THE MAN WITH THE BLUEY.

Otago Witness, Issue 3830, 9 August 1927, Page 80

THE MAN WITH THE BLUEY.

By

Dulce Carman.

(Copyright.—For the Otago Witness.) In spite of the crisp tang of autumn lurking in the shadows, the sun was very hot, and for the third time in a quarter of an hour the woman who had been steadily digging potatoes since breakfast time straightened her aching hack and pushed aside the heavy wave of flaxen hair that would persist in falling into her eyes. She was tired—for Ethel Mayne was a gentlewoman born and luxuriously bred, and it was only lately that the digging of potatoes had- become a thing that could by any wild stretch of imagination be connected witli her dainty self. Perhaps she realised that now, as she stood with her blistered hands resting on 'her fork, and regarded the satisfactory heaps of potatoes which had rewarded her labours. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if we get all of seven bags out of this little corner,” she informed a wondering waxeye confidentially, as the tiny thing perched on a gooseberry bush and regarded her curiously. “ And all of them free from blight and frost-bite, too, birdie. This is splendid potato country. If only I could afford to buy or lease those other two acres —and could manage to work them ...” Her blue eyes roved covetously over the strip of land of which she was speaking, and were stayed by the sight of a swagger coming slowly down the long stretch of metalled ' road, with his “ bluey ” on his back. “Poor fellow! Even from here he looks tired,” thought the woman. “I wonder—perhaps he would like to put in an hour s work here for a shilling and a meal. I could do with a little help, and I can’t leave it all for Jack when he comes from school.” Her thoughts wandered on. and dwelt lovingly on the small, sturdy, eight-year-old son who was her delight—the bov who worked so steadily at any task she set him that she was always so afraid of over-taxing his dawning strength. " ° A shilling and a meal! But shillings were precious, and there was only enough meat in the house for the children’s dinner. No, she must forego the luxury of help, and struggle on alone. She bent once more to her work, but sprang erect almost at once with a stifled cry of pain and dizzy head, as the agonising pang which the doctor seemed to regard so seriously swept her almost into unconsciousness. She must sacrifice the shilling—and the meat! After, all, she could boil a couple of the precious eggs for the children. If the swagger, now much closer, proved to be* a decent-looking fellow, she uould enlist his services. She strove to steady her vision that she might see what manner of man it was who was now stooping over the latch of the little white gate, but the landscape was still swinging slowly to and fro, and there seemed to be a dozen men instead of only one coming up the little drive. To the man who came as steadily towards her as his bruised feet would permit, it seem«d as though the slender blue-clad figure stood watching him unswervingly during all his passage from the roadway to where she stood with the smell of freshly turned earth around her, and the heaps of pinky-brown potatoes round her feet. In reality, she had not clearly seen him once. “ I was wondering if you would kindly ...” began the swagger mildly. His voice—some familiar tone in it—pierced through the swirling mists, and for a moment Ethel Mayne saw clearly the face beneath the disreputable old felt hat—the face which, of all others, she had never expected to see beneath such a hat—or in such a situation. She heard the familiar voice saying something about “boiling water.” and then she threw up her arms with a heart-rending moan. ° “ I’m mad! ” she moaned, “ mad! Oh, dear God, what will the poor children do?” The swagger crushed the freshly-dug, juicy potatoes beneath his aching feet as he deftly caught her falling body in his arms.

When Ethel Mayne regained consciousness, she found herself lying on the shabby sofa in her ownjittle living-room, and her blue eyes, as they struggled open, rested unbelievingly ou tlie anxious face of the swagger, as lie fanned her vigorously with his battered felt hat. She made a supreme effort, and raised herself to a sitting position. How silly of me!” she said weakly. “I—don’t ever do this sort of tiring really, but. I’d been working in the sun”

and the doctor told me to expect rt. Is—it really you, Will?”

Really me, Ethel! I’ve been tramping Hawke’s Bay looking for you.” 'The woman’s eyes softened.

“ Then you did want to find us again !” she said in a satisfied tone. “ You really didn’t know that we had lost all our money soon after you went away?” “ Heavens! I’m not quite such a cur as that! The day I had that row with, you and rushed out of the house in a iage, vowing that I would never come back, I boarded the Auckland express, fully determined never to return. I ended up that trip in hospital— complete nervous breakdown. The doctor.said it had been coming on for months, so that’s a little excuse for the bearish way in which I’d been behaving. Then, when I cot a bit better they said a long sea voyage was necessary, se ” he checked himself suddenly, and ended abruptly. ’-Oh, well! You won t want to hear all mv ups and downs during the last six years. I wrote you several times, but never got any answer, and each time that put my back further up. I thought you simply wouldn t write. I’d left you all I had, and thought you and the kiddies were in easy street. I’d no idea that Brownrigg had failed, and left you practically penniless until just a month ago, and all I could find out then was that you and the children had got a two-acre section somewhere in Hawke’s Bay—nobody knew just where—you’d vanished.” you ve tramped the roads ever since!” said the woman slowly. “I never got one of your letters, Will. They must have come after we left the home you expected to find us in. But, I think, if you are willing to stay at home now—for a time, at least—you will have come as a direct answer to prayer.” A strange light ('lowed in the man’s brown eves.

Stay at home?” he echoed warmly. “Do you mean that, Ethel? Would von take me back after the way I’ve neglected you these six years?” The woman smiled.

“ There was never any harm in you, Will—only youth and intolerance and excessive obstinacy. You were a motherless boy, who had been badly spoiled. It seems that you have learned vour lesson now — her eyes wandered over the shabby, travel-stained suit as she sooke. “ You see, I have to undergo an operation soon, the doctors say, and who better than their father to care for the children while T must be away from them—it takes all the worry off mv mind.” “An operation?” with swift alarm. “ Ethel! Have I found yon at last only to lose you again?” “Oh, no! It will be a painful operation, they tell me. but fortunatey not a life-and-death affair.” “ But the children—haven’t thev Leon taught to hate their father?” said the man hesitantly. “ How could I bring up Jack to be a decent man if he believed his father to be an object of hate? The children have always been told that you were travelling in India. I thought you would be there you always had such a longing for India.’ The man passed over her speech without remark. “By Jove, Ethel—you're a living wonder—and having brought them up "in the belief that their dad was a travelling man, would you have them see me—so?” He took off his hat, which he had replaced on his head, and turned his unshaven face to the light, bringing info prominence his blackened, grimy hands, with their broken nails. The two pairs of eyes met—keenest inquiry in the brown ones—infinite pitv in the blue—both of them were remembering how proud he had been, six years ago. of his well-shaped, carefully-tended hands. “There is no need that they should see .you so!” Ethel Mayne said quietly. “ The house is small, and there is half an hour still before dinner-time brings the children home. You will find the bathroom at the end of the passage, and the linen-press is next (o it—there are heaps of clean towels, and all the hot water you want. I’m sure you have your own shaving things. The clothes j'ou left when you went away are all in the tin trunk in my room—opposite to this. You see ” —with a shadowy smile, I always knew you would come back some day. When I am well again we will take un life together once more, and make a better home for the children. It will be easier for two.” “ You are an angel!” said the man brokenly. “ Gcd ! How I’ve missed von and the kiddies all these years.” Ethel Mayne smiled faintly. “ Don’t waste time—the children hurry home to me. I shall be better—well again —in\ a moment. Help, yourself to anything you want.” * * * A clatter of feet sounded on the gravel path, hasty footsteps on the veranda, and a sturdy boy of eight and a pretty, fragile, fair girl of seven burst together into the little living room, where their mother stood waiting to greet them. “I’m starving!” announced the bov. then paused and sniffed appreciatively. “Omelette, I’ll bet! I’d know the smell of an omelette anywhere.” He paused, and looked inquiringly at his mother. “ Eggs are three-and-nine to-day—why did vou do it? It isn’t anybody’s birthday.” No, Jack—it’s better than that. Daddy has come home to us.”

“Daddy—over the sea in a big ship!” said the boy in an awed tone. “ Where is lie?”

"I want to see him!” Elise said. “May Jones said she didn’t b’lieve we had a daddy at all. Now we can show her. “You mustn't—worry him with questions!” the mother said hesitatingly. “ He has come a very long way, and is quite—tired !” “O—oh!” squealed Elise, and launched herself like a released spring at the man who now appeared in the doorway, -” Daddy—daddy.!” My little girl!” said Will Mayne brokenly. Are you glad daddy has come home to you?” “ Oh, yes—and did you come all the way from India, daddy?” “ Well—from Ceylon—that's just next door, you know. Look what 1 brought for you.” He slipped over her head a necklet of carved and stained ivory beads—on her arm a native bangle of honey-coloured glass and gold dust. “ I’ve some wonderful animals for Jack —tigers, and jackals, and elephants in ebony and ivory and ‘ pung ’ boxes carved by the natives—and for mother ” with dexterous fingers he unfolded wrapping papers, and swathed the, speechless woman in fold after fold of softly gleaming exquisite silk. “Will ” she began, and found herself unable to get any further. “Just your .colour, sweetheart—you see J remembered—and I have something else that was too big to bring—something I’ll have to take you to presently when mother is quite well again.” “ Oh, daddy—what is it?” said Jack intensely.

“ A bungalow home in Ceylon—amongst the tea gardens—the prettiest place you ever dreamed of—quite near to Nuwera Eliya, which is earth's paradise.” “For us to live in,” shrieked Elise. “To go in a real ship!” said Jack solemnly. “ Oh! won't May Jones be jealous ?” “Are you serious, Will?” asked the mother slowly. “As a judge ! When I was ordered that long sea voyage, I took on an opportune job that was offered me—that of traveller to the Gold Leaf Tea Company. You can guess how I put my back into that job, and a few months ago they made me manager for their Ceylon branch. I had made good then, and could come back to you, so I explained things to the heads, and—here I am—and I want my dinner!” “.But—your face—and hands! That hat!” murmured the woman, still unconvinced.

“Camouflage, beloved! If you onlv knew how carefully I rubbed dust and charcoal into my hands every day, and how my unshaved face tortured me. But I was a returning prodigal, Ethel—and you had to take me down and out. or not at all. I would have backed my last cent on the belief that you were big enough to forgive me—but I never dreamed how’ wonderful you were until I got here today. It was God’s own Providence that brought me back to you just when I was wanted most—and now I’m going to have dinner before it is completely spoilt. Then I am going to show you photos of the home you are going to in Cevlon—and several other wonderful things 1 have in that ‘ bluey ’ of mine.” “ And we never got the potatoes dug after all !’’ said Mrs Mavne. with a little hysterical laugh. “ I had set my heart on getting them all out'of the ground before dinner. Such a lovely crop, Will, and all blight-free. Seven bags at least in that tiny patch, and I grew them all myself.” I noticed how fine they were—we will all lend a hand by and by—we can’t afford to waste the results of vour hard work.” “ I wouldn't care much now !’’ said Ethel Mayne recklessly. “Nothing worries me any longer— not even the doctor. It isn't only the potatoes, you see,—bui. everything—the whole of my life is blight-free again at last.’ “ Who did it, mum?” asked Elise in a puzzled tone. “ Who did that to your life Oh—just a travelling man!” replied her mother radiantly. “ Come in to dinner, honey. Yon wouldn't understand how much I owe to ‘the man with the bluey' !”