FRIENDSHIP

Evening Post, Volume CVI, Issue 141, 18 December 1928, Page 36

FRIENDSHIP

By W. M. Swan

HE had been tramping tho streets of Wellington for a month, growing a littlo- more shabby,. a littlo moro hopeless as tho days wont by and nobody seemed to havo any use for his willing hands and six feet of sturdy manhood. Fortunately, a littlo still remained of tho' small capital ho had brought out from the Old Country, and his landlady was a good sort. But this weary search tor work was . very disheartening, and Vom Buchanan's grey eyes grew rather resentful as ho thought of the rose-coloured future pictured by the publicity officer! hi. England to the intending, emigrants. He had boon a landscape gardener, but when things got bad and work scarce through labour troubles and continual strikes, ho.was tempted to seek his fortune iv a now country. As sometimes happens ho found himself no: better off in the southern laud. .Work of any kind was hard to get, gardeners were not in great demand, and he had yot to learn the' colonial's happy knack of turning his hand toauyllmig. Outside the big wharf gates by the Post Office, ■ the chance of getting a job unloading on tho boats drew him inside. • But nothing awaited, him iv this line, for, though a great number of men were busily employed, a quite cousidc'rablo surplus wore .lounging about, smoking and talking, waiting like himself for something to' turn up. In spito of his disappointment, the beauty of tho scene mado him forget for a moment how tired his foot were and tho weariness of his spirit. It was one of Wellington's beauty days. No wind' ruffled the smooth bluo of the harbour; the low w.ooden hills on the farther side melted into the deep purple grandeur of the lofty mouutain peaks at.the back whose tops- were lost in soft, white, fleecy clouds. It was a day to be at peace with the world, and Tom Buchanan as he sat on the sunwarmed wharf stringer felt glad for the first-time since his arrival that ho had left behind tho fogs and chills of tho Old World. "Decent; day, eh?" a voice at his side murmured, Hq turned, and saw that a little, thin jiian had taken a seat beside. him on the stringer, lie was cleaner and tidier, and i.; •:•'! a cut above the ordinary.wharf -iv..crvrs, and his brown eyes held a wistful- expression which somehow reminded Tom of a rather nice dog's. Tom, nodded "and, smiled at tho newcomer, and lie wont on in his gentle rather soft voice.' " 'T'isn't often we got a day like this in Wellington. Wind usually gets up and.sp/ls things." "That a'&l" said To in, briefly. "Do me, though, if I could only land a job." Tho little man looked at him, half sadly, and shook his head. "Shame, I call it,." ho said, without hoat. "Bringin' peoplo'out hero when there's not enough work for them that's here already. Told you a fine yarn the other side, too, I suppose, 'bout fortunes being made in about five minutes?" Tom laughed; the first time for many days. "Pretty well. You can bet your life 'they didn't say a word about tramping the streets for weeks looking for work and not finding any!" The littlo man edged nearer. "I wouldn't tell.everyone," ho said, lowering his voice, "but I've been out mcself a good stretch aud I know what it feels like. I got the tip this mornin' of a job, arid I might bo able to got you taken oil, too, if you don't mind a bit of liftin.'" Tom shook his head eagerly. "They'll be advertisin' for men in to-night's paper, and there'll bo a big crowd after it to-morrow, but tho foroman said if I went along 'bout twelve p'raps. I could start ;at once. It's stacking case oil down at the. oil store. Boat camo iv early this mornin', and they're bound to unload at once." . Tom's hand shot out. and gripped that of his new friend. "You've put new life into me, mate," he said, gratefully. "I was-feeling down and out before you spoke and wondering why on earth I'd been born." "That's all right, then," said tho little iriam "Jim Wilson's my name; and, if we're go in' . down to that job we'd better get a move on,. .'cos it's after-oleven now." The foreman wras as good as his word, for, lie", not only took Jim oti, but his "homey" pal as well, and soon tho two men were busy storing tho cases of petrol which camo. sliding down the runway from the motor-lorry. It was rather, strenuous going, but Tom's heart' sang as tho stacks grow 'higher. Oh, the. joy of work! After •weeks of. enforced idleness, who had not experienced the happiness that comes from being busy again; to feel one's sTrength .an' asset and not drug in the market of life; and to.feel honestly and' genuinely tired at the end of the. day? • Was it, after all, a curse the Almighty put on mankind when Ho said: .'Six'days shalt thou labour." Rather was it a benediction, a soul-sav-ing edict, which would sweeten exile and make up for the lost joys of Eden. .' Tho friendship so casually begun ripened and flourished. From walking home together after the day's work was only a stop to going to the Saturday afternoon football matches at tho Athletic Park; and on Sunday ' evenings, when the weather was fine, they. did tho length of the fine stretch of wharves of which the Capital City is so proud. Jim orico spoke of a brother, much older than himself, who was farmingiu tho Wairarapa. "That's the life for mo, Tom," he said. "To be put in tho country with God's fresh air and tho smell of good earth all round. Jack has promised to send for pie when he gels busier, but I don't know when that'll be. Tho farmers have a thin tituo sometimes, what with ono thing an' another; but old Jack is pretty tough, and is bound to get on iv tho long run." One morning, no little figure was at the corner whore the' two usually met to walk lo the store, together, but after a few miuutes' wait Tom was joined by a breathless child, who informed hint'that "Mr. Wilson was sick and couldn't get up that day." It did not make much: difference to the work Tom had,to do; things wero getting slack again, anyway, but ho missed the bright little chap amazingly. As soon as the boarding-house dinner was over he tidied himself and went round to see his pal. A sharp-faced woman with a. soot smudge across her forehead opened tho door to him. She sniffed quite audibly when he asked for Mr. Wilson. "Lazy lout!" she said. • "Staying in bed with a bit of a cold. I've got up and dono a washing for eight and cooked dinner, too, with a cough you could hear two streets away and 'ero 'o's laying in bed making extra work for mo aud no cough to speak of at all. Just laziness I call it." Tom said nothing as he followed hor up • tho stoop, not over-clean stairs to tho next floor. Perhaps he didn't have "much cough," but Tom was rather alarmed at tho look of his friend. In tho twenty-four hours that had elapsed sinco seeing him, his already thin face had sharpened and tho brown eyes were brilliant with fever. "Got a terrible paiu here," ho said, in answer to Tom's inquiry as to how ho felt. "An' when I swallow anything, .the paia an-mc-eliost"-iff some- . thing awfnl «ad mafees me fool sick.' ?

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Tom looked round tho cold, miserable room, thought of the hard-featur-ed female downstairs, with her lack of womanly sympathy; remembered his own clean, comfortable room, and motherly Mrs. Burton; and came to a swift decision. "If I dressed you, and you took my arm, do you think you could walk to the tramcar, old man?" he asked ly"Where, arc you taking, me? To the hospital?" Jinimie looked at his friend suspiciously. "Hospital! Of course not. But there's a spare stretcher in my room, and if you foci well enough to get there, I know my landlady will look after you beticr than that old bite downstairs, and you'd havo mo to sco to yon at night." Tko other's face lighted up, and ho raised himself eagerly on tho dingy pillow. "I'd bo glad to get out of this," ho whispered. "She's not so bad when you're well, but sho says sick people aro no good to her.'^ • With a littlo effort on both sides, Jim was at length dressed warmly, with Tom's own woolly muffler across his chest under tho tweed overcoat; aud with ono or two pauses for breath, they succeeded in reaching tho tram, which stopped a few yards from tho end of tho street. Good old Mrs. Burton, grey, shingled, but motherly withal, agreed without hesitation to tho addition to her household. She had the extra bed made up in a few minutes, and brought along her own hot water bag to take tho chill off tho sheets. For three days, Mrs. Burton in the daytime and Tom Buchanan at night watched a battle in which tho combatants were congestion of tho lungs versus mustard plasters; at the end of that time, Death slunk reluctantly out of the door, aud his intended victim was left weak, emaciated, and fretful, but most certainly alive. Things, had been getting slack at the oil store for some days, and ono afternoon tho foreman told Tom that as the job was finished he would havo to pay him off. "You're tho best worker wo'vo over had," ho said, "audwhen the next shipment comes in in about six weoks' time, if you haven't landed anything bettor in the meantime, come down, aud you'll bo tho first to bo taken on." And thenl started again tho drearyhunt for work. Nobody seemed to want him in the town, so at last ho turned his thoughts towards the couutry. A .fortnight went by, and then ono day, coming down tlio steps of the Public Library after a fruitless, search of the country newspapers, he almost ran into a gentleman coming up. ' Across his apology, a half-familiar voice exclaimed: "Why, if it isn't; Tom Buchanan! How long havo you been iv this part of tho world, boy?" It was Sir John Morley, a former employer in tho Old Country, whoso service ho;had left only when the estate was sold to bo cut up into sections for villa-residences. Tom had worked for him for nearly six years, to their mutual satisfaction, and now ho grasped the kindly outstretched hand with more than pleasure. "Sir John! " Tom's face flushed with the pleasure of the mooting. "I never thought to see you iv Now Zealand. I've boon out here neaiiv throe months." "And how do you like this new country, eh, Tom?" "The country is'first rate, sir. 'The troublo is- I can't seem to"land a job at all. Excepting for about a fortnight, I've douo nothing at all sinco I landed. Nobody seems to want a gardener just now.' '■ "This is a fortunate meeting, Tom. I boliovo I can get you a good job straight away. It's only assistant at present, but 'tho head gardener is getting old, and if you aro as good at flowers as you used to be, I can soo you getting his place when ho retires in a year or two." Ho took a. card , from his case. "Como aud soo me at tills address to-morrow afternoon, and bring any good references you have. If tins position is filled,"we'll have to sco .what we cnn.do in another direction." Ho shook Tom's baud heartily, and disappeared into tho building. All the way homo Tom walked on air. Thank God, his luck had turned at last. Ho burst into Mrs. Burton's kitchen, where Jim was resting in an armchair by the fire, and blurted out the glad news. The small, bright kitchen rang with their .happy,-excited voices. . • "He's one of the best," at last fin-' ished Tom. "I had noidoa he was out here, or I would have looked him up. He's here in connection with some Commission or other. I never worked for anyone I got on. with better, and now-it looks as if he's going to get mc one of the best jobs I've ever had." Ho gave Mrs. Burton a sudden, unexpected hug, much to hor delight. 'I'll be able to repay some of the unpayable goodness you've lavished on us, old dear," he said; and put his other arm round Jim's thin shoulders. "Don't know what wo would have done without her, do we, Jim?" . In Jim's brown eyes shone a devotion rarely seen, as ho looked from one to tho other of his friends. "You're two of the best God over made," he said huskily; and the three gripped hands over tho worn old kitchen table. He found Sir John ready aud wait- . ing for him next day when he went to the address on the card. rn"^i?, you,brinS y°m' . references, Tom?",ho askod, after a timo. . "Yes, sir; I've only two, as I kept the job as long as it was thero to keep; the one from yourself and tho last job I had beforo I loft tlio Old Country." "That's all to the good," smiled Sir John. "A nian who has a dozen references shows plainly to my mind that ho can't,keep.a job, or he" would stick longer in one when he had it. Tako this letter, Tom, to tho gentleman it's addressed to, and the job is yours. You wil' bo second gardener, and as tho head mau is due to retire on a Govern' ment pension in just over a year's time. I have tho assurance that if your work is as good as I have stated, tho better jc^ will be yours then." Tom took tho letter, his eyes misty. "I can't thank you, sir," ho said, gratefully. "And if hard work and doing my best will keep mo tho job, yoii can rely on inc. uot .letting you down. I'll get more out of that garden than's ever been got out of it before, or my name's not Torn Buchanan," "That's tho talk, Tom! Show tho. New Zealanders that at least one 'Homey' is not all talk, but can compete with the best of them:"* Tom. swung down tho familiar road towards the little'boarding-house, after a most satisfying and remunerative interview, and found Jim waiting for him in tho little garden. He waved a lettor for Tom's inspection, his faco one big smile. "Luck!" he cried. "My luck's turned, 100, Tom. This is from Jack up at Miu'linborougli. He's had a wonderful year with his cows, and he wants mo to como up as soon as I can and help liiin on the farm. He's sent ten pounds for a Christmas box to pay my fare and get anything I want, so I reckon we're both 'fixed at last, old man." Tho hands of tho two friends met, and if the oyes'of-both wore-niisly thero was: nobody there to, notice,^