THE CHAMPION’S WIFE.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2574, 7 August 1909, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE CHAMPION’S WIFE.

(By Itichard Whiteing, author of i‘No. 5, John Street,” etc.)

The prize-fighter's wife had sent the servant to bed, and after a peep at her children in their cot, she was sitting down to sew in the apron in which she had done her share of the housework for the day. Then, remembering he would bring company on his return, she took off the apron, went into the best room, and tried to settle down to her work.

Evidently something whs very much amiss with her; and it is easily explained. “Sam was fighting” to-night, and his wifo was awaiting his return. She was not long left in suspense. Outside there was the blinding glare of headlights, and then as the P"}°tpr came nearer, a fantasia of wild,' croaks on the horn. This last, and a peal of hoarse laughter seemed to announce

yictory at least. As to the rest — Cjho ran to the door with clasped hands,

lie liftec i cu t. an inert bundle, 'and her heart almost ceased to beat. But he shook off the wraps and walked tip, the steps in a way that brought ■tears of relief, as she almost fell into his arms.

“Gently with 'is chest, tidy/’ cried one of the acolytes, trying to disengage her. “Nothin’ to speak of, but he’s caught it a bit there.” “Let ’er be, Bulldozer, let ’or be,” said the champion, mastering a wince of pain. “It’ll do her more good than it’ll do harm to rue.” He was in the little drawing-room of the suburban villa now, and lie had sunk into a seat, and turned his face from her. “The light s a trifle seaiching, little gell, after ten "miles of dark. .Jest a tiny bit- down, if you don’t mind.”

She knew what lie meant: he wanted to spare her the sorrow and himself the shame of the sight of his face. “Sit down, pals —a bite an’ sop before you go. These gents, little gel;—” She slipped a sovereign info the hand of Bulldozer, who proved to be a man of quick perceptions, and few words. “Thankin’ you kindly, lidy, not a drop or a morsel ior self or mate. Supper in town if it’s all the same to you. Engagement-—very partickler.”

A moment more and they were on the high road again, tootling victory, and yelling triumph to the void; and husband and wife were alone. “Is it all right, Sam?” “All right. Six rounds, but I’d all inv work cut out. I will say that: a earner feller! and when he gets on “Ye-, yes,” shuddering, “don’t toll me -ray- more.” ain’t a goin’ to. Leave that to tin- penny-a-liners.” ••Pat is it all right with you?” . if., laughed—“Oh, all sound everywhere,” and pointing to his chest without touching it, “a raw here, but all sound as a bell: no bones.” “Snail I massage you a bit?” “No, no; you’ll jest go to bed, and go fast asleep, and leave me to ’avc my snore out in the spare room.” “Let me sit up with you.” “It would ou’y keep me awake,” and, kissing her tenderly, bnt still so as not to meet her face - to face, he led her to the door. He had hardly closed it before he called her back again, and handed her a heavy roll of notes: “Ere take care of this, little ’un—somethin’ for a new frock.”

She hated his gruesome calling, and only endured it because she loved him. She had learned to do that when he Pad wooed her in his smart uniform of the Dragoons, and wedded her as soon as he took his discharge to better liimself as an assistant at- a school of arms. She was proud of' her choice, especially so when he started housekeeping in a way that put- cavillers to shame.

For a long time she had no- suspicion of the prize-fighting. His avowed profession accounted for occasional contusions: and when finally, ho started a school of arms on his own account, she hoped that even these would he less frequent as, “in the course of business,” they fell more to the lot of his subordinates. Besides,' his injuries healed so quickly. His flesh was in splendid condition: you might cut him . with a knife, and there was nothing to show for it,» so to speak, a moment after. It "was one of the charms of the difference of strength between them as woman and man. When she had tripped and fallen on the stairs one day, she was still for a week, and discolored for a fortnight. His bruises seemed to wash off. She had a good husband-: that was enough for her. v He brought home his money, and gave it to her in ever increasing sums that soon compelled the Post Office Bank to decline her custom under' the rules. Then, one day, it came in a lump of two hundred pounds and, on opening her popular newspaper next morning she saw his name in big letters at the top of the page, and learned that he had -just- knocked the second best man in-.''England out of time. She looked him. straight in the face, and he forthwith made a sheepish confession, that he was now in the front rank of the favorites for the championship. So there it was for good or ill, she was a prize-fighter’s wife. She loved him—-nothing could change that—-hut, oh, the <!: -grace of it! It was a strugv , £te f ;-tetween her affection and her sense

of respectability; and, though she knew, which was going to conquer, it cost her many a pang.

But there could be no doubt about tho issue. How could there be ? He had been so kind to her, so tender, so willing to give her the place of honor in the home.

Nothing was too good for her, or for the baby she had brought into the world. He loaded her with presents, but after a while she had to’draw the line at allowing him to. choose them when they consisted of wearing apparel. Ho .wanted her to be without a want, and as -soon as he found that this_ involved his allowing her- to choose for herself lie readily accepted the compromise. Thenceforth he learned to be satisfied with an occasional contemplation of her finery, as it lay in the clothes press where it shared his raptures jvith the infant in the neighboring cot.

tY?k no undue arrant&£« of llis Weakness. (She had the simple taste.? of her unbringing and of her natural good sense and where she occasionally ran into extravagance it was more for his pleasure than her aam Her rltHr.g passion was to be independent., “genteel,” and the mistress of a home suited to the ideals of lief clp.ss.

To bo genteel. Ah, there was the rub! The neighbors had already learned the secret iff his trade. Why, only the other day, the clergyman’s wife, who must have seen her coming, had crossed the road, and bowed to her, distantly, alas, iu both senses, from the other side of the way !

Unfortunately, -the battle he had just won was the battle for the championship, and he was now compelled to meet all comers till he suffered defeat. She sickened at the thought. If only she could persuade him to retire at the height of. his fame. Her one chance was that iie shared her passion for respectability, though n his own fashion. They had moved into a larger house, though she still insisted on keeping only the one servant, and doing part of the housework herself. She knew that this was much against the grain with him, and that he would like to see her always fully dressed, and wearing as much <* her jewellery as she could find room for. As it was he had pleaded hard for a boy in buttons, and she was understood to have this scheme still under consideration.

But meantime what she had dreaded had come to pass. A challenge was cabled over from one of the colonics, and, in due course, the challenger arrived. As he had brought his lady with aim, it was considered a suitable thing to offer some social courtesy to the pair, ■and the British champion had suggested to his wife the propriety of high' tea. That tea! could-she ever forget it? The lady n as a walking jeweler’s shop, or where .slio was not that, a furrier’s, with everything of price. ’The gentleman also had a liberal display of goods in the window, in the shape of studs and rings; and, with these, as an added grace, a diamond fixed right in the middlo of one of his front teeth ! How it got there, as firmly imbedded as in any other enamel, none but a jeweller might tell. But there it was, shooting its rays to every point of the circumference -whenever he grinned to give it a chance. His dashing escort seemed to expect some complimentary reference to tins decoration, and, when that failed, she took up the wondrous talc on her own account.

“'Daresay you’re glimpsin’ the tooth,” she whispered to her entertainer in confidence, "well, he got it from a lady admirer before I come on the scene, and ho wanted mo to ’ave it as a hand-me-down. That wouldn’t do for this child : ‘Stick it in your toot!),’ says I, and lie did.” “Don’t you think I ought- to be able to beat a chap like that,” said the British champion when ' they .went away. “Eh, little ’mi?” “Oh, Sam, what a horrid trade!” He looked distressed. “I mean-ftp have to touch such people, even with gloves on.” “It’s ray livin’, little din. -wife an’ famerly, you know.” “No it ain’t.; no a thousand times. You’re a professor, and needn’t touch anybody but ladies and gentlemen all the rest of your life. Your fortune’s made already : do you know how much we’ve got in the bank!-'” “No, and don’t care. Yen know, an’ that’s enough for me.” “We might retire to-morrow, Sam.” “I want to beat him,” pleaded the champion. “A nice tiling for the children when they grow up; and, mind you, they’re beginning to take notice already.” “I got to do him,” returned the champion, “or he’s.got to do me. What would people think if I cried off the moment -I got ’is challenge. What would you think—come to that?’“Tliat you’d always been the best of husbands, and was now better than fhe best.”

“Too late, hut I’ll tell you what I'd do for you; make him swaller the tooth, fust go.” “As if I cared for that! Look here, Sam; if you want to make me the happiest woman alive, promise me this shall he the last ti,mc, win or, lose?” “All right, little ’uii; the last time, weal or woe. But I’m goin’ to boat him, mind yor, all the ••same.” •“Promise it me in black and white, and let’s send it to .-the paper, too, ‘Champion, retiring after his" .next fight,’ or. someth ng of that sort.” ;

She went to tho writing table, scrawled a line or two on a sheet of notepaper, and handed him the pen. When he had signed,, she thrust the paper in her dress, kissed him, and ran off.

When next she watched in the silence of the night, she saw the flash of the motor lights, and she heard the wheels as before, but not the tootling, of the horn.

Bulldozer and the other second lifted him out—-4b is .time under the direction of a third person in tho ear —and carried him up. tho steps. “Dead?” ’she shrieked. “No, lidy, drowsy like—that’s all. Merc accident; and fust round, too! Tho guv’nor led for that di’mond, in ’is uppers, just for a lark, an ’the other dodged him," got straight ’ome on the mark, and sent him to sleep. It’s my belief ’is tooth’s one of ’is tricks. You can’t ’elp tryin’ .to knock a thing like that out of ’is mouf at the start, an’ then he waits for yer. See?” > “Go away.” “Tho doctor’s ’ere, lidy, if you’d like to see ’im.”

“Thank God! he'may stay. .I’ll do the rest,” and Bulldozer pocketed his last 'fee in that house.

It took all night to bring him to. When he opened his eyes at last, and they - TOS^C - 01 ! her, they filled with tears.

“AIJ- iny own fault,” he murmured, “larkin’ instead of attending to my business —all my own fault.

His grief and shame wrung her womanly heart. She drew the paper from her bosom, tore it to pieces, and kissed him. ;

“Fight him again, Sam, if you like, fight him again.”

A gleam of joy lit up his face, then died out again. There was a long pause.

“"Which costs most,” he said —“you to say that, or me to give it up? I think I know. Pick up the pieces; the promise holds. We’re respectable now.