Mickie Daly's Diary, January 1934

A dredful day. It was showery, and always, on showery days, Sister Pawl sends the pot plants out for a freshening up. It was fin'e at illeven-o-clock, and Sister said that would be a good chance to put them out for the next shower-soes the boys would not get wet putting them out.

Dacey and I got to the big pot at the same time. It has a white gerainyum in it, and Sister Pawl thinks a lot of it. Now, why should I give in to Big Bully Dacey? If I had been thinking of the next world, or of the China Mishin, I might have made a Big Act. But, unfourchinitly, I -was not: I was thinking only of myself and of  Bully' Dacey.

“I'got it first, Daly."

"You did not, Dacey,"

“I did,"

"You didn't."

"Let go!"

"Let go yourself."

"I won't."

"Neither will I."

"Look Out- you'll drop it!"

"You look out."

We tugged. The jolly thing just slipped thro' our fingers-crash! On to the floor. Sounded like as if the sealing had come down,  or an aer-oplane 'had crashed on the roof. The other boys came in and grinned at us; The pot was in peeces, the plant crushed, and it looked like a ton of soil on the floor.

The boys were in fits. Me and Dacey were not.

"How'd it happen?" giggled Jim.

"Slipped," I said.

"Who did it?"

"Both of us," I replied.

"Who let it slip?"

"Both of us."

"Go on," yelled Dacey, “You did."

"Go on-you did yourself."

Just then in sails Sister Pawl. She seems to sail along when there is any distirbince or danger about the school. One day a drunkin man wandered in, and the kids got skared. Sister Pawl just sailed down the correrdoor and had him out in a jiffy. Another day a big Allsayshin dog came in, and the girls got windy. Sister Pawl sailed at him, and he went out the gate like
a little pet pup.

So now she sails in on us. I was ashamed to look at her, so I looked down at my toes and I kicked the iron of the desk. I don't know how Dacey looked, as I had dropped my eyes when Sister came in. I know Maurie and Billy ,and Jim were happy enough; they had put their plants out safely.

"Michael Daly, -I can never trust you to do anything," Sister said.

"It was the best plant, too," Billy said cheerfully.

"Michael Daly, get the brush and the dust-pan and sweep up every bit of earth."

"Y-yes, Sister," I 'said and looked up sadly. Sister had the crushed plant in her fingers.

Dacey was not to be seen. He had vanished. I suppose when he heard Sister Pawl coming he nicked out the other door, and I did not know.

Talk about a sneek!

I was sorry about the plant, becos I knew Sister liked that white geranyum best.

"S-ssister," I ,stammered, "it will grow again, I'll get you a new fiower-pot- a bigger one. And there's good soil in my Dad's garden; he buys all kinds of kemickil stuff for it; I'll fill it and-and--"

Sister Pawl closed her eyes werily: "If you did not talk so much Michael, you would not get into so much trubble. You are too fussy, stop talking. Don't stand there doing nothing. Get the pan and the brush and tidy the floor,"

So I did.

At dinner time I did not join the lunch-line. I cut home, eating my lunch as I went. My mother got a frite when I ran in, red in the face with running and eating at the same time. It is not good for the health. My mother gave me the largest flower-pot, and I filled it with soil. I had to wait and rest a bit, becos my mother' made me. And she gave me some dinner. Then I get out to hump the flower-pot to school.

Cars passed me-. No one had mercy on me.' and said. "Have a ride, son?" Not they. I could hump the heavy pot and go red and purple in the -face. and no one would notice. There is no charity in the world now. Jinky! It was heavy. I nearly dropped -it crossing the road opersit the school, and didn't my hart jump!

Well, I staggered up the steps, like a drunkin man. The classes had just marched in.

ErIas! Just at the door 'the mat was moved, because it was a showery day. Well, I stumbled, 'nearly got my feet again, and then down I goes - pot and all-just like a poor old horse you see in the street with a heavy lode on. Crash!

Out sails Sister Pawl! And all the kids in our class crowded' to the door of our room (although it is' forbidden to do such a rude thing). But. you bet, they risked it to see what the crash was. I don't blame them at all. It was like the end of the world. Any kid would die of curiossity if he didn't have a look.


There was the broken pot, the spilled soil and Michael Joseph Daly all in a kind of a mix-up.

Sister Pawl said: "You are capable of anything, Michael Daly. Two flower-pots in one day!"

No wonder poor Sister closed her eyes werilly. It is a record, l’m sure!

So I had to clean it up and put the broken pot in the garbig bin.

I don't think I'll take another flower-pot. I'd be so nervis I'd be sure to break it, and then what would she say?

I'm stiff, all right, after humping it all the way, too.

Billy and Maurie and Jim made fUn of me over it; but Dacey did not. He was dum. I think he was ashamed of having sneeked out of half the blame. I made a tree mendjus Act and said nothing to him about it-nothing at all. And I tried not to look as if I despised him.

We were playing cricket to-day, and my boling had got Dacey windy. I gave him some wrong uns of my own. I would get a rush on as if I was going to send a real smasher, & he'd be all keyed up wondering where it was making for. He'd be ready to swipe at it. Then I'd pull UI' in time & send in a. little sneaking thing that he'd miss ! I went at it, veeser verser. I had him in a
rage in no time. Then one ball got him on the little finger! Such a crack!

"Cut out that Pammy stuff, Daly -you murderer !" he yelled.

But it wasn't Pammy stuff at all. It was real cricket- only a bit of stratijy on my part. I was boling at his stumps all right, only he was nervis on account of my wrong uns.I think we would have had a fight, but just then' Father Dale approached acompaneed by a strange priest-a visiter from New Suth Wales, he said he was-"The place where the good cricketeers come from," he added.

Just at the sikerlogickle moment I got poor Daisy out. (My father uses that big word; I learnt it from him,)

"Well bowled!" the strange priest said. His name is Father Owe Leery.

I felt a bit sorry for Dacey then. He is a pretty good bat, only I had him nervis. He was in a temper. You can't play your best game of cricket if you let your temper take hold of you. I suppose every other game is the same. You've got to keep control of the old temper, or your game goes all to peaces.

"Be gentlemen at your sport," Sister Allerwishes always says to us.

Well, I felt sorry poor Dacey got out just as the two priests came along. I know I would have felt it pretty bad had it been my case. It was my fault, too. I had been experermenting on him with my tricky balls, & when he got wild it was easy to bole him out.

"Have a dig, Father?" Jim Brennan said, & offered the bat to Father Dale.

"I will , thank you, Jimmy."

"Will you, Father?" Jim asked the visiter. But he said he could not play, as he had cork legs.

I was so astonished that I am afraid I stared a bit, although my mother has told me. ever since I was a very little chap, never to stare at anyone who has anything wrong with him. Father Owe Leery could walk all right. He didn't even limp a bit, I didn't know they made artifishile lims of cork. I suppose it's new since the war. The old wooden legs like the man in "Treasure Island" are out of fashion long ago. I suppose cork is light for the poor crippled people. I could not bole Father Dale properly because I was thinking of poor Father Owe Leery with cork legs- I suppose he had been a chaplain in the war
& a shell got him. A wave of admiration for him swept over me, & I boled worse than ever.

"Get out of it, Daly," Father Dale said; "you are boleing like a gir1." He waved the bat about his head as if it were a giant's sord .

"Give me a man," he called out in a great voice, and the other poor priest laughed at him. So they put Brennan on to bole, & he got Father Dale with the fourth ball. I think Father Dale let him. I felt very disappointed when Father Dale said I baled like a girl. I could have baled better than Brennan only I was worrying about the poor priest & could not consintrate on what I
was doing. Dacey grinned when Father Dale said it. I tried to acksept the words & Dacey's grin as an act of penince for giving poor Dacey such a bad time & getting him in a temper.

When they were going away Father Owe Leery got one in on me (& didn't Dacey grin again!).

"Hullo! " said Father Owe Leery ; "I thought there was a bush fire somewhere." And he put his hand on my head, and then, looking at Father Dale, he added: "Locks bright enough to make me mad."

I don't know what he meant, and I bet Dacey didn't either : but the Big Mug grinned just the same, as if he did. Father Owe Leery sounded like my father when he talks that strange langwidge to my mother; and Father Dale looked back at him & smiled as if he understood what he meant, just as my mother does to my father .

When they were gone Dacey said: "There you are, Daly, you ort to get your hare died. Father Owe Leery said it would drive him mad. It would, too. It would drive anyone mad. It annoise people."

I didn't mind if Father Owe Leery made a joke about my hare. I would not mind if any priest did- but espechilly a priest who has been crippled in the discharge of his duty; and I didn't mind (very much) Father Dale saying things about my
boling, but-

Dacey isn't a priest.

So I went for him. He dodged behind Jim, & then behind Billy. I let out a crack and got poor Maurie on the ear. Sister Ambrose came along, and that was the end of the fight.

So you see, my dear diery, I found fault with Dacey for getting in a temper at my boleing, & now I had let myself get in a temper just for a little joke about my hare. Erlas! I am not advancing at all in virchew.

(To be continued )

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