Charles Beadle

“ Mary shot a quick look at Jim and disappeared into the kitchen. Jim paused irresolutely, twiddling his cap.
“Look ’ere, Alf,” said he diffidently, “I don’t fink I’d better stay. Sorter upset the missus, don’t it? ’Sides,” he added lamely, “I wanter look up a bloke o’ me sister’s wot lives in Bolton.”
“Come on!” exploded Alf boisterously, dragging him by the arm. “Wot yer playin’ at? She’ll come round orl right. Women is like that. Come, you don’t know ’em as I do, you bein’ a single bloke,” winking prodigiously. ”

“ Wot’s the matter wiv yer? Want ter insult a feller?”
“No.”
“Well, then shut up and don’t be a bloomin’ fool! Ah,” grinning triumphantly, “you wait till yer see young Alf! He’ll Alf yer proper! Hey, Mary!” he bawled, “gettin’ supper? Get a ’ustle on. Missus! We’re ’ungry, we are, ain’t we, mate? ’Ere, I’ll fetch ’im down!” And shouting: “Alf! Hey, young Alf!” he thundered up the stairs, leaving Jim gazing at an oleograph of the king and queen.
As the footsteps sounded overhead, shaking the jerry-built ceiling, Jim rose. He stood in the passage, peering toward the kitchen. ”

“ While he stumped up-stairs Jim sat listening. Once he sighed hard and clenched his fists.
“She’s sorter feelin’ porely,” Alf explained on his return. “Sorter upset like. Women is like that sometimes. Queer sort women is—” He rambled on for a few minutes, fidgeting. “Fac’ is—better turn in, hey? Sorter want me ter comfort ’er. Women is like that sometimes. Funny fings, women. Don’t mind, do yer?”
After turning out the lamp and locking the front door Alf escorted Jim to the guest-chamber, a tiny room at the back. ”

“ Like ’is farver ’e knows a man w’en ’e sees ’im. Anybody as ’e takes to I’d trust—I’d trust—Gawd, I’d trust wiv me missus, swelp me if I wouldn’t!”
Jim dropped his eyes to the boy, who, quite content, cuddled closer to him and appeared ready to sleep. As Alf senior turned away, the mixture of awe and regard swiftly turned to intense hatred as Jim glanced at the other’s broad back. When Mary came in she started at the sight of the child in Jim’s arms and bit her lips.
“Alf! Alf!” she called sharply. “Wot yer doin’ there? Come ’ere!” ”

“ I can’t—I daren’t!!’
“’Ere, Mary,” he said, finding eloquence, “yer can’t live like this, it ain’t right. I loved you first, didn’t I? We allus loved each uvver. W’en I leff yer, I couldn’t ’elp it, straight. Yus. I know I went on the booze—and I bin ever since. I don’t care nuffin if you ain’t wiv me—Gawd—Mary, wot did yer leave me fer? W’y ever did yer? I bin in ’ell, I ’ave.”
“’Cos yer didn’t marry me, that’s w’y I leff yer. Cos I wanted ter be a respec’able ’ooman and ’e made me that—wot you’d never ’ave done.” ”

“ Exceedingly happy and slightly dyspeptic, young Alf said his prayers with a special plea for those at sea and was tucked up in bed, contented in the promise of a wonderful cake which Aunt Lizzie was to make for him on the morrow.
But as Mary moved about the little kitchen, clearing up for the night, there came a single knock at the door. Mary stood still, holding a dish in her hand. Her eyes were like a startled fawn’s. She hesitated; moved from one foot to the other; her mobile lips muttered: “It’ll only be Mrs. ”

“ The longest-living author of this work died in 1944, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 79 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works. ”