Digger Smith | Page 2

before the war.
"Before the war," she sez. "Yeh mind our Syd??Poor lad. . . . But then, yeh never met young Jim--?'Im 'oo was charged with things 'e never did.?Ah, both uv you'd 'ave been reel chums with 'im.?'Igh-spirited 'e was, a perfect limb.?It's six long years now since 'e went away?Ay, drove away." 'Er poor ole eyes git dim.?"That was," she sighs, "that was me blackest day.
"Me blackest day! Wot am I sayin' now??There was the day the parson come to tell?The news about our Syd. . . . An', yet, some'ow . . . .?My little Jim!" She pauses for a spell. . . .?"Your 'olly'ocks is doin' reely well,"?She sez, an' battles 'ard to brighten up.?"An' them there pinks uv yours, 'ow sweet they smell.?An'--Thanks! I think I will 'ave one more cup."
As fur as I can get the strength uv it,?Them Floods 'ave 'ad a reel tough row to hoe.?First off, young Jim, 'oo plays it 'igh a bit,?Narks the ole man a treat, an' slings the show.?Then come the war, an' Syd 'e 'as to go.?'E run 'is final up at Suvla Bay--?One uv the Aussies I was proud to know.?An' Jim's cracked 'ardy since 'e went away.
'Er Jim! These mothers! Lord, they're all the same.?I wonder if Doreen will be that kind..?Syd was the son 'oo played the reel man's game;?But Jim 'oo sloped an' left no word be'ind,?His is the picter shinin' in 'er mind.?'Igh-spirited! I've 'eard that tale before.?I sometimes think she'd take it rather kind?To 'ear that 'is 'igh spirits run to war.
"Before the war," she sez. "Ah, times was good.?The little farm out there, an' jist us four?Workin' to make a decent liveli'ood.?Our Syd an' Jim! . . . Poor Jim! It grieves me sore;?For Dad won't 'ave 'im mentioned 'ome no more.?'E's 'urt, I know, cos 'e thinks Jim 'urt me.?As if 'e could, the bonny boy I bore. . . .?But I must off 'ome now, an' git Dad's tea."
I seen 'er to the gate. (Take it frum me,?I'm some perlite.) She sez, "Yeh mustn't mind?Me talkin' so uv Jim, but when I see?Your face it brings 'im back; 'e's jist your kind.?Not quite so 'an'some, p'r'aps, nor so refined.?I've got some toys uv 'is," she sez. "But there--?This is ole woman's talk, an' you be'ind?With all yer work, an' little time to spare."
She gives me 'and a squeeze an' turns away,?Sobbin', I thort; but when she looks be'ind,?Smilin', an' wavin', like she felt reel gay,?I wonders 'ow the women works that blind,?An' jist waves back; then goes inside to find?A lookin'-glass, an' takes a reel good look. . . .?"'Not quite so 'an'some, p'r'aps, nor so refined!'?Gawd 'elp yeh, Jim," I thinks. "Yeh must be crook."
II. DUMMY BRIDGE
Dummy Bridge
"IF I'd 'a' played me Jack on that there Ten,"?Sez Peter Begg, "I might 'a' made the lot."?"'Ow could yeh?" barks ole Poole. "'Ow' could yeh, when?I 'ad me Queen be'ind?" Sez Begg, "Wot rot!?I slung away me King to take that trick.?Which one! Say, ain't yer 'ead a trifle thick?
"Now, don't yeh see that when I plays me King?I give yer Queen a chance, an' lost the slam."?But Poole, 'e sez 'e don't see no sich thing,?So Begg gits 'ot, an' starts to loose a "Damn."?'E twigs the missus jist in time to check,?An' makes it "Dash," an' gits red down 'is neck.
There's me an' Peter Begg, an' ole man Poole--?Neighbours uv mine, that farm a bit close by--?Jist once a week or so we makes a school,?An' gives this game uv Dummy Bridge a fly.?Doreen, she 'as 'er sewin' be the fire,?The kid's in bed; an' 'ere's me 'eart's desire.
'Ome-comfort, peace, the picter uv me wife?'Appy at work, me neighbours gathered round?All friendly-like--wot more is there in life??I've searched a bit, but, better I ain't found.?Doreen, she seems content, but in 'er eye?I've seen reel pity when the talk gits 'igh.
This ev'nin' we 'ad started off reel 'ot:?Two little slams, an' Poole, without a score,?Still lookin' sore about the cards 'e'd got--?When, sudden-like, a knock comes to the door.?"A visitor," growls Begg, "to crool our game."?An' looks at me, as though I was to blame.
Jist as Doreen goes out, I seen 'er grin.?"Deal 'em up quick!" I whispers. "Grab yer 'and,?An' look reel occupied when they comes in.?Per'aps they'll 'ave the sense to understand.?If it's a man, maybe 'e'll make a four;?But if"--Then Missus Flood comes in the door.
'Twas ole Mar Flood, 'er face wrapped in a smile.?"Now, boys," she sez, "don't let me spoil yer game.?I'll jist chat with Doreen a little while;?But if yeh stop I'll be ashamed I came."?An' then she waves a letter in 'er 'and.?Sez she, "Our Jim's a soldier! Ain't it grand?"
"Good boy," sez Poole. "Let's see. I make it 'earts."?"Doubled!"