Page:While the Billy Boils, 1913.djvu/132

 wife and children in misery and poverty, and my conscience wouldn't let me rest night or day'―(Lally Thompson seemed greatly moved)―'so at last I made up my mind to be a man, and make―what's the word?'

'Reparation,' suggested the joker.

'Yes; so I slaved like a nigger for a year or so, got a few pounds together and went to find my wife. I found out that she was living in a cottage in Burwood, Sydney, and struggling through the winter on what she'd saved from the money her father left her.

'I got a shave and dressed up quiet and decent. I was older looking and more subdued like, and I'd got pretty grey in those few years that I'd been making a fool of myself; and, somehow, I felt rather glad about it, because I reckoned she'd notice it first thing―she was always quick at noticing things―and forgive me all the quicker. Well, I waylaid the school kids that evening, and found out mine―a little boy and a girl―and fine youngsters they were. The girl took after her mother, and the youngster was the dead spit o' me. I gave 'em half-a-crown each and told them to tell their mother that someone would come when the sun went down.'

Bogan Bill nodded approvingly.

'So at sundown I went and knocked at the door. It opened, and there stood my little wife looking prettier than ever―only careworn.'

Long, impressive pause.

'Well, Jack, what did she do?' asked Bogan.