Jonah | Page 4

COURTING OF PINKEY
PART 2
THE SIGN OF THE "SILVER SHOE"
12 THE SIGN OF THE "SILVER SHOE" 13 A FAMILY IN EXILE
14 ADA MAKES A FRIEND 15 Mrs PARTRIDGE LENDS A HAND
16 A DEATH IN THE FAMILY 17 THE TWO-UP SCHOOL 18 THE
"ANGEL" LOSES A CUSTOMER 19 THE PIPES OF PAN 20 Mrs
PARTRIDGE MINDS THE SHOP 21 DAD WEEPS ON A
TOMBSTONE 22 A FATAL ACCIDENT

PART 1

LARRIKINS ALL
CHAPTER 1

SATURDAY NIGHT AT THE CORNER

One side of the street glittered like a brilliant eruption with the light
from a row of shops; the other, lined with houses, was almost deserted,
for the people, drawn like moths by the glare, crowded and jostled
under the lights.
It was Saturday night, and Waterloo, by immemorial habit, had flung
itself on the shops, bent on plunder. For an hour past a stream of people
had flowed from the back streets into Botany Road, where the shops
stood in shining rows, awaiting the conflict.
The butcher's caught the eye with a flare of colour as the light played
on the pink and white flesh of sheep, gutted and skewered like victims
for sacrifice; the saffron and red quarters of beef, hanging like the limbs
of a dismembered Colossus; and the carcasses of pigs, the unclean
beast of the Jews, pallid as a corpse. The butchers passed in and out,
sweating and greasy, hoarsely crying the prices as they cut and hacked
the meat. The people crowded about, sniffing the odour of dead flesh,
hungry and brutal--carnivora seeking their prey.
At the grocer's the light was reflected from the gay labels on tins and
packages and bottles, and the air was heavy with the confused odour of
tea, coffee and spices.
Cabbages, piled in heaps against the door-posts of the greengrocer's,
threw a rank smell of vegetables on the air; the fruit within, built in
pyramids for display, filled the nostrils with the fragrant, wholesome
scents of the orchard.
The buyers surged against the barricade of counters, shouting their
orders, contesting the ground inch by inch as they fought for the value
of a penny. And they emerged staggering under the weight of their
plunder, laden like ants with food for hungry mouths--the insatiable
maw of the people.
The push was gathered under the veranda at the corner of Cardigan
Street, smoking cigarettes and discussing the weightier matters of
life--horses and women. They were all young--from eighteen to
twenty-five--for the larrikin never grows old. They leaned against the

veranda posts, or squatted below the windows of the shop, which had
been to let for months.
Here they met nightly, as men meet at their club--a terror to the
neighbourhood. Their chief diversion was to guy the pedestrians,
leaping from insult to swift retaliation if one resented their foul
comments.
"Garn!" one was saying, "I tell yer some 'orses know more'n a man. I
remember old Joe Riley goin' inter the stable one day to a brown mare
as 'ad a derry on 'im 'cause 'e flogged 'er crool. Well, wot does she do?
She squeezes 'im up agin the side o' the stable, an' nearly stiffens 'im
afore 'e cud git out. My oath, she did!"
"That's nuthin' ter wot a mare as was runnin' leader in Daly's 'bus used
ter do," began another, stirred by that rivalry which makes talkers
magnify and invent to cap a story; but he stopped suddenly as two girls
approached.
One was short and fat, a nugget, with square, sullen features; the other,
thin as a rake, with a mass of red hair that fell to her waist in a thick
coil.
"'Ello, Ada, w'ere you goin'?" he inquired, with a facetious grin. "Cum
'ere, I want ter talk ter yer."
The fat girl stopped and laughed.
"Can't--I'm in a 'urry," she replied.
"Well, kin I cum wid yer?" he asked, with another grin.
"Not wi' that face, Chook," she answered, laughing.
"None o' yer lip, now, or I'll tell Jonah wot yer were doin' last night,"
said Chook.
"W'ere is Joe?" asked the girl, suddenly serious. "Tell 'im I want ter see
'im."

"Gone ter buy a smoke; 'e'll be back in a minit."
"Right-oh, tell 'im wot I said," replied Ada, moving away.
"'Ere, 'old 'ard, ain't yer goin' ter interdooce yer cobber?" cried Chook,
staring at the red-headed girl.
"An' 'er ginger 'air was scorchin' all 'er back," he sang in parody,
suddenly cutting a caper and snapping his fingers.
The girl's white skin flushed pink with anger, her eyes sparkled with
hate.
"Ugly swine! I'll smack yer jaw, if yer talk ter me," she cried.
"Blimey, 'ot stuff, ain't it?" inquired Chook.
"Cum on, Pinkey. Never mind 'im," cried Ada, moving off.
"Yah, go 'ome an' wash