A LETTER TO THE KING

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXVI, Issue 13, 2 April 1908, Page 3

A LETTER TO THE KING

Passers-by" usea to stop at the low gate to look at John Quinns garden. It was, (indeed, in striking contrast to those of this slatternly neighbors. It was paekedv as Ml as it could be with flowers and vegetables. Ail through this spring and summer and' autumn the nowers made little mosaics, of color. There were fruit, apples, pears, plums, gooseberries; currants raspberries. - The vegetable beds were full all the year round. In the line wejatfoec a cajnary toung from an app.la- tree bjough • and. sang" Ms shrillest. He had for a neighbor a parlot which was the delight of the children. The little l&lhs were marked out neatly with white stones.. - At the bottom) of the garden, q,uite away from the cottage, the hens had homes and 1 enclosures of their own. There were a couple of hivies of bees in a green comer There was a summer-houses A tall mast stood on a tiny jrrass plot and ' fluttered the Union Jack. There was a pigeon cot hanging on the end gable of "the house. A garden of delighlts, and' the house was no . less delightful. RoseQudnn. was a shrewd,^thrifty, clean tidy woman, who was the envy, the dread, and yet tihe sheet anchor of her neighbors in illness or distress. She -kept her house spotlessly. When' thfe sun came in by the, south window the brass candlesticks on • the chimney-piece, the dish covers on the walls, the copr per lustre jugs on the dresser, the pots amid pans, winked again. All the plates and dishes showed clean Jaces, as did) the pictures on the wall, where sacred* personages and .saints mingled with Irish patriots an£ had tor neighbors the king and queen. In the-^place of honor above the mantel-piece was a large framed photograph of John's old ship, the- ' Knight Commander.' Below it hung Sir JoMn Fisher, out from an illustrated paper and 1 framed in a border of shells, and John's old Captain, now Admiral Seeley. Rose's grate was as brightly polished as the rest. The red^-tiled floor, newly oohred every day, was . in pleasing, contrast to the white walls. Everywhere about the room were the ingenuities of the sailor-man; as well as the wonderful things John and Ms sons had brougfolt home from foreign parts. The children of neighborhood thought it- a heavenly place. _When Rose was amiably inclined she was not averse from' "showing the shells, the ivory carvings, the sandal wood boxes, the old man and tbJs old' woman in 'the weather-house, the glass with the snow storm inside it, the instrunents of thd Crucifixion and the Cross itself miraculously sealed up in a bottle of water, the " thousand and one curiosities that were- so wonderful to the children. • ■ - - TWe neighbors 1 used to talk about Rose behind her back, asking eadhl other rhetorical questions as to what was the good of all that clearoina; and whether the . woman thought she was going to live for ever >? A special object ofi thedr ridicule was the mat outside the door, on which people had to wipe their feet befor being admitted 1 -to Rose's kitchen. They shook •their hea/ds over John and said they pitded Mm. Sure there coukitu't be any real comfort with a woman who was -always cleanung up. Widow Hagerty's opinion seemed to find general endorsement. ' It's all very well to be alane,' she had said, « but for myself- I'd like a little place that wasnjt too clane. Claneness is terrible cowld.' | • /Rose's ndigHbors dreaded kher for the sharp edge she had to 'her tongue. She was a littfte woman with rale, reddish 1 hair, and pale blue eyes which her neighbors called 'green wiiean she had) been scolding them. She had 1 been a very pnetty girl when Jiohn married her,' with that evansecent beauty of complexion which) often accompanies red hair. - When she opened out on the_. neighbors a, spark would come in the green eyfes. .She" had very little patience with .the wastrels and slatterns am on a; whom sh-j lived. "The worst of it was they couldn't do without her. She was the only one who 1 knew anything about illness, or the rear-ing of children, and she was as good in an emergency as tbe parish nurse herself. While the sickness was urgent Rose was as silent as she- was efficient. But all the time her eyes roved to and fro, taking . everything in ; and when she was free tq, speak, spoke to I'gwod purpose. She' would reduce even the most redourfcable matron to tears '; in fact she was so thoroughly feared that . she had -never yet -met thte" man or- woman, who would stanid up " to her.

' 'Twas no wonder she druv her boys away from her,' the neighbors said when they smarted under the memory of things she had said to them. Thfts, however, was quite' unfair, for Rose's menfoKk swore by her, and the other women knew" it, even when they pretended to pity them. She was the mother of four sons. Three of ■ them had followed their father in taking to the life of the sea. They were A.B's. on "-the ' Knight Commander, 1 lake their father before them. The^ fourth had not followed them only bedause his mother's love for him and his for her kept them together. They were all dear —•but Jack., the youngest— was also the dearest, and Rose could never have spared him. % ' Jack fl nd his father both worked at the rope-making factory, which was a little further up the stream by whlich the collection of cottaiges was built. But the sea had' the same fascinatkn for Jack that it had for thie other brothers. Mrs. Quinn - used to say of her boys th a t, from thie time they could toddle alone, every " wind that ruffled every pbol of water used to set them longing for the sea. > Jack never grumbled that he must be the home-keep-ing one. He worked cheerfully at the rope factory, but every moment of leisure that he had he was down with the fishermen on the shore, " out with them in their boats, sometimes with some of the young gentlemen from the" Club-House in their little yachts. The sea drew him as irresistibly as it had drawn his brothers. He was a born sailor. He had sat at his father's feet and learnt everything that old salt had to impart. The gentlemen from the Club-House knew that there was no better hand in a yacht, especially if the wind got up, than yovna; Quinn. He had refused many invitations to p,o on more or less length. ned cruises, although his eyes longed to go. His 10-ve for his mother kept him, and in time there came Ms love for Mary Kelly. Peihiips the love for Mary had always been there. Thay had s&t on- the same stool at the infant School, and even then Jack had taken Mary's part against, aggressive infants. They had gone bl&ckberrying handbillhand. They had looked for frauglians— i.e., bilberries— in autumn together,. They had. never seemed to tire of eacH other's company. What could 1 be more natural than that the affection between therm daring childhood and youth should have become love in due course ? Mary was a refined, delicately pretty_ gjirl, who looked just a little a^ove her station and had manners to suit her looks. She was a great favorite with the nuns at the convent school ; from monitor she had become a regular teacher. The nuns had taught her accomplishments. She could pUy the piano, had a smattering of FrencH, could embroider and paint a little in watercolors , she could also cook and make her oretiy frocks, but of tH:se latter things Rose Quinn took no notice. It was perhaps natural jealousy that made , Ro?e take so contemptuous a view of the- girl's accomplishments. ' She'll be like her mother before her; a streel, "only a gent(eel one,' she^ said 1 angrily to her son when he came to her with Happy confidence to tell her that Mary 'had salid yes -to him. She knew as well as any one, better indeed, for she had for some time being watching Mary with the eyes of jealousy, that Mary was a g,ood girl at home, and had dene her besh for her dragged-d o wn mother and the long family of children. She Knew perfectly w£ll that Mary had accomplished a little revolution in that cabin which hung above the stream, a place so miserable to start with that reform seemed impossible. She knew it, and the sense of her o wn injustice only maide her angrier. / m' I suppose you expect, ' she said tauntingly, 'to brins Judy Kelly's daughter ml o my clean, tidy house, and to make me the old •woman in the corner. I tell you, Jack, you'll never do it. As long as I live I'll stand against you and her.' ' He looked at her, quite pale from the shock of her anger, , which had never before been directed against Mm, and for a moment this look in his eyes nearly brought Her to Her senses . Then he turned on his heel, and she remembered that he was the image of his fatfier, and th t t his father h a d been a _ terribly obstinate man when roused out of his slow gentleness. • ' < * I never thought of bringing my wife under your roof,' he saidi, and walked towards the door. But at the th'restfiol'd he paused and turned "round. ' 'Is that your last word, he asked, ' that you'll stand against" h>r and me ?' For a moment thb mother's- Heart shook within her. Then .her jealousy swept over her furiously. He cared nothing about his mother. Nothing mattered to him Judy Kelly's daughter. She remembered many bit-

ter, irrelevant -things , bow Patsy Kelly had been drowned • just beyond Ms own doorstep, having tumbled into Ih'e stream when be was coming home one night from S,weeny's public house, among .other things. . ' Bring me home a- decent girl,' she said, ' and I'll be talking to you. The child of a drunkard, and a streel. It's little I thought what I was rearang you for.' . .' , . Buiti the "end of the speech was spoken to a silent house. Jack, had gone out, leaving her j&one. It was noon time when this took place. The long - hours of the afternoon wore by silently, in a stillness so jprofoumd "that the tucking of the wag^by-the-wall clock, the buzzing of a fly in the window-pane', the snoring of Jack's terrier an the hearth, sounded tiis- ■ proportionately loud', at least to Rose's cold an'd 1 excited fancy. There was plenty of noise outside. Therewas not a day an the- year, when the little cluster of cot/tabes' was not more or less noisy. B(ut she had closed the door, and had seemed to ' close herself In with silence and fears. " .. As she sat darning Jack's stockin/gs by the sunshiny window her hands were damp and cold with the apprehension of b.r thoughts. - Now a nd again -in the t,uiemess she-felt her heart throb like -a living' thing. She had never before said a harsh word to Jack, Jimand Bill and Paddy, his brothers, had often and 1 often got th© rough side of her tongue. Nor had it. meant anything to them. They were slow and gentle and' patient like their father. Once beyond the clacking of her tongue "they forgot it. Not s 0 Jack. Jack had been the one to take things to heart, , and she had known it. He had come in that moaning quite sure of her sympathy in- his :oy. She recalled) the 'incredulous amazement with which he> received her first violent words, an amazement which pave way at last to a bitter and W 1 rc ' s .ptment. Why couldn't she h&ve held'her tongue? After iAI tnere was nothing against the 'girl. She recognised to' the full the unfairness of blaming her for 1-er father's and her mother's faults ; she had half a mind to kneel down and pray and repent. But she would not , and presently the softer mood was replaced by one jealous and irrational. It was the- longest, slowest afternoon- she had. ever spbnt. When the click of the gar-den gate sounded she got up and pu,t*,away .the stockings. Her moota-hal been changing all the afternoon. The hard one had the ascendency a» she went forward to open the door How dared- Jack look tb ter like that, she *b 0b 0 hal always been the kindest of mothers to Mm ' 7 Ji CT , baC . the bolt and ' let tbe d «^ swing . ' S!£ y V 11 P Werin S aAgry face. Then for face changed If Jt e \ hea ? J e S^ .its^ painful throbbing once' more, it was her husband, and alone. Jack ami he had always come together. Where was "the boy now 7* &1 th» h» fc G w m ° me ? she h ad no more thought \ Item Saps, absented Mmself. in anger, was wilKM a ?y\ BchiJid^thP 8^ 01117 ft 08 Put a ' stop t0 these surmises, tfcfcmd the gloom there were grief, weariness, indigna^ her \fp a s Ck ' S - gCne !> * Said ' nawteK the' question W ' Gone ! Where ds he gone ?' ' • You gave him your tongue this afternoon, Rose-wo-man. If you meant to do it, you should have begun ' long ago. You. never denied Rim anything. He's gone to Portsmouth to join the other three. There's nbne-'o' them left now ta look after us in our old age. Who's S'omaj i to dijr, the garden, I should like to know ? •To Portsmouth! ? Why should he go t 0 Portsmouth? isn t it. enough for /the ting to have three of my son® ? . k - ■ t ■' The king has nothJ'ng to say to it. It's your own temper, Rose. He was as bright as he could be this morning. Whatever you said to him knocked * hint about terribly. Then— Mary ' Kelly 'ud have nothing to do with him.' - -- ■' Mary Kelly ! Nothing to 'do with my s o n !' Rose said, with! a n a sh of the old spirit. '•She's not- going;, to marry a man whose mother - thimks ill of her. Between ye two women ye've-played the misohief with the roor boy. I'm not blaming 1 -" her," mind. I brought her word Jack was gone, and ! she. went as white- as a sfibet. Why wouldn't she refuse to take him, till his mother asked her ? • • "* Rose went away to a little inner room, and closed - the door behind her. At this moment she could 'bear no more. ■ The lotto; summer days went by in what seemed: N to Rose a 'deadly memo tony. John was- away all day. She missed terribly" the brisk foot on tKe gravel path, the bright face in the door. Jack Had a way of running home for a word' with his mother— with Mary, 'too/ no

acnibj-while the other men smoked their pipes after the dinner hour at Spillane's. ■* She worked with tenfoldi energy, but h,er power of accompliiiunent was less. She had repelled the neighbor's sympathy, and now it was offered no more. They lespected the closed door, the forbidding back "which Rose turned to the world when, she worked in the garden. It was wonderful how in Jack's absence the weeds made headway, wonderful .how the hedges grew ragged, the grass dishevelled 1 , how untidiness and disrepair sei*-' ed on everything. To be sure John did his best, but John was getting old. People said hb had aged suddenly when Jack went away. When he came home from wo-r,k he was better content to^ sit and smoV € , wuthT the head of Grip, Jack's old terrier, on his Inee, than to do anything more strenuous. Grip was a trouble to. Rose ' too. He was always listening f o r a foot, turning his eyes on her with a dumb question that made the Poor woman suffer acutely, i No letter came from Jack, no such loving message as would have lit up the lonely present with hope for the future. The other boys,-' wrote home at long intervals. They were no great scholars and letter writ-m-r was a pain to them,. Jack was all right. He was' tvfmSfni?^ > !t Aurairal ' s shi P, not on the " Knight i??Sl tt r,^ aS eXrert as a^ody in a vlry Wt.e Uiine. He hadn't much to say when they saw Once there was a message, but for John, a tender fTlirhim^Rn^^V 116 B man's obdurate heart had la led tarn. But of Rose not a word. Not a line from SZArgkS*"* " c Was * »«* **« -"o°,ar" o °,ar Rose rarely went out now, never unless necessity called her. Once or twice she had seen Mary Kelly's tall figure apprcachi'n.s; her, and had turned, back to her o,vn house to avoid meeting her. She would watch irom behind a window curtain Mary pass with her chin in the air. M a ry's pride was at, least equal to her own. tfut, despite her spirit, Mary was looking badly. That cbJ-n now wh-ch had been so round and white had shrunk and showed a thinness of {fie neck. Sorrow w « S.lv er e lt S anid hsx pret *y ™& h * color - • •T«li«^ f h J r nor ? an of old - and walked with' a more lagging footstep when Rose's eyes were riot upon her ■ Sometimes her head drooped as though the great mass of corn-colored plaits it carried were too muoh for tw T 2 ?\,t Ure Sbe worked harder th am ever. Her mother had had a worse winter than usual with the rheu wnr?H'rr d + r <3 in ' bed halfh ' alf her time l,d Mary worked lake three people to earn her little salary at motheT^H' + H n W eep the Cabdn over the lStlets Rin O^ e^ year 'u ! Wo 7 ears Passed, Jim and Paddy Ln'd «»L ? !2* h lad - their few wee^ s of holiday, had I fluttered the girls immensely with th^ir picturesque sailor garb ard the'r sun-browned comeliness. Each had a IS /n eP °h rtft + ° f JaCk - t0 ma ' <c in his tacituTn manner KeUv TW Carned * messa^ e from Ja^ 1o Mary iveiiy. There was no messa-e for the mother. She In'd ISIT S Zrl 0^ tbal> Smote her to the »»art rt tne messasjes whirfc were carried e-lsewher.3. After each of thin" n? W M t7 noti ??aMy Picked up, reined SO n£ tninT oi ! her old comeliness, her old springing step lhe time came when Jack was with the Naval Brigade before Ladysmith. When the news first arrived that he had gone to thjj front there was a half rapprochement between the two women. Mary passing by the nf Ul ? n> tn°^»' a f c '- stood £or a barely Perceptible fraction ?L«, r ]^° m S at JaClk ' s mother. £he had someaSrt S rtp m +^ er /6-f/ 6 -f * Wh ' lch was her talisman against life Sf wS Jh Y& i -i*, ? Uld not keep her from asking herfZ St l e ad J ßt hira g0 - Rosfe a step or S.HW? 6 n^ + *J' a i Mar ? had had a letter. John £dv.!^ °' ne *at ha d . cont - aTnedl n ° mention of her. -She S2T? l n distance. Then jealousy stabfi? 55 a^wen^So^h^o^^ te °" After that there was a dreary time of watching, and wait ng for the two women. Rose was no scheflar a irl r»*+- Very w ?? y i.i? b ? ut revealin g th e fact, and John was ge tmz ha-'f blmd.^ The 'aiwruish which Rose endured whale John's fi^er crept slowly down the war news S?fl Vii 1 "^ th 'l m ° re in *olerable waitine; trough the- days till John should come home to read for her hVw^W M^f Ch might mean SO +?n +' + W « IUeVI Ue V And *° be sure Ma iT Kelly bouM *!jj »* the glance if Jack was safe, if one Sit breathe a, SI? H of rci'ef for oneself with a sig-li o f pity ded ?tet many 6 S ° nS ' mmeS apPearefl in thatdrea-

To be sure the garden and everything about it hadbecome sadly changed from what' it - was when -Jack was at home, although Rose worked indefatigably, worked tijl her back could hardly * straighten itself, till her limbs ached and .her head sw a m. She was planting cabbages one mild, fine spring day, when she- heard the sound cl rushing feet close by, and some one flung the ■if fi OP sV aud made for her: It was Mary Kelly, bpt- so wild, so disordered , that she was almost unrecognisable for the quiet refined girl of every flay Me. She 'bad a - newspaper in her hand which was iiyins open in the March wind by :: H tiic^v s& cx sk KosSi » He " s beenstru * suff^TT^ *\ h^ fOT S° tten the injuries she had suffered at Roses hands, and had comedo her as the one othfer being on earth who loved Jade a s she tfc!d. Then the something really fine and Mgh-manded which gaY « W^Wv 81 its distinction &>£s? > home ' P tsci£ and Jack wa s soon coming there's naiUvi *„ f n ?T c \ a J>«<fflimt of herself. • Sure ' and Iff there 4s wSISt V hh 6™6 ™ !?•' ■*■> ™» M »™ taking him from' ycT?' aye > to te tosiven Jot ff pcp c .^version from her mother^^^ft^ v age to mak e Jack w as going, with her V^ 1 a ?' d ' of c6urse » would Save® Sve now whS TST S no lrjlowinff wh *n ° 0^ home and^rr^ k^jSaT 00 ? be able *° °o«W come flome itself wSldn't i?i 1° be sure if «"« a«aln. ana serve his timp^ t? A h . ave to g° bac]f -con « he w^^?; -!v n be a honey, (To be concluded next week.)