DAY OF A DEAD-BEAT

Taranaki Daily News, 26 April 1930, Page 17 (Supplement)

DAY OF A DEAD-BEAT

SAMUEL TOZER’S DECEIT

(By.

“The Swagger.”)

Having come into money Mr. Samuel Tozer decided, that his best course, would be to seek-a meal, for he had not. enjoyed one for two days—that is, if maid extract is not regarded as a meal. So he selected a likely looking house on the sunny side of the street, rang the bell, assumed his most professional attitude, and waited.

Mr. Tozer accounted himself extremely fortunate. It was not every day he had had money left to him by a nian accosted on the street. He fingered, the -shilling reposing snugly in the pocket of his tattered trousers. His meditation was interrupted by the open? iiig of the door. “Well,” said a militant voice, and that “well” seemed to be “I’ve seen your sort before” in another language. But if she had hoped to strike terror into the heart 7 of the caller she was sadly mistaken. Sam was much too old & campaigner to be thrown • off his balance so easily.

“I was wondering,” he said, “if you could give a poor man a little work to do to earn a crust.” He lingered lovingly on the word “little.” “I have not eaten for five days, and I have my old mother to keep.” Sam was at least seventy. * '

A slight softening of the hard face at .the door‘gave Sam encouragement and he quickly followed up his advantage. He; pojired out a heartrending tale of woe. It was one thing, he said, to be unemployed and another to be offered work. Secretly he. thought there was nd comparison between the two estates, but hc iiobly continued with his petition and at last the good woman yielded. he could mow the lawn, but first he simply must have something to eat. , .

Muvmui’ino something about hating to accept hospitality that he had not yet earned he followed the good lady to. the kitchen and was soon lost in the unspeakable joy of a hearty meat Whatever else he was or was not ; Sam’s gastronomical proclivities were sublime, lie. had the happy knack of eating with obviotusly unalloyed pleasure and, in. addition, with an eye to the future. Ho was the compleat eater, •• ...

Sam pushed, back his empty, plate;jilted his chair back on its hind legs'-and looked like making an announcement. ,“D’you know,” he said, “I was once au aristocrat,” . The good woman wsis impressed. AU the time she had thpught now superior the old man would look had ijio worn different clothes, ,'y She cdtiMfSee him now with a frock coafc ttiid d tall hat. Even hie hands were uiiscatrcd and gentlemanly; they had never known the deteriorating influence of degrading hard work.

“Yes,” continued Sam, “an. aristocrat I was.” He wad terribly conscious that the afternoon was yet young and that the lawn was still unmown. “Tell me all about it,” said the woman ' encouragingly. Despite her fierce expression she was not averse to a littl® romancing under the influence of thia kindly oTd gentleman. . “Well;” said Sam, “I was once not unknown in the Royal household. Rich ■ I was, but I gave most of my riches to • the pob'r until sometimes I was almost hungry myself.” The woman pressed more food upon him. “In fact I was- a • favourite with. Royalty,” continued. Sam, warming to . Jus. ; subject. - “Young, and handsome I • . was,. and. more than- once** the■- princess smiled ’ upon inc. I ■■ I became hopeful for the future. Frequently I met Iter in. the rose, garden and always she., had a kindly word for me. More beautiful than any. rose was she, and, I marvelled /that her many suitors • were alt rejected.” • Glancing apprehensively at the*, clock .Sam thought furiously but hia nervousness /was. unnecessary; his companion wary lost in a day . dream. ; “Ono balmy spring morning,” he continued, “she came tripping • gaily, down the garden all alone. She. must have known she would .find: mo there, for she camo straight to ..my. favourite -rbsebed and paused, expectantly.”. ’ Saai paused-t00,,--for the-kitchen-/clock ■- busily-chimed a quarter to 4ix. He rpao and. picked up his. hat, but the woman implored him to. continue his story, gidliiiw towards the door lie hurried on: “She was a picture, standing there among, the roses. I , held --’'my breath; Had the-hour*-I had been longing for - came at last? Should I speak now? Before I could summon. the courage she spoke. (Sam was now on t thedoor--step). ‘Tozer,’ she said; ‘sometimes I wish I were a gardener too.’-” / - Sam fled down the garden path and with-his hand on the gate he paused.The woman’s-face was purple in patches. “What about my lawn!” she screamed, • advancing menacingly towards the gato. “Too late to start now,” said Slilfrtover his shoulder as he hurried down tltG .street.

He arrived at the corner house just as 1 the clock commenced to chime for six o’clock. The doors, happily, closed behind instead of in front of him and he breasted the bar with the light of anticipation/in Us eye. He found his shilling and ordered a pint. When he put the empty tankard down he found it standing beside another, whose owner lounged at his elbow. The lounger looked inoffensive and sympathetic so Sam quickly became friendly. “Just met the softest picking I ever knew,” to fill in the blank before the invitation., “Lives in the old hdqlc just up the road. Wonderful generoite*, woman that, but a she-cat when roused. And her face—friend,” ea-); thused Sam, “a woman with a face like'/ that should be compelled to walk backwards. Beat her hollow, I did.”

“Thank heaven,” replied the lounger with some show of interest. Beat her did you? Break any bones?” “Bless you,”- replied Sam,” break bones no. * I beat her for a feed. I appealed to her heart and was .surprised, to find she had one,' tho ugly ol< heap.” . - ' “Might have known it,” eaid tin lounger 'despondently, • “might' have, known it. Ain’t a man living that could beat her.” “Meaning?” inquired Saia. “Xhe'u my missus”