Part 38 (1/2)
”And I dealt off the grocer for fifteen years, and the wood-and-coal man for ten, and I lived in that house nine years last Easter Monday and never owed a penny before,” she repeated for the tenth time.
”Well, that's a mistake,” reflected Bill. ”I never dealt off n.o.body more'n twice in my life.... I heerd you was married again, Mrs Aspinall--if it's a right thing to ask?”
”Wherever did you hear that? I did get married again--to my sorrow.”
”Then you ain't Mrs Aspinall--if it's a fair thing to ask?”
”Oh, yes! I'm known as Mrs Aspinall. They all call me Mrs Aspinall.”
”I understand. He cleared, didn't he? Run away?”
”Well, yes--no---he---”
”I understand. He's s'posed to be dead?”
”Yes.”
”Well, that's red-hot! So's my old man, and I hope he don't resurrect again.”
”You see, I married my second for the sake of my children.”
”That's a great mistake,” reflected Bill. ”My mother married my step-father for the sake of me, and she's never been done telling me about it.”
”Indeed! Did _your_ mother get married again?”
”Yes. And he left me with a batch of step-sisters and step-brothers to look after, as well as mother; as if things wasn't bad enough before. We didn't want no help to be pinched, and poor, and half-starved. I don't see where my sake comes in at all.”
”And how's your mother now?”
”Oh, she's all right, thank you. She's got a hard time of it, but she's pretty well used to it.”
”And are you still working at Grinder Brothers'?”
”No. I got tired of slavin' there for next to nothing. I got sick of my step-father waitin' outside for me on pay-day, with a dirty, drunken, spieler pal of his waitin' round the corner for him. There wasn't nothin' in it. It got to be too rough altogether.... Blast Grinders!”
”And what are you doing now?”
”Sellin' papers. I'm always tryin' to get a start in somethin' else, but I ain't got no luck. I always come back to, sellin' papers.”
Then, after a thought, he added reflectively: ”Blast papers!”
His present ambition was to drive a cart.
”I drove a cart twice, and once I rode a butcher's horse. A bloke worked me out of one billet, and I worked myself out of the other. I didn't know when I was well off. Then the banks went bust, and my last boss went insolvent, and one of his partners went into Darlinghurst for suicide, and the other went into Gladesville for being mad; and one day the bailiff seized the cart and horse with me in it and a load of timber. So I went home and helped mother and the kids to live on one meal a day for six months, and keep the b.u.m-bailiff out. Another cove had my news-stand.”
Then, after a thought ”Blast reconstriction!”
”But you surely can't make a living selling newspapers?”
”No, there's nothin' in it. There's too many at it. The blessed women spoil it. There's one got a good stand down in George Street, and she's got a dozen kids sellin'--they can't be all hers-and then she's got the hide to come up to my stand and sell in front of me.... What are you thinkin' about doin', Mrs Aspinall?”
”I don't know,” she wailed. ”I really don't know what to do.”