JOE ROBERTSON’S FOLLY.

Wairarapa Standard, Volume I, Issue 24, 17 June 1867, Page 3

JOE ROBERTSON’S FOLLY.

(Prom “ Once a Week.”) “ Thou beest a fool, Joe—a rig-lit fool, to take home the brats. Polly Nag-g-les won’t come to thee to find herself mother to gals of ten and four.” “ Let Polly wait till she’s asked mother. I mean taking- the children home. “ I think you might do something better-with your money than feed Jim’s brats.”

“What are they to do? He’s gone for good some way—by foul play, as I think.”

“ ‘ Foul play ’ or not, there’s the workhouse for the young uns, if thou weren’t a fool. There’s thy father and me to think on, and you go taking up with strange brats. “Don’t say that mother; you shan’t have a farthing less through it; and as for ‘ strange,’ they’re my own mate’s—one that was almost a brother to me.”

“ Brother to thee Joe! Why, he’s ten pounds in debt to thee now, if he be a ha’penny.” “ Well, mother, let it be; he’s gone now, and I don’t care about the ten pounds.” “Well, well, go thy ways, Joe, and keep the brats, and let all the parish laugh at thee. They’ll be saying that thee loved Jim’s childer more than he did. They’ll tell thee, if thou beest so much of a father to ’em perhaps Kitty Ratcliife was kinder to thee after she took to Jim than she was afore.”

“ Mother, for God’s sake, stop! you know it’s a lie. Kitty was as good as an angel; I swear I’ll never speak to you again if you talk of her like that.” “ There, there, boy! don’t make such a bother about nothing. Thou’st let the cat out. Thee takest to the children because they’re Kitty’s—eh, lad ?—not for Jim’s sake.”

“ I take to them because I please, mother; and I warn you, if you want my love and respect, don’t talk that way of Kitty.

“ I didn’t say anything, except that people would say that, perhaps .” “ God’s sake, mother, don’t say it again! There’s father’s bacca, and your snuff, and the money, so now good night. I’ll look in on Tuesday, when I am up at the traps in Chalk Fell Hollow—good night.” “ Well, good night, lad; but thou beest a fool for all the bacca and snuff.” The sou went out to soon too L ear the repetition of his mother’s first statement, that he was a fool, and went quietly along the road to bis home; a small, three-roomed cottage outside the village, and close to the preserves of which lie was the keeper.

On reaching' his home he found flic table spread for supper, and, taking' the cap from his gun, he put it in the rack, and sat down before the turf-firo.

“Well, Kitty, hast put little one to bed?”

“Yes, Joe; she said I was to kiss you’ for her,” said the girl Kitty; a child of about nine years, as she came up to him and kissed his cheek.

“ And now come to supper Joe.” “ Why, lass, I’ve not seen such a cloth for years, and such a nice plimp’d-up bit of bacon.’

“I did it, Joe: I washed the cloth, and boiled the bacon. I used to help mother when she was sick, before she died, you know; and, since then, I used to do all for poor father, though he seldom came home to supper, and often stayed out all night, he was so often down at the beer-house, after mother died.” “ Your’re as good as a wife, Kitty.” “Am I ? then I’ll be your little wife, and look after everything for you till father comes back.”

“ I want to tell vou. Kitty, I don’t think your father will come Duck uc an; I’m afraid he’s gone.” “ Gone, Joe! Where to ? ” “ Where ? to—to heaven, if the best heart in the village would take him there.’

Not dead, Joe! Don’t say father’s dead ! What shall we do'?—no father—• no mother! what shall we do ? Poor little Meg, too! ” and the child cried bitterly. “ Well, Kitty, when lie left us I thought he was coming back directly; then, when he never came all night, I thought he’d come in the morning ; and then, when

he didn’t come for days, I thought he’d bolted, and I shut his place up, and brought you down here: and now, he’s not come hack this three weeks and they’ve found his hat and smock in the gravel pit pond,—l think he won’t come hack at all, Kitty.”

“ Poor father!—drowned! ” “ I fear that.” “And where shall we go now? Oh dear ”

“ Well, mother says, ' Workhouse ’; Squire says, 'Workhouse’; Parson says, ' Workhouse ’; and Polly Maggies says, 'Workhouse.’ ”

. " And what do you say, Joe ? ” said the child, eagerly, looking into his face, as he sat holding her between his knees and grasping her little hands in his brawny palms. “What do you say, Joe” “What do I say ? Why, I say as I said to him that night. ' All right, I’ll look after them.’ ”

“And you’ll not let us go to the workhouse, Joe?” “ Never, while I’ve a crust or jacket, Kitty.” “ 0 Joe, I’m so glad. I’ll work so hard and keep all your nice house so tidy and clean, and I’ll do everythingyou tell me, any time, just like mother used to do for poor father. Mother’s name was Kitty too, Joe.” “ I know, I know it, lass. And there’e one thing, if you stay, you must never do, child.” •'What s that Joe ? I never will, I declare, whatever it is.”

“ Then don’t thee talk to me about your dead mother, I can’t hear it; it makes me feel, I can’t tell you how, child. Thou’lt know some day though, for all that. So don’t talk to me about

her.” “I never will, though I like to talk about her; I won’t except to Meggy. I may talk to Meggy ? ” “As much as you like, but not to me. And now, lass, let’s eat, for I’m hungry and the bacon looks good.” And so it was settled that the two children of the late carter, Jim liatcliffe, should live at the house of his friend Joe, and at Ids cost; and it was also settled by the gossips of the neighbourhood, by his mother, and by the ambitions Polly Naggles, that Joe the gamekeeper was a fool; spite of which verdict he thrived and seemed very happy with his little charges, and none tire poorer, for, as he said one day.

“They save more than they cost, by their washing, and cooking, and gardening, to say nothing of the comfort of some one to see you when you come home of a night.” As time went on, Kitty grew np a fine tall, active girl, and nothing interrupted their quiet, happy life, until one day as Joe was going about dusk, with his dog at his heels and his gun on his shoulder, he met an acquaintance. “ Evening, Joe.” “Evening, Bill.” “ It’s going to rain a hit, eh ?” “ Ao.”

“ Short to-night, .Top ?” “ I always am with the like of you.” “ Like of me. What now ?” “ Where were you Just Wednesday about half-past eleven ?”

“ In hed.” “Not a hit, you were out with Soappy and the new ploughman.” “ Well, if I was, there’s no harm in that”

“No harm in being out hut there was in being in the Long Hollow, netting rabbits, Bill.” “ Netting rabbits, Joe ?” “Yes, I saw you there. I knew yon, and I made you cut and leave your nets.” “ 0 ! it was yon, then, that snug out V' “ 0! you heard me, did you ? Well now £ I’ll toll yon what it is, Bill; I don’t wish you or anybody else harm, hut if ] catch you again upon the ground I’ll

have you up before tlie squire as sure as my name’s Jce; and, if I was you, I’d not be so thick with Soappy, he’s been in once or twice for it, and I don’t want to see you following him, so don’t come poaching here.” “ Poaching, indeed! there’s worse doue than poaching.” “ Dare saylhere is, ’taint my business, though.” “ But there’s worse done than poaching by them that’s paid to keep poor men from trapping wild animals.” “ Meaning me?” “ Yes, meaning you. Do you know what they say in the village about the kids/”

No, and I don’t care.” ‘•'Well, they say that you’re like a father to ’em.” “ Well, I know it.” “ And thev sav summut else, Joe.” “ What’s that?” “ That you were very fond of Kitty Eatcliffe, andperhaps you are their father.” “ And who says that.” ii uutl I*ulljr y auj. I say if.” “ Mother and Polly lie, and you lie too.” “ Don’t get waxy, Joe, for • everybody knows that Kitty Eatcliffe was no better than she should he. Why, I’ve seen you myself come out of Joe’s garden at two o’clock in the morning. Snaring’s all very well, and so’s watching, hut if I had a wife I’d like yon to set your snares further away from my place. I’ve told lets of ’em about it.” “ Then it was you who set the tale agoing about me and Kitty, that broke her heart ? ” •“ I dare say it was, Joe.” “Then I tell you what, Bill, you’ve told me what I wanted to know any time this last seven years. WTien I saw Jim’s wife growing worse through that scandal, I said to myself, if ever I find ■out who set those tongmes wagging Fll give him a lesson, if it’s a man, to let honest women’s names alone for the future. And now I’m going to do it, Bill, this very night, this very minute. I haven’t waited all this time for nothing so just you come cut from behind the haystack, and Fll give you the lesson.” “ What do you mean to shoot me, or put the dog on me ? ” “ Neither, but I mean to give you the soundest hiding you’ve had this many a day, so come on; and if you won’t take it like a man and stand up to me fair, I’ll wale you with a hedgestake, you woman-fighter.” “Come, Joe, Fll swear the peace again you. I’ll swear the peace.” “ I don’t care. Will you come like a ‘man, or shall I drag you like a cur ? ” “ No, I won’t come, Fll ” “ No, yon won’t. I’ve got you now, and you shan’t run,” and the sturdy keeper dragged his unwilling antagonist through the gate and placed him in a corner of the field behind a haystack. “ Now, Bill will vou fight / ” “No.” “ I’ll fight you until one hand.” “ No.”

“ Then I’ll thrash vou with this ramrod.”

“ I’ll swear ” It was too late. Taking the ramrod and laying the gun against the stack, the keeper thrasbed his writhing victim, til! he swore he’d never mention the name of Kitty Katcliffe again, and then let him go. Watching his opportunity, Bill rushed at the gun, and taking it up, presented it at the keeper. “ How now, Joe ? You’ve had your turn, now it’s mine. Do j’ou know what I’m going to do ? I’m going to shoot.” “ Don’t have murder on your coward’s soul,” “ It’s no murder to kill a dog; you’ve killed hundreds.” “ Kill Growler! No man! for God’s sake don’t do that. ‘‘Keep off! I’ll put the charge into you if you come a step nearer. Keep off” “ Put it in, then, but don’t kill the dog, It was her dog.” “Then here goes. I’d have only winged him if you hadn’t said that. Now, I’ll hit him hill.” “ Heel, Growler, heel! ” cried the keeper, waving his hand behind him; and the dog, who had been an interested spectator of the combat, now came behind his master, and there for some few minutes, they stood, the one waiting a movement of the dog’s that would give him an opportunity for a shot, the other a moment, when the slightest movement of the muzzle would permit him to rush in without certain death. It came at last. A large rat came out of the stack, ran a little way, stopped, snuffed, and caught Growler’s eye. The dog rushed at the rat. There was a report; and when the smoke cleared off, a man was getting over the stile and running away, and the dog was licking the hand and whining piteously over the prostrate form of his bleeding and insensible master. The dog’s return without his master, and his eager running to the door, at length induced Kitty to call one of the farm men to look for him. The dog led the way straight to the stack, where the discharged gun on the ground told the old story of an aifray ■with poachers. He was taken home, and after, some few weeks his arm grew well, and he resumed his duties ; but on the subject of the cause of his wound he would not say

much. A poacher he supposed had attacked him, and in the struggle the gun had gone off. Bill was equally prudent and took very good care that, when Kitty’s name was mentioned, the subject of conversation was soon changed. Kitty was a careful and devoted nurse, without a care in the world hut to please Joe; hut this few weeks of an invalid’s helpless life taught them both that there was growing up between them a reserve that, until then, neither had felt. The old affection between them was breaking up and leaving in its place a painful embarrassment in each other society that brothers and sisters do not experience. It was not till some time after that they quite knew what this strange emotion meant.

One evening they were interrupted at supper by the arrival of the vicar. “ I’ve come,” said he, when seated, “to draw your attention to the fact that your neighbours are talking about your being Sere alone with that young woman who has just left the room.” “ What, Kitty ? ”

“ Yes, Kitty.” “ Why, sir, she’s a child. She’s only seventeen. I’m old enough to be her father. I’ve been like a father to both.”

‘‘No,not her father, for you’re only thirty-four, if I remember, Joseph ? ” “ That’s so, sir.”

“ Well, you see, while they were children, it was all very well, hut now she’s a young women of seventeen it’s not quite the thing.” “ Whoever has said anything, sir ? ” “ JVobody exactly ; but, you see, it’s not pleasant to have letters of this kind sent to me about my parishioners.” He read:—

“ Rev. Sir. —There’s a game agoing on in your parish, as I don’t like, as a respectable man, for to see. Joe Robertson and young Kitty’s all by theirselves in that cottage of his. I asks you if it’s right. He’s as fond of the gal as he was oi her mother afore her, and 1 hope you’ll teach him he’d better not blow on her name as he did on her mother’s.—l am Rev, Sir, yours obedient .” “You see,” said the vicar. “ I heard sometime ago of the scandal about Mrs. Ratcliffe, and what was said by people then.”

“ People then, sir, lied, as this scoundrel’s done now. ‘’ I’d like to push his letter down his throat.” “ You know who wrote it?” “ Yes. There’s only one man in the place bad enough.” “ Who is he ?” “Well I’d rather not tell, sir, hut you’ll hear of it.” “ How about the girl ? You really must have some one here, or send her away, I don’t say there’s any harm; hut people will talk. So contrive some plan to silence them.” And the vicar left him.

Wliat a change it made when Kitty came in again and said, “ Oh, Joe dear! must Igo away. I’ve heard everything, he talked so loud. Must we have some one here? We were so happy, and now I must go.” “ No, lass; not go. I’ll get some old woman to come and live with us.” j He did so, and then found there was a change indeed: he had been so long accustomed to the girls, that he felt for them like a father f hut when the vicar pointed out how slight the difference of age really was, he opened a new fountain of thought and feeling, and the brother and father faded—died in the lover.

Yes, the presence of the old woman showed them that the brother and sister, the father and child relationship might exist for Meggie, but for Kitty there was but one kind of affection, tenderer than either of these, and this was the strange emotion that had disturbed their peace for months. On the last evening of tha old year they were sitting up over the fire to welcome in the new year, and drifted into talk about her father.

“ Do you mind, Kitty, it was just such a day as this, seven years ago, that your father went aw r ay. “ I do mind it well, that sad afternoon Aye as well as if it was yesterday, I remember going with father part of the way down to the park with the team, and stopping gathering some holly till he had loaded and came hack. I remember, too, meeting you just at the top of the hill beyond the Church, with the dogs and some hares and birds you said the Squire had just shot. I remember father talking to you for awhile,, and wanting to go down to the heer-house while the horses rested, andyou told him you’d see to them if he’d put on old Conqueror’s nose-bag, and then his going- away down the hill with his whip over his shoulder, and shouting out as he went, ’ ‘ Look after the girls till I come hack,’ and your saying, ‘ All right’ and then the waiting by you. You sat on the tree for such a long weary time, while Jack Norton tried to amuse us by setting Growler to get a rat under the branches. I can remember it all so well that when I shut my eyes I can see every thing; the old tree, and the church, and the white fields, and the two old pointers I shall never forget it, how we sat there till almost dark, and then you took the team home and took us to our own cottage. I sometimes lay awake of a night, and Joe, I can hear you saying, ‘All right, I’ll see to them,’ as clearly as I did then.” (To be concluded in our nest.)