FATE AND SIXPENCE.

Otago Witness, Issue 2460, 8 May 1901, Page 60

FATE AND SIXPENCE.

TWO SCENKS IN THF. LIFT. OF A

( JENTLKMANLY TRAMP.

•Olticc'i,'' ciicd old Mr Walli-, "take tins man 111 chaige. He has begged sixpence of me. The village policeman bore down on the tiamp with a greit ,-how of authoiity, seiz;d him by the ami, and roughly orckued him to' "come this way." But the tiamp displayed a fine contempt for the mdje-ty of the law by_ plucking the officei's hand from his shabby coat, and giving it a sharp squeeze. "Sony to pain you, policeman, ' he -a.d. watching the olticei's facial contoition-, w ith a quiet smile, ' but I allow no one to take liberties with m\ coat It is somewhat shiny. I admit," and not stnctly in accoi dance with the peivaihng fashion; but lL previou-ly belonged to a highh-re-Fpected nobleman. Therefoie you will, I am sure, Mr," he went on, turning to Mr Wallis with an iionical bow. "undei-tand my leluctance to see it touched by a plebian "

Old Mr Walli- gapped This v, as quite a new experience for him. Accoidmg to precedent, the young vagabond ought to have grovelled on his knees befoie him. Not knowing how to cairy his amazement off in any other way. Mi Wallis turned funously on the officer, who was shaking his hand about limply.

"Officer," he stoimed, "arrest that scoundrel immediately ! He has sixpence of mine !"'

"So I have, policeman," admitted the young tramp, look'ng j^om one to the other quizzingly. "I tvas hungry, and, led astray by this good gentleman's benevolent aspect, hinted as much to him. He instantly gave me this sixpence, which I am minded to keep as a mascot "

He produced the sixpence, and flicked it lightly in the air, humming a tune meanwhile.

"Sir, an idea strikes me," he said. "Let us put this little coin of youis to the test. Heads I go quietly with the policeman ; tails, you withdraw the charge against me, and invite me to dinner. You are silent, and silence gives consent, they say."

Once more the little silver coin flashed in the sunshine, and, falling, settled at the

very feet of the man in blue. The tiamp bent to pick it up, giving the policeman a grand chance of taking him unawares; but the officei's attention was all on the coin just then.

"It's tails 1 ' he said, itli something suspiciously like a sigh of lehef. "He's, won, Mr Walhs. Shall I let him go?'

"Pardon me," interposed the tiamp, before the old gentleman could get out a w oid of the wrathful tuade he had been prepaiing, "but that was not the bargain. At wTiat hour ._, do you generally dine, Mr Walli-? If you "'

H«jio lie broke off, -with every sign of confusion, for fiom the gaiden in iront of him came ninning a blender, pietty gnl in a homely print frock, to whom he involuntarily raised his tattered cap. It was evident she had left the house in some ha«te, for there svas no covering on her head to check the darfcing of her chestnut curls in the soft breeze, and she had, moreover, forgotten to draw down her slee% c over one white, dimpled arm, which ,va^ bare to the elbow, and spotted here and there with tell-tale flecks of flour. "Thomas,"' she cried, confronting the abashed policeman indignantly, "what do you want here? Have you so litle to do in the village that you must needs lie in wait for inoffensive travellers "Your uncle gave him in charge, Miss Daphne." "What for?" demanded the girl, tnrnmg red-hot upon old Mr Walhs, who seemed to sbiivel up like a piece of dry parchment. "He has done nothing to merit such ciuel treatment."' "Indeed, miss, I have,"' began the tramp ; but she cut short his confession with an unpeiious "Be quiet, sir!'' "Uncle," she said, "has this man been begging of you?" "He told me he was hungry, and I gave him sixpence,' was the meek response. . "But he did not ask for money 2" "Xo""— grudgingly. "You hear that, Thomas? Uncle John has made a mistake, and theie is no need to detain this poor tellow any longer. You may go, my man," she said, lifting a pair of velvetty-brown eyes to the ti amp's blue ones, and nodding a dismissal.

"A thousand thank-, lady !" he said. "I 'hall remember youi kindnes-, always "'

At, the end of the road he leaned again-t the low wall, and enjoyed a quiet laugh

over his adventuie. Then his face, tanned by the exposure to wind and sun, grew stiangely -oft. and he -aid to hims-elr, oftener than he knew : "What splendid eye- -he has ;"' II A sound of luirijing footstep- held him still a- he 10-e to continue hi- jouine}. It was the gnl in the punt fiock, who had followed him, and the touch of her fingei-? as -lie laid her little hand, -"lute as jasmine, appealingly on hi- aim. thulled him with a -tiangc sweetne-s.

"Try not to feel offended, my man." -1 a imploied. "Uncle John ha.s an old standing gi udge against wandeiei-, and 1 d\way- setting tiap- foi them. Only a few weeks ago he had Jem Cook put into Biakeficld Pii-on. and Jem t-woic to do Minu tt'inble things Do )ou think — anxiou-h— "he will t.uiv out In- threat-"''

"Not ho the \ oung tiamp a--»uied her" heartily 'Jen 'cook only baik-, «ml .-how - hi-, teeth " Ho had ne\ci -ecn or heaid of Jem Cook befoie that moment, but he would ha\ c -uoiii bj.iek was white to di-pel the te.us ox tins little angel m the punt fiock "I am glad to he.v \ou -iy that," she declared, brightening again 'it ha- taken quite a load off my mind And now \ou — - vie tired, aie you not?' "A little," he answeied gia'seK "And you have nowheie to lest to-night

— that is, nowheie nice? Would you hke ■ — I mean w ould you very much mind sleeping in the outhouse? I will leave the door unlocked, and you can -teal in after dink, when even-thing is quiet, and get away in the nioimng befoie the -eivant- aio c'-tll."

He tiied to voice his gratitude in a flowery speech, but all he said was a bioken "Thank you."

"You are welcome, my man," she said kindly. "Good evening to you."

The young man bowed again, and, directly the road hid her from sight, lifted up and kis>ed his -leeve "« here her lingers had sanctified it.

There had been a rcmaikable transfoima-" tion m his appearance when he stole, unob&eived —^aye, perhaps, by a bright pan* •of eyes peeling from behind a damask curtain — into old Mr Walhs's outhouse that night. His hair, instead" of blushing against his neck, was neatly cut, a week's growth of beaul had disappeaied from hw chin : while the soiled led handkei chief around hi> throat had given place to a suspiciouhly new and fa-hionable collar

By the light of the moon, which was shining fitfully through a seuiiymg rack of cloud-, he made out a pile of soft cu-hions on the stone floor of the outhouse. Beside them stood a cold repast and some home-made wme ; but he did scant justice to the faie. and lay awake half the night, his head filled with all sorts of 10mantle notions.

"What splendid eve- she has 1 " he said, once moie, fOl getting that the remark, fiom constant repetition, had lost all savour of oiiginality. "Buckley, old man, you stand a jolly good chance of winning that hundred pound- At this rate. I sha'n't beg my way back to London within the' prescribed time."

An hour later he was aroused from a fantastic dieam by a low but persistent knocking at the outhouse door. For a wLile he lay there," striving to shut his ears to the sound, but at last he sat up stiaight on the cushions. ,

A woman's voice, soft and musical as the running water of a brook, was calling on him to w ake.

"I am sorry to disturb you. my man." she said, "but there i- someone hiding in the garden. It is Jem Cook, and he i«. staring up at the window of uncle's room !"

The young marl waited for no second call. Catching up his stick, he spiang lightly to the door, and opened it.

"Tell me how I can help you,' he whispeied.

"Uncle has locked his door, and left his window wide open," she hurriedly explained, "and he sleeps so heavily that I cannot wake him. Theie is a rain pipe which runs nearly straight from the room and if Jem climbs it "

She .stopped, and her lovely eyes dilated with the horror of the thought" "But Jem will have to climb it first," commented tho tramp, his eyes shining with the joy of coming battle, "and a tap on the head fiom my stick may possibly di-suade him fiom the undertaking. "G» in, miss," he continued, more gently, with a warning glance at her dainty slippers, which were ill-suited to the lougli paving of the yard. "You need have no fear that your uncle will come to haim "

"But what of you?" she falteied, clutching hit, sleeve. "Do be caieful, my man "'

"Miss Wallis, I must insist upon you going at once into the house," interrupted the tiamp. with a -übdued ung of authority in his tone- "Youi teeth aie chatteung w ith the cold.'' She turned without a woid, and walked

swiftly in, and he waited only just long enough to make sure of her obedience before flying round to the garden. It was well, too, that he made all haste to get there, » for a chance moonbeam showed him a sight which set his heart 110 fine? A small man, dimly outlined against the red-brick of the house, was .scrambling, •with cat-like agility, up the ram pipe. He was already half through with his climb, and another minute would see him safely perched on the »Tindow-sill of old Mr Wallis's room. But the young man did not give him that much grace. "My friend,' he said softly, "don't you think you'd better descend? You're risking jour life up there." Jem gave a violent start. "Who the deuce are you?" he whispered tack. "Gk» away, and mind your own business. This is no concern of yours." And he began once more to scramble up the pipe. The young man below instantly raised his stick to his shoulder, and pointed it upwards. In the dim light it 'looked vastly like a levelled gun.

"Move another muscle, Cook," he ciied, in low, quick tones, "and you'll come to earth in a bigger hurry than you bargain for." "Pooh ! it's empty !" sneered Jem. "It will be in a moment," was the grim rejoindc*.

Jem very slowly plid down the rain pipe. "Why, you young liar," he snarled, making a fierce spring at the tramp. "It's only a stick!"'

"But a pretty stout one, you will find," Temarked the tramp. In proof whereof he struck Jem between the eyes, not with the whole of his strength, but hard enough to send the vagabond reeling on to the pathway, where he my quietly until the village jtoliceman came to fetch him.

But the young man did not go back to his cushions in the yard. They found ample room for him in the house.

"So your real name is Laurence Bate,man, and you are begging your way, for ,a wager, from Birmingham to London?" chuckled old Mr Wallis, as they sat at dinaier next day. But for your cool impudence you'd have been in durance vile today. And I." he added, becoming graye — "I owe my life to your presen-ce of mind, any boy."

''More to your niece's, sir !" said the joung man, shooting a quick glance at Daphne Wallis, whose white-rose cheeks turned instantly to red. "You exaggerate the small service I "was able to render you. I am under as great an obligation to you. Oh, yes, sir, I am," he went on, as the old gentleman looked up in surprise. "You gave me a new sixpence, and «I still believe that it will bring me the luck of a lifetime."

And so it did, for pretty little Daphne guards that sixpence now, and her other naino is -Bateman.