The two kids began to mix it all over the verandah.
“Holy Moses!” Bogle gasped. “Can’t you stop ’em?”
“Don’t bring me into It,” I said, watching the kids with interest. “I’ll just be the historian.” Bogle got to his feet and managed to separate the kids. “Shut up, you two!” he said fiercely.
“No fighting! Now, listen, you can do a shoe apiece. How’s that?”
Neither of them understood what he was saying, but they quieted down and looked at him with bright, intent eyes.
Bogle seemed pleased with his tactics. “See that?” he said, sitting down again. “I can handle kids. All you’ve got to do is reason with ’em.”
He was hardly in his seat when the two kids streaked at him and grabbed his right leg. They began thumping each other and dragging his leg backwards and forwards. Bogle hung on to the table, his eyes popping in alarm.
They struggled first one way and then another, worrying at his leg like a couple of bull terriers.
“Reason with ’em, Sam,” I said, weak with laughter.
He beat them off finally with his hat and they stood back, breathing heavily. If he’d’ve been a nice juicy pork chop with a little frill at the end of it, they couldn’t have eyed him with more interest.
As they edged towards him again, he raised his hat threateningly. “Keep off, you punks,” he growled, then catching my eye, what the hell do you find funny in this? Tell ’em to behave themselves.”
I came over and explained to the kids that they could each clean one of Bogle’s shoes and there was no need to fight about it.
They considered this for a moment, then they wanted to know if the payment would also be divided.
I referred this to Bogle.
“Aw, the hell with it” he said, losing patience. “Tell ’em to dust. I thought they were nice kids. Money’s all these brats think of. I don’t want to be bothered with ’em.”
“Hey! Where’s all this stuff about liking kids?” I said severely. “You’ll disappoint ’em, you know.”
Bogle fanned himself with his hat. “Iszatso?” he said violently. “What about me? They nearly broke my gawdamn leg.”
“Have it your own way,” I said and explained to the kids that Bogle had changed his mind. When it had sunk in, they started howling at the tops of their voices.
They even put my teeth on edge.
“Now, do you see what you’ve done?” I said.
“Get ’em out of here,” Bogle said, confused. “They’ll raise the whole neighbourhood.” Myra and Doc Ansell came running out.
“What’s going on?” Ansell asked, looking over the top of his sun glasses in surprise.
“Notin’,” Bogle said between his teeth. “Just a couple of kids bawling. That ain’t anything, is it?”
Myra looked at him with withering scorn. “So you even bully children, you big cheese,” she said indignantly. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”
Bogle closed his eyes. “You again?” he said, tapping ominously on the table. “Every time I open my mouth, I get a broadcast from you. Listen, these kids want to shine my shoes. Well, I don’t want my shoes shined see? Does that call for anything from you?”
The kids stopped howling and looked at Myra hopefully. They sensed that she was on their side.
“And why don’t you want them shined?” Myra demanded. “Just look at them! They’re like exhumed coffins.”
Bogle loosened his collar. “I don’t care what they look like. I don’t want them shined,” he said, furiously. “If I want them shined, I’ll shine ’em myself.”
“How ridiculous!” Myra said. “I think you’re just being mean. You don’t want to pay these kids to shine your shoes. You want them to do it for nothing.”
Bogle picked up his pewter mug and flattened it between his hands. “I’ve changed my mind about having my shoes shined,” he said with a hiss.
“Changed your mind?” Myra repeated. “Who did you find crazy enough to swap with you?”
Bogle flexed his fingers. He seemed to have developed acute asthma.
“There’s no need to lose our tempers,” Ansell joined in, soothingly. “If Bogle doesn’t want his shoes shined, then there’s nothing more to be said. We came out because we thought someone was being hurt. Come along, Myra, well go back to our meal.”
“You might do those kids a lot of harm if you frustrate them,” Myra said warmly. “Haven’t you ever heard of repression?”
Bogle blinked at her.
“I wouldn’t have it on toy conscience,” Myra went on. “All for the sake of a peso. Don’t tell me you can’t afford it or have you a hole in your sock?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Bogle said, becoming dazed. “Why don’t I let ’em shine them? What do I care? Let ’em do anything.”
“There now,” Myra said. “After all this fuss.” She smiled at the two kids and pointed to Bogle’s shoes.
They were on him like terriers on a rat. I’ve never seen anything like it. Bogle, the two kids and the chair went over with a bang that made Bogle’s teeth rattle. The two kids fought Bogle, fought each other and went back and fought Bogle again. They pulled off one of his shoes and threw it into the Square. Then they twisted his toes.
Bogle just lay on his back making a humming noise like he had swallowed a bee.
The kids fastened onto his other shoe. They smeared blacking on themselves, on the floor and on Bogle. White Shirt got so excited that he jumped up and down on Bogle’s chest.
Myra and I just clung together and wept.
Ansell took off his glasses. “I do hope they’ll be careful,” he said mildly. “They’ll hurt him in a moment.”
As soon as White Shirt had got his breath back, he seized Bogle’s other leg. When he found the shoe was missing, he threw it down and rushed at Red Shirt.
Red Shirt didn’t like the look in his eye, and tucking Bogle’s foot under his arm, he tore off in a circle, spinning Bogle round like a top.
Then quite suddenly they both seemed to lose interest in their work and they quit. Maybe, they thought they were giving too much value for money. They stopped rushing round in circles, looked at each other, nodded, regarded Bogle without interest and then put their shining materials away. They stood over Bogle, smiling at him, with two grubby hands held out for payment.
“You’d better pay ’em,” I said weakly. “Or they might start all over again.”
Hastily he dug out a few coins which he threw at the kids. While they were chasing the money, he got painfully to his feet and inspected a long tear in his trousers.
“Don’t worry about that, Samuel,” Myra said. “It was time you got yourself a new suit anyway.”
Bogle gave her a blank look. Then he limped painfully across the verandah, into the Square and collected his other shoe. He put it on and regarded his feet with a sour eye. Before, his shoes certainly had looked dusty. Now they looked ready for the ash can.
“I hope you’re all satisfied,” he said, in a low, strangled voice.
“Just look at those kids,” Myra said, wiping her eyes. “They’re as happy as larks.”
“Yeah,” Bogle said, creeping back slowly on to the verandah. “As happy as larks.”
Myra heaved a contented sigh. “Well, I enjoyed that,” she said. “I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. You ought to be pleased you made those kids happy, Samuel. You’re quite a nice piece of cheese after all.”
She waved to the two kids who were standing watching with bright eyes and then she turned to go back into the lounge.
Bogle took out a silver peso and held it up so the kids could see it, then with a tired but triumphant gleam in his eyes he pointed to Myra’s shoes.
They were off the mark like a streak of lightning. Myra hadn’t even time to run for it. She gave a wail of terror and then her legs flew up and she came down on the floor with a jar that sounded like music in Bogle’s ears.
She disappeared under the two kids.
