"JOSEPHINE"

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXX, Issue 21577, 23 August 1933, Page 3

"JOSEPHINE"

11Y BRUCE CAKEY

Tho incessant tinkle of a telephone at last roused Micky Harding from that after-dinner stupoiir he always seemed to indulge in. He stretched his mouth in an extra wide yawn, and glanced across the table to his fellow companion. " You answer it, Slips. I did it last time." Flips, moro rightly known as Phillip, merely took a longer draw at his pipe and stared blissfully back. His eyes were heavy with advancing sleep. "Can't be bothered. Let 'em_ring again." " It might bo important." " Couldn't bo. It's either old Rangi about hia horse, or Jock McCardle about his ewes, or somebody wanting to know about the bull market, or .... Oh, let 'era wait." He relapsed into silence. JYudging all day behind a plough, an erraticminded one at that, had left him with little desire to talk. And Micky, wearied by tho constant stretching of fence wires and tho digging of countless post holes, was in agreement. Let 'em wait. But the 'phone, after a brief spell of expectant silence, broke into further effort. It succeeded in extracting an oath from Flips, and a long drawn sigh from Micky. " Confound tho bally thing! You are a lazy devil, Flips." Micky's long legs came off the table with a thump. " It's mostly always your business, too." " Let 'em wait." Flip-repeated. " Or take the receiver off." " Yeh. Just whistle it down, I suppose." Micky got to his feet unwillingly. A familiar voico greeted his own. It was Calthorpo of the Post Office. " There's a telegram here, Micky. Got your ears cocked? " " Sure it's for me? " " Positive. It's from Alec Munro. Got that? " " Alec Munro! Ye gods! I thought ho was dead and buried long ago." " Yes? Well, it's probably his ghost kicking. But listen. He says " Coming to visit you for a week. Expect me tomorrow. Am bringing Josephine." " Joseph who? " " Ecu. Josephine." | Micky's hand closed over the mouth- ! piece. " D' you know a bird called Joe Eane, Flips? " " No. What's he want. Ewes?" " Don't know him," Micky bellowed ' into the instrument. " Guess you've got the wrong number Cal." ■ " Don't bo funny." Calthorpe's voice was very patient. " And it isn't a him: it's a her. Josephine! " ho repeated more deliberately. " Alec's daughter, I suppose. I saw her with him some months ago. Fine-looking girl about 23. Now there's a chance for one of you lads. Goodnight." " Ye gods! " Micky rang off very slowly and returned to his chair. Flips was sufficiently roused to be all eyes. " Don't bo so beastly inforniative," ha said at last. " What does the Eane chap want? " " A week's lodging. And he's coming with her." "Her! Who? " " Alec Munro." "Can't you bo more explicit?" "Oh certainly. Listen. You know old Munro who had the Waiti Station? Well, ho used to be a big pal of mine and lie is coming to stay with us for a week." "But who is the other fellow?" " His daughter." " What! " Flip's exclamation was one of delight". Man, what luck. She's tho loveliest thing this side of Christendom." " How do you know? " " I saw her at tho Hunt Club Ball, last year. Just at a distance, you know. But, oh, boy, she's great. Golden hair and rippling waves. You know the sort. And so her name is Josephine. When is sho coming? " " They aro coming to-morrow," Micky responded with particular emphasis on tho they. Ho did not quite agree with tho possessive manner Flips had already adopted. After all, Munro was his friend. Flips, • however, was too absorbed to notice. " Wonder what they are coming for? " " I don't know. Fishing, I expect. Munro often camo up hero for a day's sport." " And where did Josephino come in ? " " Sho didn't. Como in, I mean. Never heard of her before, but I knew thero was a Mrs. Munro, and that she always lived in town. Couldn't stick the country at any price. Old Alee bached on Waiti for years, before he finally settled down.to town life. They live in Napier now, you know." Flips nodded. His sleepiness was wearing off. Memory was transporting him back to the evening when ho had first set eyes on Munro's daughter. It was nothing short of a miracle that he would actually meet her. » His hand went to his chin. There was at least a week's growth upon it. " When did you say sho was coming, Mick?" " To-morrow, Cal says." "Jumping Caesars! Where aro tho clippers? You'll have to give mo a hair cut, Mick, and by jovo I'll havo to hustlo round a bit and make myself moro presentable. Nice sort of individual J. look to bo presented to a lady." "And whoro do Iconic in? " " You? " • Flips glanced at Micky's long faco, with its shading of board and serious grey eyes. " Oh, you can entertain papa. Ho used to bo a great friend of yours, you know. But by jovo Micky, what a pigsty to bring a lady to." .Micky nodded. Even his eyes, accustomed "as they were to a bachelor's shortcomings, could seo tho filth and grime. Tho floor was reminiscent of a scoro of muddy days, the table, uncovered save for its accumulation of tins and pannikins, bore truthful testimony to many a vanished meal: tho lamp looked oily and forlornly sooty, while the fireplace, that wide open well where countless meals had been cooked and spilled, was a glaring example of use and neglect. "It is a bit thick," he admitted after a moment's contemplation.- " We'll havo to clean things up. But what beats mo is where to put the girl." " Put her? " " She must havo a room." " There's the storeroom." And that was full of dust, old pack saddles and spiders. Tho sight of it stung Micky into action. " There is only - one thing to do, Flips. Clean it Clean the whole bally place. And we'll havo to start right now. No good leaving it till tho morning. It would loolf too obvious. Besides, the train arrives about ten, and we'll have to meet it." Flips nodded, and stifled the yawns which once more came into existence. The hour was getting late. By rights tliey should both have been well advanced in their nightly sieata. Housecleaning at any time was an abomination. Spring-cleaning—for such it was

A NEW ZEALAND STORY

(COPYRIGHT)

bound to be oven if the season was well advanced,—in the hours of night was damnation. But thero would bo reward to-mor-row ! lteward to-morrow, Flips promised himself, more busy with castles in the air than with the brush in his hand. 'Reward to-morrow, Micky decided as he scraped and scrubbed and waged war on grease and grime, while the hours ticked by, indifferent to their toil or hopes. It was nearly midnight when Micky called a halt. " I guess that ought to do, Flips. Tomorrow we'll fetch that old stretcher out of the woolshed and fill it up with sheepskins. A few blankets on top of that and a touch here and there." Ho looked round appraisingly. What had been a dirty storeroom was really quite a tidy room. A sheepskin on the floor did duty as a mat. A packingcase with a travelling rug draped over it and a fair-sized mirror erected thereon provided anr impromptu dress-ing-table. A washing stand had likewise been created; a home-mado table, an enamel bowl and a saucer piled with a lump of soap. There was also a chair, and in another corner a box with a lamp perched on it. When the stretcher was put in place in the morning it would be quite a passable room. Both Micky and Flips agreed on that point. And the living room had undergone a wonderful change. The floor was clean, if deplorably wet; the table, denuded of its Utter, presented a more innocent surface, whilo the fireplace really looked its part. " Well, wo've worked well, don't you think, Mick?" Fliji's yawns had become very serious. Micky nodded. ' And I guess I'm fit to drop." " Me too." Dawn found them both awake and stirring. There wero still things to be done. Provisions to be thought out. Daily tasks to be accomplished. Things which kept their hands incessantly busy, but not more so than their minds. Each was silently toying with a delightful dream. A dream in which a wonderful girl was featuring. Flips had seen her. Micky had imagined her. "All gold and wavy " as Flips had said. And her eyes . . they would bo big and soft. Micky was sure of that. It was only an hour's drive to the station, but Micky's old-fashioned huggy drawn by two shabby horses, was en route long before nine. One had always to allow for accidents, and there was a considerable amount of shopping to bo done. But when the train arrived, due on time, for a wonder, they had been on the deserted platform for at lesat fifteen minutes, two long' bundles of nervous excitement. Only one person alighted. There was no need for minuto inspection. One glance at tho sturdy well-built figure swinging along with a likely assortment of fishing gear immediately proclaimed Alec Munro. Ho did not change with the passing tycars. His greeting was vociferous. "How are you, Micky? Not a day older. Well, well. And this?" He indicated Flips with a nod. " My partner, Gordon Phillip." " More commonly known as Flips." Flips' greeting was particularly warm. Ho' could afford to bo genial to the father of his dream girl. " Well, young man. You take these traps along to Micky's old buggy. I suppose you still have it, Micky? And wo will go and get Josephine." "You know, I'm very proud of Josephine,!' Munro asserted as they hurried back to tho train. Its seven minutes' wait had nearly expired. " Of course you read about her in tho papers No? Well, now, I thought everyone had read about her. Carried off all the prizes in the show this year. Her first appearance too." " Indeed." Micky's heart warmed. He did admire a sporting girl. They reached tho long goods van. The guard was already preparing to signal. Munro hailed him hurriedly. " Just one moment. -I've got some property in there, guard." He dashed inside, leaving Micky gaping with bewilderment along the lino of carriages. If Munro dallied much longer his daughter would inevitably be carried on. Even as Munro emerged from tho van tho train commenced to move. Micky dashed up to him, consternation written on every feature. " Josephine " ho began. v Munro grinned with sheer delight. " I thought sho would catch your eye, Micky. Havo a good peep at hor."

And to Micky's amazement Munro moved aside tho cover to display an enormous bulldog.

Remembranco of the night's long toil flashed through Micky's brain. "Is this. . .Josephine?" ho asked feebly. Flips has just rejoined them. " Why, of course. Who else could she be?". . . . And if Munro had not been so eugrossed in tho prido of ownership, ho might have wondered why two men so suddenly said a short hard word.