'He shouted, and drank, and gambled, and danced, and sang, and fought the new chums all night, and in the morning he said--

'"Well, boys, we had a grand time last night. Come and have a drink with me."

'And of course they went in and had a drink with him.

'Next morning the Flour was walking along the street, when he met a drunken, disreputable old hag, known among the boys as the "Nipper".

'"Good MORNING, me lovely Flour o' Wheat!" says she.

'"Good MORNING, me lovely Nipper!" says the Flour.

'And with that she outs with a bottle she had in her dress, and smashed him across the face with it. Broke the bottle to smithereens!

'A policeman saw her do it, and took her up; and they had the Flour as a witness, whether he liked it or not. And a lovely sight he looked, with his face all done up in b.l.o.o.d.y bandages, and only one damaged eye and a corner of his mouth on duty.

'"It's nothing at all, your Honour," he said to the S.M.; "only a pin-scratch--it's nothing at all. Let it pa.s.s. I had no right to speak to the lovely woman at all."

'But they didn't let it pa.s.s,--they fined her a quid.

'And the Flour paid the fine.

'But, alas for human nature! It was pretty much the same even in those days, and amongst those men, as it is now. A man couldn't do a woman a good turn without the dirty-minded blackguards taking it for granted there was something between them. It was a great joke amongst the boys who knew the Flour, and who also knew the Nipper; but as it was carried too far in some quarters, it got to be no joke to the Flour--nor to those who laughed too loud or grinned too long.

'The Flour's cousin thought he was a sharp man. The Flour got "stiff".

He hadn't any money, and his credit had run out, so he went and got a blank summons from one of the police he knew. He pretended that he wanted to frighten a man who owed him some money. Then he filled it up and took it to his cousin.

'"What d'ye think of that?" he says, handing the summons across the bar.

"What d'ye think of me lovely Dinny Murphy now?"

'"Why, what's this all about?"

'"That's what I want to know. I borrowed a five-pound-note off of him a fortnight ago when I was drunk, an' now he sends me that."

'"Well, I never would have dream'd that of Dinny," says the cousin, scratching his head and blinking. "What's come over him at all?"

'"That's what I want to know."

'"What have you been doing to the man?"

'"Divil a thing that I'm aware of."

'The cousin rubbed his chin-tuft between his forefinger and thumb.

'"Well, what am I to do about it?" asked the Flour impatiently.

'"Do? Pay the man, of course?"

'"How can I pay the lovely man when I haven't got the price of a drink about me?"

'The cousin scratched his chin.

'"Well--here, I'll lend you a five-pound-note for a month or two. Go and pay the man, and get back to work."

'And the Flour went and found Dinny Murphy, and the pair of them had a howling spree together up at Brady's, the opposition pub. And the cousin said he thought all the time he was being had.

'He was nasty sometimes, when he was about half drunk. For instance, he'd come on the ground when the Orewell sports were in full swing and walk round, soliloquising just loud enough for you to hear; and just when a big event was coming off he'd pa.s.s within earshot of some committee men--who had been bursting themselves for weeks to work the thing up and make it a success--saying to himself--

'"Where's the Orewell sports that I hear so much about? I don't see them! Can any one direct me to the Orewell sports?"

'Or he'd pa.s.s a raffle, lottery, lucky-bag, or golden-barrel business of some sort,--

'"No gamblin' for the Flour. I don't believe in their little shwindles.

It ought to be shtopped. Leadin' young people ashtray."

'Or he'd pa.s.s an Englishman he didn't like,--

'"Look at Jinneral Roberts! He's a man! He's an Irishman! England has to come to Ireland for its Jinnerals! Luk at Jinneral Roberts in the marshes of Candyhar!"

'They always had sports at Orewell Creek on New Year's Day--except once--and old Duncan was always there,--never missed it till the day he died. He was a digger, a humorous and good-hearted "hard-case". They all knew "old Duncan".

'But one New Year's Eve he didn't turn up, and was missed at once.

"Where's old Duncan? Any one seen old Duncan?" "Oh, he'll turn up alright." They inquired, and argued, and waited, but Duncan didn't come.

'Duncan was working at Duffers. The boys inquired of fellows who came from Duffers, but they hadn't seen him for two days. They had fully expected to find him at the creek. He wasn't at Aliaura nor Notown. They inquired of men who came from Nelson Creek, but Duncan wasn't there.

'"There's something happened to the lovely man," said the Flour of Wheat at last. "Some of us had better see about it."

'Pretty soon this was the general opinion, and so a party started out over the hills to Duffers before daylight in the morning, headed by the Flour.

'The door of Duncan's "whare" was closed--BUT NOT PADLOCKED. The Flour noticed this, gave his head a jerk, opened the door, and went in. The hut was tidied up and swept out--even the fireplace. Duncan had "lifted the boxes" and "cleaned up", and his little bag of gold stood on a shelf by his side--all ready for his spree. On the table lay a clean neckerchief folded ready to tie on. The blankets had been folded neatly and laid on the bunk, and on them was stretched Old Duncan, with his arms lying crossed on his chest, and one foot--with a boot on--resting on the ground. He had his "clean things" on, and was dressed except for one boot, the necktie, and his hat. Heart disease.

'"Take your hats off and come in quietly, lads," said the Flour. "Here's the lovely man lying dead in his bunk."

'There were no sports at Orewell that New Year. Some one said that the crowd from Nelson Creek might object to the sports being postponed on old Duncan's account, but the Flour said he'd see to that.

'One or two did object, but the Flour reasoned with them and there were no sports.

'And the Flour used to say, afterwards, "Ah, but it was a grand time we had at the funeral when Duncan died at Duffers."