SHORT STORIES.

Otago Witness, Issue 2813, 12 February 1908, Page 90

SHORT STORIES.

STRUCK A "BLOW." • A ROMANCE OF COOLGARDIES EARLY DAYS. By D. Pknkose. Madame Burton frowned as she took the .letter the postman had just handed in . and examined the postmark. "From Cool- - gtodie," she said, addressing her chief cutter. "I thought co. What has she to say for herself now, I wonder? The girl wa6 mad to venture into such a barbarous township, all for the sake ot a young „ jackanapes who doesn't care two straws about her, and was glad of the excuse to get a,way to the rush in order to shake her "off. I hope she's had enough of the hard living by this time and-ne content to come back to her old place in the i ■workroom." /Beryl Thomson, looked at the fashionable dressmaker and smiled. "I think j you will find it quite the reverse, madame. If I am any judge of character, I should say your niece was capable of making herself at home under all circumstances if she made up her mind to do. a. certain thing, as she has done in the present case." With an impatient little gesture, madame sank- into the nearest chair, murmured something about the girl's conduct fcjeing disgraceful, and prepared to read the letter. -"It "is shocking — shocking !" she cried indignantly, jumping to her feet, after running' hjer eyes over the first page. "Her language is disgraceful. Did 3-cw ever read such slang?.. I could not bring myeelf to repeat the words'. You must read them yourself." Miss Thomson turned away to hide the merriment in her eyes, for it was evident madame was in no humour for joking. A little while after the dressmaker rose to - 'tier feet with indignation in her eyes and landed the letter to her without a word. Mies Thomson caught it up and eagerly ecanned the lines that breathed so intensely the merriment of the girl who bad) co recently been her close companion. This is how the letter ran : — . My dear old Aunt,— l'm having a Tipping (time in this oW.' canvis town, an'] before you get this I will have my little tin hut quite ship-shape and ready to start busiraaa m tiiiie morning.. I'm bound to catch or. in 'hat old grandmothers velvet frock I got f:y<ra to make for me. It does its duty adnur\*J>ly. Everyone thinks sweet 18 is an o'd 'Srump of 40; and when I perch tbose gold'limmed pince-nez en my straight nose J and stick a big comb ir. mv_ ba"k hair, I .(look quite unppproa.cb.able. Not a toy has [given me so much as a glance. Isn't n a ) change:? It really does one good to mtio'duce a little variety irtc- one's life occasionally, especially when it can ba. obtainpd in euch a rough and tumble shop as Coolgardie. I never enjoyed myself half as much at any '6TB.eU levee as I did- in the train coining up.j'jT selected a aruoking carriage. There were -.ithxee -haw-haw's in&ide, and you should have seen them stare! Perhaps they thought the dn.trud«r intended to lecture them on smoking, drink, or some cither beastly topic, but I just smiled that old sweet smile of min-e and gently remarked, " Pra-y do not atop smoking on my account, gentlemen. I just love the aromatic vapour, and if it were net for JMts Grundy, "I'd indulge in the habit myself." That broke -the crust. They fell to _ pieces in half a jiffy, and became friends with the inoffensive ,old girl who had dared . to venture in amongst them. They suggested - • " toddy "■ »t one of the stopping places, but rihe wasn't having any. A cup of tea was - -her only .beverage, and a. £up of tea tkey ' her. The next thing was a quiet ~ game of , cards. I suggested a game of fortune, myeelf to be the prophet. They .',iell in as readily as a duck into a pond, and .-I befcsume famous in half a jiffy. Instinct ?. 3ed me to tell them a certain number of « truths that convinced them, the remainder iof my guesses wers the very gospel. One of them remarked that "it would be awfully good sense, you know, to go in for that sort -< if thing- Ccolgardie.v. Scores of fellows would ~ consult, you in the Topu of kirning someithing about the "future." I laughed at the ridiculousness of such a " proposition, '•but I made a note t of it. and — well, as I said a.t tnp commencement of my letter. I start J3T2 m the morning. Outside my two-roomed im cabin (which, by the way, I have rented from a fat bid gentleman, who keeps a pie fibop further up the street), I have hung a hand-pointed sign, which reads like this: — MADAME SYLVETTE. Future Eevea'er. And if that don't fetch 'cm — well, nothing .-.will. Besides, it's bound to ?atch the eye of some of the diggers who come in occasionally from auMjack, and maybe it will bring .me face to face with that favoured mortal to whom you have giv.;n the sobriquet Jackanap»B. There isn't nrach to see here, as far as * flights go — only a lot of tin and bessian huts, a few hundred dirt-besmeared tents, numbers ,«f Teamsters, with their waggons hitcehd up - to lon«ly trees — trees, by the way,^ are at a r premium here; — a. mixture of every nation ■» under the sun, with a squad of aboriginals -• thrown in. Such a collection! It does one's beart good to see them, simply because it makes one feel proud of being the possessor - of a whiter skin. Cheapjacka ha-, c already invaded the place, and are pelting each other with rather doubtful eggs by way of shutting' each other's mouths, Mly beauty sleep is taken oh a shake-down, so if you find me looking more like what this quaint old frock is intended to make me, blame the bunk. I can't boast of a carpet or a pretty yoom, but I've made the most of a few •econd-hand traps which I purchased from pay landlord, and the place 'coks as prim as its mistress. Before ] am finished with it, aunt, I guess the for canes that shall brea'he themselves into its walls will bring n,o back ~-*n« of- my own. Until then, forgive me. way little whims, and believe me, , ' Always your faithfuf Bylvib. Beryl Thomson tbxew. down the le£ter and laughed- aloudr "Dear old Sylvie," she murmured within herself "How like lier to write a letter of that sort. No wonder poor madame was offended and annoyed. And yet, I'd love the experience myself." ♦'You h*ve finifeh-ed?" exclaimed a voice

at her elbow, and looking tip she saw the dressmaker. "■ Yes, thank you/ returned the other, rising to her feet. "How like Sylvie, is it not?" A frown spread over the features of madame as she replied, "Please respect my feelings b3 r dropping her name. She is an everlasting disgrace to me. She his made her bed, and she must lie on it." "How hard!" murmured Beryl as she passed into the workroom, but whether 6he referred to the bed or the aunt's decision 16 a matter for further conjecture. "Say. Dick, d'ye know the latest?" The person addressed locked up from the billy, into which he was throwing a handful of tea, and stared into his companion's face. Failing to find an answer in that calm countenance, he placed the lid on the billy ard walked into the tent which the two men shared. [ "Out with it, Mac, if it's of any importance," he said. "I don't suppose any of the chaps around have: struck a •blow' " "No, it ain't quite that," returned the other, sitting down inside, "but it might turn out as good." "Speak plainer ; I never was any good at guessing.'' Dick had placed the tin pannikius on the deal case that did duty as a table, and was opening a tin of meat, while his mate applied the knife to ffre loaf he had brought out from Coolgardie that day. "D'ye believe in fortunes?" he asked. "Yes, if they run into anything like a decent sum. What about them?" Mac laughed. "I don't mean those sort of fortunes. I'm talking about fortunetelling. You know, what some fellows call superstition." "I know," returned Dick quietly, bending down to hide the twinkle that had sprung into his frank blue eves. "Who's taken, up the profession now? Not yourself, surety?"' Mac coughed uneasily. "I should say not. It's a qu<-er old girl in C<x>lgardie, •who calls herself Madame Silkette — SerTlettc — or something of that sort. I went to see her ■while I was in to-day, ard I'll be jiggered if she didn't' tell me e'.acks o>f truth. I wish j'ou'd been with me." Dick suppressed the laugh that rose to his throat and passed over the pannikin of tea to his mate with the words, "Did she prophesy any good luck?" Mac grew enthusiastic. "Any amount, man. She described you, told me your history as well as you could tell it yourself, and ended up" by saying you'd forsaken a faithful girl, the like o>f which you'd never meet again." Dick grew indignant. "And you told her she was riaht?" "Why not? Wasn't it a good return for her cleverness?" "Didn't she charge you anything?" "1 should smile! — a gold 'un every time." Dick swallowed a mouthful of tea, and then went on. "Well, she's wrong. I've never forsaken my girlie. I'm only waiting for the fortune that is necessary to build us a home and bring us a decent share of happiness. In the meantime it is better she should not hear from me. It 6erv<»« as a good test to her fidelity as well." "But madame said she was breaking her heart." Dick fait a pang of remorse shoot through him. What if the fortune-teller was right ? Could he ever forgive himself for treating her with silence instead of sending a letter with every mail as he hfid promised? And yet — she had laughed all his fe?rs to scorn and sent him forth with merry woids of good cheer ringing in his ears and sweet kisses lingeiing on his lips. How could she — his bright-hearted little Sylvie — bend to tears? ■'That's all bosh," he said aloud. "Sylvie wouldn't weep if the world turned upside down. I'll bet she's as happy as Larry to-day, despite the fact that I have not written her" 1 a line since we pegged out this claim." "And that's over four months ago," put in the other : "a good long time to, keep the spirits boiling. I daresay the fortuneteller's right. If you go back to-morrow you'll find she's changed. '.' Something in his companion's words ctruck home to Dick, and he found himeelf cursing the ill-luck that had caused him to forsake "the sweetest little gill in the world " "For God's sake don't taik like that, Mac. It's bad enough to be darn well starved and down in our luck without having that drummed into my ears. God forbid that anything should go wrong with her." "Sorry I spoke," returned Mac, feelingly. '"But I didn't mean any haim, DiHr. Here, cheer up. old fellow, we ain't going to be always working for nothing. Her ladyship says, it won't be a month afore we'll have heaps of bocdle." Dick jumped to his feet. "I'll give her a dozen" gold 'uns if that conies true, you take my tip, for it will bring me back to Sylvie."

Some weeks had passed since that first letter reached Madame Burton, and now another came, but this time it was addressed to the sympathetic Beryl Thomson. This was the letter: —

You dear old Beryl, to se^d me such a darling letter and it'i roe all about my dear ai.nt's tartrunis. Sorry I nuss^d the fun. How ycu must htve laughed at her. And so her disgiaceful niece is givpn legbail. AH right, my deai madame. When I make my little pile of geld, we'll see. My fortunes are singing gold by the nour Ihe first day they numbered 20 pounds, ard ever since they have gone up rapidly A goodly number of bays ,were in buying tinned dog and other provisions for the camps out-back the first -Time I put up my tricky sign, and my ! didn't they rush the biz ; I wouldn't accent anything less than a gold coin for a fortune,- and you may, depend, I got it every time. Best of all. Beryl, I'm on the track of dear old Dick at last At least, I guess it's him right enough. A digger, calling himself Mackenzie, Macdougal, c,r something equally Scotch, popped in the othei daj to get a reviver — that's a cut at the cax&u don't y»u lutgvv 7

and before lie had been in the room half an hour I'd sized nim up and quizzed him in such an innocent little way ihp.-t he didn't even know he'd told me anything about his hard hick or. Dick's fcr'orn hopes. Putting two and. two together I summed up that Dick's fortune 'itted into his own, :aid threw out that htt'e fisb so tha+ the La.t might induce him to swallow the big bouuJor that followed after- But — one moment the very fellow I'm wilting about is coming m now, and if that isn't Dick behind him, I'm a Dutchman. T'l ring- off until after they .c gone. . . What do you think, thai =enseless Dick never recognised me, and I'\e allowed him to go away without telling him. and I did want that dear old hug so nuich. I could almost weep, I feel so, miserable ; and lie looks so sad and broken up. He is thinner too, and his dear blue eyes have such a melancholy expression in them. Once or twice I was almost tempted to fling off those smoked pince-nez and let him see who sat before him", but that litlle demon that has such a power over me prompted me to carry the joke further. I prophesied gold galore far him. Oh, you never htard of such good luck «is those deceitful cards promised, and Dick 'went awey looking even so much happier I wish you could have seen "him as he shook hands with me at parting. " You are clever. ' madarae," he said. " And I verily believe I wh«t- you predict will prove itse'f the truth. Depend upon it, I shall remember, you when good fortune comes my way." Remember m-e, indeed! I should think so. Who has a better right to be remembered? Oh, why did I let him go away? I'll never forgive myself. I think I'll jump into the first waggon bound for the Forty-mile to-morrow, and make tracks to his camp. If I don't meke up for that deceitful trick I played him, my n«m«'s not Sylvie. Something like a tear found its way into tin reader's eyes as she came to the end of the letter, and as she placed it in the pocket of her coat she said within herself: "If ever a girl deserved a good husband, she does. There are few in the world to-day that would do what she is doing for the sake of love. I wonder what she will have to tell me next time." Beryl had not long to wait for an answer to that query, for it was not a week later when another letter came, which sent a thrill of joy running through her veins. But you must read it for yourself, dear reader. My faithful old Beryl. — I would just lovo to hug everyone to-day, I feel so overjoyed. Dame Fortune has emptied her stock of good things right into my lap, and- But wait. I'm not going to tell you everything at once. Enough's as good as a feast any day. I never went out to Dick's camp after all. M-adame Sylvette's fortune-telling ha-d evidently caught on so well that the boys simply storm<ed her shop and gave her vn time to breathe, let alone to think. Would you ever think men were such asses? I'm' satisfied they can be stuffed as easily os a dead bird. And of all men — Dick' Well, if it were not for the fact that I am so happy now, I'd give him a jollygcod talking to for allowing any o'd fcrtune-teller to cram such lies into his head. But what am I saying? They yveien't lies after all. On Friday he came iv all smiles, and thrust a purse, containing 10 pounds into my hand. " Sou were right, Tiadame," he said. " Our fortune is made. We struck a ' blow ' yesterday. [I thought the earth was going to opea and swallow me, it was al! so sudden.] I am going "down to Perth on. Monday." "So am I," I answered merrily. " Doubtless on the same mission as yourself." Oh, how I wanted to hug him then! But I just crushed that impulse and said, " Yes, to use your own digger phrase, sir, I, too, have ' struck a ' blow,' for God has given me the best of lovers." With that we parted— but not for Icing, you may be sure. Like a streak of lightning I was out of those old clothes, and into my pretty blue costume and Gamsborough hat, and these faithful old pincenez .were tucked away in my box. Down came the gcod old sigu. and off I went, barum scarum, up the street to the tucker shop, whither Dick had said he was going. Flushed and excited, I rushed into the roam which did duty as a dining rcom, and there, sitting at one of the tables, I found my darling. I grabbed him with all the strength of a. tiger, and his aims went round me in a trice. " Sylvie." he whispered, in that dear old way of his " The very person I wanted most to see." I didn't care a, fig whether those gaping fellows laughed or jeered, I just hugged him, and laughed and cried. We are coming home to-morrow. My secret comes with me. I know mum's the word with you. But what of auntie? Do • you think you can placate her for me? Beryl, dearest, it niust be Sone, by hook or by crook, and I think you can do it. I leave it m your hands. Dick must never guess thatI have been the means of his success, or that he owes the striking of that " blow " to a little of my strategy. In the meantime think of me as the "happiest girl in the wide, w.de world and your faithful chum, Sylvie. ''Yes, Sylvie/' murmured Beryl, when she had finished the letter, "I "shall see that your secret is safe. Madame will be only too pleased of an excuse to hide wild Sylvie's madcap pranks." , (The End.)