UNCLE JOSEPH

Auckland Star, Volume LXX, Issue 128, 2 June 1939, Page 15

UNCLE JOSEPH

SHORT STORY

" M (,V V- iliin't forjfet. Alfred, thu 11 money for flu- milkman's under the clock hiiil he sure you put the cat <"it last tiling "

I he l>ii-> »u-iiiig nmnrl tlio corner of the -treet. Mrs. Xiblett. -«tli.M in- up her impedimenta, broke into a luiuber- "'- P'Hop. The bn* stopped. It aUorbed into itself \] lri . Nililftt. her Japanese lia-kct. liit string hag and her rnUirllanenii* parcel,.. It moved on again. Mr*. Nihlett was gone.

l> ft n> himself, Alfred Xiblett executed a few stejw ~f a pas seul which made up in •.pontaneitv what it lacked mi skill.

He dimply couldn't believe it! Cbira had gone off to attend her auntV funeral in a distant town, and for five whole days—"Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday.' , Alfred chanted to himself exultantly—he was going to do juet exactly what he liked.

Not that Alfred wasn't fond of liis wife. He wa«. More, he admired her. even while he feared her. A rare good inn ringer, that wa« Clara; not foment with managing her hnii«e. she managed Alfred Into the bargain, and very tlmroughly *ht» did it.

No wonder, then, that Alfred performed one o r two more steps by way of linalc before washing up the "breakfast things, feeding an<l cat and setting out to his job at the dock*. "Kxactly what lie liked" was perhaps rather an overstatement of Alfred's programme for the week, since hi* proceeding* were limited to the possibilities of the five shilling which Clara had handed to him on Saturday for spending money. But pomtihly it was just a« well. He consoled himself hy the reflection that if he had had ail hi* wages to g< > lit. and lost the lot at the dogs, there would have been the dickene and all to pay! And at lea*t he was going to enjoy five long com fort a hip evenings stretched at ease before thr front room fire with pai>er and pipe, instead of retiring when washing-up wac over to the back kitchen tiara didn't allow smoking in the front room—and the austere comiwuiionship of the mangle and the wash-boiler, relieved only by the wireless set.

Alfred, like mo*t people, cherished a •ecret ambition. He hoped some day to win a prize of a thousand pounds offered in hi* favourite weekly for a form of verbal firework known a« a Snippit Alfred felt sure that, given leisure and quiet, he had it in him to produce a Nnippit of such blinding brilliancy that it would win the thousand pounds'hands down. Now both quiet and leisure were hw. He quickly ate his eupper—fish and ehii>* out of the paper, to nave wash-ing-up—and settled down to eerious thought.

Now if imp of mischief had not chanced to be operating in the neighbourhood of Prime Albert Terrace at that moment, things might not have turned out as they did. Alfred might—who knows?—have emerged from his week's graf»s-wid<Swhood both opulent and farnntia as the composer of the winning Snippit. But it was not to be. Just when he felt an absolute winner hovering as it were on the very tip of his pencil, there came a knock at the door.

Alfred, with a murmured oath, abandoned his literary labours and went to answer it.

A man stood on the step, a man with a lafge»uitea»e. One of the*e blokes selling brushes or writing pads, thought Alfred. He prepared to exercise salesretristance.

And again, if there hid not happened to be a street lamp exactly or">o«te the door, that ahonv right on h!. .'hi-", Alfred might have said, a* h- jiti'uud to say. "Not to-day, mate," utiil gone back to his Snii pit-making jusfc a« if nothing had happened.

Instead, a voice Alfred remembered perfectly well exclaimed:

"Well, if it ain't Alf Xiblett!" And a hand seized his and wrung it in a grasp of delighted recognition.

No mistaking those rich, juicy accents! They were part of Alfred's bachelor paat. —of those far-off days when he was mate of the pleasure utetmer that plied between Sandinoiith and Barpool in the summer months, before he took a shore berth and married tiara. Fn those days (Jeorge Wigjjin had been a bright particular star on Harpool pier —a comedian of rare parts on the stage, and the. bent of good fellows off. He had left Marpuol many years ago. and Alfred, if lie ever thought of him at all. vaguely pictured him as a successful funny man, drawing lar«t< audience* and a four-figure salary in some wider sphere than Barpool afforded for his talent*. What more natural than that Alfred should, in the full flush of his temporary emancipation, say, as he would never have dreamed of saying with Clara at home, "Come inside, (ieorge. old man?" Or that he should presently nip round the corner for a drop of aomething in which to celebrate this chance encounter of old friends? Or that they should «it smoking and yarning over old times until Alfred, glancing at the clock, realised with a start that it was nearly midnight? Alfred rose. fleorge rose. Alfred sighed. It, had been a pleasant evening, (ieorge sighed, more deeply than he had done. He also had had a pleaasnt evening. "Well," said George. "I suppose I'd better more oil. Ah!" He sighed again, glancing round the eosy, ttrellt room, with ite haze of tobacco -moke. "Ah, you married men don't know your luck! Xiee snug little berth you've got, Alf. upon my soul! I suppose"—he glanced wistfully at his friend—"l suppose you couldn't* let m« have a ehakedown here. Alf, just for to-night? I hate to bsk it of you. But—well, T'm travelling ill a few "small toilet article*. a« you see" —he indicated the heavy suitcase -"must do something with the stage what it is to-day—and this town'* a fair washout. Haven't taken the price of a bed all day " Even in Clara'* absence Alfred trembled at the thought of so bold a proceeding. But porhape it wm the effect of that convivial something he had nipped out for. Perhaps it was the breath from his bachelor pant which had come in when George crossed the threshold. Whatever it was, Alfred hesitated —and was lost.

George stayed. And from staying that night It wae an eaey ttep to «taying the next night, and the night after that. Excellent company,' wae George. The thought did croes Alfred's mind that he didn't seem to bother much getting round hie toilet goods. In fact, he shrewdly suspected that George stayed in bed most of the day. Still, it was nice to find the flre alight and the kettle boifing when he got in from work. And he certainly was good company. The Snippit waa still uneompoaed when Friday came round, and the la«t evening of Alfred's period of freedom.

And on Fridar evening the holt fell. Tbp two friend* w»r» »ittinjr hy the flrr. almost hidden from pach other hr clouds of tobacco smoke, their jollity a

little tempered by the reflection Unit this, like all good things, must soon come; to an end. when there came to Alfred s ears a sound.

Not a loud sound. \ot. in the ordinary way. a terrifying sound. Indeed. (Jem-go didn't hear it at all. Hut it brought Alfred bolt upright from his attitude of unbuttoned ease, with his features fro/en into an expression of anguished alarm.

Only imp person ever rattled the letter-box just like that. Clara!

Alfred's pip,. dropped from his nerveless finders.

I'he missus;'" he gasped

What wan he to dor Push (ienrge out of the back door before letting Clara in at the front? That would be no good. There was (ieoi<re - s bed. It hadn't been made for a week. There was (ieorge's half-emptied tumbler on the table.

The letter-box rattled again, more loudly. Clara was impatient. If she was kept waiting much longer she would l>e coming round the hack way. Nothing for it but to go and let her in!

All tlic time, of course, Alfred knew it would l>e pi rfectly simple to <ro right to the door Mini let ('him In. iiiul saw i|llite naturally, '"Hollo. you've got hack sooner than you said, haven't you - ' I've uot an old friend here, keeping me company; blew ill unexpectedly, so 1 asked him tn stay." .lust like Iliat! Nothiiijr in il ! Vet. Alfred could no more have uttered tliosc simple words than lie could have flown.

His feet felt like lead as they carried him towards the door. Slowly he fumbled with the latch, his mind itiiinin.LT round frcn/.iedly like a squirrel in a cage as he did ho.

"Well!" snapped Clara, when she had at last gained an entry. "I hope you've kept me. standing in the cold long enough!" She was plainly in a bad humour. '"Well," she continued, "that's ,the last time I try to do people a kindness. •Kmily." I said, 'if you think I've come this 'way.' I said, "to be insulted.' I said, 'and Blighted,' 1 said " Hilt here Clara paused, with her nose in the air like a cnicsting bound. "Alfred Nihlett." she said sharply, "you're smoking that filthy pipe in tlic front room." And it was then that Alfred's great thought came to him —a wonderful thought. an inspired thought. he imagined, little knowing: that the same imp of mischief who had brought (ieorge Wiggin to his door was at his <dd tricks. "Yes. Clara." he said, mixing Ins voice slightly so that it nii-ht carry into the front room where hU guest was sittin". "Yes. tiara. There's someone here. " It's—it's my I'ncle Joseph from Australia!' , Now. Alfred really bad an I iicle Joseph in Australia, who had gone out u> that country very many years ago and was reputed to have made, if not a fortune, a comfortable competency. An uncle, distinctly, to be treated with proper family cordiality. Clara's expression changed. "I n<-le Joseph!" she exclaimed. "Well, I never! And me not here to give him a welcome! Well. lam sorry!" She advanced towards the door of the front room. Alfred following apprehensively in her wake. Had (ieorge beard he wondered, and would he do what was expected of him? Or would he »ive the whole show away? His unspoken question was eoon answered. (ieorge himself flung the door wide and stepped forward to meet

them. '■So this is Clara!" he said in a voice broken by emotion. "I'm your Uncle Joseph, my dear!" Here (ieorge mii.rinteil an avuncular kise on Clara's forehead. 'I've made my little pile and retired, so I've come over to have a look at the nephew who'e going to enjoy it after me." Saved! Alfred gave a gasp of relict. Who would have thought (ieorge would plav up like that? And wh» could have believed that Clara would lap it all up so easily? Tt really was wonderful the way Clara took to'Umle Joseph. She simply couldn't do enough for him. She cried out with horror when she saw the state his room wa* in. She pof out the best eiderdown an<l the best blankets; she spread forth the best tablecloth, and butter in a lordly dish, and jam in a

..Im~< <li»h. and cuke, and a meat pie «he had brought back with her from the funeral. She n-m full of praice for I'mle Jowph. Such a delightful man. «he couldn't believe ho was Alfred* uncle. Alfred suppressed a guilty etart at the word*.

It wa« only just beginning to get light when she roused Alfred out to get early tea for his uncle. Early tea for old fieorge, indeed —but Alfred dared not raiee any objection, bo lie crept shiveriiijz down to do her bidding. George opened a sleepy eye when Alfred entered, carefully shutting tlie door behind him. and rolled over luxuriously beneath the best eiderdown. "Morning, nephew," he said with a grin. Alfred started. There w*s a subtle change in George's manner, he thought. He lr>()ked bolder, more assured. Vaguely Alfred began to feel aii uneasy suspicion that it waa not going to Tie so

—By VIOLET FABER

simple as he had thought to get out of the web of deception he had begun to weave in hit desperation. "Morning, lieorge,' , lie began. •Hold hard—liule Joseph,' 1 tliink," -Mid <;<>orge gently. "Don't be a fool," snapped Alfred in ;i stage whisper. "And listen here! You're going back to Australia by the next boat. see. . . ."' Oeorgp stretched himself comfortably Mini grinned again. "Oh. no. T ain't." he rejoined. '"Nor the next after that.. I'm very comfortable and happy, thank you. Nephew Vlfred. I've no wish to change my quarters, yet a bit. And just you mind your manners, young feller-me-lad. or perhup* you may not come in for that nice little legacy you're going to get when I puss my check* in." "Legacy!" exclaimed Alfred. "You— you swindling ruffian —you impostor— "If yon make such a row," said George fill inly. "Clara'll hear yon!" . He turned over on his pillows and went to sleep again. There was no doubt about it. Alfred reflected, (,'eorgc Wiggin had got him in a cleft stick! Short of telling Clara the whole story, there was nothing <o do hut L'lln and bear it. After all. it couldn't iro on for ever. fJeorge was bound t<i clear out before long. Knt the diiyri went and came, and still (leorge gave no siu'u of moving. Clara was enraptured with him. So were all Alfred's relations, whom Clara entertained at a family gathering in order to parade the Australian unfit", whose heir Alfred was t<> be before their envious eves. Alfred sat there among them, hiding his simmering rage beneath a niiisk of forced geniality.

Tt was ft wonderful spread. There were pies and boiled ham and jellies and cakes and wine to drink Uncle Joseph's health—Alfred had never «*oen such a f>u[iper. What Clara miwt have -pent on it ! And everyone was so lmsy applauding when I'ncle .T«*«e|ih stood up to respond to the toast that —just as on the evening when Clara returned fio unexpectedly —nobody but Alfred heard a rappinjr on the front door.

Alfred went out to open it —Cousin Louisa, prolmhly. late a* umial. He was of an excuse to fjet out of the rooiii before his feeliiijrs prot the better of him and he emptied his plaris over liir* pseudo-uncle's ffrilininjr fa<'i'.

Uncle .fdt-t'jih \vh« in jarrcat form. The whole table was in roars of liiujjhtor at liix witty sail iocs. Nobody even noticed Alfred's disappearance. Nobody heard a whispered convcrsa tion fjoinp; on in the outside.

Then the door opened, and there <-aine

Xot Cousin Lonina. late «k usual, but a stranger, An elderly stranger, with a brown face and an' out-of-door look about him, who stood listening with a smile to the closing phrases of Uncle Joseph's s|>eech.

Unde .liiriepli himself happened to have hi* back to the door: consequently he was the last to become aware of the .new arrival. Clara saw him and rose with a digriilu'd frown. Really, Alfred might have more r-ense. letting a stranger in like that—at a family gathering, too!

'"You'll excuse, me," said the intruder, FT« advanced further into the room as ho spoke. "But I think there's a little mistake here. Seeme to be there's two Unde Josephs—"

But he said no more. fJeorge turned round with a start, end before the newcomer hud time to finish his speech a larjre jelly, crowned with a quivering mass of whipped cream, caught him full in the face. The next moment the light was turned out, and as the company shrieked, scrambled and fell over each other in confunion the late p; u<> *t of honour's receding footstejw were pin inly to be heard dying away into the distnnce: down the street.

"Stup him! Stop him!" The agonised cries of Clara made themselves heard over the babel of sound. "I lent him twenty pound*. He said liis money hadn't come through from Australia. Stop him!"

But nobody did «top him. Xor did Clara ever eeo her lo*>t twenty pounds again. The genuine Uncle Joseph really is going to leave his money to Alfred some day. but Clara in hrr heart of hearts often thinks regretfully that he isn't nearly such a charming man as liis impersonator.

And no one ever found out, or is ever likely to. who turned the light out ho conveniently while Uncle Joseph the Fir«t made hi* escape. Xo one,-that is, but Alfred Xiblett himself, and he is not likely to tell.