THE MUSHROOM GATHERERS.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIII, Issue 19447, 1 October 1926, Page 7

THE MUSHROOM GATHERERS.

SHORT STORY.

BY HAROLD BIHDLOSS,

Day had not long broken and thin mint floated about the sands at the rioter mouth. Blurred trees rolled down to the water/ and on the other side jf the level marsh melted in the haze. Th t tide went up channel and John Rigg, ing his pipe on board the old s' /.ooting punt, allowed the current to cat «rv him along. Sinceihe last used a gun •< /n Langside marsh, -eight years had g pne, and ho had landed at Plymouth, bi fc a wosk ago. The lawyers had occupied A his time, but- at length all -was fixed, 'The bleak old house cit Beckfoot was his /and be felt entitled top take'a holiday. . fj o a n< T ht to find * some/- widgeon in Mo Riband creek and perhaps a snipe in th deep marsh ditches. He ransod "about his • dreary boyhood and inheritance he ! j-ad not thought to got ?«ffcer lie rebelled r gainst his grandfather'astern rule. His farcer in New Z was marked by tij/fe and downs, b jt he had inherited something of old quality and on the \/zhole he had pre /spered lie imagined that/,unless he had f>\one so he would not hav/tv got Beckfoot. Moreover, he had got thej? Garth; the cc /tage and three or four ac res sandwiched , in between the farms, tl lat- old John coveted and hnd at l'flst secured. John, however, did not 'fet know about it, except that the recent tr/nant woidd not pay the /rent and was now to let. ' TTalf an b£mr since he had passed the spot. The v/,V)itewashed cottage glimmered under daM-t ash trees, the fence was broken, tveeds choked the garden, and all was desolate. John remembered Lane; tho iiobf>T', cheerful follow who cultivated the fevjf acres beforo John Rigg bought the lnmd. When the boy was bullied at ho/me. he t,gf/k' refuge at tho Garth and rs., Lane was kind. Moreover, he remen&bered Jessie Lane, a bright, ambitious* girl, who., when Jje left Beckfoot had gene to teach,"at the village school. In a rrirw, boyish way, he was Jessie's lover, but when he wrote from New Zealand she *3id not reply. "Well, old John had got rid #'of Lane aruL' Mrs. Lane kept a cottage 1 shop. J/ohn ydid not know if she would care, tojji see him, bnt ho meant to look her npi , Somebody called. The voice was a woman's voice and John looked round. On tho bank, twcqty yards off, two fi (Tares cut the sky. Mist drift-id about thr-.m and their shapes were indistinct, Lot he saw they carried baskets and he imagined they were going to gather mush- ' rooms on the other side. " Is tho -water deep? " one asked, and the clear '"voice awoke vftcne memories. "Two/or three feet,," said John. "The tide is running fast." ,We are too lata," an older woman remarked drearily. In .the mist and cold, grey light, they were,- somehow forlorn,' and John, seizing /the pole, drove tho punt's bow on to the-sand. "Tf you aro for the marsh, I'll ferry' yon across." They came down the bank: their bare feet glimmering in the muddy sand. In the fields the crass was wet and the dew was on their clothes. ' One's head was covered by a shawl and their fares were pinched and lifeless white. Tiiat was all. John remarked, for when they were on board he pushed off ar.d the unstable punt carried an awkward load. Balancing the craft cautiously, he poled across and when the keel tonched bottom .helped his passengers to land. I ho women climbed the broken marsh top and their dark lonelv figures melted in the haze. John felt pitiful. Tho village- was two or three miles off, and in the cold dawn they had for some distance ploughed through dew-drenched ■ grass. He thought they would not do so unless they were forced, and their going barefoot was significant. Mushrooms were comparatively cheap, but- boots were not. He drove tip punt up channel, but other mushroom gatherers were on the marsh, and although he shoj a widgeon the snipe were gone. Tho time to use the big punt-gun was not yet. Three or four hours after he landed, he saw smoke curl about- the reeds by a ditch and when be reached the spot the women were sitting by a little fire. One turned her head, as if she heard his steps, and John stopped in surprise. Her hair was white, bedclothes were shabby, and her face was deeply lined, but he knew it was. Mrs. Lane. When he advanced with lifted cap, the other gave him a calm glance. Tho last time he saw Jessie she was a joyous, romantic girl; now her look was sober and her mouth was firm. Well, although he had prospered, the eight years had left some mark on him; bnt when one fronted poverty one got older soon. In the. meantime he saw Mrs. Lane \hesitated. "It's Mr. Ricre t" she, said. "Yes, Fm John. When you got on board the pnnt in the early morning I did not know yon," John replied. He sat down, as if old acquaintance justified his joining them, but- Jessie's look was inscrutable. Her joyous youth had vanished, although John felt, the pluck he had known was left. Her face was thin, but her glance was steady and somehow resolute. "How is my old friend, Lane?" he a.sked. " Jim's dead 'seven years," Mrs. Lane replied. "He went 12 months after we left the Garth." "Ah," said John, "I'm sorry! Yon see, I did not. know. When I was in disgrace at Beckfoot, Lane and you were kind : I remember he sometimes consoled me with the red apples that grew by the wall. Well-, my folks are gone, and now T'm back all's different. In fact, I'm lonelier than I was abroad." The others said nothing and he began to be embarrassed. Tt looked as if Lane's leaving the Garth had broken him. but John hesitated to inquire, and he remarked that their 'baskets were full. " Our luck was pood," said Jessie. "Mushrooms are sixpence a pound, and in the morning nobody comes to the shop. For that matter, except on baking days when the cakes are fresh, trade is not very brisk." "Tf the landlord would give ns a new oven, I'd make more cakes," Mrs. Lane remarked.. " This morning I was tired and did not wake. If we hadn't met yon. we couldn't have got on the marsh." John .studied Jessie. It did not look as if she renwiubered that they were jiorig since pals, and altlrangft he knew ! ! I her pride and independence, he was ; annoyed. " Why did your husband leave the Garth ? I want to know,he said. She told him and sometimes used her native dialect: he had remarked that Jessie's English was as good as his. "Jim was patten out. Your grandfather wanted t' Garth, and what. John Rigg wanted he generally got. He boddered us about fences and water from meadow drains, ami when council ordered a new cnlvert.. and condemt byre ",nd pig-holes we kenned old John's hand." John thought she did not exaggerate. Tho byre was a clay daubin* built a TOO years since, and the pig-sties ought perhaps to bo moved; but, as she said, John Rigg knew where to use another's hand. Young John saw him patiently scheming. Tho old follow was land-greedy, and until he had seized his neighbour's plot he could not be satisfied. In fact, the Garth was a sort of Nabofh's vineyard. Yet Mrs. Land did not talk as if she wore revengeful. Her voice was calm; one sensed her stoic resignation, and John felt her artless tale was true. Bent and careworn, for all her shabby clothes, she wa,s somehow dignified. John glanced at Jessie. Her colour was rather high and her look was hard. She was young and she obviously rebelled. Then, she perhaps felt herself her mother's champion. Lano held on for some time," said John. "In a way, we'd come to think the place was-ours. Jim's folk were old stanmiris; t' Lanes was lang at Garth, and we kenned Mr. Richardson wad niver put us out.; But he--was killed when rds car cowped and John Bigg saw his chance. He bowt t place and we g''t notice to quit—" . She-stepped. It looked as if She brooded and Jessie was quiet. A flocK ot

(COPYRIGHT.)

circling plover called, and one heard the ebb tide fret the sands. " I expect to have the Garth, was .hard j for Lane. When I knew him, he, was strong and cheerful.' Do you think he pined ?" Jessie met Joan's searching glance, " One must be just. Your grandfather's turning us out did not account for father's death." " No," said Mrs. Lane, "I din not think it. Maybe Jim did pine, -bnt he was done before we left, Doctor had warned him ho couldn't stand t' cold and wet. I've sometimes thowt I felt our going most." Their fairness bothered Johin but he. was conscious of .keen relief. " Anyhow, if your husband'.was an invalid you could not have carried on." " I'd hwve tried. Since I could walk I've helped aboot r. farm, and Jim bowt and sold nothing until he'd talked wi' me. When we got notice Fd made my plans. With the help T knew where to rret I could have manisbed. For aw I'm getting old, 1 could do it yet!" John admitted it was possible. He knew small farms that had not paid the farmer, but had prospered when his widow took control. Moreover, he remembered the woman's industry and pluck. " Are you satisfied at the shop T" he asked. 'lt keeps us. and that' 3 something," Mrs. Lane replied. *' But t' little front room is dark and onthonse where we store t' goods is damp. "Mien oven's small and I'll not can bake all I might—" She stopped as if she pondered, and resumed hesitatingly: " Noo ths Garth's again to let, Forsyth 0' Marshside will no doubt take the bit 0' land, but he'll not have much use for house. Weel, the place is yours, and tho front rooms is good—" n Jessie looked np and tho blood came to her skin. "No mother!" she said firmly. "The rent would be too high. Besides, we were put out and cannot go back." John's mouth went tight. He liked the grid's pride, but she was not entitled to blame him for his grandfather's greed. Moreover, he had inherited something of the old turn's stubbornness. " Please go 011, Mrs. Lane," he saici. " I thowt if new window was put in, front room would do fine for shop. Then the house is on main road and folks going home from market on Saturdays would stop. • When they saw t' stuff I bake, they wouldn't carry cakes from town. Maybe we'd want new oven, but if I was homo again, somehow I'd make the rent." " Very well, I'll inquire about it," said John. " You see, I've just arrived, and my lawyers have managed things. I don't yet know if they have got a tenant, but"! expect to look them up in a few days." He saw fresh hope in Mrs. Lane's worn face, but Jessie said nothing and he went off. In the evening he smoked, his pipe on the slate bench in the porch at Beckfoot and pondered thoughtfully. Plover called across the'marsh ana mist began to floatabout the level fields. But for the circling wild fowl and the throb of the tide on the sands, all was very quiet. Dusk fell *and John felt the dark, old" house was bleak and lonely. Yet, Beckfoot, with the pastures and corn fields, running back to' the tall marsh dyke, was his, and John loved the soil.' Others, however, did so, and Mrs. Lane sprang from thrifty peasant stock: John understood her brooding because she, so to speak, was dispossessed and her proper job was gone. But, although she and Lane had paid for old John's covetousness, Jessie perhaps had paid the most. Mrs, Lane obviously needed her, and Jessie was not the sort to leave her mother to front a Hard fight when she got old. In the morning he went to the little shop. A smell of fresh bread indicated how Mrs. Lane was occupied, and Jessie carried a tray of cakes to the small, dark window. When John came in she stopped, and he thought her colour rose, but. she waited calmly. In fact, he had begun to feel that Jessie's calm was baffling. " In the old days we were* pals," he said. " I expect you don't like my meddling; but for your mother's sake, I might perhaps be allowed to help." "We keep a shop," said Jessie. " I really think our bread is good, and the groceries are fresh, although they are dearer than things in town. In order '" to sell cheap dne must use a larger capital than we have got." John smiled rather dryly. " Well, that is something,; and if you N are willing to supply ine, my housekeeper 'vfll let you know the stuff we want. Since wo feed two men, I believe she uses a lot. However, you hud talent. Could you not have helped your mother, bad you stopped at the school ?" " In four or five years 1 might; but my talents are not very marked and she could not wait," Jessie replied. " A teacher who wants to make progress must, work for certificates and if posible a university degree. In the meantime, we needed a home, besides such things as food and clothes." John saw her staunchness had cost her much. Jessie had let Tier career go and fronted; poverty at the cottage shop. Yet her charm was not gone; she was harder / perhaps, but finer than tho girl he had known. He. however, was John Rigg's grandson and it looked as if she could not forget. " Your mother is kinder and, I think, iuster than you 7 " be said. " When, my grandfather bought the Garth I was in New Zealand and he did not consult me. Well. .1 haven't, yet seen the lawyers, bnt if I can fix about the house, you must not refuse. You durst not indulge your pride at your mother's expense." Jessie's eyes sparkled and the bloou came to her skill. " Yon are like tho -old man. John. All yon want you get; but perhaps you'll use your power "better than he used his." John said nothing. He was glad he had some power, and when he went off he smiled, a crooked smile. In a way, he was not forced to apologise for John Rigg. A week or two afterwards he retnrmJ to tho shop and, asking for Mrs. Lane, put two documents with red seals on the counter. "When you touch the seal on this agreement afld write your name in the space the Garth is yours for life," he said. " The consideration stated is not largo and covers the use of the land your husband cultivated; in fad;, my lawyer imagines I myself could not turn you out. You might, however, study the document." Mrs. Lane did so. She started in .surprise, and when she put. down the paper her hand shook. Jessie fronted and her face was red. " The consideration is ridiculous; yon could get. a much larger sum !' " Until .your mother sijjns, the Garth is mine, and I'm content,'" said John, and ' addressed Mrs. Lane. " Jessie has ; not,bine to do with this. If you are , satisfied, send for somebody to witness your hand." ■ ... j The witnesses arrived and Mrs. Lan took the pen. " We are going back, f old place is ours again." she said with keen emotion. " I doubt if you are a right.Rigg, John. You're your mother's sort. When t o>d 1 man would let her. she was kind. 1 ! "We are all mixed, and perhaps none I is ever quite satisfied." John remarked I with a crooked smile and fronted Jessie. ! " All the same, I think 1 have one ot my j grandfather's qualities; 1 know when to,. wait." . ~11 For a rnomorjt .K»SRifi tuniod ricv heacl. ■ When she looked up her colour was high, i b«t Jier, glance was level. _ I " Yon very generous, ami I m sorry for much I thoucht Try forget -s hard, John; bnt that goes both ways, sue said,