Australasian (Melbourne, Vic. : 1864 - 1946), Saturday 11 June 1892, page 42


THE STORYTELLER.

THE MUGWUMP.

BY F. S. F.

We christened him the Mugwump the

moment we saw him.

"What's a Mugwump?" inquired Con

White.

" Something like a Muntnoot, only larger," exclaimed Charlie, and we all laughed.

One can laugh at very feeble jokes when one is young, and healthy, and well fed. We lay on the grass under the apple trees and smoked. The Mugwump came towards us. lie was narrow-shouldered, large-eared, and pale. At times he affected a joviality which was peculiarly distressing in one so ill-fitted

for it by nature.

" I say, you dogs !" he said. " You've been playing 'possum, you have; I want to talk to

you."

He stood before us swinging his long arms, a peculiar grin on his face, which intimated

jocularity.

" Talk away then," returned Charlie ; " talk away, we've no objection. Sit down, and dis tribute tobacco amongst us, and we'll receive you most heartily."

The Mugwump giggled, seated himself on an old candle-box, plucked a blade of grass and chewed the end, then giggled.

"Got anything particular to say?" I inquired. "Seen ' the divinity' lately?"

The Mugwump coloured. " Now that's not fair; you promised you would not mention that,

Browne."

" Couldn't help it, old man ; it was so inter esting. Tell us all about it. Have you seen

her to-day ?"

He nodded, and looked from one to the other of us, twisting his long thin fingers

together.

" You—you'll laugh at me." he said. " You are such beggars to laugh, you know."

Charlie pulled his hat over his eyes, and puffed vigorously at his pipe. " We won't laugh," he said ; " we won't, really. We are fond of girls ourselves, on our honour we are ;

aren't we, Browne ?"

I assented, and Con nodded, and winked. " Safe as houses with us, old man. Tell us

what she is like."

"She's tall," said the Mugwump timidly. " Long legs."

I saw Charlie's pipe twitch, and he pulled his hat further over his eyes. Con and I, with a more perfect command of our facial muscles, were perfectly grave.

The Mugwump paused, and chose another blade of grass with great care, then went on slowly. " She's very tall, and not fat, not a

bit fat,"

" Is she beautiful ?" inquired Con.

" Very!" returned the Mugwump soberly.

" Very beautiful."

" What colour are her eyes ?" inquired

Charlie.

" Her eyes !" The Mugwump looked

troubled.

" Hasn't she got any ? asked Con, sym

pathetically.

" Only one, perhaps," suggested Charlie.

The Mugwump coloured again. " You are laughing at me." he said. " They are blue, dark blue, beautiful dark blue."

We nodded. " And her hair ?" said

Charlie.

The Mugwump looked puzzled. " I am not quite sure," He said, slowly, " It is

golden, I think."

" Blue eyes and golden hair! What more could man desire ?" cried Con enthusiasti

cally.

" Her complexion, old man, what is that

like ?"

" Pink and white,"returned the Mugwump, smiling. " Roses and milk !"

" We must look her up, Archie," said Con; " we really must. It isn't fair for this man to keep all the good things to him self."

" Is she nice to you, old chap ?"

The Mugwump smiled, but did not answer. He sat stiff and upright beside us, chewing

blades of grass.

" What's her name ?" asked Charlie.

" Maria!" returned the Mugwump, slowly. " Maria!" And, considering the harshness of the name, the fever of love enabled him to make it sound almost pretty.

He looked past us into space, his eyes lit up with the light of love; his delicate, small featured face coloured with the blush which rose so readily.

We felt for him a pitying contempt, he was so helpless and incapable, so vastly different from our robust, hearty, boyish selves.

"Are you very much in love?" inquired

Con.

The Mugwump started from his reverie, crossing his hands primly in front of him. " Yes, I think I am," he said. " I never think of anything but her. I love her very much. I must marry her."

Charlie began a giggle, but turned it into a cough. Con hummed a tune, and I said " Wish you good luck, my boy. When do

you propose ?"

He coloured furiously, and stammered. " That's it I—I don't know what to say. I think it all out, but when I see her I feel as if the time was not fit, as if I must wait."

" How long have you known her?" asked

Charlie.

"About three weeks. I see her every

day."

" Every day ! 'Pon my word, old man, you are going it. Mind you let us know in

time, that we may prepare our wedding gar-

ments."

A few days after, as we sat around the dinner table, Charlie said—

"Let's have a lark with the Mugwump; let us waylay him as be returns from

Maria's."

"Too much trouble," returned Con; "be sides, we don't know where Maria lives."

" Yes, I do. He pointed out the place this morning; about quarter of a mile away, through the paddocks. Don't be lazy! Come on ; we haven't stirred out of the house all day; it will be such a lark."

We allowed ourselves to be persuaded, and cut out black calico masks, and tied sashes about our waists, into which we stuck various knives and pipe-cases. Charlie, with his mask meeting his fine black moustache and two ostrich feathers stuck in his hat, looked the regular stage villain.

The night was terribly sharp and cold, but bright moonlight. Here and there great white-gum trunks shone like silver, their leaves glistening as they shook in a slight breeze. We stationed ourselves about twenty yards from the cottage, and lit our pipes. There were lights in the windows, and we could occasionally hear voices, or the low wailing cry of a child. Charlie possessed the only tobacco-pouch, aud it did not con tain enough to refill our pipes. We began to get impatient. I wanted to go home, and Con feebly backed me up. Charlie would not hear of it, however, and we stayed on, stamping about to keep some life in our cold feet. We tried to light a fire, but there had been a heavy shower in the afternoon, and

all the wood was wet.

" Perhaps he is going to stay all night,"

suggested Con.

I caught at the idea, for I was terribly cold

amd sleepy, and tantalising visions of a luxurious fire at home, pipes, and warm drinks rose before me and I assured them that it was most probable that he had stayed there before. Presently, however, the door opened, and we could hear the Mugwump

bidding someone good-night. " Now, boys," said Charlie, "wait till he is even with us, and then rush out."

We were cold, tired, and ready to vent our irritation on some one, or something. As he

came towards us, we stepped lightly forward. He was humming a tune, and walking with an awkward swinging gait. His hat was on the back of his head, and his face looked pinched and white in the bright moonlight. As he passed we rushed out with a yell. He started violently, stopped, then began to run, but Con caught him by the arm, and raised a pipe-case to his face, crying—

" Prepare to die, wretched man."

The Mugwump was shaking like a leaf, his eyes wide with terror, and his mouth work ing. The humour of the situation seemed lost, somehow, and Charlie and I, brandish ing knifes above his head, felt rather foolish. Suddenly the Mugwump threw up his arms, uttered a scream, as a woman might have done, and fell back in a dead faint on Con's

shoulder.

The cottage door was opened, and some one came running down the hill. Con swore roundly, while Charlie and I sheepishly patted the Mugwump's limp, cold hands. There were hurried steps behind us.

" What on earth is all this ?" cried a sharp female voice. "What tomfoolery is this. You've been frightening him, you big cowards! Him too, that's worth a dozen of you ! Bring him up to house here. Come on! Carry him gently, too. What's he ever done to you, that you should go playing the fools' game ? Parcel of wicked blackguards that ye are ! Don't you know that that sort of thing is enough to turn a man's brain, and send him to the mad-house. You may thank your stars if he don't at least have brain

fever after this."

She was panting with anger and fright, and her voice was harsh and shrill. She lowered it, however, as we reached the house, and as we stepped across the threshold she raised her hand warningly.

"Make no noise," she said ; "there's two sick children lying in the bed there."

The room was low, white-washed, and earth-floored ; a candle burned on the high narrow mantel-shelf, and in the wide fire place was a small fire, before which stood several pots.

We laid the Mugwump on a small hard sofa, and glanced at each other sheepishly. We had removed our masks, and buttoned our coats over our sashes, and I noticed that the feathers had disappeared from Charlie's

hat.

Our companion bathed the Mugwump's forehead, and forced some water between his lips. Some colour presently returned to the pale face, and he opened his eyes. He did not appear to notice us at first; he looked up at the female bending over him and mur mered, " Maria!"

We looked at one another. So this was Maria, this raw-boned, ungainly creature of thirty or so—freckled, sandy-haired, pale eyed. We did not laugh, however. Con coughed, and shifted about uneasily; Charlie stared into the fire, and I, with my hands in my pockets, crumpled my mask into a tight ball, feeling like a small schoolboy detected in some serious misdemeanour. We seemed to stand there for ages, taking in the details of the low, poorly-furnished room, and wish ing ourselves well out of the scrape.

Presently Maria turned towards us. She

spoke in low tones for fear of waking the children, from whom a low moan could occa sionally be heard.

"You mean, disgraceful cowards!" she said. " You low scamps ! Him that's been all my help and comfort—that's helped nurse the children in the fever, when not another soul in the township would come near, and the very parson would do nothing but ' send to inquire.' A lot of good that is, to be sure, as if inquiring would help you, when you was near run off your legs, and not knowing where to turn for the next shilling. And here's him, that's worked and watched, and spent his money on little delicacies for the children, and toys for them too, going without things for himself, you may be sure —that's trapsed up to this neglected, poverty-stricken place day after day, when his work was finished at the office, to give all the help he could, and him that delicate "—and she laid her coarse, freckled lingers on the transparent, white ones of the Mugwump —" that he ought to be nursed up, and coddled, and minded, but he ain't got a soul belonging to him to do it. Him, I say, that's worth the whole township put together, you must go frightening and playing your fools' tricks on. You call yourselves men, I s'pose.

Thank the Lord, then, I'm a woman."

The Mugwump had attempted to interfere several times, but she had not heeded. Now, however, she paused for breath, and he laid a

hand on her arm.

" Maria!" his voice was supplicating. Her eyes softened wonderfully as she turned

towards him.

"Don't you interrupt me, Maurice," she

said.

" It was only a bit of fun, Maria ; it was very foolish of me to be frightened. I might have known Con White's voice ; I was very

stupid."

Maria turned towards us again. Our heads were hanging, and we cast longing looks

towards the door.

" You sneaks !" she said. " Go on, go on ;

your fun's over for to-night, if I'm not mis taken. I despise the lot of you."

She said more than this. Her words were forcible, and we shrank under them.

"Maria, Maria," cried the Mugwump, "not any more don't say any more ; they did not mean it. Johnny is crying, too."

A highpitched wail came from the adjoin ing room, and Maria, without deigning to took at us again, marched out.

Charlie went forward and took the Mug

wump's hand.

" Old man," he said, "we're awfully sorry about this affair, it was my doing; I started it. We had no idea about this, of course, and we didn't think for a minute that you'd be so—so—upset. You'll forgive us, old

chap."

The Mugwump sat up, and extended his left hand to Con. " I was stupid," he said; " I was tired, I think, and my head isn't very right. Besides, I am not made like you

three."

His narrow shoulders seemed to have con tracted even more, and his ears standing out from his head looked transparent in the fire-light. He was so small and fragile that we each felt a keen thrill of disgust at the part

we had taken in the joke.

" You had better go now," he said, glancing

at the door. " I'll stay here and help Maria

with Johnny he seems very fractious

to-night, and her father, he—he—well, he

drinks a little too much, and he's not fit for

anything to-night." He glanced at me and coloured, and his

dark eyes caught a crimson glow from the firelight.

" I 'wish, Browne," he said, "I wish you could have seen Maria at some other time ;

she is worried now, and anxious ; you do not see her at her best. But I was not wrong in what I said, was I ? She is—she is—beauti

ful ?"

We dared not meet one another's eyes. He believed it then, he actually saw beauty in this "muckle-mouthed Meg."

"She is beautiful, he murmured, almost below his breath. The door gave an ominous creak, so, picking up our hats, and again shaking hands with the Mugwump, we made

a hurried exit.

We spoke very little on the way home, and, as if by common consent, did not mention

the matter in any way.

Some months later we heard of the Mugwump's marriage with Marin, and at Charlie's suggestion went into town and sent them off a gorgeous wedding present.