FICKLE JACK;

Otago Witness, Issue 1847, 15 April 1887, Page 32

FICKLE JACK;

OR, FROM WEAKNESS TO STRENGTH. By Alice. Author of " The Grandmother's Story," " Mother and Daughter," " Chalk," &a. Chapter 111. Saturday Afternoon. But Jack was not there before them. Mrs Viney had laid the cloth, and a tempting aroma escaped from under the dish covers. Laura ran several times to the gate and looked up and down the street, but no sight of Jack anywhere. "Ar don't think he will come now, mildly remarked Mrs Viney, when Laura had performed the unsuccessful journey several times. " Very likely detained on business, my dear," added Mr Howard. So there was nothing for it but to commence dinner without him ; but when Laura thought of the circumstances under which they had parted the night before, she sat down with a little flounce, and said one word to herself —"sulky." Jack had meanwhile left his office as usual, but not having recovered from the fit of jealousy the sight of Laura kissing the photo, •the previous evening had thrown him into> and ashamed of his conduct afterwards, he came to the conclusion he was an ill-used fellow, and would keep clear of his uncle's house for that day at least. Arriving at this decision he became wretched, and' strolled moodily along the streets. Christchurch presented the usual lively appearance of Saturday, carts, cabs, and 'buses running backwards and forwards (it couldn't boast of its tramcars in those days), farmers and farmers' wives jostling one another on the footpaths, and clerks hastening to their respective homes. Jack lounged into an hotel and called for dinner, but everything that was placed before him he found fault with, until at length the waiter muttered to himself, " Your in a precious bad temper, that's about the size of it ; blest if you ain't." Pushing away his plate, Jack took up the Times, but after glancing down its pages he threw it from him with a contemptuous snort. Then rose and contemplated his own reflection in the mirror opposite ; not* a bad reflection either, a dark, close cropped head, a broad, smooth forehead, well marked dark eyebrows, dark eyes, a good nose, well set chin, and full red lips, lips Uiat gave one the idea that their owner iwts just perhaps a little too easily led, but lips that could smile the sweetest smile, although they were protruding now. Jack lifted a strong, firm white hand, and stroked his dark moustache caressingly, a moustache which he had 'trained, oh, so tenderly I and as he glanced sideways at his well-knit frame and his broad shoulders, and stretched out his strong fightarm and looked at his closed fist, as though pitying the man at the end of it and he in a rage ; the pucker in his brow smoothed, and a gleam of his old happy-go-lucky expression flitted across his face, and lighting a cigar he threw himself into an easy, chair, and looking out into the busy street, puffed away, quietly watching the' passers by. Presently his eyes met a pair of steel blue ones. Their owner paused, turned, and entering the hotel, brought them to bear upon Jack with their puzzled expression. " Halloo, Jack, what's the'damage— mental or moral sickness 7 What the deuce are you doing here, and alone too ?" " Can't a fellow enjoy his own society for once in a while?" "By all means yes, if he prefers it," answered the new-comer, with a short laugh, at the same time sinking into a chair opposite to Jack, and removing his hat. He was a man about 35, with clear cut features, and keen, kind eyes. There was a grace and carelessness about, every movement of the tall, slender figure that many, envied him. A smile was hovering now about the wellformed,; firmly-closing lips. A smile half cynical, half gad. " By all means shun society if you prefer it. What's the world been doing to you that you turn a cold shoulder on" it? " "I didn't complain of the world that I know of." "Well, don't be surly. I concluded by th 9t h 9 expression on your, face " .. " Oh' 1- bother my face," broke in

Impatiently. "Can't we talk of anything better than my face 7 " "Yes— who is she?" " She ? " exclaimed Jack, jumping up excitedly. " I say Bret, you will either drop your chaff, or you will put me to the necessity of punching your head." Bret Huntly laughed a quiet, musical laugh. "Don't be a fool, Jack. Sit down, man, it's too hot to put yourself to any unnecessary exertion ; or if you won't sit down come into the fresh air." Jack eat down and looked at -his friend, who was regarding him quizzically. " I beg your pardon," said Jack, apologetically, "if I have hurt your feelings." M Oh, my feelings are not so sensitive as you may imagine," said the other, serenely. •• I'm not like you, a young cub with all my troubles before me. My education has taught me that ease and pleasure are too apt to take to themselves wings and fly, and if they fly, well, I don't trouble about it — they do, that's all, ami if you will take the advice of a friend, Jack, you will never yo half way to meet the devil." Jack's answer was to hand his cigar case to his friend. J3refc- helped himself, and, lighting the weed, leaned back in his chair to enjoy it, lazing watching the wreath of fragrant smoke that curled above his head. " I shall clear out of this." It was Jack who spoke. No answer. His friend brought his keen, kind eyes from the smoke wreath down to Jack's face. " Such an abominable hole," went on Jack. I shall go back to England. There's no opening for a fellow here; no prospect of making headway, so far as I can see." " A man with brains and the determination to use them can get on as well here as anywhere else. You've got the blues, Jack ; you want a good dose of adversity to cure you. So far as I can understand you, my boy, I come to the conclusion that you are pretty considerably dissatisfied with yourself to-day. If you make necessities of your inclinations, and are not able to find the means of gratifying them, well, don't growl at other folks." " Who is growling 1 " " Not you, of course ; you are too lor.gsuffering! " Then, changing his careless tone and attitude to one of earnestness, he went on — " I don't know what has gone wrong, but whatever it is, I am convinced you are dissatisfied with yourself. A conscience is an uncomfortable appendage, either kill it outright, or don't abuse it. It takes a man, you know, to live the man ; any fool can act the idiot. Jack," he continued, rising and laying his hand affectionately on the young man's shoulder, " you'll turn out well; you have the makings of a man in you, or you wouldn't be so ashamed when you act the fool." A glad, bright look, flashed over Jack's face, and a different mood came upon him. Lanra is right, he thought. Life must surely have a graver, grander meaning than the pleasure-loving irresponsible one hitherto mine. " I can't see my way quite yet, Bret," he murmured, humbly. " Light will come in time, old man." Then they talked of other things, and the afternoon was wearing to its close, when Jack, who had been looking out of the window, caught sight of a well-known graceful figure wending its way along streets ; with light step and shoulders well thrown back, dressed in a summer costume of grey, Jack knew it to be his cousin Laura. She ca,me along Cathedral square, and reaching the Bank of New Zealand corner, stopped to speak to one of the group of newspaper boys who every afternoon take up their station there. She stopped talking a long while, Jack thought. What was she about? She couldn't be purchasing papers ? What on earth could she be about 7 Bret Huntly, noticing his friend's eloquence had suddenly deserted him, rose to go, and Jack anxious to waylay his cousin, rose also. They paused outside the room in the passage for a few parting words, then, shaking hands, Bret sauntered off. Jack hurried across the road, but when he reached the bank Laura was nowhere to be seen. " Star, sir ? " " Star, sir 1 " cried half-a-dozen boyish voices, and half-a-dozen boyish figures closed round Jack. A little in the background, leaning against one of the stone pillars of the bank, was the boy Laura had been speaking with. His face was very pale and thin ; his figure small and spare ; and his clothes, though scrupulously clean, bore many a patch. From under his shabby straw hat, a pair of beseeching grey eyes looked into Jack's as he, without speaking, held up a Star. Jack took it, giving the boy sixpence. "Never mind the change," said he, as the boy began to fumble in his pocket. " Come round the corrier, here ; I want to talk to you." One boy, who had more hat than visible head, and who had been reading the news to several other boys, remarked, with a wink to his companions — " That he'd be blowed if Tom wasn't in luck to-day." Following his guide round the corner into Hereford street, the big grey eyes - fixed woncleringly on Jack, the boy asked what wight the gentleman be pleased to want. " I saw a lady talking to you just now," .said Jack, looking down into the pale upturned face. "Do you know the lady ? " " Well," answered the boy, putting his head a little on one side, "I does, and 1 doesn't. She allers speaks to me when she goes by. She allers ses, 'Well, Tom, and 'ow are yer to-day, Tom? And 'ow's yer cough, Tom ? . Shall yer be long yet afore yer go 'ome Tom ? Doesn't it make yer very tired a-standin' 'ere hour after hour a singin' out ' Star?'" "Fust time I seed 'er,' continued the boy, "it was r, hawful wet heavening, a blowin' of a sou-wester, a reglar buster; and I'd been a standin' there "—pointing over his shoulder to the Dank corner— " till I was soaked through and nearly friz, and she com'd along, wrapped up m a ulster, and carryin' of a umbrella." " Go on." And Jo, he sings out to me — Jo's 'im with the 'ard 'itter— Sings out to me, ' Ain't she a stunner, Tom?' 'Dry vp 1 ses I, 'an' mind yer papers.' With that she turned, Pel with a kind 'er laugh all over 'er face

ses to Joer ' You rude little, larrikin I ' and was going on again when ske wheeled round and looked at me. The larf ' .went off her face, and she sed Irind'er sorrowful, ' Don't yer feel very cold?' she ses, ,'ypur wet through my poor boy, and yer'll "catch yer death o' cold.' ' 0 that am ? tvnothing,' I'ses, • I've cotched that lot's o' times,' ' Why,' she ses, smilin' agin, 'yer can't die more an once you silly feller, ancf that's once' too often 1 think,' and with that she holde'dher umbrella over me, a standin' herself out in the rain." ' • "Go on." ' ' - . " Jo at that began a aniggerin' again, and she fetched out a little .purse and'giv' 'im a bob ; that fetched Jo, that did. Jo was as perlite as yer please arter that, ;Jo was. Well, afeelin' of my jacket, she said, '0, dear, dear, 'ow wet yer ar, and ydu've got a hawful cough. What's yer name?' ses .she. 'Tarn b hammer,' ses I. '""Ave yer "got a father and mother, Tom?' % she sed. 'Yes, Miss, mother's ill, and father's got a call,' ' A call ?' ses she kinder wonderin' like ; ' a call to what, Tom ?' 'To give away tracts,' ses I. • But don't he do no work V ses she. 'Not often,' ses I, 'he's a labourin' in" his Father's vineyard, he is,' sed I. 'Oh, is he !' sed she scarcastical like, ' I think "the vineyard 'ud get on just as well without 'im.' ' You come along o' me,' she sed, a catchin' 'old of me and leadin' of me across the road.' " " Go on." " Well, I'm blest if she didn't take me right inter Boots', and told the young woman to fetch me some 'ot coffee right off, and I 'ad the jolliest good feed- as never was." " You had a jolly feed, eh ! and after " " Arter I'd done, she sed,' ♦ Sit down a bit by the fire Tom, I want to' talk to yer. When yer git 'ome to-night will there be any fire and supper do yer think V • There'l be a fire, Miss, if the Lord sends' any wood and coal,' sed I ; ' but it very often 'appens as the Lord forgets to send 'am, also vittels, and then we'r precious cold arid 'ungry';but that's 'umannatre,' ' Yes, Tom, you'r right,' se3 she, ' its 'uman nater.' ' Therefore, as father ses, Miss it's not of grace.' ' What is grace Tom ?' ses she. ' I'm blowed ef I know 1' ses I. ' Nor me either,' ses she ; ' but if grace means bein' able to live without food and fire, Tom, and bein' thankful, I'm afeared I ain't got much ov it.' " " She said that did she ; well ?" " Well, sir, she stood a-lookin' down afc me mournful like, sayin' every? now and then, ' Poor boy !' ' Didn't yer say yer mother was ill ?' she sod presently. ' What's the matter with her ?' ' A very bad cough, Miss,' ses I ; ' and she's weak like, and the sewing makes her wuss.' ' Oh, she sews, does she, while your father 'stributes tracts. I think, Tom, a little more 'uman nature, and a little less grace, would make your 'ome all the comfort abler.' " " ' Ere's a pun note,' ses she, a holden of it out, ' it's all I've got with me ; take care ov it, and give it to yer mother.' And I did," added the boy ; " the jolliest good care 1" " Have you seen her often since ?" " Most every week, sir, and' she allus gives me five bob. She giv'd me five bob to-day," he added, drawing it out of his pocket and shewing it to Jack. " And you don't know the name of your friend ?" "No, sir, but I allus call her 'My lady,' she seems to belong to me like. Nobody Icept 'er ever takes no notice ov me, 'cept a fat old gent what owes me for three papers, and 'c pats me on the 'ed, -and ses, 1 Keep yer kerage up,' but yer kerage is ard to keep up when there's nothin' to keep it up on." " Sol should imagine, Tom." " When she come along to-day, she sed, • You're allus at your post, Tomy. like a true Briton. Allus stick to yer post !' And so I mean to as long as I've got a leg to stan' on, but I ain't theer now!" he added suddenly." And before Jack could detain him he darted off, and in a shrill treble voice, was calling out, "Star! second edition !" (lo be continued.)