FROM AN INKWELL

Southland Times, Issue 20172, 7 May 1927, Page 13 (Supplement)

FROM AN INKWELL

v.—ADOLESCENCE

(By

"Brunnhilde.”

The farm was caught in the whirl of progress, and was expanding beyond all recognition. Every morning before school Charlie drove the milk to the factory which had sprung up two miles from the farm. He had to be up at four o’clock, and Jake and Liza and he milked four cows each. He took his lunch to school, and at night Liza and he managed the cows between them. Saturdays and Sundays made no difference, except that he took more of the work off Jake’s hands, and they rose at the same time. Once he fell asleep over his sums in the middle of the morning; but after the clout by which the teacher wakened him, he did not let that happen again. ■ At shearing time the boy was kept home | from school to help. A neighbour from three 1 miles off also came over, and sometimes ! his son, a hulking youth of fifteen or six- ! teen, with him. who bragged to Charlie of i his “tarts” and told him stories of quesj tionable virtue. These made him wince, but ' when one of them involved a girl in his I class at school, he struck out, punching j the other’s jaw. Although the fight be- [ came painfully uneven, so that Charlie, 1 aged twelve, was more a bleeding wreck ■ than a hero with the light of justice in his 1 eyes, he had no regrets. Afterwards he took ' care to avoid the other, just as he avoided ' his mother’s questions and her troubled glances at his scars. One night he was sitting over the stove with his lessons when Jake came in from j the yard. He said he couldn’t go on with the work alone, that there was too much for one pair of hands. Charlie did not look up from his book; but Liza’s hands crept to her throat, in the silence. Jake’s feet fidgeted on the floor. “When I was thirteen I knew how to use my hands. Time you settled down, son, to make yourself useful at home.” His feet shuffling out of the room was the only sound. Charlie gazed from his book into the browning embers, and Liza watched for his movement towards her. It did not come, and her eyes continued to seek his dumbly. But. his still avoided hers, and only his fingers tugging restlessly at the broken flesh about his thumb-nail showed that he was awake. “Don’t. You're making it bleed,” she said, and went out to Jake. “Better let him slay till the end of the year. He’ll get his proficiency. Somebody else will be glad of fhe work.” Their eyes met. across the milk cans. She stood like an animal at bay, forgetful that she was Liza, and he was Jake. Her eyes held suffering, and they were pleading with him. His showed merely hurt, and she wondered what the blind could see. But she put her hand on his shoulder and stroked his cheek with the other. “Our son must have his chance,” she said, her smile still pleading with him. As he put her hands from him and turned to the door, her face showed pale and drawn. MHien she. was alone, she sank on her knees, staring ahead. The candle flickered in the draught, throwing vague shadows twisting on the wall. She had seen his eyes. Twice before they had looked at her like that, in the months when Charlie was being born. No more was said about Charlie’s staying at home, only Jake rose earlier than ever and stayed out later. The strain was beginning to tell on him, and he did not eat. as much. At the end of the year Charlie got his proficiency, and was dux of the school. At the break-up ceremony, which Liza attended, the teacher said he had a great, future before him, and urged the smaller boys to follow his example of industry. Afterwards he stopped a moment here and there amongst the parents. He asked Liza if they had decided what. Charlie was going to do. She replied vaguely that they hadn’t, and the matter was left there. Walking home, the boy was unusually silent, and Liza could think of nothing to say. But when they came within sight of their land he seemed to shake off the awkward silence with a perceptible movement of his shoulders, and after that he laughed and chatted without ceasing. Liza wondered why she felt uneasy. Jake was about a mile from the house, shearing. The boy ran to him with his prize

—it, was Stevenson’s “Coral Island”—and thrust it. into his hand. “I’m yours now, Dad,” he said. “What will I do first?” And all the summer holidays were like that, with the boy devoting himself to Jake, and working seventeen or eighteen hours daily. Jake picked up in health and his pride in his son was like a tonic to his vitality. Before, he was the one who listened while Charlie prattled. Now he was the instructor, advising, planning, pointing out; and the boy was an apt. pupil. The farm flourished; and only the hurt in Liza’s eyes became daily darker. She knew that the boy was avoiding her, and the knowledge that he was right added to her misery.

The tables were turned, anti Liza the mother, who had fed the boy from her breasts, who had made her dreams and fancies his, who had given him all that was in her, and had deliberately toiled that he should go on, leaving her far behind— Liza the mother had been left in her kitchen mourning; and Jake, who could neither read nor write, had their son on the soil with him, breaking down what had taken her fourteen years to achieve. And Charlie, recognising his obligations to his father, blamed her for what he was, blamed her for planting the desires that were in him, and shunned her for showing him glimpses of places from which he was debarred. The hurt in her eyes grew deeper, but there was no one to see. She was grateful to them for eating, and a great, deal, of her time she spent in preparing their meals. Towards the end of January word came to them that Charlie had won a scholarship. He paled when he heard it, but catching his father’s gaze he burst into laughter, and ran out. of the room. Two days later the school teacher rode over to discuss his future. Jake and his son were about a mile and a half past the house, thinning turnips. The father said he needed him at home. Under his eye she faltered, and very suddenly she sat down on a chair and put her apron to her eyes. It was always hard on the mother, the teacher said. But Liza dried her eyes’ and said it. was not that. His father needed him and the boy was not happy. She did not think there was anything more to be done. He talked to her for a long, long time. He said it was not fair to have given him the taste for learning, if learning was to be denied him. He said it would cost them nothing to let him go to High School. The scholarship paid for his board and books. But if he stayed at home it would probably cost them a son. Liza said they were not thinking of the money. The farm had yielded much to them under Jake’s labour. She could not take his only son from him. But in the end she knew she would, and the teacher promised to arrange for his board and enrolment at the school. He told her that only two scholarships had been gained in the whole of the province. He also said his married sister would keep an eye on the boy. When Jake and Charlie came in that night their tea was not quite ready. They were very hungry, and only Charlie noticed the two bright spots on his mother's cheeks. He bit his lip at his thoughts, and for the rest of the meal kept his eyes on his plate.

When the table had been cleared, Liza called him in to dry the dishes for her. His face showed his surprise. He had not done that since school had broken up, nor had she asked him. Her eyes met his, and held them. “Your teacher was here to-day,” she said, and watched for the flush that stained his cheek. “He is arranging for board in town for you. You are to go in with him next Monday, and he will enrol you at the High School.” That was all she said, and continued washing the dishes mechanically. She took down the sand soap from the shelf and began rubbing the stains on the knives. Then she saw his face. She wiped her ' hands on her apron, and put her arms round

j him. He buried his face on her shoulder, I and his sobs tore through her body. She 1 held him closer, and pinched out the candle I light, thankful for the darkness. i Jake stood in the doorway, peering into i the dark for them. "Go away,” she said, and he went. Later she went out and told him, glad that she could not see his face. She told him they would lose hirn, anyway, and that he must have his chance. Then she stopped, because she was weeping, too. Something brushed her arm, and Jake’s hand closed over hers. “We’re going to be mighty proud of that son of ours,” he said. Then he kissed her, and Liza and Jake forgot about their son.