A Spirit of Avarice

  Produced by David Widger

  ODD CRAFT

  By W.W. Jacobs

  A SPIRIT OF AVARICE

  Mr. John Blows stood listening to the foreman with an air of loftydisdain. He was a free-born Englishman, and yet he had been summarilypaid off at eleven o'clock in the morning and told that his valuableservices would no longer be required. More than that, the foreman hadpassed certain strictures upon his features which, however true theymight be, were quite irrelevant to the fact that Mr. Blows had beendiscovered slumbering in a shed when he should have been laying bricks.

  "Mr. John Blows stood listening to the foreman with an airof lofty disdain."]

  "Take your ugly face off these 'ere works," said the foreman; "take it'ome and bury it in the back-yard. Anybody'll be glad to lend you aspade."

  Mr. Blows, in a somewhat fluent reply, reflected severely on theforeman's immediate ancestors, and the strange lack of good-feeling andpublic spirit they had exhibited by allowing him to grow up.

  "Take it 'ome and bury it," said the foreman again. "Not under anyplants you've got a liking for."

  "I suppose," said Mr. Blows, still referring to his foe's parents, andnow endeavouring to make excuses for them--"I s'pose they was so pleased,and so surprised when they found that you was a 'uman being, that theydidn't mind anything else."

  He walked off with his head in the air, and the other men, who hadpartially suspended work to listen, resumed their labours. A modest pintat the Rising Sun revived his drooping spirits, and he walked homethinking of several things which he might have said to the foreman if hehad only thought of them in time.

  He paused at the open door of his house and, looking in, sniffed at thesmell of mottled soap and dirty water which pervaded it. The stairs werewet, and a pail stood in the narrow passage. From the kitchen came thesounds of crying children and a scolding mother. Master Joseph HenryBlows, aged three, was "holding his breath," and the family were allaghast at the length of his performance. He re-covered it as his fatherentered the room, and drowned, without distressing himself, the impotentefforts of the others. Mrs. Blows turned upon her husband a look of hotinquiry.

  "I've got the chuck," he said, surlily.

  "What, again?" said the unfortunate woman. "Yes, again," repeated herhusband.

  Mrs. Blows turned away, and dropping into a chair threw her apron overher head and burst into discordant weeping. Two little Blows, who hadceased their outcries, resumed them again from sheer sympathy.

  "Stop it," yelled the indignant Mr. Blows; "stop it at once; d'ye hear?"

  "I wish I'd never seen you," sobbed his wife from behind her apron. "Ofall the lazy, idle, drunken, good-for-nothing----"

  "Go on," said Mr. Blows, grimly.

  "You're more trouble than you're worth," declared Mrs. Blows. "Look atyour father, my dears," she continued, taking the apron away from herface; "take a good look at him, and mind you don't grow up like it."

  Mr. Blows met the combined gaze of his innocent offspring with a darkscowl, and then fell to moodily walking up and down the passage until hefell over the pail. At that his mood changed, and, turning fiercely, hekicked that useful article up and down the passage until he was tired.

  "I've 'ad enough of it," he muttered. He stopped at the kitchen-doorand, putting his hand in his pocket, threw a handful of change on to thefloor and swung out of the house.

  Another pint of beer confirmed him in his resolution. He would go faraway and make a fresh start in the world. The morning was bright and theair fresh, and a pleasant sense of freedom and adventure possessed hissoul as he walked. At a swinging pace he soon left Gravelton behind him,and, coming to the river, sat down to smoke a final pipe before turninghis back forever on a town which had treated him so badly.

  The river murmured agreeably and the rushes stirred softly in the breeze;Mr. Blows, who could fall asleep on an upturned pail, succumbed to theinfluence at once; the pipe dropped from his mouth and he snoredpeacefully.

  He was awakened by a choking scream, and, starting up hastily, lookedabout for the cause. Then in the water he saw the little white face ofBilly Clements, and wading in up to his middle he reached out and,catching the child by the hair, drew him to the bank and set him on hisfeet. Still screaming with terror, Billy threw up some of the water hehad swallowed, and without turning his head made off in the direction ofhome, calling piteously upon his mother.

  Mr. Blows, shivering on the bank, watched him out of sight, and, missinghis cap, was just in time to see that friend of several seasons slowlysinking in the middle of the river. He squeezed the water from histrousers and, crossing the bridge, set off across the meadows.

  His self-imposed term of bachelorhood lasted just three months, at theend of which time he made up his mind to enact the part of the generoushusband and forgive his wife everything. He would not go into details,but issue one big, magnanimous pardon.

  Full of these lofty ideas he set off in the direction of home again. Itwas a three-days' tramp, and the evening of the third day saw him but abare two miles from home. He clambered up the bank at the side of theroad and, sprawling at his ease, smoked quietly in the moonlight.

  A waggon piled up with straw came jolting and creaking toward him. Thedriver sat dozing on the shafts, and Mr. Blows smiled pleasantly as herecognised the first face of a friend he had seen for three months. Hethrust his pipe in his pocket and, rising to his feet, clambered on tothe back of the waggon, and lying face downward on the straw peered downat the unconscious driver below.

  "I'll give old Joe a surprise," he said to himself. "He'll be the firstto welcome me back."

  "Joe," he said, softly. "'Ow goes it, old pal?"

  Mr. Joe Carter, still dozing, opened his eyes at the sound of his nameand looked round; then, coming to the conclusion that he had beendreaming, closed them again.

  "I'm a-looking at you, Joe," said Mr. Blows, waggishly. "I can see you."

  Mr. Carter looked up sharply and, catching sight of the grinning featuresof Mr. Blows protruding over the edge of the straw, threw up his armswith a piercing shriek and fell off the shafts on to the road. Theastounded Mr. Blows, raising himself on his hands, saw him pick himselfup and, giving vent to a series of fearsome yelps, run clumsily backalong the road.

  "Joe!" shouted Mr. Blows. "J-o-o-oE!"

  "'Joe!' shouted Mr. Blows. 'J-o-o-OE!'"]

  Mr. Carter put his hands to his ears and ran on blindly, while hisfriend, sitting on the top of the straw, regarded his proceedings withmixed feelings of surprise and indignation.

  "It can't be that tanner 'e owes me," he mused, "and yet I don't knowwhat else it can be. I never see a man so jumpy."

  He continued to speculate while the old horse, undisturbed by thedriver's absence, placidly continued its journey. A mile farther,however, he got down to take the short cut by the fields.

  "If Joe can't look after his 'orse and cart," he said, primly, as hewatched it along the road, "it's not my business."

  The footpath was not much used at that time of night, and he only met oneman. They were in the shadow of the trees which fringed the new cemeteryas they passed, and both peered. The stranger was satisfied first and,to Mr. Blows's growing indignation, first gave a leap backward whichwould not have disgraced an acrobat, and then made off across the fieldwith hideous outcries.

  "If I get 'old of some of you," said the offended Mr. Blows, "I'll giveyou something to holler for."

  He pursued his way grumbling, and insensibly slackened his pace as hedrew near home. A remnant of conscience which had stuck to him withoutencouragement for thirty-five years persisted in suggesting that he hadbehaved badly. It also made a few ill-bred inquiries as to how his wifeand children had subs
isted for the last three months. He stood outsidethe house for a short space, and then, opening the door softly, walkedin.

  The kitchen-door stood open, and his wife in a black dress sat sewing bythe light of a smoky lamp. She looked up as she heard his footsteps, andthen, without a word, slid from the chair full length to the floor.

  "Go on," said Mr. Blows, bitterly; "keep it up. Don't mind me."

  Mrs. Blows paid no heed; her face was white and her eyes were closed.Her husband, with a dawning perception of the state of affairs, drew amug of water from the tap and flung it over her. She opened her eyes andgave a faint scream, and then, scrambling to her feet, tottered