Argosy, September 1955 — page 9: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

*9 ** Let ’em run,’’ she said— *‘* You leave your net be. d’you hear? ’’ Bc wks sitting on the telegraph posts. Presently he pushed open the door of his whitewashed cottage. Children fluttered into movement like a flock of starlings and he patted heads absent- - mindedly. At the stove, Alice turned from frying chipped potatoes. She looked down at him. “ You're back then.” ‘“Arrh,” Albert said, smiling sheepishly. For fifteen years “his beloved wife had been making him feel sheepish. He no _ Tonger minded, for it had become a habit, like having children, j drinking beer, smuggling aquavit, poaching salmon, and keeping his nose clean. ‘“ What’s for tea?” he asked. “ Nice bit of pollack and chips.” He nodded, without vast enthusiasm. “‘ Saison are running.” 4 Alice turned. Six feet two. Built like an oak tree. “ Let ’em run,” she said. ‘‘ You leave your net be, d’you hear? ” me Yes, my dear,’ Albert said, then added with grievance in _ his voice, ‘““ Who said aught about the net? Never crossed my mind.” Alice grunted. ‘“‘ Go and get washed. ‘Tea’s nearly ready.” Shortly after seven that evening, Albert shut the door of his _ cottage behind him and started downhill towards The Lugger. _ As he walked he leaned slightly backwards to compensate for the gradient and brought his best drinking-boots down hard, so that the nails would bite. He had the ketchup bottle in his pocket and at the back of his mouth there lingered the regurgitant sweetness of well-fried potatoes. He was content. 4 There were six other customers in the public bar of The Be oaeer three regulars, two strangers, and Herbert Whiteway, - the water-bailiff. Albert ignored Whiteway; he was not yet in _ the mood to start pulling his leg, which was all the man was good for. Instead, from his favourite seat on a high-backed oak settle toby the fire, he surveyed the strangers. There had been a fat new 4 car outside, he remembered. ‘They must belong to it. o 6'They had white faces and soft hands and their clothes were uncomfortably new. They were restless and when they spoke _ they did so in undertones. They were drinking brandy, which 2 4 was unheard of in The Lugger, and they didn’t even look as if - they were enjoying it. City fellows. No concern of his—not 1 . until April, anyway. In April Albert would cease to bea docker — ia and become a boatman instead. Then strangers would have Oe comicbooks.comn te ‘ : ° a es? ee = «