THE DIGBY TWINS.

Otago Witness, Issue 2857, 16 December 1908, Page 89

THE DIGBY TWINS.

By Charles Richakds Aixex. III.— OF THE ISHMAELITE. He was a child of wind and wave, A. dweller in dark woods, Whose elemental gladness gaveStrange be*uty to his moods. / Now he would run and leai and laugh, Now stand, now lie and Iream, Or pause from some msd prank to quaff Cool water from the stream. ~* He loved to make, with listeners none, Melodies full and deeD; TTith song he met the waKrng sxin, And sang the day to sl€'sp. — Robert Cruttwell. Spring had perforce to usher in summer without the asistance of Harold that year, for the leg took a weary while to mend. By right of juniority he should have enjoyed pride of place In the ■ever-changing pageant- of the newly-born season, for children and ail young glad things axe an essential part of the business. Perhaps it was the knowledge that one of the brotherhood was on the casualty lis' umde that persuaded r skylark to mark out a claim not far from Harold's bedroom window, where it performed the- most astonishing , crc-scendos and diminuendos that ever issued from the palpitating throat of bud. Harold though 1 so, at any »-ate, and Pauline was sune of it. It was rather hard when thf fresh little sprigs of honeysuckle tappad at his window when the breeze was especially boisterous. "Come along ! Come along ! Come along !" they always seemed to be saying, but the little •bird with the broken wing could not obey tho summons. Harold had his sunny philosophy tr fall back upon, and then there were mothei and Pauline, and, best of all, there was tea-time, when dad came back from thf office, always with something new, something to read, something to be eaten, something to be shown, something to be told — what did it matter. The main thing w;>s that dad never forgot him, though, he was £O big, and had a chequebook, and stiff cuffs, and a gold watch and chain, ard stood for the embodimen' of power in his small sou's eyes. Allowing ~for certain dx-eary half -hours, when the monotony of bed became almost overwhelming, Mrs Digby did succeed 'n making this term of imprisonment one of the happiest periods in her eon's life, so far as it has run its course. It, is wonderful how some grown-up folks take to "talk games," if they really try, and . are not thinking about something else half the time. Mildred became so clever at it that in the end she was quite the recognised leader. At the outset she was always serious, which is the first essential. Once or twice, at first, she allowed her , thoughts tc r-tray, until she was pulled tip by a look, half reproachful, half indulgent, in Harold's big blue eyes. How was Jj-e to know that the sun had filtered tkrough the gently-swaying blind, and was jfc]»ving on his silky golden hair, thereby accentuating the beauty of his blue eyes and the et&real flush on his little round <d»e*k6, or that the music of _ his baby Twice, the appeal and sweetness of his articulation had lwakened something in his mother's heart which Is akin to the purest joy ? When you play "talk games," the everyday world completely disappears. It is far more enthralling tlian being told a story, because you really are the person who is talking. To the unenlightened you may appear to be merely a little boy with golden hair, in a red. dressing-gown, with your arms lying on an art counterpane with roses and other things worked on it, towering up into a small mountain aA, the bottom of the bed, where your poor tittle broken leg is encased in a sort of bird-cage arrangement, so that it fihall not • be disturbed. Ir reality, you are King lirrup, and you are putting things straight in your kingdom, where they seem to have got into rather a bud way during your en-foj-oed absence in a far country, where you have been rescuing a beautiful maiden from the castle of the dreaded and malignant Tanalanus. The lady by your bedside, with eyes like youis, and tiny lines at the corners of her mouth, is the Lord Grandee, a veiy important functionary in your king<£ . The little girl in the sandals and brown holland emock is, for the time being, a poor wood-cutter with fifteen children, whe have beaten all re- . cords in the way of coing without food over a protracted period of time. Each of the fifteen, has a name and a history to which you listen with the deepest interest, and in the end .you arrange a meal for them which I am ceitain would

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have the direst effects, considering the low vitality to which the fifteen children must have been reduced by their long fast. The beauty of "talk games" is that you have an absolutely unlimited range of subjects, and there is no preliminary outlay before they become remunerative.

It was Pauline's duty to keep Harold well ap in the affairs of the world that lay fteyond the sprigs of honeysuckle. The progress of everything in the little gaiden she watched with eyes that were Harold's ; the doings of the milkman and the sayings of the butcher were all carefully noted and faithfully recorded, while she occasionally made excursions oeyond the green palings in search of something really big.

One sleepy morning, when the sunlight lay in great splashes wherever there was no shade of tree or house to come in it's way, and the air was heavy with the scent of flowers and the "sowne of bees," Paul.me squeezed herself through the fence where there was a broken pahng, and started off in search of an inciderit, for all the W— ld like a. little journalist on the trail of "copy." She nodded gravely to her friesd the postman" as he blew his whistle and wheeled in at the gate if the next house, and eet off down the hill, surrendering herself to Chance as guide and finder-out of' adventure. When she came to the bottom of the hill she followed the little path which leads eventually :o the top of Dundee street, and soon she found . herself in entirely new country. It was veiy pretty and green. The neat little paths of screenings ran between tall, fresh grass, and on either side was a thicket of lawyers and native shrubs with diver birches at regular intervale. Pauline to wonder and admire. A little breeze play : ng with the long grass, the sun made the tender shoots of the birches almost transparent, and penetrated into the heart of the thicket with fitful gleams. The birds were singing in a Srow6y way, while up by way of Cosy Dell, softened by the distance, the hum of life in the city floated on the heavy air; the murmur of street traffic, the musiviul clan? from some ironworks, where men were moulding some mighty engine of •power to do their puny will ; the scream of railway whistles, and the imperious warning of tramway gongs. Pauline watched and listened, feeling. without being aware of it, the joy of a pai-tici-pant in a great game.

But as she listened a new, strange couzfcd floated on the air from an unexpected direction. To Pauline it did not seem to have begun. It was ju«t thtre, a Jow, 'tremulous, crooning sound, as soft and intangible almost as the wind in the pine trees. The appeal in it, the serenity and quiet joj strangely thrilled her. For Pauline to hear was to see, if such were possible in the range of human endeavour. She cast about her to locate the sound. Surely it came from the middle of the thicket on her left, and into what a mad, frolicsome melody it had suddenly changed ! Pauline almost laughed as she put the first bramble out of her way and wa« swallowed up in the shade of the thicket. The undergrowth of broom and lawyer was very thick, and Pauline had considerable difficulty in forcing a way through. She knew enough about fairies not- to make the slightest sound as sbe wormed her way through the clinging creepers, stopping every minute to release her little blue smock from the tenacious grip of a lawyer with deft and silent fingers. A few yards ahead there wa6 a bi,/ patch of sunlight where the underscrub had left a little circle, and it was evidently from this spot that the strange sounds came. It ie surprising to think that such perfect seclusion could be obtained only a few chains from a main xoad, but if the reader were to visit the spot he would find that the Ishmaelite haJ selected a very effective stronghold, feat was very unlikely that the casual wanderei would care to brave the array «jf pricking, grasping lawyers that surrounded liis blue vaulted castle.

The IshmaeViie sat against a clump of broom with his bare legs planted firmlf before him. His ragged knees, on a level with his chin, supported his elbows. His nervous, dirty, little fingers clutched a long penny thistle which must have cos-t at least a shilling. His grimy, sunken cheeks were puffed out from the exertion of applying wind to his organ. His brown, bunted eyes were half closed. A fall of luscious yellow bkxtn? acted as a canopy to bis bare, tumbled head. The sounds that issued from the whistle were truly remarkable, lv the first place, they were very low, for the hand of the Ishmaelite is against every man, and secrecy is the only guarantee of repose. Perhaps it was the fewness of the music which gave it a peculiar intensity. There was a* sob in it, a cry as of some spirit of delight held in chains, and singing to ease the longing far freedom. Thus it sounded to Pauline, though, of course, she had never read Shelley, and did not know anything, of tlrj flpirit of delight. What she did know, or what she thought she knew, was that the Ishmaelite was a fairy, and that the fairy was playing music which made her long to bury her face in something soft, say mummy's hair, and cry and cry and cry. And all the while the lahmaeJite w«a performing variations on '"I wouldn't leave my little wooden hunt for you" upon a whistle which he had "pinched from A mueic shop in Oamaru.

The sun shone down on the odd little £)«m& which was being enacted among the broom and underscrub ; the performer, fast to the world ,and its immediate danrs, putting his whole soul, or whatever was which mode him love the woild lirith it« soents and sights and its sounds, •Jtod made him long for something ho co il-l not tell what, into hfe instrument ; the Hft^griar, with the face of a' cherub, harkoniag io the music of the sphere*-. The .-un ifeftti rang on the next scene Ly &]nnt ; jiq Tuim GO to Pauline's mushroom hat in ft Hff"W tii&t oauffht Umi alert eye of tl<c tfguaow* Very pently ho laid hi.> to&fcti* 4*w» « tr<J it**., »ad turned hie

head for a better vietr. A pair of wondering blue eyes were looking straight into his.

"Gawd stroike me silly I" said the Ishmaelite.

In another second he had whipped tho whistle into the breast pocket of His tattered coat, and was watching for hiis enemy *o spring, with the fierce joy of the hunte 1 thing conscious of its skill to elude. But the enemy did not spring. She kept on looking. The Ishmaelite became fascinated. The power ot the human eye had rtver played any part in the many hunt a in which he nad taken the interesting part of the hunted. But they had not the male\olent fascination of the eyes of a snake to the fluttering bird, tho?e blue orbs. There was wonder and admiration, and just a suspicion of fear, but malignant intent there surely could not be. The Ishmaelite had not stirred on making the discovery, except to whip the whistle into hie pocket, but every muscle had become rigid. Now he relaxed the tension. Ho must have been thirteen years old. He had very big, brown eyes and a large mouth. His face bore signs of suffering and want of food, but the alert expression which had transformed his face into that of a hunte-j animal at first disappeared witb the slackening of the tension of the muscles. By that time wae clear that the mushroom bat and blue eyes belonged to a blue smock, brown, bare legs, and sandals. In short, the items just mentioned weie some of the component parts of a pleasing • phenomenon of Nature — namely, a "nipper." The Ishmaelite was fond of nippers, and whenever he came across anything of which he was fond, one corner of his mouth went down in a v fascinating way, and a light stole into his velvety brown eyes winch was distinctly pleasing to note.

" 'Ello !" said the Ishmaelite at last in a tentative voice.

"Hallo!" Pauline replied, and silence reigued once moie.

The Ishmaolite scratched his head. Then an idea s-oemed to seize him, for he felt in his pocket, and drew out the whistle. Then he began a gentle crooning, which was so low that no foot-passenger on the little path could have had an inkling of it. As he played, the lishmaelite glanced at Pauline. There was a friendly, jolly look in his brown eyes. After ten minutes he ftopped, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve in a very inelegant manner. '"Thank you,' said Pauline. 'Don't nm>e it." replied the Ishmaelite. "Js there any more of yous?"

"Harold would be heie, only he's broken his leg," Pauline volunteered, and then looked rather abashed at having ventured to say so mut'i to so wonderful a person.

"Mum's the word, nipper," the Ithmaelite went .on. "If I was copped 'ere they wouid-'ave me back at the Industrial like winkinV

Pauline was mortified to realise that sh« did not understand him. "Please, I don't know fairy language very well," she said. "I ain't i fairy,' said the Ishmaelite. Then y iunnj expression crossed his face as he noted the overwhelming disappointment in the big blue eye*. "But I onst *ad a little sister wot was one," he rattled on.

"Oh, did you renily?" said Pauline, feeling that the Fates had been kind to her xhat morning. "Ye-e-es. Oi should smoil. She could dance on 'er toes, an ting, an' himitita Carrie Moore, an' Florence Young, an' all the boss stars m Hoistrilut."'

Pauline was not quit© sure what imitating boss stars meant, but she supposed it was something to do with the heavenly firmament, and therefore in keeping with the status of a fairy. "Where is ?he now?" she asked eagerly. "Ip Ballarat,'' the Ishmaelite replied, and his eye« were very sad.

In a neglected corner of the cemetery in Ballarat there is a little grave at the head of which a white cross stands. On it is inecribed, "In loving memory of Dorothy Rollin {Dot), who died at the Public Hospital, Ballarat, on the 29th of January, 1905 ; aged nine years. Erected by the membeis of the 'Red Riding Hoed' Companj-." Pauline ionged to hear more about Ballarat, but the Ishmaelite had pulled out his whistle again, and wps playing a mad frolicsome measure wliich set her ears tinging.

"Who's this 'ere 'Arold with the gammy kg?" the Ishmaelite asked, stopping as suddenly as he had begun. "My brother," Pauline replied. "He bwoke his leg when he went to find the Celestial City." "The 'ow much?" "The CekstiaJ City. It's in 'Pilgrim's Progress,' you know."

"NeveT 'card tell of it," the Ishmaelite replied. "An' the two of yous found it?"

"No, but daddy found us, and we've piomised mummy never to try and find it

sgain. " "Ow old is this 'ere "Arold?" "Same as me. We're twins." "Jist another nipper like yerself. eh?" "Yes." Pauline wrs not suie what a mppar was, but she w.is one, evidently, and as Harold was most things wlu'ch she was, she decided to risk the assertion.

"Does yer ma know your out?" asked the lehmaelite in a very different tone from that, in which he had a*ked the same question scores of times of sundry folk who had struck him as being paculiar in dress or deportment.

Pauline had to admit, somewhat shamefacedly, that her ma did not know she was out.

"Well, you'd beet 'op it now, nipper. I'm afraid me 'ands ain't very clean, but would you mind shaking?"

Pauline was loth to go, but she would not have dreamed of disobeying this wonderful boy. But as &he held out her hand th-e thought that Harold was missing it all was too much for her.

"I wish you could come and let Harold see you," she said wistfully. "Rough luck on 'im to mhs the beauty

show," the Ishmaelite answered with a

' show," the Ishmaelite answered with a merry laugh. "And bear you play,"' Pauline added. "I'd like to see the other wee nipper," the Ishmaelite thought aloud. "Couldn't you come to tea ?" Pauline ; suggested. The boy's eyes filled with tears. The contrast between the cosy tea-table as he I pictured it and his own lonely, wretched I state was suddenly driven home to him. I The idea of the mere food gave him a gnawing pain, but it was the thought of fritting down like a Christian with two little golden-haired children, of being ' treated kindly, that brought the great ! lump into his throat. "Can't, I'm afraid, nipper," he eaid, I trying to laugh. "Fact is, I'm invited I to* tea. at the Burnham Industrial, and the I "tec is after me with the hinvitation cawd in 'is pocket." "What's o 'tec?" Pauline asked. "A plain-clothes copper, nipper," the L-hmaelite replied with the Ishmaelite look in his eyes. He saw that Pauline did not understand. "Never you mind, nipper. Only, mum's the word. Don't tell yer ma, nor anyone, that you saw me." "Can't I tell Harold?" Pauline asked, looking really distressed. "Yes. You can tell the other nipper, an' give 'im this. Say it's from Ned Rollin." He thrust the whistle into Pauline's hand, and next moment he had disappeared into the heart of the scrub. The missing boy from the Burnham Industrial School wss caught red-handed stealing a tin of biscuits from a store in Waikouaiti. He gave the storekeeper, the local constable, and sundry volunteers capital sport on the roof for half an hour, was was at length obliged to capitulate. He returned to Christchurch by the second express. In three days Harold could play "Home, sweet, home" and "The bluebells of Scotland" on the magic whistle. Pauline told her first lie, and almost her last, concerning the whistle. She buried her only sixpence in the garden, and said she had bought the whistle. I say nothing in defence of her, except that she was true to the Ishmaelite.

merry laugh. "And bear you play,"' Pauline added. "I'd like to see the other wee nipper," the Ishmaelite thought aloud. "Couldn't you come to tea ?" Pauline