REBELLION

NZ Truth, Issue 1151, 22 December 1927, Page 4

REBELLION

There would never have been a revolution m "Harmony Home" if Bill had not refused, point blank to do the washing. Fickle, whimsical, naughty Bill Boggs! A SURGE of unrestrained, unprecedehted anger shook his sparse frame. The calm had been n long one and long calms presume storms. There "was revolution m the air; m the very way he bathed the kids thai morning-, m the fierce, almost brutal manner m which he cleaned out tne canary-cage, lit the fhe, got tne breakfast, swept the floor, cleaned the windows, polished the bVa.ss door-step, even, even m the imperial way he presented the morning • cu^p uf tea to Martha, the weaker vessel m "Harmony Home." The manhood m Bin Buggs was bidding for a little life. Martha's voice snapped out its postmorning tea command. "Well, is th' washing done, yet?" And Bill felt his biceps bulge with the vigor of his latent authority. His hour had come. He braced his shoulders, tinned on his wife a little sternly and answered. "No." and again, a little less forcibly, "No, I have not." Bill Boggs discovered afterwards that there was not an earthquake at that particular moment of his defiance. Martha had merely thrown the cup and saucer at him, the cup containing cold tea and grouts m abundance.

How dare lie. Bill Boggs, bootmaker, "come the heavy" m "Hai-mony Home"? Wasn't his life one perpetual spell of terrific idleness? He did not have to start work until 8 a.m. and he was always home to cook the dinner and feed the kids again at 6 p.m. After that, he had nothing to do. Absolutely nothing, except wash the dishes, put the kids to bed, lay the fire for the morning, clean the family's boots, tend the canary and a few odds and ends about the place that did not take him until 11 o'clock, wiien he put the cat and the milk bottle out. Rogue, villain, worthless husband, ungrateful father. Look at what SOME husbands did for their wives! "They couldn't do more than I do, Mar ." "Silence, sir! SilQnoo at once, before 1 blacken the other eye." And Bill Boggs held his peace. It was advisable. When the cascades of abuse had rippled over him, bathing him m the pond of domestic superiority, he suddenly became conscious of- his real mission, his inner urge to do-or-die, the claims of his manhood stirring to wakefulness. He stood up. There was something electrical m that standing up. There had been something electrical, too, m his sitting down. But up he was now, and up, upon his feet he intended to stay. He had lived through all the discords Of "Harmony Home" for this gveut day. That washing: ! WOULD NOT be done. The strident voice broke m on his mental rebellion. "The washing! Are you going to do it or ." lie answered: "No. I am not." And immediately ducked as a boot whistled over his head. She would aim lower with the next. He knew it. She was taking aim. "Are you' going to do it — or not?" "No." "Why? — quick." , "The water's turned off at the main!"— L.B.F.