THE REFORMED CHARACTER.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 3584, 9 March 1914, Page 8

THE REFORMED CHARACTER.

By W. Rett Ridge

(Westminster .Gazette:)

A distinct amount of swaggering characterised his gait as he come down the road, and the manner in which he removed a pebble that stood in the way indicated proud determination. He patted, more than once, the front of his blue serge jacket, to make sure the contents of an inside pocket were safe. “My responsibility,” he. said, half aloud, “will son be at an end.” The small numbers on the door were of brass, and use of chamois leather made them glisten in the sunshine. Raising the knocker of a cottage to give one definite knock, he observed that ho had mistaken a 3 for an 8. He went back for tlce space of five ihouses. “That’s niv name,” said the old lady, with reserve, '“but II can’t utsik you inside because, to tell the fact, I’m turning out one of the rooms. What have you caliled about?” “Working up north,” replied the young man, “the last three months,, and T’ve been on chummy terms with your son.” “You don’t mean Rob?” “Robert is the name he goes by. Stout-built chap, with rather sleepy eyes, and very reg’lar in Ms habits.” She nodded. “And J suppose .you’ve come here to borrow a shilling on the strength of it. Had your purse stolen whilst you was riding outside an omnibus, and you want enough to get back home. I’m up to alb the tricks, and if you can manage to take me in you’re welcome to do :sn. Only, take my warning: “you've got a tough job before you.” “Your son Robert,” lie said, formally, ‘bias entrusted me, ma’am, with a communication for you, and I must ask you for some evidence to prove that you are actually Mrs Ramscten before I hand it over. My position is one of a considerable nature, and I’m anxious there should be nothing in the shape of an error, blunder, or mistake.”

‘‘lt’s about time 1 heard from him,” she remarked in loss defensive tones. “Thro years lie’s been away and never sent me so much as a picture-postcard. That’s what comes of working your fingers to the bone, and denying yourself everything when they're young. You cun come inside, but you mustn't stay more than five minutes, because, as I told you, I’m up to the neck in work. I can’t afford to keep a girl, and consequently what I don’t do about tlie)house don’t get done. If the kitchen isn’t good enough for you. say so.” 1 She dusted with her apron a wooden chair, and, giving him a quick glance of inspection, went to the front room, returning a minute later with a photograph. He obeyed her directions and looked at it; handed the photograph back with the remark that it was no more like Robert Ramsden than chalk was like cheese. She apologised ror having taken the wrong pic bare from the mantelpiece and obtained another, which he identified with the provision that the original had put on flesh. Mrs Ramsden said, with some bitterness, that this was a natural result when people lived on the fat of the land, and sent home nothing in the shape of money orders. “Mine has been a strange life,” Che remarked, loTing complacently.. “Break that clxair and you’ll hear about it from me. There’s two that, have to stand with their backs to the wall already.” “You’d scarcely imagine it to look at me,” he went on, sitting upright, “but a year ago I was in Wandsworth.” “Nice open part.” “Not where I stayed. I was in the prison. Yes, ma’am!” approving the start dlie gave. “I’ve served time and I’ve come through the furnace purified, and all the better for the punishment I endured. Coming out, I fell into good hands, and a berth was found for me, and since that period I’ve never looked back. I’m esteemed by my friends, and those who don’t know me also respect me and trust me. I’ve put in twelve months at hard, honest work, and crime is no longer any temptation as far as I'm concerned. I’ve learnt my lesson, and profited by it.” “This may be interesting enough to you,” sShe said, “but I don’t quite see—■” “Wait! I am leading up to the reason for my call here, and if you’ll have patience I venture to think you will not go. unrewarded. Your son Robert has saved money.” “He certainly hasn’t wasted none on me.” “What I want to prove to you, ma’am, is that I’ve completely regained the position in life which I forfeited for a time owing to a sideslip that might have happened to anyone. Your son Robert is acquainted xvith all fine facts of my past. I told him, more than once of an evening—neither of us having any desire to join in foolish behavior <at the local pub—l informed him of all the circumstances of the burglary I was led into by those older than myself in years, and more ful’y acquainted with the trick of breaking the law. I kept nobbing hack from him. I gave him the whole of the facts from A to Z.” “The true facts?” “The absolute blooming accurate facts,” he declared, with emphasis. “Tho facts as they happened. Everything. And he told me about himself ; how lie made up bis mind that lie was going, some day or otlier, to repay a certain person to some" extent, for what ho owed her, and how it was the aim of his existence to put by, little iby litt’e and bit by bit, until if came a good round sum, and then he intended to hand the lump over to her.” “What’s the gel’s name?” sloe asked, sharply. The visitor, evidently in no hurry, ' went on with deliberation, speaking a good deal of himself, and something about Robert, and ignoring the hint that the front room would now have to remain in a dismantled state until tho morrow. A few of the staff had, it appeared, been put on abort '. me, and ho resolved to stand off for a couple of days,, and run up to town, see a few acquaintances, go to a music-hall, and, possibly, enjoy a drink or two. Robert, his friend, was

unable to leave, but had .rusted him with a commission of such a nature that aiiy man might he flatteredl to find himself chosen for it. Rob rv, it appeared, mistrusted too IV. 1 1 Oiiiro, not on general groua 1-', but because the local establish!.!! nc mes, in pari, managed by a young aby to whom he had paid some attention, until tho moment when she "• mpm Tied of his accent. For which .bason, at the railway station w’ <:n ihe excursion train was on tho point of leaving, he said to tho eth :r, “Old man, you’re going up to Loudon. Will you do mo a favor?” The otliier hoped it did not moan anyth.ng beyond the limits of roasjnaoVrmss. “In this envelope,” conr.iaued Robert “are ten £5 notes. I want you, because I know I can depend on you, to go to my mother at New Cross, give her my compliments, and auk her to accept the money, and mako good use of it. And say that if I was handier with tho pen, I’d write to her more often that what I do!” Mrs Ramsden, wetting a finger, counted the notes. Apologising in a trembling voice for her earlier manner she explained the difficulty of selecting a reliable place where they could be deposited for the night: the next morning they could go into the Savings Bank. Her visitor, swelling with the pride of honesty, made a suggestion, and in accepting it she offered to find a neighbor, and send out for refreshment; he said, in a dignified way, that it was impossible for him to accept payment of any kind for what had been purely and simply a labor of love. Her grateful thanks followed the reformed character as he went tip the road.

Two hours later he re-entered Hie small house; this time by fine window, a clasp-knife having nfoved the catch. Five minutes afterwards he was again on ihe pavement. “Eight, nine, ten,” he counted, p’aeing the envelope in his pocket, and destroying the return half of a railway ticket. “Second thoughts arc best. They’ll do me more good than wfiat they’ll do her!”