The Prince's Compliments

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLVIII, Issue 7, 14 August 1912, Page 42

The Prince's Compliments

By

THE prime’s big scarlet automobile stopped before ‘Matthew ißlake’s door-yard. Matthew Blake was mending a lobeteripot at the side of the house near the barn. Mr Strafford, who was already known in town as the Prince’s adviser and w' notary, sat in the ear, apparently waiting. The chauffeur sounded his horn, Matthew Blake glanced up, looked with apparent interest at the ear and its occupants, and then continued to hammer at the lobster-pot. Mr Strafford’s rosy English complexion shaded to a deeper red. With dignity he rose in the car, with dignity he descended from it, ami with dignity he walked across the yard to the over-busy fisherman. "Er I wish you good afternoon, Mr Blake,” he began, still with dignity. "I p-huh noon,” responded Matthew, Ihe first syllables being tangled in a mouthfitl of nails. Mr Strafford drew back his shoulders, ami with a full breath began: "His Royal Highness presents his comptinpe.nfM. and Matthew’s mouthful of nails cascaded to the grass. "Mr Strafford, I told you Hie day before yesterday I don’t want no more o’ your Prime’s compliments! He’s been sendin’ ’em for two weeks now, an’ if he keeps up Mendin’ ’em all sumtner, he won’t get that gate open!’ Matthew picked up a fresh lath and Heley.'ed a nail from the grass. “But, Mr Blake, if you would lie. reasonable- ” “ Rease ’able! 1 'been jest as reasonable as Hie Royal High mightiness I D’ye call it reasrxuable to take advantage of a man when ,'te's out flshin,’ by openin’ a gate in his fence an’ niakin’ a thoroughfare aerost bis property, without so much as a liy-y\'ur-leave? I don’t.” “But, I told yov, Mr Blake, that it was with the intention of recompensing you in full. By using the short cut to the big house we save half a mile ” “Five eights,” amended Matthew. ’‘And in England—— ” “Yes,” broke in Matthev, ; “you said the other day that in Elkland the ■country folks’ll be tickled ter death ter have a real live prince traipun’ over their Jami. Mebbe in England jou can use a .man’s property first an’ then ask him about it afterwards. 1 ain't sayin’ you can’t. But you can’t in this country—leastwise, not in this section So, if you made a mistake on acconut o’ your brillgill’ up. I’m sorry, 'but you 11 have to go the long wav round this summer you an’ the Prince. By Uio way. I ain’t, seen His Royal Highmigh-J--iness yet. Didn’t,know but he'd com® round himself to talk gate.” Mr Strafford drew himself up. "4 am in charge- sole charge—of His Royal Highness’ business affairs here.” Ke "said stiffly. •’■Oh. I ain’t kickin’!” Matthew cheerful!;/ assured him. “<>'uess I can stand .if, if the Prime ein. Now; ef you don’t, mrnd. I’ll go on with -my work. This here trap — Mr Strafford first,bit his , lips and the’rt «vt them firmly. ".My good man ” he began; Matthew • lit him short : ' Du>fl you i .ill me 'good man!’ That's ivmrtf'-rt' His I’oy.il Jfjghmig'itiwess’s eompliiumits.” Mr Saratloid swallowed the rest of •his wiiton e and began again: ’ “We ha-v'e been \ ery pat rent, Mr Blake but I am sorry lb see you force us to h.ir-lu r me.isurcs. I hive bocal ill eonsi.l, lion h...501i. if.nis over. .in your loi’n. and I flitd that your’ little property here was oirne .u portion of the great estate we have just ‘bought for Ihe I‘i'iine?’. ."Siilin.” agreed Matthew . ' "My jjrandfithor bought, it before .the summer visitors was die lined of; He WouM’i’t fake the pastures, 'cause they wouldn't oven graze sheep in them day s.”

FREEMAN PUTNEY.

•’Exactly. And iu>w we find, Mr Blake that there is a Haw in your title?’ Matthew’s uplifted hammer enne down upon its nail with a gentle tap. 'then it slipped slowly from 'his hand to the grass. “A Haw in my title!” Mr Strafford permitted himself a grim smile. “A Haw, Mr Blake. A slight one, T. admit, but, onr solicitors assure us, amply siiilicient to afford grounds for a lawsuit.” “A lawsuit! T don’t jest follow *’ Mr Strafford's countenance became stern. “We shall begin suit to eject you at once.” “Eject me! Out o’ this place that my father an’ grandfather—” Matthew laughed. “Mr Strafford, they ain't a jury—they ain’t twelve men in this country that you rould get together to give you a verdict.” “Maybe not, Mr Blake. But once started, we shall exhaust every measure —carry it to the highest courts. It will cost yon thousands of dollars, and, I fancy will consume your place even if you win your ease. You’ll Jose either way, Mr Blake, and the alternative is so simple!”

'‘You this is all a threat unless I open the gate?*’ “If you put it that way.” “Mr Htrafford, I ought to Jam you over the head with this hammer, an’ then git a belayin’-pin an’ go up an’ call •va the Prince. But I got a wife in the house, an’—Mr Strafford, did you ever beaj o’ the battle o’ Bunker Hill*?’’ “I fancy iso. Here in America, was it not' “It was. 1 guess our folks like .ter remember it better'n yourn. My. ancestors fought at Bunker Hill. Now the British won Bunker Hill, Mr Strafford, hut by the time they raptured it they was an awful mess, o’ British killed an* wounded. You go ahead with your lawsuit, Mr Strafford!” But, as the scarb t <ar whirred away, Matthew’s defiant head drooped, and be walked toward I he barn with dragging steps, his lobster-pot in one hand and his hammer swinging listlessly in the other. Dropping the lobster-pot on 'the barn floor he stepped into Iris shed work drop to put away, the hammer. There, seated upon an upturned drawl-tub, was a strafige small boy in a blue sailor-suit. Tn 'Matthew’s heart., was a tender spot that even now sometimes quivered for the “little feller,” he and his wife had laid away a. good many years Indore. This all boy’s black hair was brush-

ed straight, ami dose to his round head; his blaek, almond-shaped eyes seemed somehow a tri lie cross-fixed; his nose was broad and Hat; his skin was yellow; and, as he turned to the fisherman, his thick lips parted in a friendly but somewhat sober smile. “Hello, Bub!” greeted Matthew". “You look like a brother to the youngster that used to pester me last summer. His pa was cook up ter the big place. 1 s’spose your pa cooks for His Royal High mightiness up yonder. Jha-t so?” ‘'The child turimd a grave, uncomprehending stare. “1 am Ch.uen Hock,” he said in curiously,precise English. “Who are you, and what this little thing of wood with the string around it?” “I'm Mr Blake—most folks call me Matthew’. An’ that contraption is a seine-needle.” “1 will cal’l you Matthew. And for what use is the contraption seineneedle?” asked the lx>y. “Jest svine-meedle. It’s to mend nets. He picked up a hit of seine from the floor and tleftly added! a couple of nushes to it, Churn watching gravely and intently. “Why is the blue, ship on your arm, ami what is the little blue worm with horns?” “BFue worm?” echoed Matthew, looking at his forearm with new’ interest. “Oh, that's an anclror with chain ami cable. No, it didn't grow; it was painted there. Ah anchor? Why, that's a big hook to hold a vessel fast to bottom. No, a vessel is a ship—a big boat. No, all American people don’t have them on their- arms. Say, don’t you think you’d better run home and play?” “I. like better this place,'? returned the child. “There is much here that I

do not know. See! I have made to bleed my linger with the little sharp pin. ami it will not come out.” He had picked up a fish-hook from 4 he bench, and the sharp point pimetrated his thumb to the barb. Matthew dieftly extracted it. “Put it in your mouth till it stops bleedin’,” he advised. “An’ next time ye’ll* know better’ll to mess with other folks’ tackle. It don’t pay to monkey wdth a sharp cod-hook.” The hoy, his thumb in his month, was staring gravely. ' “Why,” he demanded’ abruptly, “do you wash only the lbw part of your face? And for what iff. the cod-hook?” Matthew, with nn almost guilty expression, swept his hand over his chin. Then he grinned. “I wear a beardi in winter-time, Bub. Jest shaved it off a few days ago. That's, why my jaw ain’t tanned like the rest. The hook ? Oh, that's to catch lish with.” “’l'he ffsh-eaich!” echotsl the la»y, enlightened. “I have once seen the fishcatch in my country. But then* it is with a. net. When do you make tisheatcli ?” “Every day, if it ain’t too foul. But I catch \m with hooks—rhooks like this on a long I’ino. See?” The boy nodded. “I will go with you

to-morrow and help you make the flabcatch,” ho announced. Afatthew laughed. “Why; Bub, J’m up an' away to work long before you get them eyes o' yourn open. Four o’clock I start to-morrow Your folks wouldn’t hear to it. Yow see, Jgo out in a boat—that sloop tieS up at the wharf there—the Emma J. Miles outside the P'int 1 go, an’ sometimes the sea's so rough ye wouldn’t know whether you was wearin’ your, boots on your feet or on your elbows. No, you stay home an’ help your pa cook, an’ mebbe some day, when you’re oMer, Fl I take you out with me/’ The youngster’s grave eyes were fixed on the fisherman’s face, but he gave no sign that lie understood the postponement of his proffered assistant. “For what,” he demanded! suddenly, "is your first ear of different colour Ilian your second ear?” Matthew rubbed the “first” ear. “It was frostbit, ” he explained patiently. “Is there anything else about me ye want to know?” “L wish to know many things,” returned the boy gravely, “but I cannot think of all now. For what do you put red on your sbo'o. and why to you wear that shirt. instead of shining white shirt like J\|r. Stratford?” “J hem shots! oh, salt water turns 'em that colour. An’ I’di look nice fishin’ in a biled shirt wouldn’t I?” “1 do not know, ’ replied CJiuen. “Mow can I tell when | have not seen you? Ami what it a bile shirt?” “■‘Bub.'’ returned Matthew. “it’s: gettin’ ’most snpper-time, an’ f guess you bettei' lay your course home’ard, or your pa'll bo lookin’ for ye with the rollin -pin. \on can come again some day when ye think o’ sulhin’ else ye’d like to know. Good-by!” He watched the blue-clad figure trotting stunlily over the fields up towards the big house, and then turned again to his work. 'l'hc next morning’s sue. was well risen over the Emma J., anchored far outside Sunrise Point, and a dozen goodsized cod and pollack were already Happing about Matthew’s feet, when a sound in the door of the little cuddy caused him tn turn quickly from his work. “For what,” demanded a small voice, "is the square blue part on the back of your trousers which are black?” Matthew stared, wide-eyed; then closed his mouth under the effort of trying to obtain a view of his own hips. “Oh,” he exclaimed. “1 didn't jest get your drift. That's a patch, an’ ma she made it out o’ what was handy. Say, how in breathin’ Peter did you get here ?” J J. have conic to .help you make the fish-catch.” “Did your folks know it?” “I have not said it to them. When three o'clock, ) rise from the lied and made escape .from window. It was dark under the tress, but there was moon’s light by the wharf. I have hidden in the' hole beyond, when you were eating some breakfast. But I am now hungry also, arid 1 desire to make the fish-catch.” “VVell!” ejaculated Matthew. "Talk o’ kids with nerve! Tliey's older ones than you wouldn’t have took that walk at three in the mornin’. An’ you expect meter feed ye, too!” He. picked up a rm-k-cod from the planks, rapped it quiet with the butt of a gatF. cleaned it, and then plunged into the cuddy. In a few; minutes Clinen Hock was stuffing himself with fried fish in corn-meal. Matthew himself took a few bites. “Not that I'm hungry, hnt je-t to bo sociable,” ho explained. "Your folks'll be worried about yon, air’ I ought to take ye. right home; but I've got my day's livin’ to make, so we’ll get trip fust. Yes, you can have a line an’ catch fish, now you’re here.” A little later they were fishing, for a. wonder in silence, Matthew busy with his work and Clinen Hock intent on his new amusement. Several times the boy's bait was taken, but he did not ,siiceeid in bringing aboard a fish. ‘"You'll learn,” Matthew' told him. “Jest kop on til' ye git the knaek.” He looked at the youngster a little uneasily. The day was ealm, but there was the motion of the open sea, and the little sloop described a considerable are as each broad roller raised and then shook her off. "Youngster ain't senirt o’ nothin’,” he murmured. “Fust thing I know, the Kimna. J. she'll pitch sudden an’ he’ll go overboard.”

' He disappeared into the little house, and came back, with a string of douglmut-sbaped cruk.s, the flouts used for seines, and which many a. Hardyport boy uses for a life-preserver while learning to swim. “Gobi’ to tie these corks on Ip ye, Bub,” lie remarked from the door. ‘'Hello! tint one? .Hang on! I’ll 'help ye! No—let go of him! Let—go! f<et—hell! lie's over'”

Clinging like--a desperate lit tie monkey to the line, which he had hooked some big fish, Chuen Hock had gone over the side. After him like a Hash. Matthew •Hung the string mf vorks; and the next anstant, his coat and vest thrown off, the had plunged after the youngster. •It was not easy facing the sweep of those heavy waves, and Matthew’s arms 'were -not as strong as they had been ■once. After what seemed like long min■ntes, but was probably less than one, he grasped a fold of blue blouse, and the aiext instant clutched the string of corks. After that, getting ’back to the Emma J. was a comparatively - sure task, though a slow one. Chuen did not lose consciousness. hi the water Matthew had discovered that the boy knew something about. swimming; and the knowledge, while it was Slot suflivient to keep him up in such a sea, -did prevent his struggling or filling his >lungs with waler. ‘•Well’” exclaimed Matthew.. ‘‘You’re a pretty fisherman, you are! Look like a drowned rat! \\ hy did ye fall overboard?” “I am sorry,”, returned the boy. “I think I had a big-fish catch. But it pulled the line away and l am now wet! M’hy did you. wear a hat in the water?” lie was shivering in his dripping clothes. •‘Lircky I got some old duds aboard!” grumbled Matthew. 'Be.iu.’s they were built for me. I guess they won’t, just lit you. but they’ll keep ye warm. Aa’ here’s some liquor in a. bottle, an* the galley stove’s still hoi. flood enough! iNow off with them clothes, quick! Au’ take a swaller o’ this. It’s bad stuff jwhen ye don’t need it, but f guess you need a little now.” It was nearly noon when the Emma J. reached the little wharf in front of Matthew' Blake’s cottage. *‘l ginerally git in earlier’n this,” said Matthew. ‘‘But what with runnin’ a floatin’ rest’rant an’ you tumblin’ overboard, 1 hoy’s some excuse to-day for bein’ late.” He chuckled as 'he looked at the grave youngster curled up in the adorn. ”1 guess we’ll git ashore, ez ’tis before ye outgrow them pants. All 1 hope is, ye ain’t caught cold so ye’ll he Bick.” - • "1 «m How warm from the sun. thank you,” returned Chuen. “When 1 was in the water I was cold from the wetness; but the bottle medicine was very good, thank you. Will you get much money

from the ’fish-catch? Why do you let •the little cloth sail down in front, and for what reason did the 'Hairs wear off the 1-ittle pl ax e on the back of your head ?’* But Matthew engaged in bringing the sloop 'up* to her 'mooring place, was to*o busy to explain. As soon as they were tied up he gathered (.‘linen's sift all clothes into a still damp bundle.

“I. guess. Bub. you'll have keep on them pants till ye git Ihh)w\ ;Yer shoes itoo shrunk ‘ter Avear. fsb I’ll tie; the whole kit up, an’ you can lug ’em’along with ye. ’T. won’t hurt ye ter run across the fields bare foot for' once, a n'_ 1 ’guesvs you've been off so long your ‘folks'll *be so glad ter see you mebbe you won’t git mudh of a lacin’ after all.” The boy took the damp bundle and gravely followed .Matthew- from the wharf across the wooden' planking to the shore. The tiny body was ridiculously lost in the folds, of Matthew's great shirt and baggy trousers; but the short figure moved with so inwc'l'i .dignity in spite of the'Tenderness of tin? bar--feet, that ’Matthew's smile of amusement turned into a chuckle of admiration. Toward them, along the shore road, dashed a patch of scarlet, blurred in a whirl of dust. “(Here-comes the Prince’s automobile.” exclaimed Matthew, and shouted, waving bis aims. ‘•'Ther feller Strafford he's in it,” he said, “I dunno whether it’s against the rules o’ the houso for the cook’s young one to ride in His High might iness's automobile, but if he’ll take ye in it'll save you walkin’ •home. Hi, there! Hold hard!” They reached the road just as the speeding car swerved to a cdop. Mr. Strafford. 'his fave less ruddy than usual, was instantly on his feet and oul.

wonder ami relief pictured on his feai. u res. “I have been making the flail-catch with Matthew,” explained the boy: gnavelyv dCe (dropped. |his {bundle of clothes and. shoes where «he stood, and put out a amall hand. “Good-bye. -Matthew. I will come other day and help you make another fisfiTatch. And 1 will not fall—fall over the board.**

“Gocxt day.” returned Matthew gravely. “An* say, Mr. Strafford, you tell .his pa not tu larrup him. He> plucky young, one, that kid-dud in the boat in the night, an* didn't come oul till I was fishin’. Felt overboard an’ never whimpered. Look out. Bub. you've dropped your dunnage.” But the boy. unheeding, had stepped into the automobile, and it was the dignified Air. Strafford who painfully stooping. gathered up the armful of wet Rothes. Then he, too, took bis seat, Smd with a wave of the boy’s hand, the machine was off toward the big house. But Matthew had not trudged a dozen steps in the opposite direction when a shout halted him. The motor-car had stopped and was waiting, and Mr. Straf ford, again on the ground, was hurrying after the fisherman as fast as his bulk and dignity would permit. ' His Royal 'Highness presents his (compliments ■he began.. 'Matthew interrupted: ‘’Didn’t I tell you I didn’t want n» more of His i|{oyal ‘Highmightiiiess’s com pliments?” •Mr. Strafford looked bewildered. “But, sir. he has taken quite a fancy •to you-—quite, sir.” Then he added, iis if to mollify the fisherman: “I think there will be no more legal nicasiires, '.Mr. Blake. We could never sanction •them, since the boy says you saved him from drowning.” yAVhat?” exclaimed Matthew. ”f didn’t suppose a Prince would care what happened to a Chinese cook’d young one. Your Prince is more of a man than I thought.'* Mr. Strafford was evidently puzzled. “'Cook’s young one’!” he exclaimed. “Our cook is French—he is unmarried. Is it- possible that you did not know”— •he nodded 'toward the automo'bile —* “the Prince?” ’ Prince? I thought your Prince was ■English! The boy? He said his name wa s Ch non l ltvck!” “He is the Prince He is to be educated in America, in charge of the Legation of‘bis country at Washington; and I tarn his English tutor and immediate guardian. Wc took this seashore for his health this summer. He is not Chinese, although an Asiatic, Mr. Blake, and he will one day rule over a country that is larger than your■-New England. His fuller name is 'Prince Lalor ('linen Hock Chalamagoncorn.’’ “Crai-kv!” exclaimed .Matthew •*!•. that all!” “No.Tsir. not ail. but Ml wo generally use. And as I was saying, -dr. His Koval 'll iglmess ” “Go ahead!” resigned Matthew'. “His Hoy al Highness presents his compliments and wishes to know why youf suspenders bdhind are attached with, strings instead of buttons?’’ “You tell''him,” [returned Matthew, ‘‘that the buttons busted and 1 used a bit of marline. You’re welcome, sir. I knew' something was on his mind. An' you tell His Boyal—you tell Bub that I'll have that gate open again inside of fifteen minutes.”