THE STORYTELLER

Taranaki Daily News, 11 September 1915, Page 9

THE STORYTELLER

NICKEY BURKE. [This was the last story penned by Dr. Westcott, who died a few months ago.] To Nickey, the 12-year-old son of Hapgey Burke (who had been described as » David Harum in petticoats), the Maxwells were in the nature of a revelation. At his impressionable stage of boythood, and because of the freedom from "airs" which the young rector and his wife exhibited he was quick to notice the difference in type. "Some class to them; not snobs or dudes, but the real thing" —so he expressed his opinion of them. His ardent admiration of Donald Maxwell, and his adoration of "Mrs. Betty," gave him ambition to find the key to their secret, and to partake of it. He was too shy to speak of it—to his mother last of all, as is the nature al boys—and these events transpired before Hepsey's second marriage, to Jonathan Jackson, gave Nickey a new father. It happened that when Maxwell boarded with them, Nickey had discovered that he was wont to exercise with dumbbells each morning before breakfast. The very keenness of Nickey's desire to be initiated held him silent. A visit to the town library, on his mother's behalf, chanced to bring his eyes —generally oblivious of everything in the shape of a book—upon the title of a certain volume designed to instruct in various par-lor-feats of physical prowess. The book wias borrowed from the librarian—a little shamefacedly. The next morning Mrs. Burke was somewhat alarmed at the noise which came from Nickey's room, and When there was a crash as if the chimney had Mien, she could stand it no longer, and hurried aloft. Nickey stood in the middle of floor, clad in' swimming trunks, gripping a large weight (purloined from the barn) is either hand, very red in the face and much out of breath. As tiie door unexpectedly opened, he dived for bed and pulled the clothes under his chin. / "Land eakes!" Hepsey breathed) aghast. "What's all this about? If! there's a nail loose in the flooring, I can I lend yon a hammer for the asking." And she examined several dents in the boards. "Say, ,Ma," urged Nickey in moving tones, "if I'd a pair of dumbells like Mr. Maxwell's, I c'd hold onto 'em. I've pretty near smashed my foot with them things—goah darn it," he added, rue- j fully, parsing the bruised member. "I guess you can get 'em, next time you go to Martin's Junction; but if ifs exercise yon want," his parent remarked unsympatheiticaHy, "there's plenty of kmdlin' in the wood-died wants chopping. The reading habit having been inculcated by this lucky find at the library, it was sot long before Nickey acquired from the same source a veritable collection of volumes on the polite arts and crafts "The Beady Letter-Writer," "Manners Maketh Men," "Seven Thousand Errors of Speech," "Social Culture in the Smart Set," and the like. Nickey laboriously studied from these authorities how to enter a ballroom, howi to respond to a toast at a dinner given in ojie's honor, how to propose the health of one's hostess and how to apologise for treading on a lady's train. In the secrecy of his chamber he put into practice the helpful suggestions of these invaluable manuls. He bowed to the wa&stand, begged the favor of the next dance from the toWel-rack, trod on the window-shade and made the prescribed apology. Then he discussed the latest novel at dinner, with a distinguished personage; and having smoked an invisible cigar and exchanged such witticisms as accord with walnuts and wine, after the ladies had retired, he entered the drawing-room, exchanged parting amenities with the guests, bade his hostess good-night and gracefully withdrew to the clothes-press. Several times Hepsey caught glimpses of him going through tan dumb show of "Social Culture in the Smart Set," and her wondering soul was filled with as- ■ tonishment at his amazing evolutions. She found it in her heart to speak of it to Mrs. Betty and Maxwell, and ask for their interpretation of the matter. Thus it happened that one day during this seizure of feverish enthusiasm for self-culture, Hepsey and Nickey received an invitation to take supper at the Rei tory. In spite of his recently imbibed Mrs. Burke thought it prudent to give her son some good advice in regard to his behaviour. "Now, Nickey, remember to act like a gentleman, especially at tile table; you must do credit to your bringin' up." "Yes, I'll do my level best if it kills me," the boy replied. "Well).- what do you do with your napkin when you first sit down to the ' table?" "Tie it around my neck, of course!" "Ob, no, you mustn't do anything of the sort; you must just spread it in your lap, the way any gentleman would. And when we come home, what are you goin' to say to Mrs. Maxwell?" "Oh, I'll see you later." "Mercy, no! Say, 'l've had a very nice time.'" "But suppose I didn't have a nice time —what'd I say?" For a moment Hepsey struggled to reconcile her code of ethics with 11 etidea of good manners, and then she replied: "Why, say, 'Mrs. Maxwell it was awfully good of you to ask me, and I don't believe she'll notice anything wrong about that."

"Shucks!" Nickey exclaimed in exasperation, "I'm bound to make some horrible break anyway, so don't you worry, Ma. It seems to me from what them books say, that when you go visitin' you've got to tell lies like a sinner; and you can't tell the truth till you get home with the door shut. I never was good at lydn'; I always get caught." 'lt isn't exactly lyin', Nickey; it's just savin' nice things, and keepin' youT mouth shut about the lest. Now suppose you dropped a fork under the table, what'd you say!" "I'd say, 'Scuse me, Mrs. Maxwell, but one of the forks has gone, and you can go through my clothes, if you want to, before I go home."

"H'm!" Hepsey remarked dryly, "I guess the less you say the better."

Arrived at the rectory, Nickey felt under some restraint when they first sat down at the supper-table; but under the genial manner of Mrs. Maxwell he soon fell at case, and not even Jiis observant mother detected any dire breach of etiquette. The meal over, they repaired together to the parlor, and while Hepeey took out her washrag-kniiting and Maxwell smoked a cigar, Mrs. Betty gave Nickey her undivided attention. In order to interest the young people of the place in the missionary work of

the paiteh, Mrs. Betty had -organised a guild of boys who were to earn what they could towards the support of a missionary in the West. The Guild had been placed under the fostering care and supervision or Nickey as its treasurer, and was known by the name of "The Juvenile Band of Gleaners." In the course of the evening Mrs. Maxwell took occasion to enquire what progress they were making thereby unconsciously challenging a somewhat surprising narrative.

"Well," Nickey replied readily, "we've I got forty-six cents in the treasury; that's just me, you know; I keep the cash In my pants pocket." I There was something in Nickey's tone and loot that excited Mrs. Betty's curiosity and mode his mother stop knitting and look at him anxiously over her glasses. "That is very good for a start," Mrs. Betty commended. "How did you raise all that, Nickey?" For a moment Nickey colored hotly, looked embarrassed and made no rep:y. Then, mustering up his courage, and laugiing, he began:

"Well, Mrs. Maxwell, it was just like this—maylbe you won't like it, but I'll tell you all the same. Bein' as I was the president of the Juv'nile Band of Gleaners, I thought I'd get the kids together and start somethin'. Saturday it rained cats and dogB; so Billy Burns, Sam Cooley, Dimple Perkins and me, we. went up into the hay-loft, and I said to the kids, 'You fellows have got to cough up Eome dough for the church, and 1 "Contribute money, Nickey. Don't be slangy," his mother interjected. "Well,'' I says, "I'm runnin' the Juv'nile, and you've got to do just what I say. I've got a dandy scheme for raisin' money, and we'll have some fun doin' it, or I miss my guess.' Then I asked Same Cooley how much money he'd got, and Sam, he had forty-four cents; Billy Burns had fifty-two—and Dimple had only two. Dimp never did have much loose cash, anyway. But I said to Dimp, i'Never mind, Dimp; you ain't to blame. Your dad's an old skinflint. I'll lend you six to start off with.' Then I made Billy Burns sweep the floor, while Sam went down to the chicken-yard an 4 caught my bantam rooster, Tooley. Then I sent Dimp after some chalk and an empty peach-basket and a piece of cord. Then we were ready for business. "I marked a big circle on the barn floor with the chalk, and divided it into four quarters with straight lines runnin' through the middle. Then I turned the peach-basket upside down, and tied one end of the string on the bottom, and threw the other end up over a bean overhead, so I could pull the basket off from the floor Ujp to the beam by the string. You see"—'Nickey illustrated with graphic gestures—"the basket hung over the middle of the circle like a bell. Then I took the rooster and stuck him under the basket. Tooley hollered and scratched like Sam Hill, but he had to go under just the same. Then I said' to the kids to sit around the circle on the floor, and each choose one of the four quarters for hisself—one for each of us. 'Now,' I said, 'you must each tough up ' "Nicholas!"

"Oh, Ma, do let me tell it without callin' me down every time. 'You kids must hand out a cent apiece,' I says, 'and put it on the floor in your own quarter. Then, when I say "Ready!" I'll pull the string and raise tfie basket and let Tooley out. Tooley'll get scared and run. If he runs off the circle through my quarter, then the four cents are mine; but if he run through Dimp's quarter, then the four cents are Dimps'.' 'lt was real excitin' when I pulled thq string, and the basket went up. You'd [ought to've been there, Mrs. Maxwell. You'd have laughed fit to split " "Nicholas Burke, you must stop talkin' like that, or I'll send you home," reproved Mrs. Burke. "Excuse me, Ma. It will be all over in a minute. But really, you'd have laughed like sin—l mean you'd have just laughed yourself sick. Tooley was awful nervous when the basket went up. For a minute he crouched and stood still, scared stiff at the three kids, all ycllin' like mad; then he ducked his head and bolted off the circle through my quarter | and flew up on a beanf. I thought the kids would bust."

Mrs. Burke sighed heavily. "Well, 'burst,' then. But while they were laughin', I raked in the cash. You see, I had to. I won ft for fair. I'd kept quiet, and that's why Tooley come across my quarter." Mrs. Maxwell was sorting over her music, while Maxwell's face was hidden behind a paper. Mrs. Burke was silent through despair. Nickey glanced furtively at his hearers for a moment and then continued:

"Yes, the kids was lidded; but they got awful quiet when I told them to fork over another cent apiece for the jackpot."

"What in the name of conscience is a jack-pot?' l Hepsey asked. Donald laughed, and Nickey continued:

■ "A jack-pot's a jac-k-pot; there isn't no other name that I ever heard of. We caught Tooley and stuck him under the basket, and made him do it all over again. You see, every time when Tooley got loose, the kids all leaned forward and yelled like mad; but I just kept my mouth shut, and leaned way back out of. the way so that 'Tooley'd run out through my quarter. So I won 'most al] the time."

There was a pause, while Nickey looked a bit apprehensive!? at fits audience. But he went on gamely to the end of the chapter. "After we made Tooley run about ten times, he struck work and wouldn't run any more; so we just had to let him go; but I didn't care notliin' about that, 'cause you see I had the kids' cash in my pants pocket, and that was what I was after. Well, sir, when it was all over, 'cause I'd busted the bank "

"Nicholas Burke, I am ashamed of you."

"Never mind, Ma; I'm most through now. When they found I'd busted the bank, they looked kind of blue, and Dimp Perkins said it was a' skin game, and I was a bunco steerer."

"What did you say to that ?" Donald enquired. "Oh, I just said it was all for religion; it was church money, and it was . ail right." '"When Nickey had finished, there was an ominous silence for a moment or two, Mid then lus mother said sternly; "What do you suppose Mrs. Perkins will say when she finds that you've tricked her son into a regular gambling scheme, to get his money away from him?"

"Mrs. Perkins V' retorted Nickey, [thoroughly aroused by the soft impeachjment. "I should worry! At the church fair, before Mr. Maxwell came, she ran a fancy table, and tried to sell a baby blanket to an old bachelor; but he Wouldn't take it. Then when he wasn't

lookin', blessed if she didn't turn around and tie the four comers together with a bit of ribbon, and sell it to liim for a handkerchief case. She got two dollars for it, and it wasn't worth seventy-five ' csnta. S3e was as proud as a dog with two tails, and went around tolliii' e'very. body."

Silence reigned, ominous and general, and Nickey traced himself for the storm, His spirits sank lower and lower. Finally liia mother remarked quietly: "Nickey, I thought you were goin' to be a gentleman."

"That's straight, all right, what I've told you," he murmured, abashed.

There was another silent pause—presently broken by Nickey. "I guess I hadn't thought about it, just that w'ay. I guess I'll give the kids their money back," he volunteered despondently, "only I'll have to make it up, some way, in the treasurey." He felt in his pockets and jingled the coins. Another pause—with only the ticking of his mother's knitting needles to relieve the oppressive silence. Suddenly the worried pucker disappeared from his brow, and his face brightened. "I've got it, Mrs. Maxwell," lie crieo. 'Tve got seventy-five cents comin' to me down at the Variety Store, for birchbark frames, and I'll .give that for the blamed old missionaries. That's square, isn't it, now?" ; Mrs. Betty's commendation and her smile were salve to the wounds of her young guest, and Donald's hearty laughter soon dispelled the sense of social failure which was beginning to cloud Nickey's happy spirit. "Say, Nickey," said Maxwell, throwing down his paper, "Airs. Betty and I want to start a Boy Scout corps in the parish, and with your resourceful genius you could get the boys together. Will you do it?"

"Will I?" exclaimed the delighted recruit. "I guess so—but some of 'em ain't 'Piscopals, Mr. Maxwell; there's Sam Cooley—he's a Methodist, and " "That doesn't cut any ice, Nickey excuse my slang, ladies," Donald apologised to his wife and Hepsey, at which the boy grinned with delight. ' out to welcome all comers. I've got the books that we shall need, upstairs. Let's go up to my den and talk it over. We shall have to spend evenings getting thoroughly up ; n it ourselves—rules and knots and first-aid and the rest. Mrs. Burke will allay parental anxiety as to the bodily welfare of the recruits and the Pacific object of the organisation, and Mrs. Maxwell will make the colors Come on!"

With sparkling eyes, Nickey followed Donald out of the room; as they disappeared, Hepsey slowly sufcok her head in grateful deprecation at Betty. Bless him!'' ejaculated Hepsey ambiguously, "