C.J. Dennis, Rose of Spadgers - Part 6

VII.  ROSE

ROSE

AH, wot's the use?" she sez. "Lea' me alone!

Why can't I go to 'ell in my own way?

I never arst you 'ere to mag an' moan,

Nor yet," she sez, "to pray.

I'll take wot's comin', an' whine no excuse.

So wot's the use?

"Me life's me own!" she sez. "You got a nerve--

You two--to interfere in my affairs.

Git out an' give advise where it may serve:

Stay 'ome an' bleat yer pray'rs.

Did I come pleadin' for yer pity?  No!

Well, why not go?"

Pride! Dilly pride an' down-an'-out despair;

When them two meet there's somethin' got to

break.

96    ROSE OF SPADGERS

I got that way, to see 'er sittin' there,

I felt like I could take

That 'arf-starved frame uv 'er's by might an' main,

An' shake 'er sane.

That's 'ow it is when me an' parson roam

Down to the paradise wot Spadgers knows,

To find the 'ovel that she calls 'er 'ome,

An' 'ave a word with Rose.

Ingagin' 'igh-strung cliners in dispute

Ain't my long suit.

"Huh! Rescue work!" she sneers. 'Er eyes is

bright;

'Er voice is 'ard. "I'm a deservin' case.

Me? Fancy! Don't I look a pretty sight

To come to savin' grace?

Pity the sinner--Aw, don't come that trick!

It makes me sick!"

'Isterical she was, or nearly so:

Too little grub, an' too much time to fret--

 

Hand-drawn sketch - see original document

99

ROSE

Ingrowin' grouch sich as few women know,

Or want to know--an' yet,

When I glance at the parson, there I see

Raw misery.

I've knowed ole Snowy since the days uv old;

Yet never 'ad I got so close to see

 A world-wise man 'oo's 'eart is all pure gold

An' 'uman charity.

For, all that girl was suff'rin', well I knoo,

'E suffered too.

"My child," 'e sez, "I don't come 'ere to preach.

You're a good girl; an' when—" "'Oo sez I

ain't?

'Oo sez I ain't?" 'Er voice is near a screech.

"I'm no hymn-singin' saint;

But you're a bit too previous givin' me

This third degree."

An' then she starts to laugh. I'd 'ate to see

A woman laugh or look like that again.

100 
 ROSE OF SPADGERS

She's in the dinkum 'igh-strikes now; to me

That's showin' pretty plain.

She's like a torchered thing—'arf crazy—wild . . . . 

"Take thort, my child.

"Take thort," the parson sez. "I only ask

Before you risk all for a life uv crime

You'll 'esitate. Is that too 'ard to task?

May there not come a time—"

"Time? Yes," chips. "You'll git that fer yer

pains.

Ar, brush yer brains!"

The parson sighs. "This man," 'e sez "this Wegg

'Oo dazzles you with tork uv gains frum sin--

Is 'e dependable? Think well, I geg--"

"Beg nothin," I chips in.

"To beg decoy ducks ain't the proper tack.

She wants a smack!"

The parson groans. "I've offered you," 'e starts.

"Offer 'er nothin'! Can't you pick 'er like?

101

ROSE    

No dinkum 'elp is any good to tarts

'Oo'd fall fer sich as Spike.

She's short uv grit to battle on 'er own,

An' stand alone."

That done it. If I'd let the parson gone

An' come the mild an' gently, sure enough,

She'd 'ad the willies. When the dames take on,

The game's to treat 'em rough.

That's wot I've 'eard. It woke Rose up, all right,

An' full uv fight.

"Alone?" she sez. "I've stood alone, Gawd knows!

Alone an' honest, battlin' on the square.

An' now--Oh, damn your charity! I've chose!

I'm down; an' I don't care,

I'm fer the easy life an' pretty clo'es.

That's that!" sez Rose.

The cause looks blue. Wot more was to be said?

An' then, all on me own, I weaves right there

The bright idear wot after bowed me 'ead

In sorrer an' despair.

102     

ROSE OF SPADGERS

I didn't ort to be let out alone.

That much I own.

"Ah, well," I sez, resigned, "if that's the life,

It's no use sayin' wot I come to say.

Which was, "I sez, " a message frum me wife

Arstin' you 'ome to stay."

"Your wife?" I nods. "If you 'ad cared to come".

She seems struck dumb.

"Your wife?" she sez. "Wot does she know uv me?"

Then pride an' 'er suspicions makes 'er flare:

"Is this more pretty schemes fer charity?

Why should she arst me there?"

"Why? Well, you ort to know, "I answer quick.

"Account uv Mick".

Down on 'er fold arms 'er 'ead went, flop.

At larst our 'oly cause is won, I know.

She sobbed until I thort she'd never stop:

It 'urt to see 'er so;

Yet I felt glad the way I'd worked me nob--

An' let 'er sob.

103

ROSE 

"That's tore it," I remarks be'ind me 'and.

The parson nods. 'E's smilin' now all gay. .

Ten minutes later, an' the 'ole thing's planned

Fer Rose's 'oliday.

We put the acid on, an' scold an' tease

Till she agrees.

Once we're outside the parson takes me 'and.

"Without your 'elp, your wit, we would 'ave

failed."

"Aw, easy work," I answer, feelin' grand,

Likesome ole knight, tin-mailed.

Then, sudden, like a load uv punchered tyres,

Me pride ixpires.

"Young friend," 'e starts . . . . "No, not too young;

but old—

Old with the cares, "I sez, "uv fambly life.

This might 'ave been dead right when knights was

bold;

But wot about me wife?

She don't know nothin'! I 'ave done me dash

Through actin' rash."

104     

ROSE OF SPADGERS

"A trifle!" sez 'is rev'rince. "Tut!" sez 'e.

"I'll promise you fair sailin' with Doreen."

"Tain't that so much," I sez, "wot troubles me."

"Trouble? Wot you mean?"

I grins at 'im. "Me conscience," I reply,

"I've tole a lie!"

 

VIII.  THE KNIGHT'S RETURN

THE KNIGHT'S RETURN

THE conq'rin' 'ero! Me? Yes, I don't think.

This mornin' when I catch the train fer 'ome,

It's far more like a walloped pup I slink

To kennel, with resolves no more to roam.

Crusades is orf. I'm fer the simple life,

'Ome with me trustin' wife

All safe frum strife.

I've read uv knights returnin' full uv gyp,

Back to the bewchus lady in the tower.

They never seemed to git dumestic pip

In them brave days when knight'ood was in flower.

But times is changed; an' 'usbands 'as to 'eed;

Fer knight'ood's run to seed;

It 'as indeed.

108   

ROSE OF SPADGERS

Snowy, the parson, came to say farewell.

"Young friend," e sez, "You've did a Christian

ack—

A noble deed that you'll be glad to tell

An' boast uv to yer wife when you git back."

"Too true," I sez, reel chirpy. "She'll be proud,

"I'll blab it to the crowd—

If I'm allowed."

"Good-bye! Good luck!" 'e sez. "I'll see to Rose,

Make yer mind easy. Ierdine yer face.

Bless yeh! Good luck; young friend!" An' orf we

goes--

Me an' me conscience arguin' the case.

An', as we pick up speed an' race along,

The rails make up a song;

"Yer in all wrong!"

"Yer in all wrong! Yer in all wrong! Yeh blob!

Why did yeh want to go an' 'unt fer Spike?

Yer in all wrong! Becoz yeh liked the job.

That's wot. An' don't pretend yeh did n't like.

Yer in all wrong! Wot will yeh tell Doreen?

Yeh'll 'ate to 'ave a scene.

Don't yeh feel mean?"

109

THE KNIGHT'S RETURN

Gawstruth I do! It ain't so much the fack

That I 'ave soiled me soul be breakin' trust;

But 'ere's me lip swole up an' one eye black

An' all me map in gen'ril bunged an' bust.

'Ow can a 'omin' 'usband 'ave the neck

To 'arf ixplain that wreck

With self respeck?

An' then ther's Rose. Wot 'ave I got to say

About that invite? 'Struth! Doreen an' Rose!

Artstin' strange dames (comparative) to stay

Ain't done since knights 'ad buttons to their

clo'es.

Wot's after, if I do pull orf the coop?

I feel me spirits droop.

I'm in the soup!

'Longside the line, a 'undred 'omes I see

Uv 'appy 'usbands, peaceful with their wives.

They don't go out knight-erratin', like me,

An' leadin' vi'lint , complicated lives.

They stops at 'ome, an' side-steps lash, to find

Conjoojil pleasures kind

An' peace uv mind.

110      

ROSE OF SPADGERS

Two stations on, a w'iskered coot gits in

I seem to sort uv rekernise, some'ow.

But all at once I place 'im, an' I grin.

But 'e don't jerry; 'e's stone sober now.

It's 'im I scragged in Spadgers—number one—

The late suspected gun.

It's Danny Dunn.

"Sold that watch yet, ole cobber?" I remarks.

'E grabs 'is bag, an' views me battered dile,

With sudden fears uv spielers an' their larks.

But I ixplain, an' 'e digs up a smile.

"Ah, yes," 'e drawls. "We met two nights ago.

But I was —well, you know—

Well—jist so-so."

'E pipes me dile again, then stammers out,

"I'm sorry, sonny. Stone the crows! It's sad

To see yer face so orful cut about.

I never thort I walloped you so bad.

I'm sorry, lad, that we should come to blows.

Black eye? An' wot a nose!

Oh, stone the crows!

111

THE KNIGHT'S RETURN 

I ease 'is guilty mind about me phiz,

An' we're good cobbers in a 'arf a tick.

Then 'e wades in an' tells me 'oo 'e is.

('E ain't a bad ole coot when'e ain't shick)

"I ain't dead broke," 'e sez. "That night, yeh know,

I was cleaned out uv dough,

An'—well—so-so."

Lookin' fer land 'e is; an' 'as 'is eye

Upon a little far jist close to me.

If 'e decides to take it by-an'-by,

"Why stone the crows!I'll look yous up," sez 'e.

"I need some friends: I ain't got wife nor chick;

An' yous will like me quick---

When I ain't shick."

I leaves 'im tork. Me own affairs won't let

Me pay much 'eed to all 'e 'as to say.

But, while 'e's spountin', sudden like I get

A bright idear that brings one 'opeful ray.

One thing I 'eard pertickler while 'e spoke:

'E is a single bloke.

I lets that soak.