ORANGES.

Press, Volume LXIII, Issue 19156, 12 November 1927, Page 15

ORANGES.

(WBITTES TOS. THE PKESS.) [By W. D'A. Cresswell.]

It was in Covent Garden. I was hurrying to my room when a voice beside me began: "It's 'ard fer ex-Ser-vieemen ter git work, sir 1" "Yes," I said, and was guilty of a quiokened pace and a faint embarrassment. He was a youngish man, small and sallow and incurably aged, his raggedness made wildly unreasonable, somehow, by two gleaming medals, skilfully he kept beside me. pouring out a jumble of facts. , _., » "I come out of prison ten days ago, he ended. We had reached my door. "I've 'ad nothing to eat since the a ay before yesterday." I gave f? S °°T coppers Such encounters brine nothing home to one. , , r I had reached my room before i thought of him again, so much rare are and weird, experience hurrying away. Just out o? Pentonville, find I let him go! I rushed out. He had vanished. I stood upon an island where four streets meet certain I was ahead or him. Then I saw him approaching bv another street, fastened like a leech upon a large, unhappy clergyman, who strode ahead, his mask or piety unruffled—a profound look of pity for the poro, too deep for words, or even twopence. , . I intervened in time to save him, catching the beggar by the coat as they passed. He joined me expectantly. "I want to speak with you, ( i said "Come and have some coffee. An Idea. He mistook ray intentions from the first. "Of course, I want ter go stryte, if I can. I don't like 'avm ter beg." he said as we walked. "If. I could git ten bob capital I could begm on me own, sellin' oranges." "With a barrow?" "Yes, I was doing that before. In the steamy twilight of Veghos he ate sausages and mashed in great mouthfuls, happy and smiling, telling me anything I asked. There were no complaints about Pentonville; he didn t mind it much. It sounded quite like the army, like living in barracks. "Course, I'd rather 'ave me freedom," he declared. "This is Wednesday. They're 'aving soup and bread fer dinner to-day." Of such details he was full, there was no doubt he had been there. "The day yer go out yer can shave yerself," he added happily. "Before that they only clips yer." He stroked his chin and regarded me indulgently. The meal inside him, he wished to be off. He couldn't sit still. He grew restless and shifty and glanced at the' clock. "The market closes at one," he hinted, and I could be out on the streets and sell them oranges afore to-night." "You have a barrow in Waterloo? Very well, we'll go for it." We walked towards the Strand, down one side of a narrow street, in the weak sunlight, that left the other side dark with slime and gaping doorways "You'll know where we can get oranges cheaply. Covent Garden, is that the place?" Disconcerted at first, he trimmed himself to this new absurdity. Together we walked to Waterloo, his tattered coat flapping beside me above his curious, shifty steps. He chatted, confused but lively. Two events were chief for him: the death of his mother, which left him alone in the world when he was ten, and his committal to the Borstal Institute shortly afterwards for begging. He told me more about gaol. "Not allowed ter talk, that's the worst. Say we're on parade, fer exercise. Say you're here" (I pricked up my ears) "and I'm there. Say I turned round and said 'Ow long yer got?' Wei, if a warder oatches yer, that's solitary confinement on bread an' water." .On. Waterloo Bridge the sun struck his medals, glittering there outrageously. He had polished them to pawn them: "'l'll give yer two bob,' the chap said. But I wouldn't take it." "Those things, they're not silver," I ventured. "They yare!" he asserted stoutly. "11l prove it." On the Embankment, on the buildings, up and down the river, medals glittered derisively. Spring, with her first sunlight, decorated London for valour. At Waterloo we turned into a market. "Now, where's that barrow?" "I'll ave ter borrow one." "But you said you had one." (Angily> "I didn't say I 'ad one; I said I could git one." My admiration deepened. He sidled up the market and was soon lost from view. When next I saw him he was pushing a pretty green barrow such as costers use. With this we returned as we had come. Another Idea. I said nothing till we reached Covent Garden. "Now, where do you want to buy them? Do you know a cheap place?" But he was reluctant to begin. What he was thinking and intending I had no idea. Ridiculous and furtive we stood amid the decision .and hurry around us, the loading of carts, the opening of cases, the rattle of trolleys, a tremendous, slovenly bustle. His wretched barrow was in the way; horses bore down on it. Someone ordered us on. "Ask in there," I shouted. He enquired, and came out again, his face surly and dark. "Eighteen shillings a case," he said. "Eighteen! you said you could set up with a barrowful for ten bob." I had known this was coming. I sent him in to several places, with the same result. At each enquiry his look became more sullen. We trudged on through the noise and disorder that keeps London in fruit and vegetables and brought up near an unused gateway, flanked with bags of apples and boxes containing earth. "Look here," I spoke in his ear, "what are you feeling so cross about? Don't you want the oranges? Aren't you pleased'"' "Well, they're too dear. I thought they was cheap." He was far from speaking his mind. "Well, where are they cheap?" "Up the Caledonian Market." I tried putting him in charge. "Shall we go up there?" "Not goin' ter push this barrer up there," he said disgustedly. "Not tj» begin again, not to have a new start?" t asked righteously.' A man in an apron came out, fingered an apple, looked at us keenly, and went in again. # "I'll set you up with the fruit," I continued, r< no matter what it costs. But I must put on clothes like yours. We can't go together like this. I'll go and put on old clothes and we'll sell the fruit together. You can have the profits." At this his face filled with a meaning look. "My God," it said, nhe j morning wasted with a madman!" j The Final Folly. I "Will you wait here while Igo and '. change, not more than ten minntes?" There was no coherent reply. He ; was sulking. I repeated my question, then decided to risk it. "Wait here against these apples for ten minutes. As soon as I return we'll have a good! dinner for a start; then we'll load up." I reached my room and changed. 1 blackened my nails in the fireplace and dirtied "mv face and neck. Then I hurried to the market, filled with schemes. But before catching sight of that gateway I realised he had gone. The rest of the day I spent in my disguise, wandering as beggars do.