[Editor: This short story by L. E. Homfray was published in The Capricornian (Rockhampton, Qld.), 9 December 1921. It was written in the Australian vernacular.]
The economies of Binks.
(By L. E. Homfray.)
“Now just you listen to this ’ere ’int, ’ow to make 18s. do the work of one pound, ’ints for savin’ durin’ war time, ’ow to reduce the gas bill. Why, lor! this little book is just the very thing for you, old woman. Ain’t I always tellin’ you what lots you waste every day. ’Ow to make soap, ’ow to make blankets out of old paper, ’ow to make a joint of meat last four days. My word! We’ll save a mighty lot by reading this ’ere book.”
“We’d save a jolly sight more if you was to work instead of botherin’ over what don’t concern you,” replied Mrs. Binks, stopping a moment in her double occupation of setting the breakfast table and trying to soothe the ill temper of John Binks, junr. “Perhaps the books might tell us ’ow to stop the kid making this bloomin’ row. It’s plain enough to see who he takes after.”
“Yes. sure,” answered the kid’s father cheerfully. “Many’s the time I says to myself — well, well, ’tis just wonderful the way that child do resemble ’is mother’s side; ain’t a bit of the Binks family about ’im, any way.”
“John Binks, you ought to be downright ashamed of yourself running down your son in that low mean way. There ain’t a better baby nor finer for ’is age in all this street.”
“Did I say as there was? I only says he takes after your folks, and not mine. You needn’t go and get your ’air up any’ow. The kid’s all right if only you’d manage ’im better. What you want to do is to be firm. Just let ’im see who’s boss here. Then there’d be an end to all this performance.”
“Indeed,” replied his wife, “I’d just like to see you or any other man do all them things what I ’as to do every day, cookin’, washin’, cleanin’, one thing and another, and then see ’ow much time’s left to teach a kid to behave ’isself. You’d most likely let ’im do just what he blooming well likes for the sake of peace.”
“Garn! What do you take me for? Do I look that soft? There’s no kid livin’ what could get the better of me.”
The day following, business being very slack in the establishment which employed Mr. Binks, he was told that for a week the firm could manage without him. So it thus happened that he had still further time and opportunity for studying his book of household hints.
The book was after the kind which appears to supply all mankind with advice gratis upon every imaginable subject. What appealed most to the heart of Mr. Binks were the wonderful and alluring hints on economy.
“What do the women want to growl about ’ard times when ther is so many ways of savin’?” he asked his wife, after spending a whole morning reading out the household hints.
Mrs. Binks was beginning to feel a bit fed up on it and heartily wished it had never been written. However, to please her husband, she promised to have a look at it.
After breakfast on the second day of Mr. Binks’s vacation she appeared before him in all the splendour of her Sunday best and explained that she had read the book. “There’s just one thing of sense as I can find to see in it, and I mean to follow it out right away. It says that for poor tired mothers there’s nothing so good as takin’ a day’s rest now an’ again, to get right away from all the cares and worries of the ’ome, just do nothin’ one whole day, so I’m off now, John, to see what it feels like. It’s a real good chance for me seein’ as you ain’t got nothin’ to do. You can just move yourself a bit and see to the ’ouse and mind baby till I get back.”
Mr. Binks stared in speechless amazement. Such a thing had never happened in all their wedded life. It could not be thought of even for a moment. Gathering his shocked senses together he protested — “My dear good woman, are you balmy? Me take care of the baby? What next! A kid’s best place is with ’is mother.”
“That’s enough,’’ replied his dear good woman. “I’m about sick of such talk. If a man’s fit to be a father then he’s fit to take a bit of the bother and worry of the kids and give ’is wife a spell sometimes. I’ve left the food for baby. Don’t give it ’im too ’ot, nor yet too cold. You taste it and see. Any way, I expect he’ll tell you quick and lively if it ain’t as he likes it. There’s stew cookin’. Just look after it, and mind it’s all ready when I come back. Give baby ’is food at twelve and three. You’ll ’ave plenty time to read up some more ’ints in between whiles.”
Before the highly insulted Mr. Binks had recovered from the shock he had received his wife was out in the street and in the tram, leaving John Binks, junr., asleep in the clothes basket on the kitchen table.
Mr. Binks looked round. The stew was cooking over the gas ring, just as his wife had said. Mr. Binks turned the jet lower under the saucepan. He had read in the household hints that, when once a pot comes to the boil, the lowest flicker of gas will keep it boiling.
Exactly as the clock struck twelve Baby Binks awoke, and, in loud and angry tones, demanded his lunch.
Mr. Binks listened in dismay and wished that he could remember where his wife had left the food.
Ah! yes. Here it was all ready mixed and here was the bottle.
Mr. Binks wondered whether it should be taken lying down or sitting up. Any way, the baby refused to consider the question until he was taken out of the basket.
Mr. Binks then tried what kindness would do.
“Daddy’s boy,” he murmured in soothing tones, as he offered him the bottle.
Daddy’s boy clutched it with both hands, the howls ceasing for a moment, only to be renewed with fresh violence a second later. The food was neither too hot nor cold. Then what on earth was the row about?
Sugar! Why, yes, of course. Babies loved sweet things. So, holding the struggling and protesting baby with one arm, he managed to get a couple of spoonsful of sugar into the bottle. Ah! yes, no doubt about it, the baby approved of that and stopped crying. Still, it was strange that the food kept settling to the bottom of the bottle, but did not the directions say that the food needed shaking several times during each meal?
For the rest of that afternoon Mr. Binks was busy learning of the many strange peculiarities of the infant mind.
For two solid hours he tried, by threats, scoldings, and coaxings, to reason his son into a reasonable frame of mind, but still the howls continued, and when meal time came round again the baby refused absolutely to even look at his food.
Thinking that the sight of the trams outside might prove an attraction, also with the hope of seeing Mrs. Binks, who possibly would be returning earlier than she intended, Mr. Binks carried his son as far as the garden gate.
Once outside the house the baby changed instantly from a howling little demon to the sweetest young cherub imaginable, and people passing would find it hard to believe him anything save the meekest of little lambs.
Suddenly Mr. Binks remembered the stew. On returning to the kitchen it struck him rather keenly that the usual odour of stew was altogether lacking. Lifting the lid of the saucepan, he realised that the meat was no nearer being cooked than it had been when his wife left. In lowering the gas he had turned it “down and out.”
At this moment Mrs. Binks walked in. “Well, John, and where’s my tea? I’m real ’ungry, and goodness gracious what’s up with baby? Poor little feller looks as if he’s been crying, and what on earth ’ave you given ’im? Look at the powder on ’is mouth. I believe you’ve gone and poisoned the kid. Don’t stare like a silly rabbit. Just tell me what stuff you did give ’im!”
“I give ’im what you left for ’im there in that ’ere jar,” replied Mr. Binks sullenly. “You know best what you left there.”
“I told you I left ’is food in a jug. No wonder the poor little feller cried,” explained Mrs. Binks. “That stuff was starch left over from yesterday, because that ’ere silly book of yours says as ’ow it can be kept for days and then used again. You’ll just ’and over that book to me, John, and don’t be comin’ round tellin’ me no more stupid ’ousehold ’ints, for I ain’t takin’ any. Lor! ain’t I fed up with your silly economies!”
“Very well,” replied her husband, remembering the uncooked stew on the stove, “I daresay as ’ow some of ’em ain’t always as good as what they seem on paper. Any way, I’m sure you manage the ’ouse real well. I’m quite satisfied the way you sees to things.”
“And so you jolly well ought to be,” retorted Mrs. Binks, “and now we’ll ’ave tea. I’ve brought some cooked stuff, for I didn’t never think some’ow as ’ow that stew would get cooked in time.”
Source:
The Capricornian (Rockhampton, Qld.), 9 December 1921, pp. 14-15 of “The Capricornian Illustrated Christmas Supplement 1921”
Editor’s notes:
ain’t = (vernacular) a contraction of: am not; are not, aren’t; has not, hasn’t; have not, haven’t; is not, isn’t
balmy = crazy, mad (also spelt: barmy)
blooming = an exclamatory oath
cherub = an angel (in artworks, often depicted as a young child, with wings); an angelic person (especially a young child who is beautiful or innocent in appearance)
garn = (vernacular) “go on”, an expression of disbelief, as used in the phrases “Go on, tell us another one” (i.e. tell us another lie) and “go on with ya”
gratis = free, without charge; something given or a service supplied for nothing, at no cost, without payment, as a favour (derived from the Latin “gratis”, contraction of “gratiis”, meaning “as a kindness” or “as a favour”)
’int = (vernacular) hint
junr. = (also spelt “jun.”) an abbreviation of “junior”, especially used as an appendage to someone’s name (normally a male) to indicate that he is the son of someone of the same name, whilst the father’s name may be appended with the abbreviation “snr.” to indicate that he is the senior of the two (e.g. “John Smith, snr., and John Smith, jun.”)
Lor = (vernacular) “Lord”, an exclamation used for emphasis, or as an expression of dismay, shock, or surprise (can be spelt with or without an apostrophe, and with or without capitalisation: lor, lor’, Lor, Lor’); the expression is an exclamatory reference to God or Jesus, as in “Oh, my Lord!” or “Oh, Lord!”
’ow = (vernacular) how
pound = a unit of British-style currency used in Australia, until it was replaced by the dollar in 1966 when decimal currency was introduced in Australia
row = a noisy argument, conflict, disturbance, or fight; an argument or dispute; a loud noise, commotion, or uproar
s. = a reference to a shilling, or shillings; the “s” was an abbreviation of “solidi”, e.g. as used in “L.S.D.” or “£sd” (pounds, shillings, and pence), which refers to coins used by the Romans, as per the Latin words “librae” (or “libra”), “solidi” (singular “solidus”), and “denarii” (singular “denarius”)
spell = rest, or a period of rest (“spell” refers to a period of time, but was also used to refer to a period of rest, due to the common phrase “to rest for a spell” and variations thereof)
spoonsful = plural of “spoonful” (regarding an amount that can fit onto a spoon, e.g. “a spoonful of sugar”); (also spelt: spoonfuls)
Sunday best = someone’s best, finest, or nicest clothes (such as those worn for going to church on a Sunday, or for wearing to a formal event or to a special occasion)
ther = (vernacular) there
’tis = (archaic) a contraction of “it is”
[Editor: Added a full stop after “subject”.]
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