Untitled

Otago Witness, Issue 2569, 10 June 1903, Page 82

SHORT STORIES.

GENTLEMAN JACK.

(For the Witness.)

(By Abch. M. M'Nicol.)

Gentleman Jack -was the youngest son of Sir James Flushington, of Flushington, c well-known English county family. From what I can gather the Flushington genealogical tree first took root in the time of William the Conqueror, when the first Flushington of any consequence made his appearance. " Since his time there have been a great many Fhishingtons— good, bed, and indifferent ; that is, according to the genealogical tree. Some people of • lofty mind, who claim a distant connection with Adam and Ere, say that the Flushington genealogical tree is a myth, but that has nothing to do with the writer. The present head of the family is all ■ that an English country gentleman should . be. He manages his estate to the best advantage and represents a constituency in the Parliament of his country. He is a staunch Conservative, with firm, patriotic views. "Yes, sir," you will hear him say in lub most grandiloquent strain, "I believe in the ultimate destiny of John Bull. I believe in more, sir — I believe that John Bull will achieve that destiny through the help of his sturdy sons : his son*, oversea, sir — the m«n who have raised the Union Jack to glisten like an icicle of grandeur among the Canadian b?rgs, the brave pioneers who built up a Commonwealth bursting with love for" the Motherland, and whose efforts culminated with a magnificent saciifice. of blood and treasure to add another gem to the British crown. I refer, sir, to the late South African war.' Which was all very fine as far as it went — but it d : dn't go far enough, for what panegyric (." the British Empire is complete without tome reference to the sons of New Zealand? But Sir James Flus-hington never expressed an opinion upon New Zealand unless called upon to do so. and then ibis opinion would have been better unexpresaed. "No. sir, T do not admire New Zealand. 3Che country has no attraction for me. You are sui prised? You say that New Zea3and is leading the world? Perhaps it is, 'sir, perhaps it is, but it's got too far ahead end lost its way, and Scddon comes Home to borrow a million a year from John ■{Bull to keep up the pace, and roars to John Bull to wake up. Confound it, sir, 'John Bull isn't a child. John Bull can , mind Irs own business ; and if S.'ddon wants to borrow money let him borrow it and be done with it. I look upon New Zealand as a costly luxury."' Now, the reason why Sir James had such c repugnance to New Zealand was not the fault of the colony. It was the fault of his youngest son, Gentleman Jack. It was like this : Jack Flushington was no credit to the family tree He was the skeleton in the Flushington cupboard. There was no reason why he should have been. From the money that had been expended upon him he should have been an honour to the name. But it is sad to have to relate that all the money that wa« spent on Jack never made him any better. It made him worse. That is a peculiar thing about money — it makes a good man better and a. bad man worse. Not that Jack was what you would call a bad man. His boon companions looked upon him as one of the finest fellows in the world. And so he was— in their world — in a world that takes a man as it finds him provided he is prepared to spend his own 'or other people's money •with it. to stick to it, to" fight with it, to drink: with it, to gamble with it, to go to the devil by the shortest road with it. And a!l that Jack was quite prepared to do. Now that sort of thing is right enough in a small way, but Jack went too far, •with the result that he was banished to New Zealand. It was a ciuel fate. The sentence was severe, but the name of Flushington had to be protected. Sir James was one of il Home directors of the General Runholdmj; and Station Mortgaging Company (Limited), and through his influence jack was placed as a cadet on Bungalo. His father allowed him £200 a year to do what he liW with. l Take a young fellow going it wild in a London fast set ; suddenly transport him to an up-country station, surroundeß with rock, tussock, and scrub. Let him stay there : take no more interest in his as to whether he is dead or alive ; give him £200 a year to do what he likes with, and place him clo&3 to a grog shanty. What ih the result ? Before Jack had been a year at Bungalo he was a sot. He wouldn't woik, and the boss didn't try to make him. He was there to duTik himself to death, and the sooner he did .t the better. While he 10mained alive he cost Sir James £200 a year. The place that held him was shunned by every true Flushington. New - Zealand was a '"costly luxury."'

11. If I could -write a tale of real life in which the reader would be kept on the tip-toe of expectation for a startling denoument, in which events would crowd upon each othT like the passing show of a panorama, and in which the tragic note would be drowned in the merry fooling of the actors — I say, if I could write such a tale I would call it "The Romance of Luke Hansen's Barn." And it would not be the s>tory of one little paltry love affair — you read about them every day in the week — it would simply be a plain matter-of-fact tale of how the present wives and mothers ©f Bungalo were wooed and won. And the principal character in the book, the leading actor in the play, the presiding genius of the place, would be honest old Luke Hansen hinbelf.

During the winter months Luke was in the habit of giving the barn for a weekly quadrille assembly. Then the old barn was dressed in its best — that is to say, its walls were hung with a wealth of foliage, and all sorts of little nooks were contrived —but that's another matter. When it was stripped of all this it was just a plain barn. Luke had three daughters. Nancy, the eldest, married Jim Wilson, the shearer, and a very suitable marriage it proved to be. Lucy was the youngest, and by far the most fascinating of the trio. She was the kind of girl that men swear to love for ever, and ever, and ever— that i«, young men who have no sense. As we get older we grow out of that kind of thing. I don't know how many young men had sworn to love Lucy. I don't think she knew herself. She had lo&t count. She was a flirt, a coquette, vho phyrd her game to the tune, '"Kiss me quick and go, my honey." Now, with Minnie, the second daughter, il was different. She was quiet and gentle and sweet. It was very easy to describe Lucy, but I never saw the man yet who could describe what he felt in regard to Minnie : she was indescribable. A man would as soon have thought of speaking with levity of his own sister. And the reason of it was that th^re had once been a- great tragedy in Minnie's life that had left her the noble woman that she was. Would you expect me to tell you of hr.w her life was shattered? WoiVd you like me to rip open the wounds of her heart to make a ghastly holiday? No — I could not do it. , Luke enjoyed the dances that were held in the bam as much as any man. He was a student of human nature, with original views. I remember the lir.^t time he expressed himself to me. The barn was full, aud the fun was at its height. "They're enjoyin' of themselves, ain't they? " That's what I like to see— let 'em mako the most of their time when they're young. I like to stand 'ere and watch 'em playin' their little games ; it's interestin'. Look 'cc 'ere. younjr fliap" — and the old man's voice won il dim> to a corfidcntial whisper — "look 'cc Vrc, there's some of them, blooming gals regular hartists. These 'ere gals wouldn't clo at 'Ome. They wouldn't many a man they didn't want because their mother thought it was a gcod match. Tlie^-i "ere gals marry the man of their "art if they can gpt him. But, I say, ' a ye you noticed what's iV mil', t with f-JentVman Jack?" I looked, and was surpiised to s-ec that Jack w ■- in the barn, and u~>o that for onc3 :n: n his life he was sober — beyond that there was nothing unusual about him. '"Haven't you noticed anything funny about 'im lately?" the old man went on. "Where's your eyes? Gentleman Jack is a gone coon. 'X's hanging after some of these '«•? cals, but I don't know which one it is. lie's in love." j This was a startling revelation, and T asked Luke how he became aware of the fact. "How did I know? Why. it's as ea«y as fallin' off a log — Jack hasn't been chunk for a month." "Oh, but, Luke, thnfs absurd Jack's the last man in the worM to lose his head , over a woman. Bewicks, that wouldn't keep him sober — rather the reverse." "Now, look 'cc 'ere. young flvp. ynu think you're smart, but it's mighty" little ■ you know of hitman nalir '. If a sobiT man loves a woman and she. don't 'aye 'im, he gets diunk. If a drunk man loves a woman ard she won't 'aye 'im, 'c get 1 - sober. The two on 'em does it to spite the woman — she turns 'em outside in. A woman brings out the best and the woi=t in a man, and two women stiuggle for every man's soul. The one's a good 'un and the other's a bad 'un. The one leads him up to heaven and the other diags 'im down to 'ell." j "Then I suppose, Luke." I said, "a. man should fly from that which is evil and cleave to that which is good." I "You've 'ib it, young chap, you've 'it the nail on the 'cad. There is a great cry at the present day, Wot are we to do with j the population of New Zealand? Wot are j we to do with the young generation? Dick Seddon, 'c says legislate 'em, educate 'em, arbitrate and conciliate 'em, and John M'Kenzie, 'c said settle Yin on the land, and 'c was on the right track Mas John ; M'Kenzie ; but, I say, look 'cc 'eie, young chap, I say, Give 'tin a woman and let 'em settle themselves." "If this were an ideal world, Luke, your scheme wou'-d be an id»al scheme, for w<; know that some mainpges aie made in heaven." "Yes, and some aie made in hell." m. There was a burst of anp'au^e. Micky Reegan w;>s going to sing ;i coiu.c song. After he had fini.-hed Luke bv.'gan to take a fatherly interest in myself. "Now, you ain't Mich a bad sort of a young chap. Why don't you cut in like the rest of 'em? Now, speaking confidential, between ourselves, there's Polly Jone*. Why don't you 'ook on to Polly? That's a gal that will 'aye a bit o' money of her own. Old Sam Jones is the richest man iibout here, and the only child Ys got to leave it to is Polly. Ono g.d j h as goo'l as another, but no nwin should tit hpi^e. a gal with a bit of sugar. Im tellm' you, young chap — I'm tellin' you foi your ov a good." He would have been a very poor man who would have despised Polly, with or without the dowry. She was docidedly pretty, and she — but what's the use of going on ; I didn't marry Polly Jones. She married a big runholder with an income bigger than her own. I saw her the other day, and what a change is there. I did not know her — she has grown quite matronly. She is now the mother of six children and looks the mother of a dozen, and to think that I once But that night I made myself very agreeable to Polly, and Polly made herself just as agreeable to me ; it was altogether a vorv agi enable state of affaiis. We talked sd>out the ddiice i we talked about the

weather, we talked about politics, religion, and literature, and we talked about ourselves. My young friend, if ever you are pt a loss, talk about yourself. You will always find the subject interesting, even if the other party doesn't. But our conversation was brought to a sudden stop. I felt a hand upon my shoulder, and turned and saw Luke standing with a face like death. He motioned !tome to follow him. He led me to a quiet corner in the. b»rn. It was f-ome time before he spoke, and I ecu l'! sec liut the old man was greatly agitated. '"I told you as there was something the matter with that there Gentleman Jack. 1 could see as "c was 'apkering afL-r some of thtse 'ere gals. I knowed it. And, blow me, if it ain't my little Lucy." "Promenade, please, for the fir>t set of quadrilles" —Roland M'Pherson announced the next dance, and there iv.-v a msh for partner.-. —quite a small band of young fellows making straight for Lucy Hanson. I watched Jack Flushington. H> had been lying handy, and was thp fiis-t to icach Lucy's side. Luke had also been keenly woiching Jack, ard kepL up a running commentary on his actions. '"Watch 'im. watch 'mi!" raid the o'd men. "There 'c goes. Hl"s first —now Vs a'-kin' her for the dance —look at 'im —Vs shakin' like a leaf —and —and —and —by JoVe, she's refused 'im —good liltlo Lucy." It was quite true. "Lucy turned her bewitching ey«'s on him. and muimurcd, "Very sorry, Mr Flushington. I'm engaged for this dance,"' then flashing her eyes on Joe Thomson, one of tho Bungalo shepherds, who was waiting for his chance, said, "Eight you are, Joe. I'm ready. Come on." And Joe led her up to tho dinee. Thi youngest descendant of the F'ushington«. of Fhi'-hington, slunk away like a whipped cur.

IV. Jack Flu«hington was a thorough gent'enun ; ho behaved like a man, and old Luke was pi oud of him. He eventually mairial Lucy, and Luke lold mp aftsrwaids how il came about. It seems that Jack went to the old man the day following the dar.ee, exp'ained his position, and asked him for his daughter —he understood that w"5 the proper thing to do. Jack had nothing much to .'ay for himself. Hn life at Bun.'alo had not been such as to entice my gir 1 to phare his lot. He acknowledged that hiiiiself, and old Luks didn't let him forget the fact. "Now, look ye here, Gent^-man Jack, I believe as you ain't a bad young chap .it bottom, if you only gave yourself a show. You say as you aie related to •-oryie of the big nobs at "Ome, who would Idd prepared to com" down 'andsomc if you manicd my gal. But 'ov. do yen know my g'l will 'aye you? I know my gal, and I know she won't 'av-e you so long as you let her play with you the way she did last night. You take my straight tip, young man—you clear out and pretend tint you have forgotten all about her, and come back when jou'ro a better man than you me now and she'll 'aye you quick and lively. It* a big thing you're offeiing to my g.il. and she ought to be pro-id of it. But do you think I'm going to allow my gol to many a drunken sot? No, sir! not if he was descended from the Czar of Hrssia."

'Lhe result was that Jack s-ent in an application to the G. R. and H. M. Company asking for a transfer to another station, as he consideied he had learnt all that could be learnt sit Bungalo. He stayed away for a jesr, and Lucy touk him at the end of the term. She was glad to get him. I hey had one of the best little weddings evvr I have been at. and Luke gave a big dance at the barn at night. Sir" James came down handsome, and gave Ji'ck a start in a place of his own, where he has done as we 1 .! as a man could do.

But the best of all was this : Jack took his wife Home to the Coronation, and the Finsbington family overwhelmed her i>ith Flushington love. Lucy would not hear a word against her country, and Sir James has now a different opinion of New Zealand.

"Biitain, sir, should b» proud of her colonies, especially should blie be proud <>{ the colony of New Zealand— that young Laid that is working out «uch a magnificent dc>liny at the other end of the world, that young land tfiat is> leading the way to pea-co and cood-will to men. You say that the piece" is steeped in debt What if it is, sir? Seddon is a wondeiful man, sir. a wonderful man — the world couldn't do withoul him. I have j, "-on doing veiy we'l in New Zealand. I sent him out thtre because he \\,ts no good, but ho picked up a New Zealand gill, and, by Jovi.-, hir, he turned out a tiump. He curio Hoinc with his wife to Lho Coronation, and I \vit<. pi oud of him. You du'n't see them when they were here? No? '1 kit's a pity. Nhi-'-j a line little woman, my son Jack's wife."