Part 13 (1/2)

”Well, this went on for two years, and then the other woman drove me to drink. You know what a woman can do when the devil's in her?”

Sound between a sigh and a groan from Lally Thompson. ”My oath,” he said, sadly.

”You should have made it _three_ years, Jack,” interposed the joker; ”you said two years before.” But he was suppressed.

”Well, I got free of them both, at last--drink and the woman, I mean; but it took another--it took a couple of years to pull myself straight--”

Here the joker opened his mouth again, but was warmly requested to shut it.

”Then, chaps, I got thinking. My conscience began to hurt me, and--and hurt worse every day. It nearly drove me to drink again. Ah, boys, a man--if he is a man--can't expect to wrong a woman and escape scot-free in the end.” (Sigh from Lally Thompson.) ”It's the one thing that always comes home to a man, sooner or later--you know what that means, boys.”

Lally Thompson: ”My oath!”

The joker: ”Dry up yer crimson oath! What do you know about women?”

Cries of ”Order!”

”Well,” continued the story-teller, ”I got thinking. I heard that my wife had broken her heart when I left her, and that made matters worse.

I began to feel very bad about it. I felt mean. I felt disgusted with myself. I pictured my poor, ill-treated, little wife and children in misery and poverty, and my conscience wouldn't let me rest night or day”--(Lally Thompson seemed greatly moved)--”so at last I made up my mind to be a man, and make--what's the word?”

”Reparation,” suggested the joker.

”Yes, so I slaved like a n.i.g.g.e.r for a year or so, got a few pounds together and went to find my wife. I found out that she was living in a cottage in Burwood, Sydney, and struggling through the winter on what she'd saved from the money her father left her.

”I got a shave and dressed up quiet and decent. I was older-looking and more subdued like, and I'd got pretty grey in those few years that I'd been making a fool of myself; and, some how, I felt rather glad about it, because I reckoned she'd notice it first thing--she was always quick at noticing things--and forgive me all the quicker. Well, I waylaid the school kids that evening, and found out mine--a little boy and a girl--and fine youngsters they were. The girl took after her mother, and the youngster was the dead spit o' me. I gave 'em half a crows each and told them to tell their mother that someone would come when the sun went down.”

Bogan Bill nodded approvingly.

”So at sundown I went and knocked at the door. It opened and there stood my little wife looking prettier than ever--only careworn.”

Long, impressive pause.

”Well, Jack, what did she do?” asked Bogan.

”She didn't do nothing.”

”Well, Jack, and what did she say?”

Jack sighed and straightened himself up: ”She said--she said--'Well, so you've come back.'”

”Painful silence.

”Well, Jack, and what did you say?”

”I said yes.”

”Well, and so you had!” said Tom Moonlight.