quote changed to double in (“Sankey” they felt that). + 149 Closing quote added to (“old red-skin.” Some others). + 150 Period added to (of twenty thousand guns.) + 151 Period added to caption in (In the Breakers.) + 156 “peels” changed to (The peals of laughter). + 159 “journey” changed to (he journeyed bi-weekly). + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78216 *** |