“Oh-h, Joey, Joey Stuckhey,
You’re a good one, heart and hand,
You’re a credit to your country,
And to all your native land.
May your luck be never-failing,
May your love be ever true—
“And that it will, I’ll be bound; there never were a more lovin’ lad. How he did hug I, to be sure, afore he left last time.”
It will be observed that Susan’s reading of the line was not quite the same as that intended by the author of the song. She wiped her eyes, sighed, and resumed with renewed energy:—
“May your luck be never-failing,
May your love be ever true.
God bless you, Joey Stuckhey,
Here’s your country’s lo-o-o-o-ve to you!”
She threw so much expression into the last line that the word love expanded into a polysyllable.
A few days later news flew round the parish that Ladysmith had actually been relieved; the authority vouched for being no less than that of her Majesty the Queen. The baker brought the news to Riverton. His eyes appeared ready to jump from his head with excitement as he made the announcement.
“You’ll be hearin’ bells a-ringin’ to-night,” he said. “Ah, they be runnin’ up flags all over the place a’ready. And they do say as they be a-goin’ to ’luminate.”
“Flags!” ejaculated Mrs. Stuckhey. “I must get a flag at once. I’ll start so soon as I’ve a-had my tea. I wish I’d a-got it afore; but my son—him that’s the only soldier here, you know, baker—he did say when he last wrote as they was but startin’ to relieve Ladysmith.”
“I can scarce believe as the noos be true,” observed pessimistic Mrs. Woolridge. “I wouldn’t be in too great a hurry to get that flag if I was you.”
“Well, I should think the Queen ought to know,” retorted her neighbour with spirit. “I’m a-goin’ to get it, anyhow.”