A Nod from Dr Johnson

New Zealand Listener, Volume 37, Issue 932, 21 June 1957, Page 8

A Nod from Dr Johnson

BY

H. J.

KAVANAGH

QNE drowsy mid-summer afternoon, about an hour after lunch, old Mr Pellew was sitting quietly in a corner behind the counter of the store immersed in the Life of Samuel Johnson when he had his attention diverted to the somewhat rackety approach of a motor-car. It was Sale Day with everybody away in town, and as the engine seemed to have the same knock as the old pre-war Essex he thought. it would be his son and daughter-in-law back early on account of having young Eric in bed. But when he peered around the door he saw it was the battered Model A which had been down around there the day before with the rabbits slung on the back carrier. It went past slowly, turned at the first crossroad and stopped a little way down. Two men got out. Through the side window overlooking the road Mr Pellew could see them standing talking and looking over towards the store. Presently one of the men opened the rear door of the car and took out a can. Together they walked up the road a bit, found a gap and came through the scrub headed for the rear of the shop. For a moment Mr Pellew thoughtfully watched their approach. Then with the lines gathering about his mouth and shrewd grey-blue eyes, he turned and went back through the passage to a side bedroom. He was a tall lean man and walked with a slight stoop. "I want-you to stay quiet for a while, Eric," he said to the pale-faced youngster of about five who sat up in bed with a colouring book. "I’m having some men in to see me." "All right, Gtandad,"’ said the boy, nodding gravely. "S’pose they. want to open an account." "That’s it, son,’ Mr Pellew said, "open an account." In somewhat less relaxed frame of mind he had turned again to some discourse of the learned Doctor when the back gate clicked and he heard footsteps on the side path to the store. "Sorry to come in the back way," said the first man to enter, "but we ran out of juice on that side road." He was a tall, thin, rather good-looking youth with wavy brown hair, and a fixed smile. He wore a close-fitting, multi-coloured pull-over and carried the can which he put down with a flourish on the counter. One gallon whatever you got." The other mar was of short but heavy build, with thick black eyebrows. He was older in appearance, more generally ‘obtuse and carried an old-fashioned, double-barrelled shotgun. "I’m sorry, too," said Mr Pellew, "but that pump you see there is empty. My son gave it up some time ago. I thought he made that plain to you when you stopped here yesterday." -The two men looked at each other and the younger one said: "Were we round this way yesterday, Horrie?" "If we were, Slim," Horrie said, in a deep, slightly wheezy ‘tone, "then we been travellin’ round in circles. Can’t remember meetin’ Dad, though." "Ease up on'that ‘Dad,’" advised Slim, "or we don’t get invited to dinner." "Dinner was over here an hour ago," Mr Pellew explained evenly, laying ‘aside Dr Johnson. He got up and made ‘an abstracted survey of the shelves. "Is

there anything you might lke to take away with you?" "Is there anything you might like to take away with you, Horrie?" said Slim. "Make up your mind. Mr ae glanced down at a bill head, tL Pellew and Son’-"Mr Pellew, senior, hasn’t got all day." "Lemme see now," said Horrie. "I might like a packet of Eley cartridges. All I got left is in the gun." Slim made a gesture in despairing appeal to Mr Pellew. "Now what would you do with a man like that, Mr Pellew? Walkin’ into a shop-back way, too-with a loaded gun! I got to be at him all the time about leavin’ the safety catch off." Mr Pellew seemed too preoccupied to offer any comment on this. "I think," he said, "Jim got a new stock of cartridges in the other day. I’d have to go out to the shed to look." "Don’t you bother, Mr Pellew," said Slim. "Horrie will just have to make do with the two he’s got." ; "S’pose we just have a look round for ourselves," said Horrie. "Let Dad get along with his book." "What’s the name of the book, anyway, Mr Pellew," said Slim. He leant across to get a glimpse of the title and whistled, "Whew, Life of Samuel Johnson. You're a pretty deep reader." "Moderate," said Mr Pellew. "Moderate." ""Moderate’ he calls it."" Slim turned to Horrie. "A man must be a real scholar to read books like that, Horrie."’ "Everybody’s tellin’ me about a book, Robbery Under Arms,’ said Horrie. "You know it, Dad?" "That’s an Australian classic," said Mr Pellew. "By Rolf Bolderwood."

"Horrie doesn’t worry about authors," said Slim, "He just remembers the title. Who was it again wrote this Life of Samuel Johnson?" "Boswell," said Mr Pellew. "James Boswell, a Scot." "Yes, yes, of course, Boswell. All I know about Johnson, he was always throwing his weight around in the Cheshire Cheese." "The Turk’s Head," corrected Mr Pellew. "But that’s quite a wrong impression. Johnson was aggressive ‘only in manner. There was one occasion only at a theatre when he threw a man bodily into the pit for taking his seat and refusing to give it up." Horrie, who had rested the gun against the wall and begun to roll a cigarette, broke in again with heightened interest. "Could go the tough way, this Johnson?" He nodded approvingly. "Don’t get the wrong impression," said Mr Pellew. "No," said Slim, assuming a reflective air and hoisting himself to a seat on the counter. "But you know, Mr Pellew, some people might get a wrong impression about you." A faint smile, almost of embarrassment, crossed Mr Pellew’s face, "Well, now .? he said. "Here’s you," said Slim, "reading quietly about your Dr Johnson in a shop miles from anywhere, and two -_--

strangers step in with a gun. I’d expect you to be thrown all of a dither." "I’ve never had any trouble yet," said Mr Pellew. "And I’ve spent my life round here." "There’s always a next time, Dad," said Horrie. "Keep those fingers crossed." "Oh, yes," said Mr Pellew. A sudden gust from the door disturbed some papers on the counter and he moved along to straighten them. "Would you mind," he said to Horrie, "shutting that door?" Horrie walked over to the door. Mr Pellew leant across casually and picked up the gun. "You see now," he said when Horrie had turned round again. "You hadn’t got the safety catch on." Quickly he undid the breech and glanced inside. He snapped it shut and handed the gun back to Horrie. "Your friend here,’’ he said to Slim, "is a bit of a leg-puller. The gun isn’t loaded." "If ever there was a dim wit, " said Slim, sliding his buttocks from the counter. That was unmistakably the Essex now, and Mr Pellew went to the door again. "We'll be headin’ back to town, Mr Pellew," said Slim. "Might look in on you again sometime." "Yeah," said MHorrie. "Hear some more about this Johnson." "Johnson, you know," said) Mr Pellew, "had an unreasonable prejudice against the country." "Let’s hear it." "He said that he who was content to live in the country was fit for the country." Slim slapped Horrie hard, on the shoulder. "There you are," he said. "What.do you know about that for wit?" Mr Pellew watching again from his side window saw them go round to the side road and climb into their car. It seemed to skip pretty lively into top gear. In the passage he found young Eric sitting in his pyjamas. "Back into that bed, you scallywag," he said. "You mother will have your hide." : "What’s the matter, Grandad?" said Eric. "You look scared." --