"S.O.N.N.Y."

New Zealand Illustrated Magazine, Volume 1, Issue 8, 1 May 1900, Page 591

"5.0.N.N.Y."

By E. C. J. Hakding

Illustrated hy Frances Hod (/kins

(^ /O'OME, cheer up, old woman ! It's ihc I® , only thing to be done. Sonny will look after you while I'm away." " What's that, dad ? " asked Sonny, as he came in, plaiting a stock-whip. Dick Lorten put his rough, brown hands on the boy's shoulders, and said : " See, Sonny, we are only working a dead horse here, what with the mortgage and one thing and another, I'm going up to Auckland to see if I can get work on the gumfields there. I'll liave to tramp it, of course. You must manage to rub along here by yourselves for a bit till I've got work, and a home to bring you to. Now promise me you'll look after your mother, and do your best for her and the kid ! " Sonny raised his head, and looked his father squarely in the face. " All right, dad," he answered, " I promise I'll stand by them, so don't fret yer eyelids on that score ! Yer can trust me, can't yer ? " Dick Lorten clapped him on the back, and then shook hands. " Yes, I can, Sonny," he said. Sonny, who had seemed a little embarressed by the hand-shaking, grinned, and returned to his stock-whip. He was not a handsome boy, except, perhaps, to his mother. Possibly she saw some beauty in his bullet head, broad, turned up nose, large mouth, eyes whose lashes and brows were so colourless as to be hardly discernible, and yellowish white hair. Anyhow it was a beauty entirely hidden from au impartial observer. Add to his other charms, very long, thin legs and arms, and a

voice which apparently cumi: from his boots, though occasionally it, soared no high that, it seemed to be on the point of leaving him altogether ; remember that he always wore his father's old clothes — very old they were, too, when they reached him — and you will have a fairly good idea of Sonny'.s general appearance, Of course he had not been christened Sonny. He had some other name, doubtless, only nobody seemed to know it. As to his age, in years he numbored twelve, but in appearance, conversation, and knowledge of the world, ho might have been anything from fifty downwards.

Dick Lorten, when ho trudged away with his swag on his back, had entire confidence in Sonny's power of managing things. True, there was not much management required. Ten cows to be milked, night and morning, and the milk taken to the factory, that constituted the chief work. But what with other jobs and his school, Sonny's time was pretty well occupied. Education was compulsory, otherwise he would not have troubled himself about it. He was only in the second standard, with not — ■> chance of over passing out of it. c /er, to school ho had to go, or else ore would have been fines to pay, aud^ money was too scarce for that. Not that thritj was anything new. Often and often had the Lortens been — well, not starving, our politicans tell us that is impossible in New Zealand, but next door to it. Sonny know very well what it was to get up from a meal feeling as though, he* had just sat down. It is bad enough to be hungry

and do nothing, it is worse to work and be hungry at the same time. The latter was Sonny's case pretty often. He had to be up before five in the morning to milk the cows, and take the milk to the factory before nine o'clock, and do other jobs as well. Then off to school, from which he returned about three in the afternoon. It was time to get the cows in again as soon as he had chopped the wood, and drawn some water. After milking, tea, after tea, a weary scramble through lessons, and then he was fit for nothing but bod. However, he comforted himself with the thought: " It's only for a time. Dad's sure] to get work, sooner or

later, and then we'll all clear out of this beastly hole ! " But dad seemed a long time coming, and winter began to put in. an unwelcome appearance. Now to sit out in the pouring rain milking, with uo shelter, for more than an hour, is certainly not a very pleasant occupation. Yet Sonny had to do it, again and again, for a cow shed was an unknown luxury on their little section. With an old saok over his head and shoulders, in lieu of an oilskin, he was out in ajl weathers, for cows have to be milked, whatever happens. It was little

wonder that Sonny developed first a cold, and then a cough. But this was such a natural and everyday occureace that no notice was taken of it, except that Mrs. Lorten put a large mustard poultice on him one night, which took all the skin off his poor chest. She also administered daily a huge tablespoonful of home-made cough mixture, a peculiarly sickening medicine which Sonny took patiently for a time, and then rebelled. " I won't take another drop," he declared. " Yer can dose the kid if yer must dose some one ! My cough'll go if yer leave it alone." So the days passed by, and at length there came a letter from Dick Lorten, saying he had got some work, and though the wages wore not very good, there was a chance of their improving. Tins piece of news roused Sonny from the apathy into which he was tilling. Perhaps, after nil, there woulil in time be an end to the eternal round of cow-spanking, school, and getting 1 up when he didn't want to. All thess tilings, which lie had once accepted as a mere matter of coarse, were somehow very wearisome to him now. Perhaps it was because his head was always aching, and often every bone in his body as well. His cough had not gone, although it had certainly been let alone, and his arms and legs seemed louger than ever. But after dad's letter, Sonny roused up a bit, and his work appeared r a little less burdensome. Then Dick wrote again, saying he "had now a prospect of steady work and good wages,, so he was coming back to sell the place and take them all up to Auckland. Sonny's delight was- unbounded, though his only remark was : " A thunderin' good job ! The sooner we clear out of this hole the better ! " A long and dismal week followed, with almost incessant rain. Sonny generally got wet through in the morning, and remained more or less so all day. All his old aches and pains returned with redoubled force. Each day seemed longer in passing than the preceding one. But still he stuck bravely to his post; He would not give in till dad came

home, and that would beon Saturday evening. It was Friday morning now. Only two more days to go through. He tried hard to appear as well as usual, so that his mother should not worry about him. He went to school, though he hardly knew what he was

doing, and got several catlings for what the master called his "stupidity." " What's the matter, Sonny ? You seem mighty quiet," temarked Mrs. Lorten, when the boy came home, and instead of hnnting for something to eat, flung himself wearily

into a chair.

" Oh, I'm all right ! " ho answorod ; tlion, wishing to appear in his natural spirits, ho pulled the kid's hair till she howled, tried to eat a cold boiled potato, and wont out to fetch the cows in with as much shouting and swearing as he could manage.

How glad he was when night came, though his bed seemed harder than ever.

The next morn iug, when Sonny opened his hot, aching eyes, to get up seemed almost an impossibility. It wag only just daylight, with a cold, misty drizzlo' of rain falling. Even a person in perfect health would have

been disinclined to turn out and start milking. To poor Sonny the thought of the long day which stretched before him was awful. But it was no use thinking. He must hold out for this one day more. To-morrow he would give in. So he rolled out of bed, but for a few minutes he could hardly stand. His head seemed spinning round, and his legs felt so weak and funny. However, he recovered himself, dressed, and went out. Poor, ignorant, neglected, uncouth little creature though he was, he had the courage and endurance of men twice his age, from whom much is expected. It was sheer pluck and a dogged determination not to break down, that pulled him through the day. With a weariness that he had never known before, he slowly milked the last cow at night. When the milking was finished, then all his work was over. With a long-drawn sigh he rose from his stool, looked around him in a puzzled, bewildered way, swayed slowly forward, and fell in a confused heap on the ground. There Dick Lorten found him when he arrived a quarter of an' hour later. " Why, Sonny," he exclaimed, as ho lifted the boy up, " what's the matter with you. ? " Sonny raised his head, and looked at Dick with a faint shadow of his old grin. " All right, dad," he said, in a choking, gasping way, " I've— kept— my promise! Iv e — done — the — best ,'' his voice died away, and he would have fallen again had not Dick picked, him up in his arms and carried him off to the house. ##■#*# Sonny's work was finished at last. He lay in his bed, tossing restlessly, taking no uotice of anyone, but murmuring to himself incessantly in a voice scarcely above a whisper, The doctor, whom Dick went for on the Sunday, after a very brief examination oi his patient, turned sharply to Mrs. Lorten. "You should have taken more cure of the

boy, ma'am. Ho ought to have been in bed days ago. It's too late now ! " " What do you mean, doctor ? " cried the poor woman. " I never' thought there was anything wrong with Sonny. He did not complain." " Complain or not, the boy is dying now, and that's all about it! " returned the doctor, unfeelingly, then, softening a little as he saw the woman turn very white, and cover her face with her trembling hands, he added : " There, there, 1 11 do my best ! Perhaps he'll come round after all." As the day wore on, Sonny grew gradually quieter, and at length lay still with closed eyes. Mrs. Lorten thought he was asleep, but just as the setting sun sent a golden bar through the window at the foot of his bed, he suddenly opened his eyes and sat up. "It'smilkhY time," he said, weakly, "I must fetch the cows ! " " Lie still, Sonny," whispered his mother. " Dad's come home. He'll do it." The boy lay back <m his pillow, gasping for breath. Presently he said : " Where's dad ? " " Here," answered Dick, coming in at that minute. "Well, iSoiiny," he continued, "how are you gittia' along? You'll soon be all right again now, won't you ? " "You bet," but Sonny's voice was very faint. Dick coughed once or twice before he spoke again. " You kept yer promise like a brick, Sonny ; but you was always a man of yer word." A look of pleasure shone in the boy's eyes, and he seemed about to speak. Then a troubled, anxious expression came over his face, he raised his hands feebly as if to ward off something. "What is it?" he murmured, half fearfully, " what is it ?" What was it ? It was Death — Death which gently led poor tired Sonny into a land where he was doubtless given another and a better chance of beiug what Nature had intended him to be— a happy, careless boy !