"JOE ROBERTSON'S FOLLY."

Hawke's Bay Herald, Volume 11, Issue 844, 25 May 1867, Page 3

"JOE ROBERTSON'S FOLLY."

[From "Once a Week."] . " Thou beest a fool, Joe — a right fool, to take home this brats. Polly Naggles won't come to thee to find herself mother to gals often and four." " Let Polly wait till she's asked, mother. I mean taking the children home." " I think you might do something better with your money than feed Jim's brats." "What are they to do ? He's gone for good some way — by foul play, as I think." ; ■" ' Foul play ' or not, there's the workhouse for. the young uns, if tfcou weren't a fool. There's thy father and me to think on, and you go taking up with strange brats." . " Don't say that mother; you shan't have a farthing less through it ; and as for * strange,' they're my. own mate's — one that was almost a brother to me." " Brother to thee, Joe I Why, he's ten pounds in debt to thee now, if he be a ha'penny." " Well, mother, let it be ; he's gone now, and I don't care about the ten pounds." " Well, well, go thy ways, Joe, and keep the brats, and let all the parish laugh at thee. They'll be saying that thee loved Jim's childer more than he did. They'll tell tbee, that if thou beest so much of a father to 'em, perhaps Kitty Ratcliffe was kinder to thee after she took to. Jim than she was afore." "Mother, for God's sake, stop ! you know it's a lie. Kitty was as good as an angel; I swear I'll never speak to you again if you talk of her like that." " There, there, boy ! don't make such a pother about nothing. Thou'st let the cat out. Thee takest to the children because they're Kitty's — eh, lad? — not for Jim's sake." " I take to them because I please, mother ; and I warn you, if. you want my love and respect, don't talk that way of Kitty." " I didn't say anything, except that people would say that, perhaps ." " For God's sake, mother, don't say it again ! There's father's bacca, and your snuff, and the money, so now good night. I'll look in on Tuesday, when I'm up at the traps in Chalk Fell Hollow — good night." " Well, good night, lad ; but thou beest a fool, for all the bacca and snuff." The son went out too soon to hear the repetition of his mother's first statement, that he was a fool, and went quietly along the road to his home ; a small, three-roomed cottage, outside the village, and close to the preserves of which he was the keeper. On reaching his home he found the table spread for supper, and, taking ihe cap from his gun, he put it in the rack, and sat down before the turf-fire. • "Well, Kitty, hast put little one to bed ?" "Yes, Joe ; she said I was to kiss you for her," said the girl Kitty ; a child of about nine years,* as she came up to him and kissed his cheek. " And now come to supper, Joe." " Why, lass, I've not seen such a cloth for years, and such a nice plimp'd-up bit of bacon." " I did it, Joe : I washed" the cloth, and boiled the bacon. I used to help mother when she was sick, before she died, you know ; and, since then, I used to do all for poor father, though he seldom came home to supper, and often stayed out all night, he was so often down at the beer-house, after mother died." " YouVe as good as a wife, Kitty." "Am I ? then I'll be your little wife, and look after everything for you till father comes back." "I want to tell you, Kitty, I don't think your father will come back at all ; I'm afraid he's gone." " Gone, Joe ! Where to ?" ".Where? to—^to heaven, if the best heart in the village would take him there." " Not dead, Joe ! Don't say father's dead ! What ehall we do ? — no father — no mother ! what shall we do ? Poor little Meg, too !" and the child cried bitterly. " Well, Kitty, when he left us I thought he was coining back directly ; then, when he never came all night, I thought he'd come in the morning; and then, when he didn't come for days, I thought he'd bolted, and I shut his place up, and brought you down here ; and now, he'a not come back this three weeks and they've found his hat and smock in the gravel pit pond, — I think he won't come back at all, Kitty." "Poor father!— drowned 1" "I fear that." "And where shall we go now? Oh dear " "Well, mother says, 'Workhouse',Squire says, 'Workhouse'; Parson says, 'Workhouse'; and Polly Naggles says, ' Workhouse.' " " And what do you say, Joe?" said the child, eagerly, looking into his face, as he sat holding her between his knees and grasping her iittle hands in his brawny palms. " What do you say, Joe ?" " What do I say ? Why, I say as I said to him that night, 'All right, I'll look after them.'" ;\ And you'll not let us go to the workhouse, Joe?" " Never, while I've a crust or jacket, Kitty." " O Joe, I'm so glad. I'll work so hard and keep all your nice house so tidy and clean, and I'll do everything you tell me, any time, just like mother used i;o do -for poor father. Mother's name was Kitty too, Joe." "I know, I know it, lass, And there's one thing, if you stay, you must never do, child." "What's that, Joe? I never will, I declare, whatever it is." " Then don't thee talk to me about your dead mother, I can't bear it ; it makes me feel, I can't tell you how, child. Thou'lt know some day though, for all that. So don't talk to me about her." " I never will, though I like to talk about her ; I won't except to Meggy^ I may talk to Meggy ?' ? T "As much as you like, but not to me. And now, lass, let's eat, for I'm hungry and the bacon looks good." And so' it was settled that the two children of the late carter, Jim Ratcliffe, should live at the house of his friend Joe, and at his cost ; and it was also settled by the gossips of the neighbourhood, by his mother, and by the ambitious Polly Naggles, that Joe the gamekeeper was a fool; spite of which verdict he thrived and seemed very happy with his little charges, and none the poorer, for, as he said one day, . "They save more than they cost, by their washing, and cooking, and gardening, to say nothing of the comfort of some one to see you when you come home of a night."

111 " . • .-,-.,- .'■">,.•.:•-. ;,..■.,. ;<s> ■~u&^-;;;Wi-'7js;i-Si? As. time went on, Kitty: greyrop ;&jx&sisi tall, active girl, arid nothing iote^up^cts^; their quite, happy life, un^..pne:^ay^;&.,%T«s^i was going home a^oufc;dusk,\;'wifeH. : hi9.'':idog-^." at bis heels and his gun on his shoulder, he met an acquaintance. '"■ •,;;!: " Evening, Joe." - 1 "Evening, Bill." ' : / " It's going to rain a bit, eh ?" "NO." .•-.- ' * •' ■-.:: " Short tp-night, Joe ?", " I always am with the like of you.": ; : « Like of me. . What now ?" -. ' ■■.; ; " Where were you last Wednesday about half-past eleven P" \ "In bed." "Not a. bit, you were out with Soappy . and the new ploughman." ; "«• Well, if I was, there's no harm in that." "No harm in being out, but there was i n being in the Long Hollow, netting rabbits,Bui." .. ,; ... k Netting rabbits, Joe ?" . .: «<Yes, I saw you there. I knew you, an d I made you out and leave your, nets." »O ! it was you, then, that sung out ?" «O! you heard me, did you? Well now, m tel ! y° u what * tis > Bill 5 I don't wish y° u °* anybody, else harm, but if I catch y° u agafo upon the ground I'll have you up before the squire as sure as my name's Joe ; and, if I was you, I'd not be so thick with Soappy, he's been in once or twice f° r i fc > ..? n d I don't want to see you following him, so don't come • poaching -v here.". ■ ' "- " '• • "'->--V? ; ; „ - -■'■■ " Poaching, indeed ; there's worse done than poaching." : "Dare say there is, 'taint my business, though." . " But there's worse done than poaching by them that's paid tpkeep poor men from trapping wild animals." . . "Meaning me?" : ; -."■'.'. t "Yes, meaning you. Do yon know what they say in the village about the kids?" . ..-..-■'.•■■■ \ " No, and I don't care." " Well, they say that you're like a father to 'era." . , ....-'" •• Well, I know it." • "And they say summut else, Joe."; - "What's that?"' : " That you were very fond of Kitty Ratcliffe, and perhaps you are their father." "And who says that?". .. . " Your own mother and Polly, and I say It." - • ■ . ; . ■';:•: " Mother and Polly lie, and you lie too." "Don't get waxy, Joe, for everybody knows that Kitty Ratciiffe was no better than she should be. Why, I've seen you myself come out of Joe's garden at two o'clock in the morning. Snaring's all ; very well, and so's watching, but if I had a; wife I'd like you to set your snares further awayy from my place. I've told lots of 'em about it." ' ■."■''■ • "" : "Then it was you set the tale .agoing about me and Kitty, that broke her heart P"[ " I dare say it was, Joe." . . : " Then I tell you what, Bill^ you've told, me what I wanted to know any time this last seven yeurs. When I saw Jim's wife growing worse and worse" through that scandal, I said to myself, if ever I find out who set those tongues wagging I'll give him a lessot, if it's a man, to let honest women's ; names alone for the future. And nowOPm^ ' ; going to do itj Bill, this very night, this very ; minute.;. I haven't waited all this time for , ; nothing,, so just you come out behind the haystack, and I'll give you tbo lesson." "What, do you mean to shoot me, or put the do* on me P" " Neither, but I mean to give you the . soundest hiding you've had this many a day, so come on ; and if you won't take it like a man and stand up to me fair, I'll wale you with a hedgestake, you woman-fighter." "Come, Joe, I'll swear the peace again, you, I'll swear the peace." "I don't care. • Will you come Uke a man, or shall I drag you like a cur ?" " No. I won't come, I'll— — M " No, you won't. I've got you now, and you shan't run," . and the sturdy keeper dragged his unwilling antagonist through r •the gate and placed, him -in a corner of the field behind a haystack. . "Now, Bill, willyou fight?" "No," "I'll fight you with one hand." , "No." '. " Then I'll thrash you with this ramrod." "I'll swear " \; It was too late* Taking the ramrod and laying the gun against the stack, the keeper thrashed his writhing victim, till he swore , he'd never mention the name of Kitty Ratciiffe again, and then let him go. Watching his opportunity, Bill rushed at the gun, and taking it up, presented it at the keeper. "How now, Joe? You've had your turn, now it's mine. Do you know what I'm going to do ? I'm going to shoot." "Don't have murder on your coward's soul." " It's no murder to kill a dog ; you've killed hundreds." "Kill Growler! No man! for God's, sake don't do that." " Keep off ! I'll put the charge into you : if you come a step nearer. Keep off!" "Put it in, then, but don't kill the dog. It was her dog." : " Then here goes. I'd have only winged him if you hadn't said that. Now, I'll hit himtuir." "" ■ " Heel, Growler, heel !" cried the keeper, waving his hand behind him.j and the dog, who had been an interested spectator of the • combat, now came behind his master, and t there, for some few minutes, they stood, the ... one waiting a movement of the dog's that would give him an opportunity forasho^, the other a moment, when the slightest movement of the muzzle would permit him: to rush in without certain death. „ ; r . It came at last. A large rat came put of f the stack, ran a little way, stopped, sni|ffed, and caught Growler's eye. ; The dog pushed ; at the rat. There was a report j^and when •; the smoke cleared off, a man was getting v 5 over the stile and running away,, and■■ihsydog was licking the hand and ; whining ):■■ piteously over the prostrate form of hUbleeding and insensible master, ,^,. >' 3j{^^ The dog's return without his master, and ,';4V his eager running to the door, at length^in-;;j:? duced Kitty to call one of the fanh men^tq >:[ look for him. . '.'• ' ■ V^.O '";-- 'l^i^V .:'•'' The dog led the way straight to the stacks V where the: discharged gun < oh. the -ground v told the old story of ah affray t witn jpoachers. : He was taken home,^ and after some 'few- 1 : ■ weeks his arm grew well, and he. resiina^' a : V bis duties ; but'on the subject . of >:tj^o;.cause/;l> of his wound he would not say-7n^cli/| ji^- 1 > poacher he supposed had at^cjked him, c ;p^ : I .;V ; in the struggle the gun. had gone ; off. W^x\&r-

': :^SiU .^as equally prudent, and took ;vwy good care that, when Kitty's name -was mentioned, the subject of conversation was soon changed. ■ Kitty was a careful and devoted nurse, without a care in the world but to please Joe ;. but hia few weeks of an invalid's helpless life taught them both that there was growing up between them a reserve that, until then, neither had felt. The old affection between them was break, ing up, and leaving in its place a pain* ful embarrassment in each other's society that brothers and sisters do not experience. It was not till some time after that they quite knew what this strange emotion meant. One evening, they were interrupted at supper by the arrival of the vicar. "I've come," said he, when seated, " to* draw your attention to the fact that your neighbours are talking about your being here alone with that young woman who has just left the room." «• What, Kitty ?" " Yes; Kitty." " Why, sir, she's ar child. She's only seventeen. I'm old enough to be her father. I've been like a father to both.?' "No, not her father, for you're only thirty-four, if I remember, Joseph ?" " That's so, sir." " Well, you see, while they were children, it was all very well, but now she's a young woman of seventeen it's not quite the thing."- --" Whoever has said anything, «ir?" " Nobody exactly ; but, you see, it's not pleasant to have letters of this kind sent. to me about my parishioners." He read :— " Rbv. Sir.- — There's a game agoing on in your parish, as I don't like, as a respectable man, for to see. Joe Robertson and young Kitty's all by theirselves in that there cottage of his. I asks you if it's right. He's as fond of the gal as he "was of her mother afore her, and I hope you'll teach him he'd better not blow on her name as he did on her mother's.— l am, Rev. Sir, yours obedient * * #." "You see," said the, vicar. " I heard some time ago of the scandal about Mrs. Ratcliffe, and what was said by people then." " People then, sir, lied, as this scoundrel's done now. " I'd like to push his letter down his throat." . " You know who wrote it?" "Yes; There's only one man in the placebad enough." "Who is he?" "Well, I'd rather not tell, sir, but you'll know of it." " How about the girl? You really must have some one here, or send her away. I don't say there's any harm ; but people will talk. So contrive some plan to silence them." And the vicar left him. What a change it made when Kitty came in again and said, " Oh, Joe dear! must I go away. I've heard every-. thing, he talked so loud. Must we have some one here? We were so happy, and now I must go," "No, lass j not go. I'll get some old woman to come and live with us." He did so, and then found there was a change indeed : he had been so long accustomed to the girls, that he felt for them like a father; but when the^yicar pointed out how slight the difference of age really was, he opened a new fountain of thought and feeling, and the brother and father faded — died in the lover. ■ ■ - 1 Yes, the presence of the old woman stowed them that the brother and sister, the father and child relationship might exist for Meggie, but for Kitty there was "but one kind of affection, tenderer than either of these, and this was the strange emotion that had disturbed their peace for months. On .the last evening of the old year they were sitting up over the fire to welcome in the new year, and drifted into talk about her father. "Do you mind, Kitty, it was just such a day as this, seven years ago, that your father went away. " I do mind it well, that sad afternoon. Aye as well as if it was yesterday. I remember going with father part of the way down to the park with the team, and stopping gathering some holly till he had loaded and came back. I' remember, too, meeting you just at the top of the hill beyond the Church, with the, dogs and some hares and birds you said the Squire had just shot. I remember father talking to you for awhile, and wanting to go down to the beer-house while the horses rested, and you told him you'd see to them if he'd put on old Conqueror's nose-bag, and then his going away down the hill with . his whip over his shoulder, and shouting but as he went, ' Look after the girls till I come back,' and your saying, 'All right,' and then the waiting by you. You sat on the tree for such a long weary time, while Jack Norton tried to amuse us by setting Growler to get a rat under the branches. I can remember it all so well that when I shut my eyes I can see everything : the old tree, and the ch,urch, and the white fields, and the two old pointers. I shall never forget it, how we sat there till almost dark, and then you took the team home and took us to our own cottage. I sometimes lay awake of a night, and Joe, I can hear you saying, ' All light, I'll see to them,' as clearly as I • did then." " Well, Kitty, and I've done it, I said I would, and I've done it, and I'll do it as long as I live, or till your father comes back out of his grave." "I've often been going to ask, Joe, is there any doubt about father's being dead 1 1 often feel as if I should not be utterly surprised if father were to come back." ■ ; "Bless your heart Kitty ; what makes you think that ? I wish more than anything I can wish that it might be so, for then— -.'?•- :■■•... "What Joe?" : . .Ml'd "ask your father to give me his daughter as my wife." ; .f. Oh Joe. Do you mean it? Do ypu;loVe me so ? Like that, I mean." .-■'.;■ ;-o*-l do-Kitty. I loved your mother /likea bpy^nd I love her daughter like )■ ; r., .. ; .. : £'Sii'sssffist''*fi =l° ve each other, why , You used to call It^llSQ^earisagpjiand I: always felt that

I should die if we were to part j but lately I thought you didn't care about me so much as you used." " Why, Kitty, you're seventeen and I'm thirty four j seventeen years, that's a great difference, I'm an old man to thee. If I were to marry thee, folks would say I'd taken advantage of what I'd done for thee. No lass, I love thee better than life, but thy good name and future won't let me take thee.! 1 "Well, Joe dear, they won't keep me from loving you, though they may keep us apart for a time." " No lass, we won't part this side of the' grave. There don't 'cc cry, Kitty ; we'll be all the better for this talk — I've been longing for it for months." "And I, too, Joe, dear," and with a kiss they parted. Joe went to the door to look at the stats of the weather, when he was surprised by Growler rushing out and tearing down the garden-path to the road, barking loudly. He soon saw the cause. A man was coming heavily along in the snow, and soon came up to the door. " Can you tell me how far I am from the 'Sun?'" " Matter of two miles." "Ah ? I'm as tired as a dog. The drifted snow is two feet deep in the roads." "If you don't mind, you can stop here till the morning." " D'ye mean it ?" " Certainly. Come in," "The stranger came in. A tall, weather-beaten man, with a busby beard and moustache that covered half his face." *• Can you give me something to eat and drink ? I'm perished." " Kitty, lass, art gone to bed ?" " No, Joe." " Then come and get something to eat and drink for a gentleman here." Kitty came, and after laying the cloth busied . herself cooking some eggs and bacon, while the stranger sat watching her in silence, stroking the dog's head, which lay upon his knees. "Now, sir, will you come to the table ?" "Thank you." Kitty turned at the first sound of his voice, and looked at him, and in a moment was in his arms, sobbing and crying, "Oh father! father! you have come back !-7-you have come back after all these years." "Yes, Kate, T, have. As for Joe here, he did not know me, though old Growler did. Yes, Kate, I'm your father, safe enough.", Meggie was called down, as well as the old woman, and when supper was cleared away he told his story. "You see, Joe, I went down to get a drop, for I'd got to that pitch since poor Kitty had gone that I wasn't quite myself without it. And that was not the worst of it, Joe, for I used to go out of a night with some of 'em, trapping, and snaring, and netting^ and the rest of it." " I know it, Jim ; I never went out at night without a fear that I'd run across you, and have to take Kitty's husband," "No fear, Joe. I. liked the sport as much as any of your gentlemen born— • more, perhaps, for it's a fine thing, that cautious stealing through the wood of a night, with your senses wide awake to get the game and warn you of the keepers. On my soul, Joe, I liked it better than anything I ever did j but, much as I liked it, I made them agree never to want me on your grounds, No, and I never went near your place at all, " Well, I went down to the beer-house, and there I met Soappy, and he began to talk to me about a big affair that was coming off near the town. There was to be six of us, with guns, to do a good stroke, and show fight if need be. Well, I didn't like it, and I told him so. I didn't want any. man's blood on my hands. Game and sticks was all well enough, but no guns. Ue tried hard to get me to go, but I wouldn't; so then he told me he thought I was sneaking out. " ' No,' I said, ' not sneaking ; but I won't go with guns.' "He told me again I was sneaking out, and going to split on the gang. 'But,' says he, 'I've a bit of news for you. You remember last Sunday in the gravel-pit?' " ' Where we had the fight with those three keepers?' said I. " ' Yes,' says he ; ' and you remember the man you hit on the head V " ' I didn't hit any one on the head.' " * You did, and we can all swear it. Well, he's dead.' " • What ! Williams V " f Yes ; and if you don't go with the rest, I'll be before you, and we'll peach and swear you hit him. So, take your choice. It's fourteen years for you at the least, Jim, my lad.' " I didn't know what to do. Soappy would have done it, I knew, so I drank some more beer, and when he went I determined to cut and run for it, and leave the kids to you, as you'd promised to take care of them, and I went right off at once, for I thought they'd be safer and better with you than they would-be if I got fourteen years. "So to cross the scent I threw my hat and smock into the gravel-pit pond, and off I went. Perhaps I oughtn't to have done it, but I was that frightened and half-drunk that I didn't know what else to do. " I went to London, and got a berth to Australia in charge of some horses, and meant to write all about it to you, Joe ; but a chap I met with out there told me not to, for fear the police might get hold of me and send me home, and so I stayed out there. " Well, last year who should I meet nut there but Williams himself, Said T " • I thought you was dead through that knock,' " • Dead ! not a bit of it. I was bad, and pretty near it,' " ' And will you tell me,' said I, when I'd told him about my being there on account of his death, ' who hit you the crack V " ' Soappy himself,' says he. "I asked him after you gals and Joe, and he told me you were all right, and you'd grown a fine young woman, Kitty. So I determined to come and see for myself, and here I am, you see.

i "So now, Kitty, I'm ready to take you back as soon as you like, As for Joe here, Xjn reckoning to pay him for all his trouble, and take you off his hands. So say, Joe, how much these girls have cost you, do you think? Don't be modest, man. Ask for what you think will pay for their keep and lodging, and all the trouble you've been at. You need not be particular to ay pound or two. I'm rich enough." " Yes, I know it, Jim. You're rich enough, but " " What ! stingy, eh ? Look here, here's my cheque-book. Say, what shall it be?" 11 Not a penny ! — not a farthing !" "No money? Why man, we don't act that way the other side. We're rather keener after money than you seem to be. You're afraid to name too much. Don't be. I'm rich." " I know it, I tell you, but Will you give me what I want much more than money V *' More than money ! What's that ?" " Joe means to say, father, that you told him to take care of us till you come back, and he did it •, and now he wants to know if you're rich enough to give, him what you came back for." "That's you, Kitty." "Yes; me, father." "Is it, Joe?" " Yes. I don't want your money. I do want Kitty. We've lived together till I can't part with her and live, and if you take her away from me I shall wish you in your grave every day of my life." "Well, you shall have her on one condition." " On any." " And that is, that you both go back with me to my new country." " I'd go anywhere on earth." "And I'd go with him, father." " Well, my dear, as I'm going to London to-morrow, 1 can only say to Joe what I said to him this day seven years ago, * Take care of the girls till I come back.'" "And you won't be gone quite so long this time, father ?" " Not quite, Kitty. I'll come back on Tuesday, and bring the license for the wedding next Sunday." Sunday came and went ; and, after a few weeks, during which the rich Melbourne horse-dealer, after buying some of the squire's best cattle, shot by day over the ground on which Jim the carter had poached by night, a happy group left the village for the new land ; and Joe, with his pretty young wife on his arm, was consoled for much previous abuse, on parting with his mother, to hear her say, " Thee beesn't such a fool after all, Joe." Fraxinus.