MICHAEL COMES TO STAY

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIX, Issue 21277, 2 September 1932, Page 18

MICHAEL COMES TO STAY

By KATHLEEN CLAYTON

The light in the bedroom was out, but the twins were still sobbing when Dick Lewis wearily made his way home from the cowshed. What was the trouble this time 1 he pondered despondently. When he came in after a hard day's •work a year ago, before Milly failed to recover, from pneumonia, two excited little mortals had always raced down the garden path, full of laughter and their account of the day's doings. Happier little souls did not exist in the whole King Country, but now they mostly seemed to be in disgrace and he never saw them at tea, for they had been sent to bed in punishment. " He would have doubted Mrs. Grisby's wisdom in depriving them of their tea, for they were only four years old, but what did a studious man of 34 know of the management of children, and slie had come to him with such glowing testimonials. As he opened tlje dining room door he saw to his relief that tea was laid, and through the low sobbing in the other room he could hear Mrs. Grisby at the telephone. Dropping his hat he hastily cut a thick slice of bread, but had only time to thrust it iuto his pocket without butter or jam before he heard Mrs. Grisby hang up the receiver. Snatching up his hat he closed the door just as she brought the teapot from the kitchen. His heart ached as he entered the dim bedroom, and two hushed little voices demanded: "Were you lucky, daddy?" And he watched the eager little hands stretched out for the dry bread. Could it be right, he wondered, that they were so thin. They had been so plump and rosy when Milly died, just a year ago. Mrs. Grisby assured him they were at the thin age, and what she did not know about children was not worth knowing. She told him so herself. He had never been in love with Milly Harbright. Sometimes he wondered why lie ever married her, except that she bad seemed fond of him and lonely, when her mother died.

> She had been a colourless, over-prim young woman, with near-sighted eyes that always seemed to peer at things; she .// had overgrown her strength as a girl, and stooped as she walked. But how she had ' adored the twins. She had never been too tired to iron Denny's little shirts or too busy to brush Patty's burnished copper curls. Her aimless chatter had often annoyed him, but there had always been a sense of welcome when he came home tired after I a day's fencing, and a bowl of soup keep- / ing hot for him if be camo in with wet f feet. He s.ighed heavily, kissed! the children " good-night," and having washed, went / in to tea.1 He would now have to listen to Alf, the boy, quarrelling with Mrs. Grisby over the quantity and quality of their food. He wished he dared say something, too, but if he did, Mrs. Grisby would give j notice, and he would never get anyone in her place, of that she assured him. " Well, Alf," he said, drawing the loaf toward him, " so you are off to-morrow. It was grand, good luck your getting that ' splendid offer just when you wanted to 7 get married, and you always liked Taranaki." ~~

" Too right it was," replied Alf, with his mouth full of cheese. "But I don't like leaving you just two months into the ; season a little bit, and that last calf such f a bother to feed and all. I would'nt have gone as it was, only it' was take it or leave it, as you might say." . "You will - probably take it and leave / it before long," remarked Mrs. Grisby, acidly. Alf laughed and having gulped down a i mug of lukewarm tea and filled his mouth again, inquired if the fowls were laying better. f " I can't think how it is they never seem to lay. They are well fed and housed, but although there are -37 of them, I if only got five eggs to-day and three yesterday. It is not for me to grumble, but it . does' seem hard that my trouble should not be repaid." And Mrs. Grisby sniffed. ' " Perhaps they are afraid you would go / up to 'em oftener if they laid more eggs," grinned Alf, getting to his feet and making for the door. 1 Dick Lewis sighed as the storm broke oyer him. " This new boy can have his tea in the whare." she wound up, " I am / not staying here to be insulted by any Jump of a boy." Michael Bradley was at that moment sur- / Toying that same, somewhat delapidated ;whare, which contained a bunk, flap table, two up-ended kerosene cases, an old rocking chair, and a sheepskin badly in need ')• of soap and water. Dick Lewis had added the last tv/o, for he felt rather ashamed of the boy's meagre dwelling, but as he had explained to him. v the roof was water-tight, and the chimney drew well. Michael, a thin, weedy youth, with dose-cropped, dark hair, big, dark eyes, • snub nose and wide, gcod-humoured mouth, was whistling, to himself as he! .unrolled his swag. A couple' of small pictures in cheap frames, two or three books, and th<4 beauti-fully-carved figure of a small child, sitting swinging-its legs, these and his few /clothes were soon bestowed, and as he threw himself on his bed, he smiled up at the tiny boy. sitting on a shelf and smiling back at him. / ' * Dick Lewis found his hands full these days, Mick was new to the work, and although a quick lad and conscientious, /he had much to learn. The calves that ' had been so much trouble to Alf, he fed without difficulty, but the old pony would turn har back on him when he came up, bridle in hand, preteriding to /jkick and refusing to be caught. / Still, he was so cheerful and quiet at his work, never grumbling in spite of Mrs. Grisby's rudeness that Dick felt he was well worth keeping. Noticing the -scanty helpings of food and the boy's /thin cheeks, he told him to get an old billy and take milk from the shed and try to find himself an occasional egg or /two. You look very tired to-day, Mrs. Grisby," said Michael, one Sunday at dinner some four or five weeks later. ' " What business is that of yours," 1 /•napped that worthy soul, looking some- ' what mollified, however. " Well," he replied," I thought I could give you a Innd with the dishes after ' dinner and maybe keep an eye on the j twins till milking time. It would give you j a fhance to rest." x , " You will most likely break somer thing," was the ungracious reply, " But I , don.'t mind a bit of help and with those f j>rats out of my way for an hour, I f J&ight get a bit of peace for once in a < ■4/ ay." , Mrs. Grisby was indeed a busy woman, j Every Monday she went into the nearest i (town by service car. She explained to c

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Dick that unless she did all the shopping herself he would be robbed by unscrupulous tradespeople. She therefore took a largo kit' and frequently an old suitcase as well, and brought back what stores she could. He felt grateful for the . trouble shu took, .little knowing that the eggs the fowls were supposed not to lay and the butter he imagined his children had eaten, went into town in these same receptacles, together with any early or choice garden and orchard produce, the proceeds from which were making a comfortable addition to Mrs. Grisby's already exorbitant salary. This afternoon, therefore, she was glad to be free from the children's sharp eyes, in order to put everything in readiness for the morrow. When Dick returned home that evening, he was surprised to hear chuckles from the twins instead of the customary sobs and he had to sit on their bed and listen to a wonderful tale of. real milk cocoa and sweet biscuits enjoyed in Michael's whare, of how Patty's hair had been brushed and Denny's nails cut and most wonderful of all, a funny Dutch oven in which the boy had baked some scones, feather light, two of which they had each had to take to bed, and now daddy must have a bite, to see how lovely they were, a somewhat bartered scone appeared from under each pillow. Much pleased by this new side to tho boy who was already proving himself an intelligent and agreeable companion, Dick, pipe in mouth, strolled over to tho whare when tea was over. The mqal had been a cheerless one, the tea was half cold, the bread stale and one of his dogs had stolen the butter, so' Mrs. Grisby said. The good lady herself, being in an exceptionally pleasant humour had regaled him with the death-bed scenes of her two husbands and an aunt and related. at great length the somewhat obscure last illness of a second cousin, once removed. At last she rose to clear the tablo and Dick made his escape with a feeling of relief. " May I come in," he called. ( " You have made this very cosy, Mick," he said, some minutes later as he surveyed the shabby little room from the rocking chair. A bright coloured blanket on the bunk, gay curtains and table cloth, the two little pictures and the smiling boy on the shelf transformed the place. The sheepskin had been washed and stretched, a brightly polished stove was roaring in one corner of the room and Dick was somewhat diffidently invited to partake of cocoa and scones. • The boy was not very talkative, ■ but there was something Very restful in the atmosphere of the little room, and this was the beginning of many an hour spent there. * i

Finding that the twins soon made a habit of spending Sunday afternoon at the whare, Dick would also look in for a romp, contributing biscuits, cream or fruit and once a big box of chocolates and a new sheath knife, Mick having his that week. Three weeks before Christmas, returning home one Monday evening, Dick was surprised to *find the place in darkness. As he stumbled over the chairs in search of a light, the telephone rang. The call was from the hospital, saying that Mrs. Grisby had met with an accident in the street, having been knocked down by a runaway team and sustaining a compound fracture of one of the bones of her leg, which would keep her in bed at least a month. Somehow this did not seem the disaster it would have been before Mick's arrival, and Dick found himself calling the lad quite cheerily. By the time the twins returned from the neighbour, with whom they had had tea, their bath water was hot and he himself enjoying an omelette, 25 eggs having, to his astonishment, been found in the laying boxes. After a long talk with Mick it was decided to manage without further help. The bull should be turned out in the seventy acres and the children allowed to come to the shed. Mick would return home in time to cook the mid-*day meal and a neighbour asked to do the washing and come in once a week to help clean the house. But, feasible though it seemed, this arrangement was not destined to be carried out.

, Next morning the bull, a heavy shorthorn, was discovered to have slipped his chain, and when Dick went up to him to readjust it, the great brute bore down on him; as he sprang aside .his foot slipped, and he fell on one knee. He sprang to his feet, but not quickly enough and the bull caught him on the shoulder and down he went. The heavy stick he was carrying slipped from his grasp. The bull wheeled round and was on him again before he quite regained his feet, but he managed somehow to throw himself asido and out of his reach for the moment. As the great beast returned to charge again, however, Mick, who had been fetching water, came round the shed, full bucket in hand; with a cry, he sprang straight at the bull dashing the water full in his face. The animal paused, and Mick . swung the bucket at his muzzle, unfortunately just missing it and only infuriating the beast still further, directing his attention toward himself. With a roar the bull charged the now defenceless lad, who went down before the wicked-looking horns like a ninepin. Before he could reach the boy again Dick had recovered the heavy stick he had been carrying, and dealt the animal a mighty blow behind the horns. The beast staggered and was hit again, this time on one horn, and with the dogs heeling him, he finally made off down the paddock. Dick now returned to where Mick lay senseless. Lifting him in his arms he marvelled at the light weight of the lad, and laying him down l on a hastilysnatched coat in the separator room, ho splashed a little Water over his face and then proceeded to investigate the damage I done by the bull. I

It was not extensive, but when Mick opened his eyes it was to meet, a somewhat. embarrassed look from Dick.

His head swam as lie tried to rise, and he would have fallen again had not Dick caught him, crying as lie did so, " Why did you do it, little girl 1" That night when the twins were in bed and Michael was lying on the couch by the open window, they had a long talk. She had decided to work as a boy to shake off a drunken and dissolute stepfather, who, since her own mother had

died, had taken as much of her earnings as he could lay glands upon. A letter the day before told her of his death, but Michael had meant to finish out the season before making use of her freedom. Some weeks later Dick came upon her under a big apple tree in the garden, a story book in her lap, Denny curled up ?it her feet, Patty's head nestled against hor fresh, gingham dress, the light, breeze ruffling her hair that had now grown long enough to curl. Sending the. twins away to hunt for eggs, Dick took Denny's place at her feet. " Dear little girl," he said softly, " ypu have faced your own troubles so bravely and shouldered so many of mine all these weeks. Life is going to seem a very cheerless affair now unless you will stay with us. Sweetheart, can you find room in your heart for the three of us?" Michael drew her hands from his clasp and took his face between them. " Dick," she replied, simply, " you have grown into my life, you and the little ones, and I think it would break my heart to leave you now." When Mrs. Grishy heard the news three days later, she sniffed scornfully and muttered something about a " designing little cat," but the nurse, who had caught sight of the happy faced girl with the merry, dark eyes, a small child holding each hand, while two adoring little faces were upturned to hers, decided to reserve her own opinion.