FullReads

G. Do you? I hope you do. (In a whisper.) Jack, be very sure of yourself before you marry. I’m an ungrateful ruffian to say this, but marriage–even as good a marriage as mine has been–hampers a man’s work, it cripples his sword-arm, and oh, it plays Hell with his notions of duty! Sometimes–good and sweet as she is–sometimes I could wish that I had kept my freedom–No, I don’t mean that exactly.

MRS. G. (Coming down the veranda.) What are you wagging your head over, Pip?

M. (Turning quickly.) Me, as usual. The old sermon. Your husband is recommending me to get married. ‘Never saw such a one-ideaed man!

MRS. G. Well, why don’t you? I daresay you would make some woman very happy.

G. There’s the Law and the Prophets, Jack. Never mind the Regiment. Make a woman happy. (Aside.) O Lord!

M. We’ll see. I must be off to make a Troop Cook desperately unhappy. I won’t have the wily Hussar fed on Government Bullock Train shinbones–(Hastily.) Surely black ants can’t be good for The Brigadier. He’s picking ’em off the matting and eating ’em. Here, Senor Commandante Don Grubbynose, come and talk to me. (Lifts G. JUNIOR in his arms.) ‘Want my watch? You won’t be able to put it into your mouth, but you can try. (G. JUNIOR drops watch, breaking dial and hands.)

MRS. G. Oh, Captain Mafflin, I am so sorry! Jack, you bad, bad little villain. Ahhh!

M. It’s not the least consequence, I assure you. He’d treat the world in the same way if he could get it into his hands. Everything’s made to be played with and broken, isn’t it, young ‘un?

* * * * *

MRS. G. Mafflin didn’t at all like his watch being broken, though he was too polite to say so. It was entirely his fault for giving it to the child. Dem little puds are werry, werry feeble, aren’t dey, my Jack-in-de-box? (To G.) What did he want to see you for?

G. Regimental shop as usual.

MRS. G. The Regiment! Always the Regiment. On my word, I sometimes feel jealous of Mafflin.

G. (Wearily.) Poor old Jack? I don’t think you need. Isn’t it time for The Butcha to have his nap? Bring a chair out here, dear. I’ve got something to talk over with you.

AND THIS IS THE END OF THE STORY OF THE GADSBYS.

L’ENVOI

What is the moral? Who rides may read.
When the night is thick and the tracks are blind.
A friend at a pinch is a friend indeed;
But a fool to wait for the laggard behind:
Down to Gehenna or up to the Throne
He travels the fastest who travels alone.

White hands cling to the tightened rein,
Slipping the spur from the booted heel,
Tenderest voices cry, ‘Turn again,’
Red lips tarnish the scabbarded steel,
High hopes faint on a warm hearth-stone–
He travels the fastest who travels alone.

One may fall but he falls by himself–
Falls by himself with himself to blame;
One may attain and to him is the pelf,
Loot of the city in Gold of Fame;
Plunder of earth shall be all his own
Who travels the fastest and travels alone.

Wherefore the more ye be holpen and stayed–
Stayed by a friend in the hour of toil,
Sing the heretical song I have made–
His be the labour and yours be the spoil.
Win by his aid and the aid of disown–
He travels the fastest who travels alone.