FICKLE JACK; OR; FROM WEAKNESS TO STRENGTH.

Otago Witness, Issue 1855, 10 June 1887, Page 33

FICKLE JACK; OR; FROM WEAKNESS TO STRENGTH.

By Alice. Author of " The Grandmother's Story," <! Mother . and Daughter,'.' " Chalk," &c. . Chapter XIII. The Bank of New Zealand Corner. " Well, I'm blowed !"* exclaimed Jo, raising his " ard itter " in mock politeness to someone drawing near. " Round goes the world, and it brings in its circuit that big swell o' yourn, Tom Shammer. I thought he'd been transplanted to another orb, it's such a jolly long while since 'is light shined in this yer direction. Tom Shammer ! Tom ! don't yer 'ear what I'm sayin'. Shut vp f that blessed hollerin', do, and fix yerself up for receivin' genteel company." " Hallo, Tom ! " exclaimed Jack, drawing near " Hallo, sir ! " responded Tom, his face all aglow with pleasure. Putting his hand kindly on the boy's shoulder, Jack proceeded to lead him as usual round the corner out of ear-shot of the curious group of curious boys. . " 'Ope you'll excuse my jining yer," called out Jo, " 'cause I've got an invitation out to tea, and rest of the company 'ull be disappointed if I don't go." " He's a cheeky young specimen, he is I " remarked Jack of Jo. ' " Yes, 'c is, sir," replied little Tom, " but 'c ain't such a bad 'un, ain't Jo. 'B seems full o' larks, and tricks, and imperence, but I've seen Jo cry orful, I 'aye, though 'ed punch my 'ed if 'c thought as 'ow I'd split on 'im, 1 You see, sir, Jo ain't got a mother to teach 'im manners, nor to look arter 'is wittles, and consequence 'c ain't got much of the fust, and very often 'c gets precious little of the second, for 'is father gets drunk' almost every night. 'E sits in the public over the way, and as fast as Jo earns a few browns 'c come for 'em, then goes back and boozes it all." • "I don't know how you little chaps put up with so much," said Jack. " Well, you see, sir," replied Tom, lifting his beautiful grey eyes to the kind brown ones', " we puts up with it 'cause we'v got to, I s'pose. It's 'mazin' what a lot a coon can put up with when 'c's got to put up with it. If we don't mind what we's arter we should get run in and sent to Burnham. I don't say as it ain't a very good place to go to, only there's a sort o' disgrace hangin' on to it, and I don't never want to go nowhere's where there's any kind o' disgrace, leastways not in this world." The little pale-faced boy looked so very much in earnest, and made such a pathetically comical picture standing there with his trousers too long (they were made to allow for growing, which he did very little of, poor boy !), and his eyes too big, and the bundle of newspapers too large altogether for his size, that Jack felt between laughing and crying. Being a man, of i course he laughed. " Why, where do you expect to go to, Tom, after you leave this, world to get into disgrace ? " asked Jack. " I don't know rightly, sir," answered Tom. "Father ses the Lord's gone to prepare a place for 'iwi ; but 'is 'art ain't corrupt — 'c's one o' the saints, 'c is, a-goin' about a-doin' of 'is Father's bissness. My lady sed t'other day it 'ud be a jolly sight better for all consarned if 'ed do a little of 'is own. I dunno. Father ses I live in the flesh,, an' must be born agen afore I ken calkerlate on going anywheres respectable." " As, to living in the flesh," said Jack, pityingly taking hold of the bony arm of the boy, " you couldn't live with much less; and I guess you've been born once too often, Tom ; but cheer up. My mother " (Jack's eyes grew dim) " used to teach me to sing when, I was a youngster, ' There's a home for little children above the bright blue sky 1 ' "

What 1 Jack turning preacher ! Fickle, careless Jack I In the depths of his honest heart Jack longed to comfort the little " larrikin " before him, but didn't know how. Tom's eyes gazed wistfully upward.

" Is there, now? Wish there was a way up ; I reckon there'd be a lot of little 'uns make tracks straight away — there'd 'aye to be a lean-to put up to accommodate 'urn all. I'm thinkin' Maggie 'ud come along o' me theer, I 'spect, though she allers ses she won't go to 'eaven 'cause father will be there. Jo 'ud go, too, let alone his sarce ; and lame Bill, 1 wots allers sick ; and little Minnie Barton, wot lives next to us, and 'as to mind the little 'uns all day while 'er mother goes to wash. Oh, there's 'caps and 'caps on us as 'ud skiddadle ! Guess there be no backache, up tbeer, and a fellar's legs wouldn't feel weaky-like. But there's mother," he added, drawing, himself up, and looking — oh poor Tom !— so brave, " and she couldn't do without me; so, arter all, I'll stick to my post as long as I've got a leg to stand on, and when I'm a man she sha'n't work no more — 'Oh dear no, not for Joe, not if I knows it ! ' " anS Tom danced from one foot to another, whistling the popular ditty. " Well, you're a rum card ! " said Jack ; then he added presently : " Your lady has not forgotten you, then ? "

" No, she don't forget nothink, she don't ! She thinks on mother and on Maggie and on me. She comes along, smilin' so kind and speakin' so soft, and when I goes for to thank her she allers ses, ' Hush, Tom ! ' She ses, • It's little enough I do — little enough I

Surely I can/ take- one 'dropVout of- 1 myfull cup o' f) appiness and let it-fall into an empty' cup. It don't &enr right,! she s'es-*-' noways right — that 'some should 'aye all and others riothink ; aigreat^writer ses '• There's > somethink in this world amiss," and 1 so th'ere'is; for even children suffer pain;' so take this 1 pun note'ome to yer mother,' 'she ses, and mother, alters ses • God bless 'er, for 'er tenderness;' I tolcPer as how a gentleman guv me a soverin to take us all down' to the sea, and I sos to. her, I ses, p'raps /c don't know 'ow very thankful I was to ?im in my 'art; for I 'aven't got'no wayof letting I 'im know,and she ses 4 'is own' generous 'art is thanks enough, Tom.' " " I Jack's face flushed all, over with; a" sudden glow, and hastily slipping some money into Tom's hand, and as hastily throwing half -a- , crown to Jo, he strode' off down the street.

Very tender and glad was, Jack's faoe as he walked along, and his heart expanded to every creature' ihe met. He picked, a dirty^ squalling child up out of the gutter, and bought it some sweets to comfort it ; he .parted two boys, fighting, and made them • shake hands, and sent them '■off together friends ;' he bought^a. present for each of Mrs Viney's boys ; — for Laura, not knowing of whom she spoke, had called, him generoushearted, and Laura, although she wouldn't believe it, was his guiding star. He lost sight of it sometimes and got ,off the track, but oftener and of bener he would be led, by that pure light. ■

Jack's Birthday.' Trip-trop, trip-trop, tnp-trop, trop sounded the hoofs t of the lazy mare on the smooth Riccarton road. .Laura leaned back in the little buggy, perfectly contented. That happens a few times in a lifetime, perhaps. Jack's birthday having , fallen on Easter Monday, thus giving them a holiday, they had honoured it with a picnic atTai Tapu, and, passing through Lincoln, were now on their way home. Bret gave the reins to the lazy mare, and leaned back, too. Trip-trpp, trip-trop, trip-trop, trop. "Tired?" " A little." Trip-trop, trip-trop, trip-trop, trop. " Are you comfortable ? " "Very." .• Trip-trop, trip-trop, trip-trop, trop, " We've had, a pleasant day ; the weather is glorious for so late an autumn. But you like fast-going horses. Do you not wish you were in the buggy with the others 1 This is a lazy old mare ! " "No." Trip-trop, trip-trop, trip-trop, trop. She sat with! her hands full of wild flowers, and her hat, because its brim interfered with the comfortable repose of her head, discarded. , The cover of the buggy being sufficient screen from the cool night air, the full light of the moon fell upon, her face. Bret slightly moved his position so that he could watch her. " Did you ever hate anyone, little Laura ? " She turned her beautiful eyes full upon him. "No. Why?" " Why, indeed 1 Of course you never did." " What care you take of your flowers," he added presently. " Where did you get them?" '" Jack gave them to me." "Ah!", Trip-trop, trip-trop, trop. , " I never gave you a flower, did I ? I , am not a ladies' man ; I ,'am a clumsy chap. Will you give me one of ,these ? " She selected one and gave it to him. " Thank you." Presently : "You are very pretty, Laura. Did anyone ever tell you so ? But of course they have., Here we are at home." There was some music after supper, and .Laura, turning suddenly to Bret, said : " Can you not sing, Mr Huntley ? No one has ever thought to ask you." ■ , For reply he turned over the music till he came to . the song, " When other ■ lips and other' hearts." 1 They had heard the song often before, but never as now. His voice was splendid, and after the first rich mellow notes sounded through the room his listeners were held spell-bound 1 till the last diedaway. . . , 1 An hour later Bret was walking with folded arms backwards and forwards in his hotel garden. Jack had lingered behind at his uncle's, so that Bret was ' alone. His aristocratic face wore an expression of sternness almost — the well-cut lips' being firmly pressed together, and his brows knit. Backwards and forwards, up and down, he paces' in deep and painful thought, unconscious of the beautiful night ; the lines upon his forehead growing ' deeper every moment ; his arms folded across his chest, his head howed almost upon them. Presently he raises his head, and stopping iri' his walk leans his back against a tree. ' ' "Bah!" he exclaimed' impatiently, "my folly is inexcusable, my weakness pitiful. I am a very reed swayed by the Vind, and I thought myself a rock. I who have been tricked and dujjedj and have leursed the name of woman because my honour' has ,been but a plank for feminine feet to pass over, to triumph— that J "should love again ! I who have found women 'but' as' butterflies, who spread their wings and fly from flower to flower, sipping the heart's honey as they go j who are constant so long as none other more pleasing seek to win them- from' you ; who can no more help- their inconstancy, being women, than the ocean can help its restlessness. But, this little girl, this child, with her unbounded faith, she m/ust be.tme ! Oh, little Laura I little • Laura I " he cried, with an infinite yearning in his eyes, " say to the tempest of my doubts — be still ; say to all this bitterness and fret — be still. Out of the darkness and chaos of my doubting soul create a world of grandeur and beauty — faith in a woman's steadfast love. From the ruin of my manhood rebuild a fair temple of trust ; for I love you, not with the light fancy of a boy,, but with the force and otrength of a man. I will tell you so tomorrow, and if " That " if" beautified and glorified his face,

"Ah!"