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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of An Australian Lassie, by Lilian Turner
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: An Australian Lassie
+
+Author: Lilian Turner
+
+Illustrator: A.J. Johnson
+
+Release Date: January 28, 2008 [EBook #24443]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN AUSTRALIAN LASSIE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Wilson, Jacqueline Jeremy and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "Seated on a partly submerged post ... was John Brown."]
+
+
+
+
+    AN AUSTRALIAN
+    LASSIE
+
+    BY
+
+    LILIAN TURNER
+
+    AUTHOR OF "THE PERRY GIRLS," ETC.
+
+    ILLUSTRATIONS BY A. J. JOHNSON
+
+    WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED
+    LONDON AND MELBOURNE
+
+
+
+
+    TO
+    MY STEPFATHER
+    CHARLES COPE
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+CHAP.                                            PAGE
+
+        I WYGATE SCHOOL                             9
+
+       II THE PEARL SEEKERS                        20
+
+      III "THE DAILY ROUND--THE COMMON TASK"       30
+
+       IV GHOSTS                                   41
+
+        V JOHN BROWN                               59
+
+       VI MONDAY MORNING                           68
+
+      VII "CAREW-BROWN"                            79
+
+     VIII THE FIGHT                                86
+
+       IX DOROTHEA'S FRIENDS                      101
+
+        X RICHES OR RAGS                          112
+
+       XI THE ARTIST BY THE WAYSIDE               123
+
+      XII BETTY IN THE LION'S DEN                 134
+
+     XIII "IF I WERE ONLY YOU!"                   147
+
+      XIV JOHN'S PLANS                            162
+
+       XV ON THE ROAD                             177
+
+      XVI THE NOTE ON THE PINCUSHION              189
+
+     XVII IN THE CITY                             201
+
+    XVIII ALMA'S SHILLING                         214
+
+      XIX THE BENT-SHOULDERED OLD GENTLEMAN       224
+
+       XX THE DAY AFTER SCHOOL                    234
+
+      XXI "GOOD-BYE, GOOD-BYE"                    245
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+WYGATE SCHOOL
+
+
+"Emily Underwood, 19; Stanley Smith, 20; Cyril Bruce, 21; Nellie
+Underwood, 22; Elizabeth Bruce, 23--bottom of the class!"
+
+Mr. Sharman took off his eyeglasses, rubbed them, and put them on again.
+Then he looked very hard at the little girl at the end of the furthest
+form, who was hanging her head and industriously biting a slate pencil.
+
+"Stand up, Elizabeth Bruce. Put down your pencil and fold your hands
+behind you."
+
+Elizabeth did as she was told instantly. Her rosy face looked anxiously
+into the master's stern one.
+
+"Yesterday morning," the master said, "you were head of the class. This
+morning I find your name at the end of the list. How was that?"
+
+Elizabeth hung her head again, and her dimpled chin hid itself behind
+the needlework of her pinafore.
+
+A small girl, a few seats higher, held up her hand and waved it
+impatiently.
+
+"Well?" asked the master.
+
+"Please sir, she was promptin' Cyril Bruce."
+
+"Silence!" thundered the master sternly. Then his gaze went back to the
+bent head of the little culprit.
+
+"Stand upon the form," he said, "and tell me in a clear voice how it is
+you went down twenty-two places in one afternoon."
+
+The rosiness left the little girl's face. She raised her head, and her
+brown eyes looked pleadingly into the master's, her white face besought
+him, for one second. Then she scrambled up to the form by the aid of the
+desk in front of her.
+
+Down the room near the master's desk stood a new boy, an awkward looking
+figure of twelve years old or so, waiting to be given a place in the
+class. Elizabeth knew that her disgrace was meant as a solemn warning to
+him. So she tossed back the short dark curls that hardly reached her
+neck, and looking angrily at him, said--
+
+"I was top and I pulled Nelly Martin's hair, and was sent down three.
+Then I was fourth, and my pencil squeaked my slate and I was sent down
+six. Then Cyril had to spell 'giraffe,' and I said 'one r and two f's,'
+and she sent me to the bottom."
+
+All of this speech was directed to the new boy who stood on one leg and
+grew red. It was an immense relief to him when the master rapped the
+front desk with his cane and said--
+
+"Look at me, miss. Whom do you mean by 'she'?"
+
+At the end of the room a sharp visaged lady of forty-five was watching
+the proceedings of the first class from over the heads of a row of small
+students who comprised the "Babies' Class."
+
+"D-o, do; g-o, go," she said mechanically, and looked anxiously from
+little Elizabeth to her stern son, the master of Wygate School.
+
+Elizabeth jerked her head, "Mrs. Sharman," she said.
+
+"Sit down and fold your hands behind you," ordered the master. He
+turned to the new boy. "John Brown," he said, "go and take your seat
+next to Elizabeth Bruce--but one above her."
+
+The new boy moved across the room, red-faced and clumsy in every
+movement. When he found himself in front of the class he grew still
+redder, and hung hesitatingly upon the step that led to the platform
+upon which the form was placed.
+
+Elizabeth looked at him disdainfully and drew her dress close around
+her.
+
+"Sit down, you silly," she said in a sharp whisper, and indicated with a
+little head toss the seat above her.
+
+John Brown slunk past her and dropped heavily into his seat. The master
+retired to his desk and made an entry or two in his long blue book while
+silence hung over the schoolroom.
+
+In Elizabeth's heart a flame of anger was spreading. That this boy, this
+new boy, should be placed above her, was in her eyes the greatest
+injustice. A small voice within told her that she had been punished
+sufficiently yesterday afternoon.
+
+Her head moved slightly in the direction of the new boy and her rosy
+lips opened.
+
+"You cheat!" she whispered.
+
+The boy sat motionless and the anger burned hotter in Elizabeth's heart.
+
+"Cheaty, cheaty; go home and tell your mother!" she said in a sing-song
+way.
+
+Still Brown did not move.
+
+Elizabeth slid her hand along the seat and gave him a sharp pinch, and
+he started uneasily.
+
+"Stand up the boy or girl who was speaking," ordered the master, without
+looking up.
+
+A small fair-haired fair-complexioned boy, two seats above Elizabeth,
+flushed. His name was Cyril Bruce and he was Elizabeth's twin
+brother--twelve years old.
+
+"I was only talking to myself--that's not speaking," he murmured.
+
+Elizabeth rose slowly to her feet and stood working a corner of her
+pinafore into a knot. The master looked around, and his brow grew dark
+when he saw the small offender.
+
+"Repeat aloud what you said, Elizabeth Bruce," he ordered.
+
+The little girl grew white, then red, then white again, and went on
+twisting her pinafore.
+
+"Do you hear me?" shouted the master. "Stand upon the form and repeat
+your words."
+
+Once again Elizabeth clambered into a higher position.
+
+"I said--I said, 'Cheaty, cheaty; go home and tell your mother,'" she
+said in a clear voice that sounded all over the room.
+
+A shocked expression passed over the face of the class.
+
+"To whom were you addressing yourself?" asked the master.
+
+"The new boy," said the little girl.
+
+"Sit down, and stay in the dinner-hour and write out the sentence fifty
+times."
+
+Elizabeth sat down, and again her anger against the new boy blazed high.
+
+She put out her foot and kicked the heel of his boot, but this time she
+eschewed words, for the face of the master was towards her, and an
+expectant silence hung over the schoolroom.
+
+The clock struck ten, and the boy at the head of the class immediately
+began passing slates down--one to each pupil, with a piece of pencil
+upon it.
+
+The sight of the well-cleaned slate and nicely pointed pencil brought a
+feeling of great uneasiness to Elizabeth.
+
+It had been in her mind how nicely she could climb above the new boy,
+and the tell-tale girl, and all the other boys and girls, and now the
+order of the day was--sums.
+
+The master was writing them down on the blackboard, making them up as he
+went along, with due care working nines and eights and sevens into his
+multiplicand and dealing but sparsely with fives and twos and threes.
+
+Elizabeth copied it down and rubbed it out. Copied it down and rubbed
+out half, by judicious breathings directed judiciously; looked up the
+class to see how Cyril was progressing, and back to the board to see if
+a pleasant little short division sum was lurking near this obnoxious
+multiplication; then back to her slate to count the number of nines
+once more. And by that time the master was giving out his order:
+"Pencils down. Hands behind you. _At--tention._"
+
+Brown's face expressed such placidity that the master asked him to stand
+and give out the answer, and he gave it gladly enough--999.009--which
+sounded particularly learned to a class not yet introduced to decimals.
+
+The master nodded. "You are right," he said, "but no one is up to
+decimals yet."
+
+So it happened that Brown made his reputation straightway, and with such
+ease did he solve every arithmetical puzzle, that dinner-time saw him
+sitting smiling and covered with laurels at the head of the class, and
+Elizabeth still at the bottom cleaning her slate to write "Cheaty,
+cheaty; go home and tell your mother," fifty times.
+
+Wygate School was a preparatory school for boys and girls, although the
+girls out-numbered the boys. At the present stage of its existence it
+had eighteen girls and twelve boys. Not half a mile distant was a public
+school, to the precincts of which flocked fifty pupils daily, each of
+whom paid a modest threepence a week for educationary advantages.
+
+Wygate School was the only private school in the district, and was
+regarded respectfully by the neighbourhood. So many "undesirables" were
+precluded from its benefits, by its charge of one guinea a quarter.
+
+John Brown, the new boy, whose age it appeared was thirteen years, was
+the eldest pupil in the school, and Floss Jones, who was four, was the
+baby.
+
+The neighbourhood frequently moaned that there was no private school for
+those of riper years--fifteen and sixteen or so; but in some cases it
+called in a governess, in others it forewent its dignity and adopted the
+public school, and in others again it sent its young folk over the water
+to Sydney--a matter of three miles or more.
+
+But the North Shore Highlands was at this time uncatered for by the
+tramway authorities. An old coach ran twice daily from Willoughby to the
+steamer--a morning trip and an evening-tide one--there and back. It was
+largely patronized by the Chinese, and parents of the artisan class
+hesitated and frequently refused to allow their young folk to make the
+journey.
+
+The three young Bruces went every day across a beaten bush track, from
+their weather-board cottage home, past the big iron gates of Dene Hall,
+a house built of grey stone in the early days of the colony, where their
+irascible grandsire dwelt, up a red dusty road to the little
+school-house on the hill.
+
+And special terms were arranged for them because they were three--Cyril,
+and Elizabeth the twins, and six-year-old Nancy.
+
+They had always been three. For even in the days when Cyril and
+Elizabeth had belonged to the baby class there had been Dorothea,
+Dorothea who was sixteen and quite old now, who was a weekly boarder in
+a fashionable Sydney school (for a ridiculously small quarterly fee).
+
+And when Dorothea had left Wygate School little Nancy's hand had been
+put into Elizabeth's and she too had taken the long red road to school.
+And after Nancy there was still a wee toddler who, it was said, would
+make the number up to three again when Cyril went to a "real" boy's
+school.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE PEARL SEEKERS
+
+
+They were round the corner and away from school--Cyril, Elizabeth and
+Nancy. Behind them were all the trials and vexations of the day, among
+which may be counted Mrs. Sharman, Mr. Sharman--and John Brown.
+
+Cyril spoke with awe of John Brown's big hands and feet, and looked over
+his shoulder as he spoke. For that small hope of the Bruces had in the
+cloak-room inadvertently trodden upon Brown's hat, and had been startled
+by the way in which Brown had swung him round by his collar.
+
+"I pinched him," said Betty proudly. "He shouldn't have gone above me.
+I'll pinch him every time."
+
+Her sun-bonnet was tucked away under her arm, her boots and stockings
+were in the family lunch-basket that she carried, boy-like, swung over
+her shoulder, and she covered the ground most of the time with a hop,
+skip, and a jump, aided by a long stout stick.
+
+"I suppose," she said, "we'll have to try the dangerous little coral
+islands this time. I know that's where the black pearl is hidden."
+
+"Oh dear," sighed Nancy, "I don't like curral islands a bit. Let's go
+home to-day."
+
+"Silly!" said Cyril loftily. "We've got to find the black pearl
+somehow."
+
+"It'll be worth hundreds and thousands of pounds," said Elizabeth. "Just
+_think_ of taking that to mother, just _think_ of all we could do. It
+wouldn't matter _then_ grandfather not speaking. _We_ could drive past
+him in our carriage then! Come on my lass." This last was to Nancy.
+
+"I want to go in the water, too, Betty," said the small lassie,
+following at a trot. "Don't want to be your old wife. I've been your
+wife for a lot of days now."
+
+"I don't know who you mean when you say Betty," declared Elizabeth, and
+leapt forward so far that the other two had to sharpen their pace
+suddenly.
+
+"Peter Lucky," said Nancy imploringly. "Oh, Peter Lucky, let Cywil be
+your wife a bit--do."
+
+"Cywil's"--it may be stated that Betty was still very backward sometimes
+in the matter of r's--"Cywil's got to be my chum--don't be such a stupid
+Nancy--er--Polly. He's got to try to murder me in the middle of the
+night to get the pearl. Look here, we've only just put you in to amuse
+you a bit, we can _just_ as well do without you."
+
+Nancy's face fell. Such statements were lavishly used by these two
+elders of hers towards herself. But the indignity she feared most was to
+be told to go home and play with the baby, and she looked at her sister
+with an eager smile now to stop the words if possible.
+
+"Oh, don't do wivout me, Betty dear," she said. "I'll love to be your
+wife. I was only thinking it would be nice to have your feet in the
+water."
+
+"You're six," said Betty. "You ought to be able to be my wife well
+now--cook the dinner, and wash up, and all that. If you do well at
+this, we'll see how you'll do as a man some day."
+
+For a second they stopped before their grandfather's gates and peered up
+the long drive. It was an old habit of theirs, varied for instance by
+challenges of who dared to walk the furthest distance up the drive.
+Betty had once advanced just beyond that mysterious bend, but she had
+scudded back again soon, declaring her grandfather had a gun and was
+coming after them, with it aimed at her head. Oh, how they had run home
+that day!
+
+Another time she had climbed upon the topmost rail of the gate and,
+scrambling down quickly, had set off madly for home, followed
+breathlessly by the others who were afraid even to look over their
+shoulders. "He's set the emus loose," Betty told them as they ran, "and
+emus are like bloodhounds for scenting you out. And besides, they can
+fly."
+
+But that was fully a year ago now, and much of the terror had departed
+from their grandfather's gates for the two elder ones. It was only Nancy
+who had cold thrills down her back and shudderings at passing the dread
+gates.
+
+To-day Betty did no more than peep through the railing, declare there
+was nobody about, and swing off again with her long pole. "Nobody there
+to-day," she said, and Nancy breathed easier and ran after her.
+
+They were on the well-trodden bush-track now, the track that led home
+between great gums and slim saplings. The iron roof of the cottage came
+into view and the row of tall pines that stood like grim sentinels
+between the two-rail fence and the sweet-scented garden. A small wicket
+gate stood invitingly ajar, and a black dog, lying meditatively outside
+it, pricked up his ears and raised his head as the trio came into sight.
+
+They took a cross-track, however, and disappeared into the bush again,
+and the dog shook off his thoughtful mood and ran gleefully after them.
+
+For he had not grown up from puppyhood to doghood with these children
+without knowing what tracks led to school and home, and what to the
+wonderful realm of play and fancy. Moreover, his anticipations were
+always aroused when Elizabeth changed her habit, and he had seen in the
+twinkling of his eye that she was bare-legged and bare-headed and
+provided with a pole. So he barked joyously and scampered away upon that
+cross-track too.
+
+Down in the gully where the growth was thicker, and where the wattles
+and willows made many a fairy grove, a small creek ran. The widest end
+of it ran into their grandfather's grounds, and had at one time in its
+career broken down the two-rail dividing fence, which now lay submerged
+in its waters and formed the "dangerous coral islands" alluded to by
+Betty.
+
+It pleased Elizabeth's fancy to state that her grandfather was unaware
+of this creek, but that some one would tell him soon, and then he would
+send men and have it well examined by divers.
+
+To-day, however, a dire disappointment awaited them. Seated on a partly
+submerged post, and holding a fishing-line in his hands, was John Brown.
+The three stared at him for a minute in speechless disgust, but he
+returned their stare with a nod and a small smile and looked at his
+line.
+
+"Better come home," whispered Cyril, with a lively recollection in his
+mind of the big hand that had played with his collar so short a time
+past.
+
+But Betty was trying to swallow her indignation and to keep her voice
+quiet.
+
+"This is our place," she said. "This was our place before yours."
+
+"Well," said Brown, "it's mine now."
+
+"It isn't yours," said Betty shrilly; "it belongs to our grandfather--so
+there!"
+
+Again Brown smiled.
+
+"Well, that's a stuffer," he said, "it belongs to _my_ grandfather."
+
+Betty's eyes widened in horror at the new boy's depravity. "Oh, you
+story!" she said in a shocked voice, then turning to the uneasy Cyril,
+"Hit him, Cyril!" she said. "Hit him one in the eye for taking our place
+and telling such a wicked story."
+
+But Cyril was already widening the distance between himself and John
+Brown, and a feeling of anger was beginning to stir in his small breast
+against Betty for trying to mix him up in this quarrel.
+
+"Come on home," he said, "what's the good of having a row with a fellow
+like that?"
+
+"But it's our water," said Betty, her face red with anger towards the
+fisher. She stooped down and picked up a stone.
+
+Brown turned and looked at the little group; Cyril a good distance in
+the rear; and angry-faced Betty, with Nancy cowering in terror behind
+her.
+
+"Look here," he said, "I'm not going to have any of you people poaching
+on my grandfather's property. You can come as far as the fence _if_ you
+like, but I advise you to come no further."
+
+Betty's stone flew through the air--many yards distant from the boy on
+the post.
+
+"Good, again," he said. "There are plenty more stones and I'm here yet."
+
+Again Betty repeated the process, and with even worse results. She never
+_could_ aim straight in all her life!
+
+"Good shot!" said Brown, laughing again.
+
+"Oh, Cywil, do _smash_ him," begged Betty in desperation.
+
+"He daren't, he hasn't the pluck," mocked Brown.
+
+"No Bruce is afraid," said Betty, using her favourite taunt. "Come on
+Cyril!"
+
+But when she looked over her shoulder Cyril was nowhere in sight, and
+Nancy was scudding away, like a terrified rabbit, through the scrub
+around her.
+
+Through the air rang a clear shrill voice--it belonged to golden haired
+Dorothea--"Betty, come home."
+
+"You're called," said Brown, winding up a yard or so of his line.
+
+Betty stooped, grasped another stone, took aim at a distant wattle in
+sheer desperation, and caught Brown on the hand.
+
+The pain of it drew a sharp exclamation from him, and brought him from
+his post in a towering rage.
+
+And Betty took to her bare heels and ran--ran as though her grandfather
+and all his emus were after her.
+
+Near the wicket-gate she ran against Cyril, who was throwing stones in
+the air for the dog to snap at as they fell.
+
+"Bwoun!" she gasped. "He's coming!"
+
+Cyril looked down the track and beheld no one.
+
+"It's all right," he said; "go inside and shut the gate. I'll give him
+what for. I'd just like to see him touch you. I'd knock him into next
+year as soon as look at him."
+
+But no Brown appeared.
+
+Cyril put his hands in his pockets and strutted towards the track
+through the bush--to the intense admiration of Elizabeth.
+
+"No Bruce is afraid of any one," he said. "You and Nancy go in."
+
+A girl in a short long print dress ran down the verandah steps. A mane
+of golden hair hung down her back and some of it lay over her shoulders,
+and when she stood still she tossed it away.
+
+"You're to come home at once, Betty," she said, "and mind baby. And oh,
+you naughty girl, you've got your boots and stockings off again. What
+_will_ mother say?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+"THE DAILY ROUND--THE COMMON TASK"
+
+
+Betty's boots and stockings were on once more, and her school frock
+exchanged for one whose school days lay far behind it. In spite of
+"lettings down" and repeated patchings and mendings it was in what its
+small wearer called the "ragetty tagetty" stage of its existence, and
+was donned only when she was about the dirty part of "cleaning up."
+
+It was Saturday morning now, and she was very busy. Her mother could
+never capably wield a broom, or scrub, or dust, or cook--she had done
+all four, but the results were pathetic. Even Nancy knew the story of
+her life, which began with "once upon a time, almost twenty years ago,"
+and was told in varying fragments whenever a story was begged for.
+
+There was the story of the jolly sea-captain and his one wee
+daughter--their own mother--and of how they had sailed the seas and seen
+many people and many lands. There was the story of the old house within
+the iron gates--built by convicts more than fifty years ago--and of how
+the sea-captain had bought it and built a tower and spiral staircase and
+a roof promenade, which he called his "deck." And of how he and his
+small daughter settled down in the great house together; and how her
+wardrobe was always full of beautiful clothes and her purse full of real
+sovereigns; and two ponies she had to her name, and a great dog that was
+the terror of the neighbourhood, and a little dog that lived as much as
+it could in her lap. There was the story of her garden full of rare
+flowers, and her ferneries of rare ferns, and her aviary of rare birds.
+
+Then there was the story of the little girl "grown up," with hair done
+on the top of her head, and long sweeping dresses, and a lover chosen by
+her father himself--by name John Brown; and of the pale young author
+who lived beyond the iron gates, in a small weather-board cottage with
+an iron roof who wrote dainty little sonnets and ballads, which he read
+to her under the old gum trees.
+
+And lastly, there was the story of the captain's pretty daughter
+slipping away from the great house--to become mistress of the wee
+cottage behind the pine trees. And of how the captain returned all
+letters unopened and sailed away to other lands for five years; of how
+afterwards the poor author lay ill unto death, and the little
+wife--"mother" now--carried pretty Dorothy to the great house and sent
+her trotting into the library, saying "grandpa" as she ran; and of how
+the little girl had been lifted outside the house by a servant, who had
+civilly stated the orders he had received, never to allow any one from
+the author's house to "cross the threshold" of that other great one.
+
+And now it was to-day--and besides Dorothea there were the twins (Cyril
+and Elizabeth), Nancy and the baby; a goodly number for the small
+weather-board cottage to shelter and for the author, who had only had
+one book published, to bring up.
+
+So it fell out that there was only a rough state girl to do the work of
+the cottage, and much sweeping and dusting was Elizabeth's "share"; much
+"washing-up" and tidying. To Nancy belonged the task of setting the
+tables and amusing the baby; and Cyril was engaged at a penny a week to
+stock the barrel in the kitchen with firewood and chips, and bits of
+bark to coax contrary fires. He was the only one who received payment
+for his work, and no one demurred, for was he not the only boy of the
+family and in the eyes of them all a sort of king!
+
+So Betty was dressed in working garb and was bestowing her usual
+Saturday morning attention upon the "living-room"--drawing-room they had
+none. The little room that had evidently been destined by its builder to
+fulfil such a mission, had been seized and occupied by the author in the
+beginning of his residence at The Gunyah.
+
+The living-room was a low-ceiled room with French windows leading to the
+verandah. It had a centre table, several cane chairs, a small piano, a
+rocking-chair and a dilapidated sofa. Its floor was oilclothed and its
+windows uncurtained--only Dorothea had arrived at the stage that sighed
+for prettinesses.
+
+Betty was quite happy when she had swept the floor, shaken the cloth,
+put all the chairs with their backs to the wall, and polished the piano.
+
+She was surveying the room with pride when Dorothea walked in. Dorothea
+in the frock she had worn for five mornings during the week, and which
+was still clean and fresh; with her wonderful hair in a shining mass
+down her back, and a serviette in her hand (an extempore duster). It
+always took her the better part of Saturday to even find her own niche
+in the home.
+
+"I was going to dust this room, Betty," she said--"someway, everything I
+am going to do, I find you've done."
+
+Elizabeth smiled drily. She could not even sweep a room and be just
+Elizabeth Bruce. Saturdays usually found her in imagination Cinderella;
+and consequently harsh words from Dorothea, who in her eyes was a cruel
+step-sister, would have found more favour with her than kind ones.
+
+"There is the kitchen to be swept," said Betty; "the ashes are thick on
+the hearth and the breakfast things are not washed up."
+
+Dorothea looked startled. Betty's voice sounded tired and resigned.
+
+"Oh dear!" said Dorothea, "I do so _hate_ doing kitchen work. It makes
+my hands so red and rough, and just spoils my dress."
+
+"The work is there and must be done," remarked Betty.
+
+Mrs. Bruce looked in at the door. Her face was just Dorothea's grown
+older, and without its roses; her hair was Dorothea's with its gold
+grown dull; her very voice and dimples were Dorothea's. A large
+poppy-trimmed hat adorned her head, and a basket with an old pair of
+scissors in it was swung over her arm.
+
+"Of course you'll not do kitchen work, my chicken," she said gaily;
+"slip on your hat and come and gather roses with me. It's little enough
+of you home your get--that little shall not be spoilt by ashes and dust.
+
+"It's Mary's work, and Betty can see that she does it well."
+
+Betty stalked into the kitchen and regarded the fireplace in gleeful
+gloom, sitting down in front of it and staring into the heart of the
+small wood fire.
+
+Mary, the maid-of-all-work, took her duties in a very haphazard way. She
+had no particular time for doing anything, and no particular place for
+keeping anything. And alas! it is to be regretted her mistress was the
+last woman in the world to train her in the way she should go.
+
+To-day she had taken it into her head to try the effect of a few bows of
+blue ribbon upon her cherry-coloured straw hat, before the breakfast
+things were washed or the sweeping and scrubbing done. But the
+washing-up belonged to Betty.
+
+Outside in the garden Mrs. Bruce was drawing Dorothea's attention to the
+scent of the violets and mignonette, and her gay voice caused Betty to
+sigh heavily.
+
+"If my own mother had lived," she said gloomily, "I too might gather
+flowers. But what am I?--the family drudge!"
+
+Cyril entered the back door, his arms piled up with firewood.
+
+"I'm getting sick of chopping wood," he said grumblingly, "it's all very
+well to be you and stay in a nice cool kitchen. How'd you like it if you
+had to be me and stay chopping in the hot sun? I know what _I_ wish."
+
+"What?" asked Betty, glancing round her "nice cool kitchen" without any
+appreciation of it lighting her eyes.
+
+"Why, I wish mother had never run away and made grandfather mad. And I
+wish he'd suddenly think he was going to die, and say he wanted to adopt
+me."
+
+"How about me? Why shouldn't he adopt me?" demanded Betty.
+
+"'Cause I'm the only son," said Cyril. "He's got his pick of four girls,
+but if he wants a boy there's only me."
+
+He went outside and loaded himself with wood once more.
+
+"Cecil Duncan's father gives him threepence a week, and he doesn't have
+to do anything to earn it," he said when he came in again. "He says
+every Monday morning his father gives him a threepenny bit and his
+mother's _always_ giving him pennies."
+
+"H'em," said Cinderella, and fell to work sweeping up the hearth
+vigorously. Her own grievances faded away, as she looked at
+Cyril's--which was a way they had.
+
+"And he's not the only boy neither," said Cyril. He threw the wood
+angrily into the barrel. "There's Harry and Jim besides. I suppose they
+get threepence each as well. What's a penny a week? You can't do
+anything with it."
+
+Elizabeth lifted down a tin bowl and filled it with water; placed in it
+a piece of yellow soap, a piece of sand soap and a scrubbing brush, and
+then began to roll up her sleeves. She was no longer Cinderella. A new
+and wonderful thought had flashed into her mind even as she listened to
+Cyril's plaint. It certainly _was_ hard for him, her heart admitted,
+very hard.
+
+"How would you like to be rich, Cywil?" she asked, turning a shining
+face to him.
+
+Cyril thought a reply was one of those many things that could be
+dispensed with--he merely showered a little extra vindictiveness upon
+the firewood and kicked the cask with a shabby copper-toed boot.
+
+Betty danced across to him and put her sun-tanned face close to his fair
+freckled one.
+
+"How would you like to be _very_ rich?" she said, "and to have a pony of
+your own, and jelly and things to eat, and a lovely house to live in,
+and----"
+
+"Don't be so silly, Betty," said the boy irritably.
+
+Betty wagged her head. "I've got a thought," she said.
+
+"Your silly-old pearl-seeking is no good. There are no pearls, so
+there," said Cyril crossly. "You needn't go thinking you really take me
+in. It's only a game--bah!"
+
+Betty was still dancing around him in a convincing, yet aggravating way.
+
+"How'd you like to be adopted, Cywil?" she asked--"really adopted, not
+pretending? Oh, I've got a very big thought, and it wants a lot of
+thinking. You go on getting your wood while I think."
+
+And Cyril gave her one of his old respectful looks as he went out of the
+kitchen door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+GHOSTS
+
+
+Betty's plan was beautifully simple. As Cyril said, he could easily have
+thought of it himself. It was nothing more than to effect a
+reconcilement between their grandfather and their mother, and the means
+to bring it about was to be "ghosts."
+
+"Mother said he was superstitious," said Betty; "she says all sailors
+are. He doesn't like omens and things, mother says. What we want to do
+is to give him a severe fright."
+
+She had thought out alone all the details of her plan, helped only by a
+few incidental words of her mother's. The story of baby Dorothea being
+taken to melt a father's heart, for instance, had fired Betty with the
+resolve to try what baby Nancy could do in that direction.
+
+Cyril was more matter-of-fact.
+
+"If he wouldn't forgive mother when she took Dot, he's not very likely
+to soften to you with Baby," he said.
+
+But Betty had counted that risk too.
+
+"You forget he's ever so many years older," she said. "He's an old man
+now, and it's quite time he woke up. I've been thinking of everything
+we've to do and everything we've to say."
+
+"Ghosts don't talk," said Cyril.
+
+"They moan," replied Betty; "and they _do_ talk. In _Lady Anne's
+Causeway_ there's a ghost, and it speaks in sepulchral tones and says:
+'Come hither, come hither to my home; thy time is come.'"
+
+The little girl's eyes were shining; the very thought of that other
+ghost's "sepulchral" tones gave her a thrill down her back and lifted
+her out of herself. Of all her plots and plans, and they were many and
+various, there was not one to compare in magnitude with this. In her
+thoughts she became a ghost, straightway. She glided about the house,
+her lips moved but gave no sound, her eyes shone. Underneath the
+exhilaration, that her ghostly feelings gave, was the smooth sense of
+being about to do a great deed that would benefit every one--Cyril, her
+mother, her father, Dot, every one. Tears glistened in her eyes as she
+thought of the meeting between her grandfather and her mother, and
+beheld in fancy her pretty mother clasped at last in the sea-captain's
+arms.
+
+Throughout that Saturday afternoon she made her preparations, only now
+and then giving Cyril a trifling explanation. He was much relieved to
+hear he would not be expected to take any active part in the
+proceedings, only to be at hand, in hiding, to help his ghostly sister
+carry the baby.
+
+Tea was always an early meal at The Gunyah, that Mr. Bruce might have a
+long evening at his writing, and the children at their home lessons.
+
+To-night, after the last cup and saucer had been washed and dried by
+Betty and put away by Dot, and after the baby, had been tucked into her
+little crib, by Betty again, a long pleasant evening seemed to stretch
+before every one.
+
+Mr. Bruce brought out _My Study Windows_, and declared he had "broken
+up" till Monday. Mrs. Bruce opened a certain exercise book her eldest
+daughter had given her, imploring secrecy, and Dot sat down to the piano
+and wandered stumblingly into Mendelssohn's Duetto. The twins, to every
+one's entire satisfaction, "slipped away"--Betty to her bedroom to make
+her preparations, and Cyril (who was strictly forbidden even to peep
+through the key-hole) to the dark passage that ran from the bedrooms to
+the dining-room and front door. He went on with his plans while he
+waited. All day he had been thinking of the rainbow coloured future
+Betty assured him was his. He had quite decided to leave school directly
+he was adopted, and to have "some one" come to teach him at home. Of
+course his grandfather would not be able to bear him out of his sight.
+He had heard of such cases, and supposed he was about to become one.
+Then he decided to have a pony, a nice quiet little thing with a back
+not _too_ far from the ground; and he would have a boat and sail her
+where the coral islands were, and he would have a few new marbles--and
+get his grandfather to have the emus killed.
+
+He had just arrived at the part of the story where his grandfather was
+giving orders for the destruction of his emus, when Betty opened the
+bedroom door a crack, and whispered his name.
+
+She shut the door at once, before he was fairly inside the room, and
+then he saw her.
+
+Such a strange new Betty she was, that he almost cried out. Her
+face was white--white as death; two black cork lines stood for
+eyebrows, and black lines lay under her eyes, making them larger
+and unnatural-looking. She wore a black gown of her mother's, and
+a black capacious bonnet, and had a rusty dog chain tied to one
+arm. She moved her arm and fixed her eyes on her startled brother.
+
+"Do you hear my clanking chain?" she asked in what she fondly believed
+to be "sepulchral tones." "Ghosts always have them. Come on."
+
+But Cyril hung back somewhat--perhaps the glories of "being adopted"
+paled beside the unpleasantness of walking a lonely road in such unusual
+company.
+
+"It's--it's a silly game," he said. "I don't see any good in it at all."
+
+But the little ghost turned upon him spiritedly.
+
+"This isn't a game at all," she said. "This is _real_. It'll make mother
+friends with grandfather, and get you adopted. Get baby and come on--it
+might frighten her if she saw me."
+
+"They'll find out that she's gone," said Cyril, still leaning upon the
+bed-foot and eyeing his sister distrustfully. "Let's chuck it, Betty,
+we'll only get in a row."
+
+"We won't get in a row," said Betty staunchly. "She'll be only too glad
+when we come back and tell them all. I didn't undress Baby to-night, and
+I put on her blue sash and everything. All you've to do is to wrap that
+shawl round her and catch me up. I'll be at the gate."
+
+Baby was used, as were all of the others except Dot, to an open-air
+existence. Most of her daylight hours were spent, either rolling on the
+rough lawn, or sleeping in a hammock swung beneath an apple tree, and as
+a result, night-tide found her a very drowsy baby indeed. The children
+might romp and sing and chatter around her very cot as she slept, but
+she could not steal out of her slumbers even to blink a golden eyelash
+at them.
+
+So that when Cyril overtook Elizabeth at the gate, my Lady Baby was
+asleep in his arms, and so she stayed in spite of the thumping of his
+heart, and the chatter of the ghost, and the rough road.
+
+The night was dark with the luminous darkness of an Australian summer
+night. The tender sky was scattered with star-dust, a baby-moon peeped
+over the hill-top and the leaves and branches of the great bush trees
+lay like dark fretwork over the heavens.
+
+Betty, holding her dress well up, and Cyril carrying the sleeping baby,
+hurried through the belt of bush that lay between their home and their
+grandfather's. Betty strove to instil energy into her listless brother,
+telling him stories of a golden future in store for him. But at the
+two-rail fence below "Coral Island Brook," Cyril came to a standstill,
+and urged Betty, who was under it in a trice and on her feet again, to
+"come along home."
+
+Betty turned her ghastly face towards him indignantly. "I won't," she
+said fiercely. "Give me the baby and go home yourself if you like."
+
+Between the outer world of bush and the house was a slip of ground
+called the banana grove, and known in story to both boy and girl, as the
+play-place of their mother.
+
+Cyril followed Betty through this grove, trying to make up his mind as
+he went, whether to go or stay. To stay and take his part in the
+proceedings; to do and be bold--as an inner voice kept urging him--to
+blend his moans with Betty's, and carry the heavy baby; or to turn upon
+his heels, and fly through the darkness from these horrid haunted
+grounds where his grandsire, and the great emus and dogs lived; where
+John Brown stated he had his dwelling--away from all these terrors to
+his small cottage home on the other edge of the bush, where were parents
+and sisters, music and lights--and another voice urged this.
+
+So he neither followed Betty nor went home; but, in dreadful doubt and
+great fear, he hung between the two courses in the banana grove, and
+shivered at the tree-trunks and the rustling leaves and the stray
+patches of moonlight.
+
+And Betty went forward alone with the baby. Her heart was beating in a
+sickening way, but her courage was, as usual, equal to the occasion. It
+was far easier to her to go forward than backward now, and she braced
+herself up with a few of her stock phrases--"He won't eat me anyway";
+"It'll be all the same in a hundred years"; "No Bruce is afraid _ever_."
+
+A great bay window jutted into the darkness and gave out a blaze of
+light. This was the lowest room in the tower portion of the house and
+was, as Betty knew, her grandfather's study.
+
+Betty's mind was swiftly made up. All fear had left her, and she
+stepped into the soft moonlight--a ghost indeed.
+
+She called Cyril, and her voice was so imperative that he quitted his
+sheltering tree and ran to where she stood on the edge of the grove.
+
+"Take Baby," she said whisperingly; "I can't do what I want with her in
+my arms."
+
+"Come home, B--B--Betty," implored the small youth--and his teeth
+chattered as he spoke--"I--I don't want to be adopted. I----"
+
+"Hush!" urged Betty, and filled his arms with the baby. "I--I don't want
+to be r--rich," cried Cyril. "It's b--b--better to be poor."
+
+"H--sh!" said Betty again.
+
+"I--I don't want to be like a c--camel!" whimpered the boy. "R--remember
+about rich men getting to Heaven."
+
+"Stay close here with Baby," ordered the little ghost, and the next
+second she had glided away over the path to the verandah. She went close
+to the window--three blinds had been left undrawn and the window panes
+ran down to the verandah floor. Surely the room had been designed
+expressly for this night.
+
+Cyril, in horror, beheld his sister creep to the first window and peep
+in; creep to the second--to the third.
+
+All the other windows were darkened; only this one room in all the great
+house seemed to be awake.
+
+Then, in the silence which lay everywhere, a blood-curdling thing
+happened. Betty's "clanking chain" came in contact with something of
+iron reared up near the window and gave forth a fearsome sound. Cold
+chills played about Cyril's back, a distant dog barked--and Baby awoke.
+
+Betty at once perceived this to be the one moment. Many people can
+recognize their moment when it has gone. Betty's talent lay in seeing it
+just as it arrived.
+
+If truth must be confessed, fear had once or twice during this campaign
+tugged at her heart; when Cyril had urged home, her greatest desire had
+been to flee. But Betty never quite knew herself--was never in any
+crisis of her life absolutely certain what this second terribly
+insistent self would do.
+
+Instead of scampering away with Cyril through the night, her feet had
+taken her to the windows, and the proportions of her plan had grown
+gloriously, albeit her heart-beats could be heard aloud.
+
+Now, when her chain clanked, it seemed to her the war drum had been
+sounded. She darted from the verandah across the path and snatched the
+baby from her brother's arms; then, running back to the verandah, her
+chain clanked again and again, and she rent the air with a dismal wail--
+
+    "Father! Father!"
+
+From the depths of an easy chair whose back was to her there rose the
+tall bent figure of an old man.
+
+Betty had arranged to "rend the air with wail upon wail"--to "press her
+pinched white face, and her little one's, time after time upon the
+window pane," but opportunity interfered, the window flew up, and Betty
+crouched on the floor in terror.
+
+In the banana grove Cyril fled from tree to tree, crying dismally. The
+darkness, the screams, the chain, the opening of the window, had each
+and all terrified him almost past endurance. Now he felt convinced his
+grandfather was chasing him with the emus.
+
+Meanwhile Betty on the verandah was also quaking. A stern voice from the
+open window demanded "Who is there?" but her fortitude was not equal to
+a wail.
+
+"I heard some one say 'Father, Father,' I'll swear," said a somewhat
+familiar boyish voice.
+
+"I saw a face," said the old man.
+
+And then Baby began to whimper piteously, and Betty's heart sank into
+her shabby small shoes.
+
+Footsteps were coming her way; the inevitable was at hand and she
+recognized it, and with an effort stood upright cuddling the baby close.
+
+The old man put his hand on her shoulder, and with a "I'll just trouble
+you--this way please," and not so much as a quaver in his voice, led her
+into the brightly-lighted study.
+
+And there followed him "big John Brown," of mathematical and pugilistic
+renown.
+
+He stared at Betty very hard, and Betty stared at him--only for a
+moment, though, for Baby began to cry and had to be hushed--and the
+chain clanked and frightened her while it produced no visible effect
+upon her grandfather.
+
+The old man turned sharply to the wondering boy.
+
+"Is this a trick of yours, John?" he demanded sharply.
+
+"No," said Betty, "it's--it's only me," and she looked straight into her
+grandfather's face, although her voice was trembling.
+
+"And who are _only you_?"
+
+The child hesitated. In a vague way she felt she would be doing her
+mother's and Cyril's great future an injury to tell her name. And yet,
+quick-witted as she was, it did not occur to her to find a new one.
+
+The young face in the old black bonnet looked beseechingly into the
+man's.
+
+"_Please_ don't ask my name," she begged.
+
+"Take off your bonnet."
+
+She put Baby on the floor at her feet and pulled off her bonnet. And
+her dark curly hair fell loosely around her odd white face.
+
+"Now--your name!" shouted the old captain, as if he were calling to a
+sailor high up a mast.
+
+"Elizabeth Bruce," faltered the girl, for her reason showed her in a
+second how John Brown would give it if she did not.
+
+A certain gleam that had been in the old man's eyes went away and his
+brow grew black as thunder. Betty instinctively picked up the baby again
+and gathered up the train of her dress.
+
+"Ah!" said the old man, breathing hard.
+
+Then suddenly a light dawned on Betty and she saw things as this old man
+would see them, which was the very way of all others that he must not
+do.
+
+She repeated swiftly to herself her old charm against fear--"No Bruce is
+afraid. I can only die once. He won't eat me."
+
+"It's all my fault," she said, and her brown eyes looked into his brown
+ones. "Cyril and I got tried of being poor, and I--I thought it would be
+a good plan if you adopted Cyril--and--and I came to frighten you."
+
+"Ah----"
+
+"I thought you were old, and--and--might be sorry now, and I thought a
+bit of a fright--I thought if a ghost----"
+
+Her chain clanked and her hands trembled, and Baby bumped up and down in
+her arms. The very remembrance of her words left her, for a great frown
+was spreading over the old man's face. He turned angrily to the boy.
+
+"Put her out of the door," he said. "Put her out of the place!" and some
+hot words, fearful and unintelligible some of them to the small girl,
+burst from his lips.
+
+And Betty, Baby and chain and all went out into the darkness. Only the
+bonnet remained.
+
+Cyril was on the outermost edge of the grove, and with danger behind
+him, and Betty and Baby before his eyes, safe and unhurt, a wave of very
+ill-temper swept over him. He refused to have part in any more of
+Betty's "silly games," left her to carry the baby unaided, and told her
+she had spoilt his chance of ever being adopted. But he was all the time
+wishing passionately that he too had "done and dared"--that he had not
+crouched there among the trees, afraid and trembling. A small inner
+voice, that spoke to him very sharply after such occasions, told him
+contemptuously, that he had been more afraid than a girl; that he had
+been a coward; and as soon as he reached their small lamp-lit home, he
+ran away from silent Betty and the babbling baby, to his own bedroom, to
+cry in loneliness over this second self who had done the wrong.
+
+And Betty stole silently into her bedroom. The dining room door was
+still closed, and those quiet elder ones were having their "pleasant"
+evening. She undressed the baby, and kissed her over and over, then put
+her into her little cot and gave her a dimpled thumb to suck. And she
+herself cuddled up very close to her, and began to cry too. So much for
+all her show of bravery now.
+
+And a small voice spoke to her also, and showed her the seamy side of
+this great deed of hers. Told her that no one else in all the world
+would have dreamed of doing so wrong a thing; pointed out her mother and
+father and pretty Dot, Mrs. and Mr. Sharman as examples of great
+goodness. When the baby was placidly sleeping, she sat upright on the
+end of her mother's bed in her earnestness to "see" if any of those
+righteous five would be guilty of the wickedness of becoming ghosts to
+frighten an old man. She would have felt easier at once if she could
+have convinced herself that they would; but she could only see each of
+them rounding eyes of horror at her, and her sobs, broke out afresh.
+
+The door opened and Cyril came into the darkness, whispering and
+whimpering,--
+
+"I didn't play fair, Betty," he said--"I wish I'd played fair--I----"
+
+"Oh," said Betty sobbingly--"Oh, Cyril, you're ever so much nobler than
+I am. You wouldn't frighten an old man, neither. Oh, I wish I was as
+good as you!"
+
+Whereat a sweet sense of well-doing stole over Cyril. "Never mind," he
+said cheerfully, "do as I do another time."
+
+"There won't be another time," said Betty. "I'm going to turn over a new
+leaf, and be as good as if I was grown up."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+JOHN BROWN
+
+
+John Brown's life had hitherto been a curiously rough and tumble sort of
+existence. There had been a season, brief and entirely unremembered by
+him, when his home had been in one of Sydney's most fashionable suburbs;
+when a tender-eyed mother had watched delightedly over his first gleams
+of intelligence, and a proud father had perched him on his shoulder for
+a bed-time romp. When he had been taken tenderly for an "airing" by the
+trimmest of nursemaids, and in the daintiest of perambulators. When he
+had worn tiny silk frocks and socks and bonnets. When hopes and fears
+had arisen over "teething-time." When he had been carried round a
+drawing-room, to display to admiring friends, his chubby wrists, his
+dimpled fat legs, his quite remarkable length of limb and growth of
+bone.
+
+Then Death slipped in unawares, and called the sweet young mother from
+that happy home, and little John Brown became a perplexity and a care to
+a grief-maddened father.
+
+For a space it was conjectured that the baby, pending the arrival of a
+step-mother, would be handed over to the cook, a rotund motherly person
+who was fond of asserting that she had buried thirteen children and
+reared one.
+
+But conjectures have a way of falling beside the mark.
+
+One morning an old schoolmate of poor little Mrs. Brown's arrived from
+"out back," packed up the baby's things with her own quick brown hands
+and returned "out back" the same evening.
+
+The perambulator, the cradle, the cot, the dainty baby basket and a
+multitude of other things were sold the next week along with the tables
+and chairs and other "household effects," and Mr. John Brown, senior, a
+cabin box and a portmanteau, left by a mail steamer for Japan.
+
+And the small suburban house became "to let." Thenceforward the pattern
+of little John Brown's existence became altered. He was one of three
+other children, and not even the baby, although scarcely one year old.
+
+His elegant lace-trimmed silken and muslin garments were "laid by." He
+wore dark laundry-saving dresses and neither boots nor socks. He was
+never carried around for admiration, for the very good reason that
+visitors were few and far between--and there was (except to doting
+parents, perhaps) very little to admire about him. He lost his
+chubbiness and his pink prettiness and became thin and wiry, brown faced
+and brown limbed.
+
+He was always abnormally tall and abnormally strong, so that he became
+almost a jest on the station. He learned to fight at three, to swim at
+four, shoot at seven, ride, yard cattle, milk, chop wood, make bush
+fires and put them out again, ring bark trees all before he was eleven.
+In short, to do, and to do remarkably well, the hundred and one things
+that make up a man's and boy's existence on an Australian station.
+
+At thirteen he learned that his name was Brown, and that he had a father
+other than the bluff squatter he had grown up with. And at thirteen he
+was taken from the station-life he loved, and, after much travelling,
+delivered by a station-hand into his father's care in Sydney.
+
+Before he could form any idea as to what was about to happen to him, and
+to this grey-bearded father of his, he was taken across the blue harbour
+water, and thence by coach to the little township over the northern
+hills.
+
+They walked past the small weather-board school together, and few, if
+any, words passed between them. For the man's thoughts were away down
+the slope of many years, and the boy's were away in that flat country
+"out back" where he had been brought up.
+
+They were close to the great iron gates when the man broke the silence;
+pointing beyond them he remarked--
+
+"This is where your home will be in the future, John."
+
+John considered the prospect thoughtfully and shook his head--
+
+"I'd rather go home," he said. "Let me go home."
+
+"No," said his father, "it can't be done. I ought to have fetched you
+away sooner, only I shirked a duty. Open the little gate, I see the big
+ones are padlocked. Push, it's stiff."
+
+They walked up the long red drive, John's mind busy over the questions
+he wished to ask his father and he began to lag behind considering them.
+
+"This will be your home," repeated Mr. Brown quietly, "and it's a
+marvellous thing how life has arranged itself. The turn of Fortune's
+wheel, we may say. Walk quicker, John."
+
+When they stood before the great front door, Mr. Brown became
+retrospective again.
+
+"We played here together," he said--, "down these very steps, along these
+very paths. It is strange how life has fallen out--how my boy will
+be----" He put out his hand and pulled the bell vigorously, then turned
+his back to the house and surveyed the garden.
+
+"Is it a school?" whispered John. But before his father could reply the
+door had rolled back and a man-servant stood looking at them.
+
+Mr. Brown walked in, put his hat on a table, motioned to John, and
+opened a door at one side of the wide hall.
+
+"It's me--Brown," he said as he entered the room. "I've brought the
+boy."
+
+John followed very quickly, being curious now. His father stood half-way
+across the room, looking hesitating and apologetic.
+
+A man of sixty or so, with a red, merry-looking face, and an
+unmistakable sea-captain air, glanced up from a paper he was reading.
+
+"Eh?" he asked.
+
+Then he sent his look--it was a quick darting look that saw everything
+in the twinkling of an ordinary person's eye--to the thin badly-dressed
+figure in the rear. "Eh? The boy? Oh--ah! My newly-found grandson."
+
+"He is scarcely what I had hoped to find," said Mr. Brown, apologetic
+still. "Yet his mother was a good-looking woman and----"
+
+"Be hanged to looks," said Mr. Carew. "He'll get on all the better
+without 'em. And you were never anything to boast of yourself you know.
+What's his name?"
+
+"John."
+
+"Um! John Brown. John Carew-Brown, we'll say. It's a pity it's not John
+Brown Carew."
+
+"That's a matter that can easily be altered. It can be merely John
+Carew, if you like, and let the melodious Brown go hang."
+
+"Eh? What does the boy say? What do you say John to changing your name
+and letting the Brown go hang?"
+
+To Mr. Brown's surprise and consternation, the boy gave an emphatic
+"No."
+
+"Ah!" said old Mr. Carew, "and how's that? Speak up, John."
+
+"The boys 'ud forget me," said John anxiously, "and I'd have to begin
+all over agen."
+
+"What with?--Leave him alone, Brown."
+
+"Thrashing 'em. They know me everywhere about Warrena. I can make 'em
+all sit up. I don't want to change my name."
+
+A sparkle came into the old man's eyes.
+
+"Well said, my lad," he snapped. "I'd not have given a rap for you if
+you'd have cast your name away as easily as a pinching pair o' boots.
+Stick to your own name, John, and you'll look all the better after
+mine."
+
+He waited a bit, eyeing the boy up and down keenly. The thin brown face,
+with its square determined mouth, quiet grey eyes and high forehead; the
+sturdy figure, countrified clothes, copper-toed boots, all passed under
+his scrutiny.
+
+"So you're of the fighting kind?" he asked at last.
+
+"Yes," said John proudly.
+
+"Ah! You never were, you remember, Brown. Things might have been
+different if you had been."
+
+He waited again. Then he smiled queerly.
+
+"John," he said, "your father's going away again to-night. You're my
+grandson. It may not seem a great matter to you now--but it is, all the
+same. You stay here. You and I have to take life together, boy--though
+you're at one end of the ladder and I'm at t'other. Your name's your
+name right enough, but I want you to be good enough to tack mine on to
+it, and to do a bit of fighting for mine too if necessary. I've fought
+for it hard in my day too. And now, John Carew-Brown, we'll have a bit
+of lunch if it's all the same to you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+MONDAY MORNING
+
+
+Mrs. Bruce was down on her knees caressing tiny Czar violets. Quite
+early in the morning (before the breakfast things were washed or the
+beds made) she had slipped on one of Dot's picturesque poppy-trimmed
+hats and declared her intention of planting the bed outside the study
+windows thick with these the sweetest-scented of all flowers.
+
+"And all the time you are working and thinking and plotting, daddie
+darling, the sweetest scents will be stealing round you," she said.
+
+For some little time she was quite happy among her violets. But
+presently a richly hued wall-flower called her attention to a cluster of
+its blooms, drooping on the pebbly path for a careless foot to
+crush,--all for the want of a few tacks and little shreds of cloth. A
+heavily-blossomed rose-tree begged that some of its buds might be
+clipped, and a favourite carnation put in its claim for a stake.
+
+"So much to do!" said Mrs. Bruce, as she flitted here and there in the
+old-fashioned garden, which was a veritable paradise to her. "The roses
+_must_ be clipped, the violets _must_ be thinned, the carnations _must_
+be staked. And there are the new seedlings to be planted. Oh, I _think_
+I will take the week for my garden--and let the house go!"
+
+A flush of almost girlish excitement was in her cheeks, her garden meant
+so very much to her. Certainly the house had strong claims--and it was
+Monday morning--the very morning for forming and carrying out good plans
+and resolutions! Meals wanted cooking, cupboards and drawers tidying;
+garments darning and patching! But then--the garden! Did it not also
+need her. Ah! and did she not also need it!
+
+Even as she hesitated, balancing duty with beauty, Betty's voice floated
+out through the kitchen window, past the passion-fruit creeper and the
+white magnolia tree, past the tiny sweet violets and the study windows,
+right to where she stood among the roses and wall-flowers.
+
+"I _am_ so tired of washing up," it said, "it wasn't fair of Dot. She
+had four plates for her breakfast--_I_ only had one. She might remember
+I've to go to school as well as her."
+
+Then Mrs. Bruce advanced one foot towards the house, and in thought
+wielded the tea-towel and attacked the trayful of cups and saucers that
+she knew would be awaiting the tea-towel.
+
+It was Cyril's voice that arrested her. It came from the kitchen too.
+
+"What's washing up!" said Cyril contemptuously. "Washing up a few cups
+and spoons--pooh! How'd you like to be me and have to clean all the
+knives, I wonder."
+
+Whereat Mrs. Bruce relinquished thoughts of the tea-towel. It would
+never do, she told herself, to assist Betty and leave poor Cyril
+unaided. "And I _couldn't_ clean knives," she said.
+
+But she ran indoors to her bedroom, whence came an angry crying voice.
+Six-year-old Nancy was, in the frequent intervals that occurred in the
+doing of her hair, frolicking about the small hot bedroom and trying
+frantically to catch the interest of the thumb-and-cot-disgusted baby.
+
+"Do your hair nicely," said Mrs. Bruce to her second youngest daughter.
+"I will take baby into the garden. Button your shoes and ask Betty to
+see that your ears are clean. And your nails. A little lady always has
+nice nails."
+
+She carried her baby away, kissing her neck and cheeks and hands, and
+telling her, as she had told them all, from Dorothy downwards, that
+there never had been such a baby in the world before.
+
+And she slipped her into the much used hammock under the old apple tree,
+and left her to play with her toes and fingers, whilst she went back to
+her violets and roses singing--
+
+    "Rock-a-bye, Baby on a tree top,
+     There you are put, there you must stop."
+
+and trying to be rid of that uncomfortable feeling, of having done what
+she wanted and not what she ought.
+
+In the study Mr. Bruce sat before a paper-strewn table. Most of the
+papers related to his beloved book--which was almost half-completed. It
+had reached that stage several times before, and what had been written
+thereafter had been consigned to the kitchen fire.
+
+Now it was necessary that he should put it away, even out of thought,
+and turn his attention towards something that would bring in a quick
+return. For Dot's school fees would be due very shortly, and he
+remembered, with a smile-lit sigh, that this quarter she had taken up
+two extras, singing and dancing.
+
+His income would not admit of extras--and yet, as Mrs. Bruce frequently
+put it, Dot was the eldest and was very pretty. She certainly must be
+able to dance and sing!
+
+He gathered up a few stray leaves of his manuscript, rolled them up with
+the bulk, and heroically put them away.
+
+But, as he returned to his seat, he caught a glimpse of his wife,
+kneeling on the path, and making a little trench with a trowel in the
+bed outside his window.
+
+"Well, little mother!" he called, and felt blithe as he said it, and
+young and fresh hearted, just because of the bright face in the
+poppy-trimmed hat.
+
+"I ought to be in the kitchen making a pudding," she said, screwing up
+her face into a grimace.
+
+"You are far better where you are," he said fondly.
+
+"Yes. But, oh, dear! I wish I had a cook, and laundress, and a
+housemaid. Oh, and a nursemaid, too! It is dreadful to be poor, isn't
+it, daddie?"
+
+She went on with her gardening, just as happy as before, but the face
+that the little author took to his work-table had grown grave in a
+minute.
+
+"She was born to have servants," he said, "servants and ease. I must
+work harder."
+
+Cyril's voice broke into his reverie. He had come beneath the study
+windows to interview his mother.
+
+"Can't I be raised to twopence a week now I'm going on for thirteen,"
+he said. "Bert Davis gets threepence, and he's only nine."
+
+Mr. Brace did not catch the reply. But he told himself that most men
+would have been more liberal in the matter of _£. s. d._ to their only
+son.
+
+He began to pace round and round his study.
+
+"I must work harder--harder--harder!" he said. "I must put my book away,
+and grind out those articles for Montgomery!"
+
+Nancy, in a big white sun-bonnet, clean for the new week, passed under
+his window and turned her face to the wicket gate. He could hear that
+she was crying in a miserable forsaken way, crying and talking to
+herself away within that capacious bonnet of hers.
+
+He called "Baby!" and leaned over his window sill to her. But she did
+not hear him. She just went murmuring on to the gate.
+
+Then two other hurrying little figures came along. Cyril, with a
+battered hat crushed down on his head, and his school-bag over his
+shoulders, and Betty with her boots unlaced, a white bonnet under her
+arm, and a newspaper parcel, which she was trying to coax into neatness,
+in one hand.
+
+"It's all through you and your ghosts," Cyril was saying grumblingly. "I
+know I'd have done my lessons only for you, Betty Bruce."
+
+"What is the matter with Nancy?" asked their father, leaning over the
+window sill once more. "Why was she crying?"
+
+"'Cause she thinks she'll be late," said Betty easily. "She always cries
+if she thinks she's late."
+
+Down the road they went, Nancy hurrying and crying, Cyril grumbling,
+Betty silent.
+
+To none of them had Monday morning come exactly right--fresh and
+uncrumpled.
+
+Betty sat down, just outside her grandfather's gate, to lace her boots,
+and Cyril went grumbling on about a hundred yards behind Nancy.
+
+Then did a fresh crease get into the new week's first day for Betty.
+Looking under her arm as she bent over her boot, she beheld three
+figures walking down the road, and at the first glimpse of them her face
+grew hot.
+
+"Geraldine and Fay!" she exclaimed.
+
+The centre figure was dressed in a lilac print, and wore a spotless
+apron and a straw hat. Upon either side of her walked a little
+golden-haired girl, one apparently about Betty's age, and one Nancy's.
+Their dresses were white and spotless, and reached almost to their
+knees; their hats were flat shady things trimmed with muslin and lace.
+Their hair was beautifully dressed and curled, their boots shining--and
+buttoned, and their faces smiling and happy-looking.
+
+They were Betty's ideals! Little rich girls, who rode ponies, and
+drove--sometimes in a village cart with a nurse, and sometimes in a
+carriage with a lady who invariably wore beautiful hats and dresses.
+Sometimes, again, they were to be seen in a dog-cart with a dark man who
+seemed a splendid creature indeed to Betty.
+
+The little girl by the roadside grasped her unbuttoned boot in one hand,
+her bonnet and newspaper parcel in the other, and in a trice had
+squeezed herself under her grandfather's fence, just at a point where
+two or three panels were broken down.
+
+Then she peeped out to see if they were looking. But no--they had not
+seen her. Betty gave a great sigh of relief as she watched them. How
+beautiful they were. How dainty! Betty looked down at her own old boots,
+old stockings, old dress. She turned her bonnet over disdainfully and
+thought of their lace-trimmed hats--their golden hair!
+
+"Oh, I am glad they didn't see me!" she said aloud fervently.
+
+Just then a voice shouted, a rough word to her from the path, and Betty
+awoke to two alarming facts. The one, that she was in the emu's
+enclosure and that one great bird was bearing curiously towards her
+already; the other, that her grandfather was the one who had called to
+her, and that John Brown, who was careering down the path on his
+bicycle, had stopped and was evidently giving information about her.
+
+Her grandfather waved an angry hand.
+
+"Out you go!" he shouted. "If you come here again, I'll set the dogs
+loose!"
+
+Betty squeezed herself under the fence just before the emu reached her,
+and once more faced a very crumpled Monday morning.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+"CAREW-BROWN"
+
+
+It must be confessed that John Brown--or to be polite and
+up-to-date--John Carew-Brown surveyed the pupils of Wygate School with a
+fighting eye, which is to say, he considered them carefully with
+regarded to their pugilistic abilities, and he decided very soon that he
+"could make them all sing small."
+
+Even upon that first day when he, a new boy, had been standing in view
+of the whole school, his mind had chiefly been occupied in running over
+the boys' obvious fighting qualities--tall, short, fat, thin, all sorts
+and conditions of them were there.
+
+The girls he had passed by with but slight notice; to him they were
+absolutely valueless and uninteresting. Betty Bruce had certainly caught
+his attention by her public punishment, and he had been taken aback by
+that sharp little pinch of hers. Hitherto he had had nothing to do with
+girls but he supposed immediately that that was their manner of
+fighting, and he did not admire it.
+
+Not many days later an opportunity occurred for him to defend his newly
+adopted name. Truth to tell, he had been longing for such an occasion
+from the day on which old Captain Carew had asked him to fight for his
+name too.
+
+He was in the playground, round by the school house, just where the
+babies' end of the school room joined the cloak room, and school was
+over for the day. Having a piece of chalk in one hand, and nothing
+particular to do, he occupied a few minutes by writing upon the weather
+boards of the cloak-room--"J. C. Brown, J. C. Brown, John C. Brown, John
+C. Brown," and the hinting C. raised a small dispute in a circle of
+onlooking boys and girls.
+
+It was Peter Bailey who said, "John Clara Brown," and it was silly
+little Jack Smith who said "John Codfish Brown."
+
+A burst of laughter followed, and Peter Bailey and Jack Smith chased
+each other down the playground, and in and out among the sapling clump
+away at the end of it, where some shabby scrub and three gum trees grew.
+
+When they came back, John Brown was still silently writing apparently
+deaf to all the surmising going on around him.
+
+Nellie Underwood said it was--"Crabby John Brown," and Arthur Smedley,
+the school bully, said--"John Brown the clown."
+
+Whereupon Brown sought out a clean weather-board a shade or so above his
+head and wrote in bold letters.
+
+"John Carew-Brown, Dene Hall, Willoughby," which made Bailey say--
+
+"Hullo, he's got hold of Bruce's grandfather."
+
+Cyril, who was one of the little circle of jesters, grew pink to the
+tips of his pretty pink ears, but feeling the majority and the bully
+were against Brown, ventured to say--
+
+"He's only running you!"
+
+Nellie Underwood pushed herself into a prominent position in the group
+and cried--
+
+"I seen him coming out of Dene Hall gates, and old Mr. Carew was with
+him. So there!"
+
+John Brown chose another weather-board and the group closed round him to
+read--
+
+"John Carew-Brown, only grandson of Captain Carew, of Dene Hall,
+Willoughby, Sydney, N.S. Wales, Australia, Southern Hemisphere," which
+certainly looked imposing and had the effect of silencing every one for
+almost half a minute.
+
+Then the bully's eyes glared into Cyril's pretty blue ones, and he said
+angrily--
+
+"You said you were the only grandson."
+
+Cyril did not speak.
+
+"You said," repeated the bully, "you said the Captain was going to
+adopt you, and give you his collection of guinea pigs."
+
+Cyril hung his crimson face and kicked the ground with the toe of his
+boot.
+
+John Brown chose another weather-board and wrote--
+
+"Captain Carew has no guinea pigs," which sent most of the blood away
+from Cyril's face. The bully was eyeing him angrily, and even went as
+far as doubling up one fist.
+
+"You said he was going to give you five shillings a week pocket-money,
+and let you buy my white mice," he muttered, and Cyril found himself
+face to face with the occasion, and with no clever intervening Betty to
+throw the right word into the right place, and so save his skin and his
+honour.
+
+"So he is," he said, moving away from Brown as far as he dared--"and so
+I am the only grandson." He looked over his shoulder and beheld Brown's
+back, whereupon he felt if Brown could not see he could not hear.
+"_He's_ only the gardener's boy," he said; "ask"--his mind made a swift
+excursion for an authority--"ask my grandfather," he said, "any of you
+who like, ask my grandfather."
+
+Brown and his chalk advanced to Cyril.
+
+"Who told you I was the gardener's boy?" he asked. Cyril looked from foe
+to foe, and the wild thought of denying he had said such words entered
+his mind, only to be followed by a swift remembrance of various daring
+deeds of the bully's.
+
+So he went over recklessly to Arthur Smedley's side.
+
+"My grandfather!" he said.
+
+"Are you going to be adopted?" asked the bully.
+
+"Yes," said Cyril in desperation.
+
+"Are you going to have five shillings a week?" demanded the bully.
+
+"No--I'm going to have ten," roared Cyril.
+
+A window belonging to Mr. Sharman's private house, which adjoined the
+school, flew open, and John Brown's name was sharply called. It entered
+into Arthur Smedley's mind to see what writing remained upon the wall,
+and he went across to the cloak-room for that purpose.
+
+Whereupon Cyril looked to the right of him, to the left of him, to the
+back of him, and beheld neither friend nor foe in his vicinity; and he
+heaved a sigh of great satisfaction, ran to the fence, squeezed himself
+through a hole in it, and was upon the road towards home in a trice.
+
+But before he had gone more than a hundred yards he heard quick
+footsteps behind him, and looking over his shoulder he saw John C.
+Brown. Then did a sickening sense of terror sweep over him, and his
+heart leapt into his mouth, for had he not said John Carew-Brown was
+"only the gardener's boy"?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE FIGHT
+
+
+Betty was in the belt of bush that lay between the wicket-gate of her
+home and the road. Her idea was to be sufficiently near to home to
+gather from the sound of the voices that might call her if she were
+_really_ needed and yet to be so far from sight that the continual
+"Betty, come here," and "Betty, go there," could not be.
+
+She had come home as soon as school was out, come home leaving Cyril and
+Nancy behind her, flung herself beneath the shade of one of her
+favourite old gum trees, and begun to write.
+
+When Mr. Bruce was busy over a story, or an article, or a book, every
+one in the house knew. Then the study door would be closed and the
+window only opened at the top; then the children would be banished from
+the side garden into which the study looked, and from the passage
+outside the study door; then Mrs. Bruce would carry his meals to him
+upon a tray, and he would have strong black coffee in the early evening.
+And then at last a neatly folded missive, gummed and tied with thin
+string, with a mysterious "_MS. only_" inscribed in one corner, would be
+carried to the post by either Cyril or Betty.
+
+When Dot wrote a story, as she very frequently did now-a-days, portions
+of it would be carried into the study for her father to see, and her
+mother would proudly read page after page of the neat round hand, and
+wonder where on earth the child got her ideas from.
+
+But when Betty wrote her stories, no one in the house--excepting Cyril,
+of course--knew anything about it! no one kept the house quiet for
+Betty, and no one wondered wherever she got her ideas from. And yet she
+had quite a collection of fairy stories and poems of her own
+composition. She and an exercise book, or a few scraps of paper and a
+stumpy bit of pencil were to be seen sometimes in very close
+companionship.
+
+But for all that no one did see; or seeing, they did not understand.
+
+Still Betty wrote her stories--not necessarily for publication like her
+father--nor as a guarantee that the scribbling genius was within her,
+like Dot--but for the love of story writing alone.
+
+Her fairy story to-day had to do with the bold and handsome Waratah
+which ran mad in the bush behind her home, towards Middle Harbour. Her
+fertile fancy had suggested many roles for these flowers to take.
+
+It occurred to her as she wrote that she had intended to write a poem
+which should stir Cyril--not one of _her_ sort of poems, about streams
+and flowers and dells and birds, but a dashing sort of poem, one that
+would make Cyril say "By _Jup-i-ter_, Betty," and learn it off by heart
+without any asking.
+
+For a space she laid down her story, which began, "Once upon a time,"
+and asked herself what there was that she could make a poem of for
+Cyril.
+
+"It must be something brave," she said. "A horse, a dog, a fire, a
+man--a St. Bernard dog saving a boy--a soldier--I think a soldier would
+suit Cyril!"
+
+She stared through the bush to the red road consideringly, holding her
+pencil ready to write. As she looked she became aware of a small figure
+running along the road, and entering the bush track. It was Cyril, and
+Cyril in woe. She could see that at a glance, and of course the first
+thing she did was to throw down her paper and pencil and run to meet
+him.
+
+As she got nearer to him she saw tears were running down his face and
+she heard, ever and anon as he ran, a great sob, half of anger and half
+of fear, come bursting from his lips.
+
+"Oh, my poor boy, whatever _is_ the matter?" she cried in her most
+motherly way.
+
+"The g-g-great big bully!" sobbed Cyril.
+
+"Oh dear!" exclaimed Betty in distress.
+
+"Oh the b-b-big bully. Let's get home."
+
+"Big John Brown?" asked Betty, for only yesterday this same John Brown
+had sent her small brother home weeping over a sore head.
+
+"Yes, of course. He--he said he'd knock me into next year. Come on,
+can't you?"
+
+Betty was running by his side at quite a brisk trot to keep up with him.
+
+"I--I hope you knocked him down," she said.
+
+"He said grandfather isn't our grandfather at all."
+
+"Oh!--and you _did_ give him a black eye Cywil dear?" asked Betty
+eagerly. Her "r's" had a way of rolling themselves into "w's" whenever
+she was excited.
+
+They were at the wicket-gate now, and Cyril slackened his speed, and
+looked over his shoulder. No one was in sight.
+
+"Oh, I will do!" he said boldly. "I told him no Bruce was afraid!"
+
+"That's right," said Betty eagerly. "That's right Cywil. No Bruce is
+afraid. But you did knock him down, didn't you."
+
+Cyril hesitated--then his trouble broke from him in a burst. "We fight
+to-night down at our coral islands at seven," he said.
+
+"Oh my bwave Cywil!" exclaimed Betty admiringly. "Oh, I am so glad--oh,
+I am so very glad!"
+
+But Cyril looked doleful, and was lagging behind his small eager
+sister.
+
+"I'm not so sure that he meant us to fight," he said. "He--he never
+asked me to."
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"He only said something about a challenge and things."
+
+"Oh," said Betty, eager again in a minute; "_if_ he said 'challenge' you
+_must_ fight. There's no get out."
+
+"But I've hurt my leg."
+
+"Oh never mind your leg--think of the honour of the Bruces!" said the
+fervent Betty, who regarded the family cognomen as something sacred and
+against which no breath of evil must be allowed to come.
+
+"Honour of the Bruces be hanged, if I'm lame," said Cyril savagely.
+
+A sense of foreboding swept over Betty as she followed Cyril into the
+house. Her imagination showed her willows and the "coral islands," and
+only John Brown--big square John Brown--there. She knew the story that
+would soon be all over the school--all over the neighbourhood--that
+Cyril had been _afraid_ to fight. Of course she, Betty, his own twin
+sister, knew there would not be a grain of truth in it. She knew he was
+shy and delicate, and had hurt his leg. But for all that, she wished
+eagerly that he were not shy and delicate, and did not always have some
+bodily ill when fighting time came. And more than one sob shook her, for
+she beheld the honour of the Bruces being trampled under John Brown's
+big boots.
+
+She set the table and went about her usual household tasks in a very
+half-hearted way. Cyril would not look at her, and crept off to bed at
+six o'clock, complaining of the pain in his leg. Tea was over by then,
+and Betty, with her woeful look still on her face was helping "wash up"
+in the kitchen.
+
+Cyril in his bedroom turned down his stocking and examined the little
+blue bruise near his knee. That there was some outward and visible sign
+of his hurt he was very thankful. It raised his self-respect and brought
+tears of self-pity to his eyes, that Betty should have expected him to
+fight under such circumstances! So much did the sight of his wound
+upset him that he only went on one leg while undressing, though it must
+be confessed it was not always the same leg that did the hopping.
+
+Presently, after he had been lying in bed for some little time and
+commiserating with himself over his sad fate, the door opened and Betty,
+with the wistfulness quite gone from her face, came in. And _such_ a
+Betty! Her brown hair was bundled away under one of Cyril's battered
+straw hats, and thankful indeed had she been that she had so little hair
+to bundle. She wore one of Cyril's sailor jackets, and a pair of his
+serge knickers, and few looking at her casually, would have insulted her
+with the supposition that she was a mere girl.
+
+Her face was alight with eagerness as she besought her brother to "just
+_see_ if he'd know her!"
+
+"It'll be almost dark when I get there," she said, "and he'll never
+_dweam_ I'm not you."
+
+"But what'll you do when you get there?" asked Cyril, sitting up in bed;
+"perhaps a challenge _does_ mean a fight!"
+
+"Fight him!" said Betty stoutly; "I've been wanting to ever since he
+went above me."
+
+"You can't fight," said Cyril disgustedly. "You're only a girl."
+
+Betty's face positively flamed with eagerness.
+
+"Can't fight!" she said. "Why Fred Jones taught me. He says I've got the
+knack, but not _very_ much strength. Anyway, I fought that Barry kid the
+other day, _I_ can promise you!"
+
+"But John Brown is three times as big as Ces Barry."
+
+"I know!" she sighed dismally. "Anyway, it's better to be beaten than
+not to fight at all. And if you don't fight, they--they _might_ say you
+were afraid." Her face grew scarlet as she put the horrid thought into
+words.
+
+When the door was shut, Cyril jumped out of bed to watch her go, and so
+occupied was he over _her_ danger, that he forget his own hurt and did
+not limp at all.
+
+Up and down the garden paths his mother and father were walking, his
+mother's arm through his father's, and a happy peaceful look on her
+face. The thought ran through the boy's mind, how little grown up ones
+know of the troubles of childhood. Nancy was rolling with baby on the
+little lawn, singing--
+
+    "John, John, John, the grey goose is gone,
+     The fox is away o'er the hill, Oh!"
+
+and he thought how good it was to be a girl--a goose--a fox--anything
+but a boy!
+
+Then he crept back to bed, covered up his head and began to cry. For he
+was afraid that Betty would be hurt--and once again had he hung back
+when he should have gone forward. And his heart told him that again he
+had been a coward.
+
+Down by the willows John Brown was waiting. He had very much enjoyed
+issuing his "challenge" but he felt morally certain that it would not be
+accepted. He was therefore surprised when he saw his small adversary
+approaching him in the dusk.
+
+Who shall say what fancies were running riot in his head! He was a
+squire going to punish a rash youth for trying to thrust himself into
+their family. He, his grandfather's grandson, was going to thrash a
+foolish boy for taking his grandfather's name in vain!
+
+Meanwhile his little foe came on, over the rough sun-burnt grass, over a
+fallen tree through a small stretch of denser scrub, to the very shores
+of the "coral island sea." And the baby-moon chose the moment of their
+meeting to slip behind a cloud and leave the world in semi-darkness.
+
+"Well done, Bruce!" said Brown coming forward and speaking in a hearty
+tone; "I didn't believe you'd come--I didn't think you had a fight in
+you."
+
+"We Bruces fight till we die!" piped Betty, and bit her lip to still its
+quivering.
+
+Brown laughed. He detected the nervousness in his opponent's voice, and
+had fully expected it. If he had found "Bruce" over-bold, he would have
+been surprised indeed. As it was, the reply in some way pleased him.
+
+"Well," he said, "you're not going to fight me. _I'm_ not in a fighting
+mood; I'm going to _thrash_ you."
+
+Betty caught her breath. It certainly entered into her mind to cry out
+and run away, but she did nothing of the sort, she only clenched her
+hands, and stood her ground--having as usual a sufficiency of courage
+for the occasion.
+
+The next minute Brown's great hand had grasped her coat collar, and she
+felt herself swung round, stood down and swung round again. Then a sharp
+swish lashed her once, twice, thrice.
+
+Whereupon Betty began to fight on her own account, forgetting all the
+advice Fred Jones had given her about "hitting out from the shoulder,"
+etc. etc. She kicked Brown's legs with all the strength she could put
+into her own. She pinched his wrists and his cheek, and lastly and to
+his disgust she set her sharp little teeth into his hand.
+
+He dropped her quickly, her hat rolled off, and down tumbled her short
+curly hair. And the moon chose that moment to sail from under the cloud
+and put Betty's face in a soft silver light.
+
+Brown whistled. "By Jove!" he said, the "sister."
+
+Betty crammed her hat down upon her head again.
+
+"I'm not," she said. "It's not! It's me, Cyril. Come on, _coward_,
+_bully_!"
+
+She made a little rush at him, but Brown threw down his switch.
+
+"Thanks," he said. "I'm not taking any this trip."
+
+"Come on," urged Betty.
+
+"I don't fight girls, thanks."
+
+Betty began to cry in a heart-broken desperate way.
+
+"It's not me," she said. "It's Cyril. It's Cyril. Oh, it's Cyril!"
+
+But Brown, smiling darkly, turned from her, jumped over the fence, and
+took his way through the banana grove to his home.
+
+And what pen could tell of his heaviness of heart, and great shame in
+that he had _thrashed_ a girl. He could feel her light weight yet as he
+swung her round, hear her girlish voice crying, "We Bruces fight till
+we die!" see her thin white face in the moonlight as her hat fell off,
+and she looked at him and said--
+
+"Come on, coward, bully!"
+
+How he tingled with shame. Coward, bully! Yes, he had hit a girl.
+
+Betty started for home at a brisk run, for during her adventure the
+night had advanced, and her imagination peopled the surrounding bush
+with bogeys, and imps and elves.
+
+And as she ran, sobs broke from her, solely on account of her physical
+woes.
+
+Within the wicket gate she walked slowly. How could fear of outer
+darkness remain, when the dinning-room window sent such a bar of light
+beyond.
+
+She crept softly along the verandah to the window and peeped in. Her
+father was lying on the old cane lounge, his eyes upon her mother who
+sat at the piano, in a pretty fresh dress, flower-like as ever. For a
+space, while little boy-Betty looked, she just touched the keys tenderly
+as if she loved them like her flowers, then she struck a few chords, and
+began to sing "Home, Sweet Home," in her sweet girlish voice.
+
+And Betty turned away, the tears running down her cheeks, and her small
+heart aching.
+
+"I've been bad again," she said, "and I meant to be good always. I don't
+believe you _can_ be good till you are grown up." She ran along the
+passage into the little bedroom which she and Dot and Nancy shared, and
+she fell down by Dot's quiet white bed and buried her face in the quilt.
+
+"Bad again," she sobbed. "I've been bad again. Oh, I'm _glad_ I got
+thrashed, it ought to do me good." But it is to be feared her gladness
+was not very deep, because a sense of great satisfaction swept over her
+as she remembered, she had kicked, really kicked, big John Brown.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+DOROTHEA'S FRIENDS
+
+
+Alma Montague, a wealthy doctor's daughter; Elsie and Minnie Stevenson,
+daughters of a Queensland squatter; and Nellie Harden, only child of a
+Supreme Court Judge, were Dorothea Bruce's "intimate" friends. Mona
+Parbury was her only "bosom" friend. Thus she defined them herself when
+speaking of them to members of her family and to the girls themselves,
+who were one and all eager to stand a "bosom" friend to pretty Thea
+Bruce as they called her.
+
+The difference between an "intimate" friend and a "bosom" friend is too
+subtle to be described, but school-girls all the world over, and those
+who have left school days just behind them, will know and understand.
+
+Mona Parbury was one week older than Dorothea and one inch (they
+measured upon the verandah wall) taller. Her waist was two sizes larger;
+her boots and gloves were three. In every way she was cast in a
+different mould from Dorothea. She was a heavily built girl, who looked
+at sixteen as though her teens were a year or two behind her. Her
+features were pronounced--high cheek-bones, square chin, high forehead;
+her hair was black and straight and plentiful, and she wore it in a
+heavy plait down her back. Her eyes were brown, clear, faithful, good
+eyes, and her mouth was distinctly large and ill-shaped.
+
+Such was Mona in the days when Dorothea loved her--in the days when
+Dorothea told her all her hopes, and dreams, and often very foolish
+thoughts; when she made her the heroine of her stories; and wrote little
+poems to her as--"her love"--and little loving letters if the cruel fate
+which sometimes hovers over such friendships separated them for half a
+day.
+
+We have seen Dorothea before. She was small and fairy-like;
+slender-waisted and light in movement. Her hair was golden and curly,
+and was usually worn quite loose about her shoulders; her eyes were blue
+and sunshiny and lashed by dark curling lashes; her mouth was small and
+red, and her complexion delicate pink and white. All of her "intimate"
+friends gave her the frankest admiration--they all loved her, and they
+were all eager to stand first with her.
+
+But it was Mona who loved her the most. Mona who kept and treasured
+every one of the little "private" notes sent to her by Dot. She worked
+out all her most troublesome sums, brushed and curled her hair; bore
+many of her punishments; brought her numberless fal-lals (keepsakes she
+called them); wore a lock of her golden hair in a locket around her
+neck, and told her all of her secrets--she had as many as ten a week
+sometimes.
+
+Miss Weir, the "principal" of the school, had, many years ago, given to
+Dorothea's mother much the same sort of love as Mona Parbury now gave to
+Dorothea. And it was owing to this old love that Dorothea was now
+admitted on very low terms to the most fashionable school in Sydney.
+
+No one among all the pupils (there were fifteen) knew anything about
+poverty--no one but Dorothea. As she once said in a burst of anguish to
+her mother--
+
+"They are all rich, every _one_ of them. They live in beautiful houses
+and have parlourmaids and housemaids and nursemaids, and kitchenmaids
+and cooks and carriages, and as much money to spend as we have to live
+on, I believe."
+
+It was very rarely, though, that any of her troubles ruffled her calm
+serenity. Dorothea was usually as placid as the placidest baby. She
+longed to be rich, and to have pretty things to wear and a handsome
+house to live in, but she never talked of her poverty. Instead she
+draped its cloven foot gracefully, and turned her back on it--and
+_imagined_ she was rich--from Monday till Friday.
+
+She discussed "fashion" and "society" with Alma Montague and Nellie
+Harden, and grew quite familiar with the names and doings of the great
+society dames. She even learned--at considerable pains--a "society"
+tone of voice with a drawl in it and a little lisp.
+
+School life was a great happiness to her--the regular hours, the
+beautifully ordered house, the neat table, the daily constitutional, the
+morning and evening prayer-time, and the hour in the drawing-room at
+night, everything that made life from Monday till Friday.
+
+It was Friday till Monday that was the cross, Friday till Monday, the
+days when the cloven foot would not be draped, when the elegancies of
+life were left behind in the city, when the twins and the babies were
+everywhere, when the meals were often but suddenly thought of snatches
+of food.
+
+Sometimes the thought of the looming future--the time when all the days
+would be as Friday till Monday, when there would no longer be any school
+days to be lived by her--would quite break down her placidity, and make
+her feel she could put down her head anywhere and cry.
+
+Yet away they were marching, one by one, all the beautiful school-days,
+all the days of discipline and pleasant duty, and the ugly slack days,
+when there would be nothing but home with house-work to do, were drawing
+near.
+
+And at last she could bear the thought of it by herself no longer.
+
+It was early evening, and she was on the schoolroom verandah, watching
+the young moon rise over a distant chimney. Every moment she expected
+the prayer-bell to ring, and meanwhile, as it was not ringing, she
+filled up the time by counting how many more evening prayer-bells would
+ring before the end of term.
+
+She counted on her fingers, out aloud, and found there were just
+twenty-nine--twenty-nine without Fridays, Saturdays, or Sundays.
+Twenty-nine days, and then came the end of term, and the end of her
+school-days.
+
+It would then be Betty's turn--larrikin Betty's! The moon sailed over
+the chimney, and Dot put her head down on the verandah railing and began
+to cry. She did not cry in the vigorous whole-hearted way in which Betty
+cried, but she sighed heavily, and sobbed gently, and allowed two or
+three tears to run down her cheek before she brought out her dainty
+handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.
+
+And at that precise moment Mona was crossing the schoolroom floor, and
+she saw her darling Thea in tears! She was not given to light impulsive
+movements at all, but this time she really did _spring_ forward and
+kneel at Dot's side.
+
+"Dear, darling Thea!" she whispered, "what is the matter? Miss Cowdell
+has been bullying you for the silly old French? That's it, isn't it
+dear?"
+
+"Oh, no!" said Dot hopelessly, "nothing _half_ as small as that."
+
+"You've lost the new sleeve-links Alma gave you? Never mind--there are
+plenty more. Not that? What then? Tell your own Mona--tell your own old
+Mona."
+
+Two more tears ran down Dot's cheeks.
+
+"It's--it's nearly the end of term," she said.
+
+Mona nodded.
+
+"And I'm going to leave school," she said.
+
+Again Mona nodded and waited.
+
+"I've to go home," said Dot, and she put her head down on Mona's
+shoulder heavily.
+
+"I've to go home too," said Mona, and she sighed, "right away to the
+Richmond river, where you girls never come."
+
+"My home," said Dot, "is like a little plain, hedged round with prickly
+pear, and put on the top of a mountain. No one ever comes in, and we
+never go out."
+
+"Poor little Thea," said Mona.
+
+"And we're very poor," went on Dorothea with strange recklessness; "we
+ought to be rich, but we're not, and the house is full of children, and
+there's never any peace from morning till night."
+
+Mona grew crimson. She wanted to say something very much, and she lacked
+the courage. Instead she asked how old were the children, as if she did
+not know!
+
+"There's Betty," said Dot, "she's to come here when I leave, and she
+won't enjoy it a bit--she's such a romp--and there's Cyril, they're both
+about twelve. And there's Nancy, she's six, and the baby."
+
+"I wish," said Mona, "I _wish_ they belonged to me."
+
+"How can I practise with them everywhere about. How can I read, how can
+I paint even, write my book, do anything, with them everywhere?" asked
+Dot dismally. "They just fill the house."
+
+Again Mona stumbled to what she wanted to say, and stopped. Dot would
+say she was "lecturing." It would never do.
+
+"You're rich," said pretty Dot pouting; "you can have everything you
+want, do anything, go anywhere."
+
+A few puckers got into Mona's high forehead.
+
+"Once," she said, "I had four sisters, all younger than myself, and they
+all died. I told you, didn't I?"
+
+"But it's long ago," said Dot. "Three years ago since the baby died. You
+must have forgotten."
+
+"I'd promised my mother, when she was dying, to be a mother to them.
+Father and aunt _made_ me go to school, and all the time I was counting
+on when I should leave, and be an elder sister."
+
+Dot opened her eyes very wide.
+
+"Why did you want to be an elder sister?" she asked.
+
+Mona still looked red and ashamed.
+
+"You should read _The Flower of the Family_," she said, and "_The Eldest
+of Seven, Holding in Trust_. You'd know then."
+
+Dorothea had read the last, and she began to see and understand.
+
+"You've got your mother and sisters," said Mona shyly.
+
+And then for the first time it occurred to Dorothea that she herself was
+an elder sister, that she was the eldest of five, and that infinite
+possibilities lay before her.
+
+"There's only my father and my aunt and brother when _I_ go home," said
+Mona. "And I've only twenty-nine days, too, and then, oh! Thea darling,
+I have to lose you."
+
+"We'll write twice a week always," whispered Dot, twining her arms round
+her friend's waist.
+
+"And always be each other's bosom friend," said Mona.
+
+Then the prayer-bell rang, and the four intimate friends scanned Thea
+closely, seeing that she had been crying, and feeling angry with "that"
+Mona Parbury for letting her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+RICHES OR RAGS
+
+
+Captain Carew and John Brown--big John Brown in Betty's parlance--sat at
+dinner together.
+
+Although not an elegant dinner table it was very far removed from being
+a poor one. The linen, silver and glass were all of the best, the very
+best; the man-servant was decorous and swift of eye, foot and hand, and
+the menu was beyond any that had entered into John Brown's knowledge,
+before he came to Dene Hall. Yet he was out of love with it all.
+
+Captain Carew had his glass of clear saffron-coloured wine at his right
+hand. His silver fork was making easy journeyings from a slice of cold
+turkey on his plate, to his mouth, and his eyes were now and again
+running over a long type-written letter that lay before him.
+
+He was well pleased, well fed, and interested, and he had no reason to
+suppose John Brown was in any other humour than himself.
+
+He had heard that the thoughts of youth were of vast length, and perhaps
+he believed it. But he did not think John's had reached quite as far as
+wishing to be a cobbler in a country village.
+
+And it must be confessed that few, seeing the appetite the boy brought
+to his plate of cold turkey and "snowed" potato, would have suspected
+him of longing for a "crust of bread and a drink of cold water."
+
+The truth was, he had been of late ransacking his grandfather's library
+and had found besides sea-stories and stories of wrecks, and foreign
+lands and pirates and deep sea treasure--what interested him more than
+all, a volume of biographies of self-made men.
+
+He had lingered longingly over their boyhoods; their brief school times
+(when such times were lacking altogether he liked both man and story
+better); their privations, struggles, self-reliance and success. The
+success interested him the least. That came, of course, he decided, to
+all who tried hard enough. But the privations! The struggle! The
+self-reliance! How his eyes shone and his heart beat at it!
+
+There was the story of Richard Arkwright, the great mechanician. _He_
+was never at school in his life--never forced to do ridiculous sums, to
+spell correctly, to parse, to drill, to sing! His biographer said that
+the only education he ever received he gave himself--that he was fifty
+years of age when he set to work to learn grammar and to improve his
+hand-writing. He did not waste the precious hours of his youth over such
+things. When he was a boy he was apprenticed to a barber, and when he
+set up in business for himself he occupied an underground cellar and put
+up his sign--"Come to the subterraneous barber; he shaves for a penny."
+This caused brisk competition, and a general reduction in barber's
+prices. Yet not to be beaten, Arkwright altered his sign to "A clean
+shave for a halfpenny." Then he turned his attention to wig-making, and
+from that to machine-making. And years and years passed. Years filled
+with patient labour, privations, obstacles, and at last _Success_!
+"Eighteen years after he had constructed his first machine he rose to
+such estimation in Derbyshire that he was appointed High Sheriff of the
+county, and shortly afterwards George III conferred upon him the honour
+of knighthood." So said the book.
+
+Shakespeare, he read, was the son of a butcher and grazier; Sir
+Cloudesley Shovel, the great admiral, a cobbler's son; Stephenson was an
+engine-fireman; Turner, the great painter, came from a barber's shop.
+
+Life after life he had turned over of men who had risen from the ranks
+and gotten for themselves fame and riches. So that at last he came to
+regard humble birth and poverty as the necessary foundations of ultimate
+success. He noticed that his heroes all worked hard and patiently; were
+all brave and sternly self-disciplined, plodding onwards past every
+obstacle and hardship. But he forgot to notice that they all made the
+_best of that sphere of life into which they were born_.
+
+He had quite decided to be a self-made man. That was simple enough. The
+question that troubled him was what sort of a self-made man to be! A
+Newton? A Shakespeare? A Stephenson? A Turner? An Arkwright?
+
+The wide choice worried and perplexed him. It was pitiful to his
+thinking that he could, try and strive as he might, only be _one_.
+
+He had put himself through several examinations. He had lain under a
+pear tree and watched the leaves fall; he felt another man had the
+monopoly of apple trees. And he had decided that the leaves fell because
+they had become unfastened from the branches, and that they did not fall
+straight because the wind blew them sideways. And there was an end of
+the leaves.
+
+He had studied kitchen furnishings and their ways, avoiding only the
+kettle, since some one else had risen on its steam.
+
+He had tried himself with a pencil and paper, but he had composed
+nothing even reminiscent of Shakespeare. In fact, he had composed
+nothing at all.
+
+And at last he became convinced it was the circumstances of his life
+that were at fault, not he himself. _If_ he had only been a cobbler's
+son, a tailor's, a barber's!
+
+But alas! he was well-dressed, well-fed, well-housed; sent to a good
+school. He had a pony of his own and a man to groom him; a bicycle; a
+watch; every equipment for cricket and football; a dog; pigeons and most
+of the possessions dear to the heart of a boy.
+
+He had almost finished his dinner to-day when he put a question to the
+Captain sitting there smiling over his letter.
+
+"Grandfather," he asked, "are you rich?"
+
+His grandfather sat straight immediately, which is to speak of his
+features as well as his figure.
+
+"Well, what do you think, lad?" he asked.
+
+John shook his head dolefully.
+
+"_I_ think you are," he said, "but _are_ you?"
+
+"That depends on how riches are counted," said the old man cautiously,
+"and who does the counting. King Solomon, now, might consider me but an
+old pauper."
+
+John went on with his dinner thoughtfully.
+
+"Are you wondering what I am going to do with my money?" asked the old
+man, watching him closely.
+
+John looked him straight in the face.
+
+"I expect you're going to leave it to me," he said.
+
+"Ah!" said his grandfather. "And who has been talking to you now? Who
+told you that?"
+
+"Oh, Johnson and Roberts and Mrs. Wilkins. Mrs. Wilkins says you'll give
+it me in a will," said John carelessly.
+
+"Who the dickens is Mrs. Wilkins?"
+
+John opened his eyes widely. Not to know Mrs. Wilkins was indeed to
+argue oneself unknown.
+
+"Why the lady at the store next our school," he said. "She sells
+pea-nuts and chewing gum and everything."
+
+"And she says I'll leave all my money to you, eh? Hum. Well, how'd you
+like it if I do?"
+
+"I don't want it," said John with blunt force. He went on sturdily with
+his blanc-mange, arranging his strawberry jam carefully, that he should
+have an excess of that for the last spoonful.
+
+Captain Carew stared surprisedly at him.
+
+"Eh? What's that?" he asked.
+
+"When you were as old as me," said John, lifting his carefully trimmed
+spoon to his mouth, "were you as rich as now?"
+
+The question stirred the old man immediately. His eyes brightened, he
+put down his letter, pushed his glasses up high on his forehead and
+struck the table with one hand.
+
+"I should think not," he said excitedly, "I should rather think not. As
+rich as now--God bless my life!"
+
+"I thought you weren't," said John calmly.
+
+"I can't remember my father and mother," said Captain Carew, speaking a
+little more quietly as his thoughts began to run backwards. "I lived
+with my uncle in London; he kept a ham and beef shop, and had thirteen
+or fourteen youngsters of his own to bring up. He was going to put me to
+the butchering, but I settled all that myself. I ran away."
+
+"You ran away?" asked John breathlessly, and regarding the old man with
+more interest than he had ever given him yet.
+
+"Ay! When I was no older than you. Half a crown I had in my pocket, I
+remember. It was all the start in life _I_ ever got."
+
+John put down his spoon and stared at his grandfather earnestly,
+eagerly, admiringly.
+
+"You're a self-made man!" he said. And old as the Captain was, and young
+as was his admirer, he warmed pleasantly at the words.
+
+"Ay!" he said exultingly, "I'm a self-made man right enough. Every bit
+of me! I started life as an errand boy in the London slums, and it
+seemed for a time as if I was going to die an errand boy in the London
+slums. At least, it might have seemed so to most people. _I'd_ made up
+my mind how it was to be, how it had got to be."
+
+"What did you do?" asked John eagerly.
+
+"Do--well, I had about a year at errand running and then I got a chance
+to go to sea, and I took it. I went first to China. By gad, how well I
+remember that trip!"
+
+And forthwith he launched into a sea-story more enthralling by far to
+the boy than any in that library so stocked with sea-stories.
+
+At dinner again, at night, the talk was the same. The usually silent
+ruminative old man was positively loquacious, and John gave him a rapt
+attention.
+
+When nine o'clock struck a dim remembrance come to the boy that he was
+still a pupil of Wygate School and had home tasks to prepare for the
+morrow.
+
+But he had slipped too far out of his groove to go back again that
+night.
+
+He began to wander in and out of the lower floor rooms; out of the front
+door, round the verandah, and in by the French windows to the
+dining-room.
+
+"I'll chuck school," he said. "Catch any of those self-made men going to
+school when they were thirteen. I'll have to struggle and screw and put
+myself to a night-school. That's what they did. A self-made man is good
+enough for me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE ARTIST BY THE WAYSIDE
+
+
+Elizabeth Bruce was "detained for inattention."
+
+No one else out of all the four and thirty scholars of Wygate School was
+kept in to-day. One after the other, hands folded behind them, they had
+marched to the door. Then delightful sounds--the scuffling of feet,
+stifled screams, gigglings and low buzzings of talk--had stolen over the
+partition that separated the cloak-room from the class-room, and
+Elizabeth, sitting on the high-backed form, with all the other empty
+forms in front of her, nibbled her pencil in melancholy loneliness.
+
+She wondered if Nellie Underwood and Cyril would wait for her. Only
+yesterday she had waited a dreary hour for them and had carried Cyril's
+bag home for him to ease his wounded spirit.
+
+Then she began her task. She seized a slate, arranged two slate-pencils
+to work together and expedite her task and wrote: "Elizabeth Bruce
+detained for inattention."
+
+When she had written the statement ten times the silence in the
+cloak-room struck chill upon her. All the rest had found their hats and
+bonnets then and gone outside.
+
+She sat on the floor under her desk and tried to see the playground
+through the open door. Two small pinkly-clad figures dashed past the
+door, chased by a maiden in blue--all screaming and laughing.
+
+"Nell Underwood!" ejaculated Betty gladly, and went back to her slate
+warmed and cheered.
+
+She made her pencils work harder than before, kneeling upon the form in
+an excess of industry.
+
+Even as she wrote the statement for the fortieth time, voices and
+laughter came from the playground--but a cold silence had come by the
+fiftieth.
+
+At the sixtieth her little moist hand was cramped, and she had to stay
+to work her fingers rapidly. At the seventieth the tears were trickling
+down her cheeks, for she was only Elizabeth Bruce "detained for
+inattention," the schoolroom was only a schoolroom, and the forms were
+only forms--and empty. And that was the master down at the desk there,
+exercise books and slates around him and a pen behind his ear. For a
+space the tears splashed down hard and fast upon her slate and the sight
+of the big drops aroused her self-pity. The larger the splashes the
+larger her self-sorrow.
+
+A sharp "Go on with your work, Elizabeth Bruce" waked her to the
+necessity of drying her eyes and slate and adjusting her pencils for
+again writing, "Elizabeth Bruce detained for inattention."
+
+But at the eightieth time of writing it, she was no longer Elizabeth
+Bruce, the daughter of a moneyless author. Her name was now Geraldine
+Montgomery, and she was the adopted daughter of a millionaire. Her
+mother, she had decided, was a gipsy, and was even now hovering near at
+hand to steal back her beautifully dressed child.
+
+By the time she had written the melancholy statement of Elizabeth
+Bruce's detention, her face had all its old smiling serenity again.
+
+She rose, sighing thankfully, and collecting her slates, walked down
+soberly to the busy master at his desk.
+
+"Let this be a lesson to you, Elizabeth," he said, running his eye down
+slate after slate. "Ten times each side, twenty times each slate, five
+slates--one hundred. More punishments are meted out to you than to any
+other child in the school. I shall find it necessary, if this state of
+things continues, to write to your father. Clean the slates and return
+them to their places--then go."
+
+Elizabeth found the cloak-room empty. She assured herself that every one
+had gone home--of course; but her eyes flashed round the press room, and
+to that corner between the press and the door, for a blue-frocked little
+girl with red hair. And, of course, as she was now Geraldine Montgomery,
+the disappointment of finding the corner empty was not so keen as it
+would have been merely to Elizabeth Bruce.
+
+"I think," said this foolish little girl aloud, "I'll wear my leghorn
+hat with the ostrich feathers in it to-day. Papa always likes that." And
+she took her old pink bonnet down from her peg and slipped it upon her
+head. Then she stuffed her books into her black school-bag and turned to
+the door.
+
+Elizabeth Bruce fancied Cyril would be away there under the saplings
+playing knucklebones impatiently, and her eyes eagerly scanned the
+deserted playground. No kneeling figures, no Nellie Underwood, no Cyril,
+no knucklebones. For a second the tears trembled in her eyes at the
+thought that no one had waited for her, but in a minute Elizabeth Bruce
+slipped away, and Geraldine Montgomery in her leghorn hat was treading
+the homeward way.
+
+Behind her, she told herself, an old gipsy woman was skulking--she had
+seen the ostrich feathers, the "rare lace upon the simple rich dress."
+
+It was just behind the store that the gipsy and Geraldine both
+disappeared.
+
+The store turned one blank wall upon Carlyle Road--which was the home
+road--and Elizabeth came round the corner sharply and then stood still.
+There, kneeling upon the red clayey earth, his face to the wall, was big
+John Brown.
+
+Elizabeth made out that he was writing or figuring with blue chalk upon
+the wall's blankness, and although her heart feared the big rough boy
+she had "fought," she drew nearer.
+
+"Hulloa!" said John Brown, flushing when he saw the small pinafored
+maiden he had an unpleasant recollection of beating so short a time ago,
+and whom he had carefully avoided ever since.
+
+"Hulloa!" said Betty, surprised into speaking to him.
+
+Brown made a seat of his boot-heels and surveyed her, being much too
+bashful to open up a conversation.
+
+But Betty was not bashful.
+
+"What are you doing?" she asked, and a very inquisitive face stared at
+him from the depths of the pink sun-bonnet.
+
+[Illustration: "'Is it a horse?' queried Betty."]
+
+"H'm!" said John, and made a few more strokes with his pencil.
+
+"Is it a horse?" queried Betty. "Yes it is--there are no horns, and it's
+too big for a dog or cat. Yes, it's a horse."
+
+"H'm!" said John again. Then he looked at his handiwork, drawing further
+off to see it from Betty's point of view.
+
+"Yes," he said, with badly concealed pride; "it's a horse right enough.
+It's a race-horse. I drew him from memory."
+
+"Why didn't you draw him on paper?" asked the small girl.
+
+"Won't be let. And no sooner do I see a bit of blank wall than I begin
+drawing something on it," said the reader of _Self-made Men_.
+
+Betty only heeded the first part of his sentence.
+
+"Who won't let you?" she asked, standing on one leg as she put the
+question.
+
+"My people," said John. "They don't want me to be an artist."
+
+Betty's eyes rounded themselves.
+
+"_Are_ you going to be an artist?" she asked. She was intensely
+interested. The boys who played in her kingdom had not arrived at the
+stage of thinking what they were going to be. What they were was
+all-sufficient unto them. Cyril had once declared his intention of
+keeping a sweets' shop, but that was quite a year ago now.
+
+Betty had read many stories about artists, and they were always set in
+romantic or tragic circumstances. The look she gave to the one before
+her warmed him into becoming confidential on the spot. He did not tell
+her all at once, not all even that first afternoon, although they took
+the homeward way together.
+
+But he gave her a rough outline of the lives of several artists who had
+sprung from the ranks, and of one in particular who lived in a cellar,
+and tasted of starvation as a boy; one who, denied paper, could not yet
+deny the genius within him, but drew in coloured chalks upon any vacant
+wall that came in his way. And he always drew animals--and usually
+horses and dogs.
+
+The little brown face under the sun-bonnet glowed with delight. Never
+in all her life had the imaginative small maiden come across a boy like
+this. Big John Brown, indeed! Bully, indeed! Gardener's boy, indeed! How
+could she and Cyril ever have said, ever have thought, such things?
+
+Presently, for the boy had never had such a listener in his life before,
+he told her of other men--Stephenson, Newton, Shakespeare--and Betty
+took off her bonnet as her earnestness increased, and tucked it under
+her arm after a way she had when agitated.
+
+"Oh, I wish I was a boy," she said. "What's the good of a girl? What can
+a girl do? Don't you know anything about self-made women?"
+
+John knew very little. In fact he too very much doubted the "good of a
+girl." He told her so quite bluntly, but added that she'd better make
+the best of it.
+
+"There _must_ be some self-made women," insisted Betty. "I'll ask father
+to-night."
+
+John thought deeply for a few minutes, seeing her distress. He really
+ransacked his mind, for besides sorrow for her sorrowing he could
+plainly see the admiration with which she regarded him, and he wanted to
+show her that he knew something about women too.
+
+"There's Joan of Arc," he said, "and--there's Grace Darling!"
+
+But Betty was indignant. "They're in the history book!" she said.
+
+John thought again, but could only shake his head.
+
+"All women can do," he said, "is wash up, and cook dinners, and mend
+clothes!"
+
+Betty's lips quivered.
+
+"I won't be a woman," she said, "I _won't_!"
+
+John owned to sharing her craving to be rich, but he wanted to _make_
+his wealth himself--which set Betty's imagination galloping down a new
+road. _She_ had only thought hitherto of her grandfather's riches, which
+had seemed to her and Cyril to be all the money there was in the world.
+
+But now John had slid back a door and let her peep into all the glories
+of a new world, and she had seen there wealth and fame to be had for the
+earning--by men and boys!
+
+"Try and find out about self-made women," she said, when he left her at
+the turn through the bush. "See if there were any women artists, or
+women inventors, or women pirates, or _anything_. Good-bye."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+BETTY IN THE LION'S DEN
+
+
+So that it was John who showed Betty the thing in all its beauty. It was
+he, who, so to speak, called her to the mountain top, and pointed out to
+her the cities of the world to be climbed above. And it seemed to little
+independent-hearted Betty to be the most glorious thing in the world to
+climb upon one's own feet, pulling oneself upwards with one's own hands.
+
+She wondered how she could have ever wanted such a very ordinary
+happening as for her grandfather to _adopt_ them and give them _his_
+money. Here was this wonderful John Brown actually longing to give up
+her grandfather--his grandfather. For he had soon convinced her that
+Captain Carew was his grandfather too, and while allowing that he might
+be hers, he showed her how very little in the eyes of the world _her_
+relationship counted for. He, he said, was the son of his grandfather's
+eldest son--that their names were different was solely owing to the fact
+that his father had changed his name for private reasons. She and Cyril
+and all the rest of them were merely the children of his grandfather's
+_daughter_. And, as he impressed upon Betty, women didn't count for much
+in the world's eyes.
+
+Yet Betty was very earnest in her intention to be something
+great--something self-made, and John was willing enough not to stand in
+her way. He himself was going to start at once; _he_ was not going to
+waste any more time over going to school and doing lessons. He pointed
+to his grandfather as a fine example of a man who had risen _because_ he
+had not wasted time in learning. He told Betty they could not begin
+their "career" too early.
+
+It was Betty who suggested waiting till the Christmas holidays, and it
+was John who said--
+
+"Perhaps you'd better wait till the next Christmas. I will have got a
+bit of a start by then and will be able to help you."
+
+But Betty was indignant at that.
+
+"I won't be helped!" she said. "I won't be helped by you, John Brown.
+Stay at home till Christmas yourself--I'm going _now_!"
+
+Her career had to be decided upon, and very little time remained in
+which to decide. John intended beginning life as an errand boy. In his
+spare time, he said, he would go on with his drawing, and if an
+opportunity occurred, he would work his passage out somewhere in some
+ship. He was rather vague about all but the errand running; that he saw
+to be the first step towards greatness.
+
+Betty was not long before she decided he was keeping some part of his
+design from her. And every afternoon when they had left school and each
+other, she was nervous lest he should have gone by morning--gone and
+left her to find her way into the world alone!
+
+And here was she unable to decide upon her career! She even asked
+questions about Joan of Arc and Grace Darling, and set herself to find
+out if there were any other women in the history book.
+
+"It isn't fair!" she said at last to the thoughtful John Brown. "You'd
+never have known about being an errand boy and an artist only for your
+books. You've got a lot of books to help you."
+
+But John told her how he had been decided upon his "career" all his
+life, ever since his father had left him alone on the station in the
+country which time was, as the reader will be aware, situated somewhere
+about his first birthday. But he magnanimously proposed to place his
+grandfather's library at her feet, or rather to place her feet within
+his grandfather's library.
+
+"You can come and take your pick," he said.
+
+At this period of her life Betty was not troubled with pride--the pride
+of the slighted and poor relation.
+
+She accepted his offer rapturously, only adding, "You'd better keep my
+grandfather out of the way when I come."
+
+"Come when he's having his afternoon sleep," said John.
+
+So Betty was smuggled into her grandfather's library.
+
+It was Saturday afternoon when she went to the great house. She had to
+slip away from Dot, who was making elaborate alterations to a pretty
+blue muslin frock (she was invited to spend the next Saturday and Sunday
+with Alma Montague, the doctor's daughter); her mother was calling
+"Betty, come here," in the front garden as she reached the track through
+the bush, and Cyril and Nancy had implored her to "come and play
+something."
+
+But Betty had a "career" to think of. She ran through the bush and
+arrived breathless at that part of her grandfather's fence which ran
+past their coral islands. At a certain hour every afternoon, John said,
+his grandfather went to sleep. It was during this sleep time that Betty
+was to search the shelves of his library for a book that should
+enlighten her as to the best way to become a "self-made woman."
+
+She slipped under the fence, and into the little belt of bush that
+bounded the emu run, and where she, as a ghost, had waited.
+
+John's signal came very soon, and Betty immediately took off her bonnet
+and rolled it up under her arm--the better to hear--and marched boldly
+across the gravel paths to the library window where John stood.
+
+"Where is he?" asked Betty.
+
+"Asleep on the little verandah," said John; "he always sleeps a long
+time after dinner."
+
+Betty stepped into the room and looked around her curiously.
+
+It was such a room as she had never seen yet, and it pleased her
+greatly. Two enormous bookcases full of books stood side by side against
+one wall. Another wall was book-lined for about eight feet of its height
+and ten of its length. The centre-table had a dark blue cloth upon it
+and bore magazines, books and newspapers and writing materials.
+
+Betty's feet rested pleasurably on the thick rich carpet and her eyes
+went from easy chair to easy chair.
+
+"My father ought to have this room," she said, "he writes the most
+beautiful books, and I know he'd write ever so many more if he lived
+here."
+
+"Here's the book I got myself from," said John, advancing to a
+bookcase.
+
+But Betty was oblivious of her errand. She lingered by the table,
+turning over the covers of the magazines, and picture after picture
+caught her eye.
+
+One in particular she lingered over. It represented a bric-a-brac strewn
+room.
+
+"The boudoir of Madam S----," it said.
+
+"Oh!" exclaimed Betty, and dropped her sun-bonnet into her grandfather's
+chair. "Oh, John, when I've made myself, I'll have a room like _this_!"
+
+She began to read and her eyes smiled. Then she sank down on the floor,
+carrying the book with her, and leaning her back against a table-leg she
+lost herself in an interview with Madam S----.
+
+Madam replied to several searching questions blithely. She told a little
+story about her large family of brothers and sisters, their extreme
+poverty and her own inordinate love of music. Then there was a pathetic
+touch when sickness, poverty and hunger darkened the poor little home,
+and she, a mite of eight, had stood at a street corner in a foreign
+city and sung a simple song. A crowd had soon collected, and a
+keen-eyed, bent-shouldered man had been passing by hurriedly, and had
+stopped, caught by a "something" in the little singer's voice, and face,
+and attitude. He had finally pushed his way through the crowd and stood
+beside the little girl in the tattered frock.
+
+_That_ song and _that_ interview had been the beginning of a great
+career. Hard work and small pay had intervened, but success had followed
+success, and now not one of her concerts to-day meant less to her than
+hundreds of pounds. Dukes threw flowers at her feet, Princes loaded her
+with diamond brooches, tiaras, necklaces, bangles; kings and queens and
+emperors "commanded her to sing before them," and gave her beautiful
+mementos.
+
+Betty was breathing quickly as she came to this stage of Madam S----'s
+career. She turned a leaf, and a face smiling under a coronet looked at
+her.
+
+"Madame S----, present day," the words below said.
+
+A neighbouring photograph showed a mite with a pinched face and a
+tattered frock.
+
+"Madame S----, at eight years old!" was the inscription.
+
+"And I'm twelve," said Betty. "Twelve and a bit."
+
+She turned her head, then raised it sharply. There standing beside her
+was her grandfather.
+
+The two looked at each other.
+
+What Betty saw at first--it must be confessed--was the keen-eyed,
+bent-shouldered individual who had appeared to the little street singer,
+and the silly little imaginative maiden waited for him to speak.
+
+What the grandfather saw was a small girl of "twelve and a bit," in a
+pink print frock; a small girl with a brown shining face, golden-brown
+hair and brown eyes, and parted red lips, a little person in every way
+different from the pale-faced ghost who had visited him awhile back--so
+different that he did not know her.
+
+He simply took her for a little school-girl and no more.
+
+Then Betty remembered who he was--who she was--where she was--and a few
+other matters of similar importance, and a red, red flush spread over
+her face and to the tips of her small pink ears.
+
+The sea-captain opened his mouth in a jocular roar.
+
+"Who's been sitting in my room?" he demanded. "Why, here she is!"
+
+Betty's lip quivered. She _was_ beginning to be afraid--or rather she
+was afraid.
+
+"I--I just wanted to see a book," she said.
+
+"And what book did you _just_ want to see?"
+
+He took the magazine from her and noticed two things--how her hand shook
+and how bravely her eyes met his.
+
+His glance wandered over the open page, and a wonderment came to him
+what there was here to interest such a child.
+
+The next second the fatal question was on his lips.
+
+"And what is your name?" he asked.
+
+Betty's lips moved, but no sound left them. She just sat dumbly there
+gazing into her grandsire's face.
+
+The old man sat down on the pink bonnet. He was not in the least
+anxious over her name. She was a schoolmate of John's, of course; he had
+often stumbled over these active eager little creatures in the back
+yard, in the near paddock, by the emus' run, near the pigeon-boxes, on
+the staircase. _Only_ hitherto they had been of John's own sex. This
+pretty little nervous girl interested him.
+
+He drew her magazine towards him.
+
+"We're waiting for the name--aren't we, Jack?" he said.
+
+Then Betty realized that her hour was indeed come. She rose to her feet
+and stood in front of him gulping down a few hard breaths.
+
+"I--I didn't come to get us adopted this time," she quavered.
+
+"Eh?" said Captain Carew. He spoke dully, yet the faintest glimmerings
+of light were beginning to break on him. Her attitude, something
+familiar in her voice, her height and shining curly head brought that
+evening to his mind, when she had owned to an intention of wishing to
+frighten him. A slow anger stirred him, anger against this child, her
+parents, and himself.
+
+"Your name!" he said harshly.
+
+And at the sound of his own voice his anger grew. His lip thrust itself
+out when he had spoken, and his whole face wore its hardest, most
+unlovely look.
+
+"Your name, girl?"
+
+And Betty hesitated no longer. Her only point of pride at this age lay
+in assuming bravery whether she had it or not. "We Bruces are afraid of
+no one," being her favourite speech, and as inspiriting to her as the
+sound of the war-drum to a warrior bold.
+
+She stood straight and her brown eyes looked straight into his brown
+eyes.
+
+"Elizabeth Bruce," she said.
+
+The old man's anger blazed fiercely.
+
+"Look here my girl," he said, "you can tell your father it's a bit late
+in the day for these games. Tell him I've got the only grandchild here
+that ever I want. Now--go."
+
+But Betty stood her ground.
+
+"My father didn't send me," she said, and her face went from red to
+white. "He didn't know I was coming at all--and--sure's death! he never
+knew anything about the ghosts. I came to get Cyril adopted because he's
+getting tired of cutting wood an' only getting a penny a week."
+
+The old man broke into a hoarse laugh.
+
+"And this time to get yourself adopted," he said.
+
+But Betty shook her head vigorously.
+
+"No, I only wanted to see what sort of woman to be," she said. She
+walked to the open window.
+
+"I'm not going to adopt you," said the old man, "so go--GO! Never let me
+see you inside my gates again--by day or by night. Go!"
+
+And once more Betty took a swift departure by way of the balcony door.
+And again she left a bonnet behind her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+"IF I WERE ONLY YOU!"
+
+
+The third Saturday and Sunday before the ending of term, Dorothea spent
+with her "intimate" friend, Alma Montague.
+
+Alma's home was a very beautiful one at Elizabeth Bay, and, as Dot told
+her mother, there were parlour-maid, housemaid, kitchen-maid and every
+other sort of maid there.
+
+Dot slept in one of the visitor's rooms, and had a bathroom and a
+sitting-room opening off her bedroom for her exclusive use. The
+sitting-room and bedroom were "treated" with the same colouring--a
+tender wonderful shade of blue. The wall paper was just suggestive of
+blue; the ceiling was delicately veined with blue; the curtains were,
+Dot felt certain, blue. The easy chairs and the lounge, the footstools
+and the cushions were dull blue.
+
+Such a beautiful room.
+
+Again, in the bedroom, there were delicate suggestions of blue among the
+whiteness.
+
+And the bathroom! How different in every way from the little wooden
+unlined room at home. There the ceiling-joists were gracefully festooned
+with cobwebs, the floor had many a great hole in it, caused by white ant
+and damp. No water was laid on--only a tap came from a tank outside,
+which in its turn was fed from an underground well. And whenever Dot
+wanted a bath she had to coax or bribe Cyril or Betty to work the pump.
+Dot herself hated working the pump--it blistered her little hands.
+
+Here the floor was leaded the walls tiled, the bath itself painted a
+delicate sea blue. There was a square of carpet just beyond the edge of
+the lead; a cushioned chair, two hospitable taps, one offering cold, one
+hot water. All sorts of toilet luxuries were at hand, pretty coloured
+soaps, loofahs, lavender-water, ammonia, violet powder, violet scent.
+
+No wonder poor Dot was in an ecstasy with her surroundings, and that she
+roamed round her rooms and sighed with happiness because she was here,
+and with sorrow because she was going away in two days.
+
+On Saturday morning she and Alma went shopping. They breakfasted alone
+at nine o'clock, Alma's father being in his consulting-room and her
+mother in bed (she had been at the theatre on Friday evening and Dot had
+not even seen her).
+
+So the two girls lingered over a very dainty breakfast table till nearly
+ten o'clock, when Alma suggested "shopping."
+
+Dot had only two frocks, besides her morning pink print with her. One
+was a blue muslin that had to last her for next week at school; the
+other was a white muslin and her best. She had taken them out of her
+dress-basket and hung them carefully in her pretty wardrobe, and now
+that Alma spoke of shopping she was in miserable doubt which to wear.
+
+"I'm going to wear a blue," said Alma, "you wear yours, too, Thea dear,
+and then people will think we are sisters. Sisters! Oh, don't I wish I
+had a sister!"
+
+Dot, who possessed three, shook her head as she handled her muslin
+dress.
+
+"I think it's very nice to be the only one," she said. "The only child!
+It's lovely!"
+
+"But I'm so lonely except when I'm at school," said Alma sadly.
+
+Dot opened her eyes. She was just slipping her blue frock carefully over
+her shining curly head, but she stopped with her head half through to
+wonder at Alma.
+
+"Lonely!" she said. "Here! In this house! And you've got your father and
+mother!"
+
+Alma shook her head dolefully.
+
+"Father is always busy," she said, "and mother is always out--or
+entertaining. Oh, Thea, I would love to have you for my very own sister.
+I would give everything I have if I could have you."
+
+Dorothea smiled kindly. Mona Parbury had told her the same--and Minnie
+Stevenson, and Nellie Harden. They all wanted her for their _very_ own
+sister. It was only such little madcaps as her own sisters, Betty and
+Nancy, who were indifferent.
+
+Alma was small and undeveloped. She was seventeen and looked hardly
+fifteen. Her large dark eyes looked pathetic in her thin sallow face.
+Her lips were thin and colourless, her hair straight and dull brown. No
+prettiness at all belonged to her. Only wistfulness and gentleness.
+
+So they went shopping together, the two little girls in blue. And they
+had no chaperon at all with them, no schoolmistress, or governess, or
+mother, or aunt--no one to direct their eyes where they should look, and
+their smiles when they should be given out and when withheld. No one to
+carry the purse.
+
+Dot had two shillings and sixpence halfpenny in her small worn purse.
+Her mother had slipped the money in. "I can't bear for you to be without
+money, Dot dear," she had said, "but try your best not to spend it."
+
+Alma's purse seemed full of half-crowns and shillings and sixpences!
+
+Dot bought herself a new hat-band and a pretty lace-trimmed
+handkerchief; and she tried to hide from Alma how very little both had
+cost.
+
+Alma made several peculiar mistakes in her purchases. For instance, she
+bought just twice as much gold liberty silk as she would need for a
+sash, and she had to beg Dot to accept the part that was too much, as
+she would be so tired of the thing if she had two _just_ alike. And she
+bought a pair of size two evening shoes, and remembered when they were
+going home that size two was a size too big for her. She wished she knew
+of any one who wore two's. Dot wore three's, didn't she? No?--two's! How
+lovely! Then Dot would take the shoes, wouldn't she, and save them from
+becoming mouldy! And she bought two pretty lace-trimmed collars, just
+alike--and she hated two of her things to be alike. So Dot would take
+one off her hands, wouldn't she?
+
+Only each time she said "Thea," or "Thea darling!" And she bought her a
+silver "wish" bangle as a keepsake, and a little scent bottle and fan
+for "remembrance."
+
+Before they went home they went into an arcade shop and had strawberries
+and cream, and a big ice cream and sponge cake each. And they met
+several straw-hatted youths to whom Alma bowed.
+
+She told Dot to count how many hats were taken off to her, and Dot
+counted, and behold, the number was ten.
+
+Dot herself felt rather envious. She only knew one grammar-school boy,
+who smiled from ear to ear and blushed with delight on seeing her.
+
+Then they went home.
+
+When they opened the dining-room door the table was set for luncheon,
+and a bald-headed gentleman was waiting at the head of it, a book
+propped up before him.
+
+When the girls came in he went on reading just as before, deaf to their
+chatter, blind to the pretty blue of their dresses.
+
+Alma ran down the room to him, and kissed the top of his head.
+
+"Home again, father!" she said.
+
+And then he looked up smiling, and stroked her little sallow face with
+one finger.
+
+"This is my _very_ dearest friend--Dorothea Bruce!" said Alma
+delightedly, and drawing Dot forward.
+
+The great doctor, who was small in stature, stood up then and took
+little Dot's hand in his, and a very kindly smile came to his eyes as he
+looked into her lovely childish face.
+
+"I'm very glad to see my daughter's dearest friend," he said, and he
+patted her soft pink cheeks also.
+
+The door opened again just as this introduction was over, and a new
+nervousness attacked Alma. Another tinge of yellowness crept into her
+skin, her eyes grew wistful, and she began to stammer.
+
+"My f-friend, mother--Thea--Dorothea Bruce," and Dot turned curiously
+and shyly round to the door. Entering there was a very beautiful woman
+in a tea gown. Her eyes were like Alma's, only far lovelier, her
+complexion was only a few years less fresh and perfect than Dorothea's
+own--and her hair was red-gold and beautiful.
+
+When her glance rested on Dorothea's face, a look of pleasure crept
+into them--just pleasure at seeing any one so flower-like and sweet as
+this little maid from school.
+
+"I am very pleased to see you, dear," she said graciously, and she
+stooped forward and kissed the girl's cheek.
+
+Then she looked at Alma--poor undersized Alma, with her yellow skin and
+bloodless lips--and she sighed. But she kissed her also, and asked how
+she had spent her morning and whether she had come from school this
+morning or yesterday afternoon.
+
+When luncheon became the order of the day conversation died out. Dr.
+Montague, indeed made two or three attempts at light talk--but Dot was
+shy and Alma was nervous and Mrs. Montague was apparently elsewhere in
+thought, so that presently silence fell.
+
+Dinner was at seven that night. It was a meal of many courses, several
+wines two servants, and finger glasses. And again Dot was perfectly if
+silently happy--although the finger glasses (of which she had seen none
+before) threw, her off her balance until she had stolen a glance at
+Alma to "see how she did," whereupon Dot performed the operation with
+infinitely more grace than Alma.
+
+Alma wore a white silk dress and gold sash, and Dorothea white muslin
+and gold sash, and the doctor's eyes went from one little whitely clad
+maid to the other, smilingly.
+
+The happy look on his small daughter's face pleased him greatly.
+
+His wife often said he neither saw nor heard what was going on around
+him, but he had very soon discovered his little girl's supreme
+contentment.
+
+He asked Dorothea if she were going away for Christmas and the holidays,
+and Dorothea shook her golden head and said, "No; she was going to stay
+at home."
+
+Whereupon he asked Alma if she wouldn't like to carry her "dearest
+friend" up the mountains with her, and Alma went quite pink with delight
+and said--
+
+"Oh, Father! Oh, Thea _dear_!"
+
+And Dot raised her pretty shy eyes and said--
+
+"Oh, Alma!" and then looked at Mrs. Montague as if to ask if such
+happiness was possible.
+
+Mrs. Montague laughed.
+
+"I will write and ask your mother," she said, "but we really can't take
+'no.'" And she said it so graciously that the tears came into Alma's
+eyes.
+
+"It would be _too_ lovely!" said Dot breathlessly.
+
+On Sunday afternoon, just as the evening shadows were stealing out and
+the daylight was growing grey, Alma ran into the little blue
+sitting-room, her great eyes luminous.
+
+"Oh, Thea _darling!_" she said, and then she stopped in surprise. Only a
+little while ago Dot had tripped upstairs, her hair in a golden plait
+down her back, her dress not so low as her boot-tops by quite three
+inches.
+
+And now! She was sitting in an easy chair, her dress skirt lowered till
+it reached the floor, her hair loosely done up on the top of her head,
+her blue, blue eyes staring through the windows to the darkening
+harbour waters, afar off.
+
+She blushed rosily red when Alma ran in.
+
+"I--I was just thinking," she said.
+
+"What were you thinking of, Thea?" asked Alma, "and what have you done
+your hair like this for? You _do_ look so pretty--I wish the girls could
+see you."
+
+Dot pulled her friend towards her and patted the arm of her chair for
+her to sit there. Then she leaned her head upon Alma's shoulder and held
+one of her hands between her own two.
+
+"I was _wishing_ I were grown-up, really grown-up," she said; "I did my
+hair up to see how I looked. I tried to do it like your mother does
+hers."
+
+Alma stroked her head gently.
+
+"My mother is in love with you," she said. "She has just been saying all
+sorts of _beautiful_ things about you. She says she wishes you were her
+daughter."
+
+"Oh!" said Dot. "Her daughter! How I _wish_ I were!"--and no disloyalty
+to her own mother was meant. "To live here always! To be rich! To----"
+
+She paused. "Oh, Alma," she added, "you _are_ a lucky girl."
+
+But Alma only sighed.
+
+Dot began to think again, comparing in her own mind this home of Alma's
+with her own little bush home.
+
+"Oh!" she said at last; "How happy you ought to be. How would you like
+to change places with me!"
+
+And to her surprise Alma burst into tears, covering her face with her
+little trembling hands.
+
+Gentle ways belonged to Dorothea.
+
+She stood up and put her friend into her chair and then she knelt beside
+her, and slipped her arm round her waist.
+
+"_Dearest_ Alma!" she whispered.
+
+"Oh," sobbed Alma, "if only you were my _very_ own sister Thea--I
+_couldn't_ love you more. I'm _so_ lonely. Father is always busy, and
+mother--mother is disappointed in me."
+
+Dot opened her eyes in surprise. She had never dreamed of a mother being
+_disappointed_ in her child.
+
+"I'm not pretty--or clever--or _any_thing," sobbed Alma. "She's always
+been disappointed in me--ever since I was a tiny baby--and I've always
+known it--and--and--she doesn't know I know. Oh dear!"
+
+Dot was shocked. "Darling Alma!" she said again.
+
+"It's dreadful to be the only child--and to be a disappointment," said
+Alma. "I think father is sorry for us both."
+
+Dot stroked the girl's straight hair.
+
+"You've got lovely eyes," she said, "and you're very clever at crotchet
+work."
+
+"What's that!" said Alma drearily. "Mother wouldn't mind if I never
+touched a needle. She says if a girl hasn't beauty she has only one
+other chance in the world--and that is to be brilliant. I _do_ try to be
+clever--but it's no good."
+
+Dot kissed her.
+
+"When you are grown up you'll look different," she said. "You'll wear
+long trailing dresses--and--do your hair like this--and----"
+
+But Alma sprang to her feet.
+
+"What a croaker I am," she said. "I _never_ told this to any one
+before. Thea--it is my very _biggest_ secret. You'll never tell any one,
+will you? Never! never! Father says if I'm good I'll be beautiful enough
+for _him_. But oh, I wish I were you!"
+
+"And _I've_ been wishing I were you," said Dot.
+
+"I suppose," said Alma, with one of her most wistful looks, "I suppose
+we're _meant_ to be ourselves for some reason. And we must make the best
+of ourselves just as we are!"
+
+And the two girls kissed each other tenderly.
+
+"I've to be an elder sister," said Dot, with a sudden thought towards
+Mona Parbury.
+
+"And I've to be an only child," said Alma, "and we've both to make the
+best of our state of life--eh?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+JOHN'S PLANS
+
+
+On Monday morning Betty took the road to school with running feet. A
+fear was at her heart that John Brown had set out upon his expedition
+into the world this day. Had gone--and left her behind! Had begun "life"
+and left her at school!
+
+And it must be confessed that she liked the thought of two waifs facing
+the world together, very much better than one.
+
+She was not at all disturbed (when it was over) about the interview with
+her grandfather. It had not, like its predecessor, sent her to bed
+weeping and ashamed and resolved upon the expediency of "turning over a
+new leaf."
+
+She had been vexed that her grandfather had had so short a sleep--and
+that John had not given her warning of his approach--as he had promised
+to do.
+
+And she was very much distressed to find she had left her pink bonnet
+behind her. Her mother had discovered its loss when giving out the
+week's clean one, and had insisted upon her searching every corner in
+the house for it.
+
+"It's was Dot's," said Mrs. Bruce. "Dot never lost a bonnet in her life.
+You will have done with bonnets soon, but yours will do for Nancy. I
+expect you left it at school, you tiresome child."
+
+It certainly would have electrified Mrs. Bruce if her small daughter had
+confessed to her bonnet's whereabouts. But Betty's scrapes were many and
+various at this period of her life, and it never entered into her head
+to tell them to her mother, who was absorbed in her garden and her
+books, nor to her father, who was supposed to be always "thinking
+stories."
+
+So Betty ran to school with her clean bonnet tucked under her arm, after
+promising that she would "try to bring the other one home with her."
+
+Her mind was now at rest upon her future "career." She had quite
+determined to be a second Madam S---- with this sole difference in their
+lives--Madam S---- faced the world at _her_ street corner at the age of
+eight, and Betty was not beginning till she was "twelve and a bit."
+
+Still, she had a few worries.
+
+She was worried over John--lest he should have gone and left her; and
+she was worried over the great question, "What song to sing?" as many
+singers have been before.
+
+She had thought of "God save the Queen," but the words did not fulfil
+all requirements, while "Please give me a penny, sir"--that song she had
+found among a heap of yellow old ones with her mother's name--maiden
+name, Dorothea Carew--upon them, seemed to have been written just for
+the occasion. The only pity was, that whereas Betty knew "God Save the
+Queen" perfectly, "Please give me a penny, sir" was almost a stranger to
+her.
+
+She had learnt a verse of it on Saturday night when she ought to have
+been doing her arithmetic; and on Sunday evening she had coaxed her
+mother to the piano, and begged her to sing "_just_ this one song,
+_please_." Her mother sang very prettily--like Dot--and she had thrown a
+good deal of pathos into the old song, so that Betty's ambition was
+fired, and she had _almost_ decided upon the song straightaway.
+
+This morning she arrived at school flushed and hot, before either Cyril
+or Nancy, and she began at once to explore the playground for John Brown
+the artist. Two little lines of boys and girls were playing a sober game
+of French and English away under the gum trees, and Betty ran her eyes
+along the lines--but no John Brown was there.
+
+Two boys were skirmishing just behind the cloak-room, but neither of
+them was John Brown. Five were playing "leap frog," but John Brown was
+not there. One sat on the doorstep learning a lesson, but that was only
+Artie Jones.
+
+Then a motley crowd of boys and girls came trailing in at the gate, and
+the bell began to ring.
+
+Betty drew into the shadow of the new wing, the "Babies' Wing," and
+scanned the new arrivals eagerly.
+
+Fat Nellie Underwood gave her a bunch of jonquils and fell into line to
+march into the schoolroom. Minute Hetty Ferguson begged to be allowed to
+do her hair in the dinner-hour. "_Please_, Betty dear," she urged. But
+Betty was looking for John and did not heed.
+
+Cyril was there and grumbling. He was pushing a boy who had pushed him,
+and pressing his lips together as he pushed, when, all at once, he saw
+Betty, and left the field to the other boy.
+
+"You're going to catch it, Betty Bruce!" he whispered. "You'll just see!
+I'm going to tell of you when I go home. Teach you to sneak off to
+school by yourself."
+
+But Betty's eyes were looking past Cyril, looking for a squarely built
+figure in grey.
+
+Cyril drew nearer. "You never washed up the porridge plates," he said.
+"I found them in the dresser cupboard. An' the knives an' forks. An'
+baby's basin. I'll tell of you."
+
+Then he fell into line and carried his fair pretty face into the
+schoolroom, where Miss Sharman patted his cheeks when he went to present
+a little bunch of Czar violets to her.
+
+Miss Sharman presided over Class A for grammar upon Mondays and
+Thursdays, and Cyril, who was but very weak on adverbs and prepositions,
+always gave her a sweet-smelling nosegay to begin the day with.
+
+And Miss Sharman had a very tender spot in her heart for pretty Cyril,
+where she had none for scapegrace Betty. She had doctored Cyril for
+bruises, had washed his face in her own room and brushed his wavy hair;
+had kissed him, and given him cakes, and acid drops, and bananas. And
+although these small sweet matters were just between Miss Sharman and
+Cyril--their influence might be felt upon grammar days.
+
+Nancy came into school crying--crying noisily. She was rubbing her eyes
+with one hand, a moist dirty hand, and leaving her face the worse for
+the contact.
+
+The master inquired sternly what was the matter, and called her to his
+side. And Nancy told him sobbingly that she "fort she was late, an' now
+she wasn't." And he patted her head so kindly that the little maid
+lowered her sobs at once and finally let them die away in an occasional
+hiccough of sorrow.
+
+Betty came in at last. She had run as far as the store and back again in
+search of John Brown--and had found him not. She felt quite certain now
+that he was away practising his genius upon some wall in the great
+world.
+
+When she came into the schoolroom her face was red with running and
+excitement, her hair was rough, and her bonnet under her arm still, so
+oblivious was she to the things of this very every-day and commonplace
+world.
+
+"Elizabeth Bruce, what is that you have under your arm," Miss Sharman
+inquired, as Betty walked to her place, which was somewhere in the
+second form.
+
+Betty looked in surprise--and there was her bonnet. She had to walk out
+and hang it up, while the class, and even the babies tittered at her
+blunder.
+
+But there in the cloak-room she found John Brown. He was in the act of
+hanging his hat upon his own particular peg--the highest one in the
+room.
+
+"Oh!" said Betty, "_here_ you are!"
+
+"You're a nice one," said John Brown.
+
+"What have I done?" asked the little girl eagerly.
+
+But John Brown simply looked his scorn, and it made his face very ugly
+indeed.
+
+"Oh, what _have_ I done?" begged Betty. "Do tell me."
+
+"Trust a girl to mull things up," said John.
+
+"Elizabeth Bruce, return to your class," said a stern voice from the
+schoolroom, and Betty shot herself back through the door in the
+twinkling of an eye.
+
+A lengthy space of valuable time was given over to moods and tenses,
+perfects, pluperfects, pasts, futures; and Betty, whose fortitude was
+much shaken by John Brown's remarks, sat listlessly five places above
+him, caring not the least about such mighty words as "cans" and
+"coulds" and "shalls" and "shoulds," although the air was full of them.
+
+She went down a place, through not being able to find a passive
+participle for the verb "to bid," Miss Sharman shaking an angry head at
+her eager "bidded." And she went down two for knowing nothing of the
+present tense of "slain."
+
+That brought her one place removed from John Brown, and all her
+eagerness now was to go one lower and learn at once wherein lay her
+offence.
+
+So, although she knew perfectly that the verb "to fall" had "fell" for
+its past participle, she uttered an eager "failed" and sat next to John
+Brown.
+
+"Disgraceful!" said Miss Sharman. "You could not have opened your book,
+Elizabeth (which was only too true). Your little sister Nancy, in the
+babies' class, could have told you that."
+
+But Elizabeth saved herself with the verb, "to sing," and sat uneasily
+in case John should blunder over "to fight." But he was quite correct
+and did not need his small neighbour's eager whisper.
+
+And then Miss Sharman passed on to other verbs and other pupils, and
+John and Betty were left in peace, side by side, outwardly two
+indifferently intelligent pupils, inwardly perplexed, distressed and
+elated by their new ambition.
+
+"What have I done?" whispered Betty.
+
+"Silly!" whispered John.
+
+"But--what _have_ I done?"
+
+"Girl!" whispered John in scorn.
+
+The trouble at Betty's heart stirred and hurt her. Was it not enough _to
+be_ a girl, without being _called_ one--and in such a whisper. She sat
+still, and, to save herself from tears, bit her lips and pressed them
+together, and pinched her left arm with her right hand, as she sat there
+with her arms folded behind her.
+
+And John thought she didn't care!
+
+He looked at her out of an eye-corner and added, "I'm done with you," as
+a final stab.
+
+Betty said, "Oh no, John," imploringly, and Miss Sharman caught her
+whisper and saw her lips move, and said--
+
+"Elizabeth Bruce--don't let me have to look at you again this morning.
+You are very troublesome. Why can you not take a leaf out of your
+brother's book, I wonder?"
+
+The morning wore on, and tenses and moods gave place to drill. Then they
+all went into the playground, and armed themselves with poles, and
+formed into lines.
+
+John, as the tallest and straightest-backed and sturdiest-limbed pupil
+in the school, was always at the head of one line. While Nellie
+Underwood and Betty Bruce, being of a height and age, headed a line
+alternately.
+
+It fell to Betty's lot to be head of a line to-day, and though she had
+to "right wheel and march," with John for a partner, down the middle and
+up again, and "left wheel and march" from John to meet again, and "right
+wheel and march," and all of it over and over and over again, John's
+eyes only ignored the little distressed face in the cotton bonnet, or
+told her contemptuously that she was a "girl."
+
+At eleven o'clock recess he was skirmishing with four smaller boys
+(using only one hand to their eight) and Betty walked up and down under
+the gum trees arm in arm with two other girls in sun-bonnets.
+
+At dinner-time John scampered home to roast fowl and bread sauce, and
+Betty and Cyril and Nancy carried their lunch bag to a shady corner and
+ate bread and jam sandwiches with relish, finishing up with a banana
+each.
+
+It was not until afternoon school was well over that Betty found John in
+any way approachable. He was skimming stones along the dusty road with
+practised skill, and Betty, alone and hurrying, caught him up.
+
+She artfully admired a stone that sped for a couple of hundred yards an
+inch or so above the earth, without, to all seeming, ever touching it.
+And John condescended to be pleased at her praise.
+
+When she had at his command tried her hand at throwing and been
+condemned by him, she put her question again.
+
+"Why aren't you speaking to me, John? What have I done?"
+
+"I'm speaking!" quoth John. "But I'm done with you."
+
+"But what have I done?"
+
+"Done! Only got me into a row with my grandfather. Only got me to bed at
+six o'clock without any tea for speaking to you. That's all."
+
+"And shan't you speak to me any more?" asked Betty.
+
+"Only just speak," said John.
+
+"And--and----" Betty's voice quavered with anxiety--"shan't you run away
+with me?"
+
+"Mightn't" said John. He sent another stone speeding down the road, and
+Betty watched it with misty eyes, as she trudged along behind him. She
+did not speak.
+
+"You should have cleared when I coughed," said John. "I told you I'd
+cough, but you sat there reading and wouldn't look up."
+
+Still Betty was silent.
+
+"You'd give the whole blessed show away," said John. "What's the good
+of running away and being brought back to school. That comes of being a
+girl."
+
+And then he looked at her and saw the tears were running down her cheeks
+and her lips quivering.
+
+"You're crying!" he said, turning round to her sharply.
+
+"Oh, I'm not," said Betty, and dragged her bonnet further over her face.
+"That horrid stone of yours made a d-dust, and its--it's got in my
+eyes."
+
+John laughed. "If you do run away," he said, "what shall you do?"
+
+Betty's ambition leapt to life, and her tears dried themselves on her
+cheeks and in her eyes.
+
+"I'm going to sing," she said. "I'm going to stand at a street corner
+and sing, and I'm going to wear a tattered old dress and no boots and
+stockings. And then an old gentleman will pass by and he'll hear me and
+stand still, and he'll take me away to make a singer of me; and even
+lords will come to hear me sing, and kings and queens."
+
+John was stirred.
+
+"I'm going without boots, too," he said, "and I shall be in tattered
+things. I shall get a place as errand boy first, and----"
+
+"When are you going?" asked Betty artfully.
+
+"To-morrow," said John.
+
+"Why, so am I," said Betty. "How funny."
+
+"If you like," said John, "I'll see you to some street corner. I'm going
+at five o'clock in the morning."
+
+"Why, so am I," said Betty. "Oh, yes; let's go together."
+
+"You can be down at the store by half-past five," said John. "That'll
+give us time to get a bit of breakfast. And we'll be in Sydney early,
+before they find out we've gone."
+
+[Illustration: "She went back to her bedroom, to place by Nancy's side
+her only remaining doll."]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+ON THE ROAD
+
+
+Needless to say Betty did not "waste" any time that night over
+home-lessons. How can the beginner of a great singer be expected to care
+whether the pronoun "that" in "I dare do all 'that' may become a man,"
+is relative or possessive? or whether Smyrna is the capital of Turkey or
+Japan? or even whether the Red Sea has to do with Africa or China.
+
+Betty did not even open her school satchel, or peep at the cover of her
+books. Instead, she copied out the words of her song and learnt them
+sitting there at the table with Cyril.
+
+Neither was Cyril doing home-lessons. He certainly had his books spread
+out before him, but the contents of his pockets were strewn upon his
+open books, and he was examining them and grumbling now and again at
+the rapacity of certain school-mates who had caused him to lose certain
+treasures, or accept less valuable ones, on the school system of "I'll
+give you this for that."
+
+He turned over three coloured marbles in disgust. For them he had
+bartered away a catapult, and now his heart was heavy over the exchange.
+
+"Artie Jones is a sneak," he grumbled. "He ought to have given me six
+marbles for that catapult. Eh? What do you say?"
+
+The question was directed to Betty, whose lips were moving.
+
+She shook her head, and sighed drearily, for she had entered into the
+very being of the little beggar girl who sang for a penny.
+
+"Nothing," she said. "Nothing you'd understand. Don't chatter."
+
+"Don't be so silly," said Cyril. "I'm as old as you, any way."
+
+"Mother says I'm an hour older than you," said Betty.
+
+"That's nothing," said Cyril.
+
+"You can learn a lot in an hour," quoth Betty, and bent her attention
+to her strip of paper.
+
+"I told mother about the dirty plates, so there," said the boy.
+"And----"
+
+"Bah!" said Betty, and pushed her fingers into her ears.
+
+Betty had several plans for waking early, amongst which may be
+named--putting marbles in her bed that in rolling unconsciously about
+for comfort she might be awakened by the discomfort. That had answered
+very well once or twice. Another was to place her pillow half-way down
+the bed, that she might be within reach of the foot of it--and then to
+rest her own foot on a lower rail and tie it there. Another was to prop
+herself into a sitting position and fold her hands across her chest,
+that by sleeping badly she might not sleep long.
+
+Many a night had her father and mother laughed at the attitude chosen by
+their second daughter, and arranged her that her sleep might be easier.
+
+"Betty wants to get up early," they would say and smile. But upon this
+night--the night before the battle--they did not go to her room at all.
+
+Mrs. Bruce was reading a new magazine, and saying now and again, as she
+turned a leaf or smiled at her husband, that she _had_ intended doing a
+bit of mending; and Mr. Bruce was polishing up a chapter in his book,
+and saying now and again as he paused for a choicer word, or smiled at
+his wife, that he _had_ intended doing that blessed article on Cats, for
+Flavelle. So they both went on being uncomfortably comfortable.
+
+Betty tried all her expedients for early rising, and yet peaceful was
+her sleep throughout the night. Her lashes lay still on her rounded
+cheeks, her rosy lips smiled and her brown curls strewed the pillow,
+just as effectively as though she were on a velvet couch, and a living
+illustration of a small princess, sleeping to be awakened by a kiss.
+
+She awoke just as the day was pinkly breaking and the night stealing
+greyly away, awoke under the impression that John Brown was cutting off
+her foot. It was a great comfort to find it there and merely cold and
+cramped from lack of covering and an unnatural position.
+
+She remembered everything immediately without even waiting to rub her
+eyes, and she sprang out of bed at once, even though her right foot
+refused to do its duty, and she had to stand for a valuable minute on
+her left.
+
+The clock hands (she had carried the kitchen clock into her bedroom to
+Mary's chagrin), pointed to a quarter to five, and Betty realized she
+had only an hour in which to dress eat her breakfast, bid good-bye to
+any home objects she held dear, and travel down the road to the store.
+
+She was vexed, for she had meant to get up at four.
+
+She got into her tattered Saturday's frock (her Cinderella costume) and
+she brushed and plaited her short curly hair, as well as it would allow
+itself to be plaited. Then she made a bundle of her boots and stockings
+and school-day frock and hid them away under the skirt of her draped
+dressing-table, and opened her money-box and extracted the contents
+(thirteen half-pennies). This was the fortune with which she purposed to
+face the world.
+
+And so real had this thing become to her now, that she crept to the far
+side of the double bed to kiss the sleeping Nancy, and down the passage
+to Cyril's room, to look at his face upon the pillows; and the tears
+were heavy in her eyes because she was quitting her "early" home.
+
+When she had reached the pantry she remembered something, and went back
+to her bed room, to place by Nancy's side her only remaining doll, a
+faded hairless beauty, Belinda, by name.
+
+And she pinned a note upon the pincushion (all her heroines who fled
+from their early homes, left notes upon the pincushion) addressed to
+"Father and Mother," and as she passed their door she stroked it
+lovingly. In the pantry she was guilty of several sobs, while she cut
+the bread, it seemed so pitiful to her to be going away from her home in
+the grey dawn to seek a livelihood for her family. In truth her small
+heart ached creditably as she ate her solitary breakfast, and it might
+have gone on aching only that she suddenly bethought herself of time.
+Half-past five, John had said, and she remembered all that she had done
+since half-past four.
+
+"It _must_ be half-past five now," she said. "I'll eat this as I go,"
+and she folded two pieces of bread and butter together.
+
+Then she found her bonnet and the strip of paper with the song upon it,
+and grasping her half-pennies set forth.
+
+She ran most of the way to the store, which, it may be remembered,
+occupied the corner, just before you come to Wygate School.
+
+As Betty came in sight of it she saw John standing still there, and she
+thought gratefully how good it was of him to wait for her.
+
+He wore a very old and very baggy suit, a dirty torn straw hat (of which
+it must be owned he had plenty), and neither boots nor stockings.
+
+The children eyed each other carefully, noting every detail, and both in
+their own heart admiring the other exceedingly.
+
+Betty's face had lost its traces of tears, but had not got back its
+happy look. Her mouth drooped sadly.
+
+"What's up?" asked John as they turned their faces towards the silent
+south.
+
+"It hurts me, leaving the little ones," said Betty, who was now in
+imagination Madam S----. "You have no brothers and sisters to provide
+for."
+
+John sighed. "No," he said, "I've no one but an old grandfather, and he
+grudges me every crust I eat. He's cut me off with a shilling."
+
+For a space Betty was envious. For a space she liked John's imagination
+better than her own. That "cutting off with a shilling" seemed to her
+very fine.
+
+He showed her his shilling. "I've _that_," he said, "to begin life on.
+Many a fellow would starve on it. _I'm_ going to make my fortune with
+it."
+
+They were the words one of his heroes had spoken, and sounded splendid
+to both.
+
+"I've sixpence-halfpenny," said Betty, and unclosed her little brown
+hand for a second. "That's all!"
+
+They walked on. In front of them and behind ran the dusty road, like a
+red line dividing a still bush world. Overhead was a tender sky, grey
+stealing shyly away to give place to a soft still blue. Already the
+daylight was wakening others than these foolish barefooted waifs. Here
+and there a frog uttered its protest against, mayhap, the water it had
+discovered, or been born to; the locusts lustily prophesied a hot day.
+Occasionally an industrious rabbit travelled at express speed from the
+world on one side of the red road to the world on the other. And above
+all this bustle and business and frivolity rang the brazen laugh of a
+company of kookaburras, who were answering each other from every corner
+of the bush.
+
+After some little travelling the fortune seekers came upon a cottage
+standing alone in a small bush-clearing on their right. Three cows stood
+chewing their cud, and waiting to be milked, a scattering of fowls was
+shaking off dull sleep, and making no little ado about it, and near the
+door a shock-headed youth was rubbing both eyes with both hands.
+
+Betty and John walked on. These signs of awakening life roused them to a
+livelier sense of being alive.
+
+Yet a little further and they came to what Betty always called a
+"calico" cottage, which is to say, a cottage made of scrim, and
+white-washed. Windows belonged to it, and a door, and a garden enclosed
+by a brushwood fence.
+
+"Let's peep in the gate," said Betty, "it's such a _sweet_ little
+house."
+
+"Wait till you see the house _I_ mean to have," quoth John.
+
+But Betty preferred to peep in then. She went close to the half-open
+gate and popped in her head.
+
+Inside the gate was a garden, and all its beds were defined by upended
+stout bottles--weedless, sweet-scented beds wherein grew such blooms as
+daisies, and violets, stocks, sweetpeas, sweet williams, lad's love and
+mignonette.
+
+"Oh!" said Betty. "Oh--just smell! just put your head in for a minute,
+John."
+
+But John was for "pushing on," and getting to Sydney to make his
+shilling two.
+
+While they were parleying, a man came round the corner of the "sweet
+little house," and his eyes fell on the bonneted maiden.
+
+"Hullo!" he exclaimed, "and who's this? Polly?"
+
+"No," said Betty.
+
+"Na-o. Then p'raps it's Lucy. Eh?"
+
+John tugged at Betty's dress and said "Come on," urgingly; but the man
+was already letting down two slip-rails a little way from the crazy
+gate, and his eyes rested on the second barefooted imp.
+
+"Hullo!" he exclaimed, "An' how's this any'ow?"
+
+John, who had a greater dread of capture than Betty, inquired innocently
+if there were any wild flowers up this way.
+
+The man drew his hand across his eyes to banish sleep inclinations. "Not
+many now, I reckon," he said. "There might be a few sprigs of 'eath an'
+the flannel flowers ain't all done yet. Goin' to town?"
+
+Betty nodded, and John said,--
+
+"Yes--we'll be gettin' back 'ome" in a fair imitation of his
+questioner's voice.
+
+"I'll be goin' as far as the markets," said the man "an' I don't mind
+givin' you a lift ef you like."
+
+John's eyes brightened, for he was longing for the centre of the city,
+and he had felt they were covering ground very slowly. And Betty's
+brightened because she thought she would soon coax the man into letting
+her drive.
+
+So the fortune seekers made their entry into town in a fruit cart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE NOTE ON THE PINCUSHION
+
+
+Every morning there was a skirmish between Betty and Cyril as to who
+should have the first bath, and Betty generally won, because as she
+pointed out, she had Nancy to bath, too, and to make her bed, and set
+the table, and cut the lunches, whereas Cyril only had to bring up two
+loads of wood.
+
+But this morning, to Cyril's delight, he was first and he got right into
+the room and fastened the door with the prop (a short thick stick which
+was wedged between the centre of the door and the bath, and was Mr.
+Bruce's patent to replace the handle that "lost itself"), and still
+Betty came not. And he loitered in the bathroom and played, and
+half-dressed, and then undressed, and got back into the bath, and out
+again, and dressed, and still no Betty banged at the door.
+
+"Can't make out where Miss Betty's got to," said Mary sulkily, "I'll
+tell your mother on her. She's not set the table, and she's not cut the
+lunches, and she's not done nothing."
+
+Cyril, who had brought up his wood and otherwise and in every way
+performed his morning's duties, waxed indignant at Betty and her
+negligence, and went down the passage to her room, muttering--
+
+"I'll tell mother of you, Betty Bruce, so there!"
+
+But no Betty Bruce was there. Only Nancy in her nightgown still, and
+playing with poor faded Belinda.
+
+Mary had to set the table, and Mary had to cut the lunches, and Nancy
+had to miss her bath, and go to Mary for the buttoning of her clothes.
+And all because Betty had gone out to make her fortune!
+
+Mrs. Bruce came out of her room late--which was a very usual thing for
+her to do--and she called:--
+
+"Nancy, come and take baby. Betty, find me a safety pin _quickly_. I
+think I saw one on the floor near the piano."
+
+And Mr. Bruce followed her in his slippers, and called--
+
+"Nancy--Betty--one of you go down to the gate and bring up the paper."
+
+Cyril ran to them breathless with his news--
+
+"Betty's never got up yet. Mary's had to do all her work an' she's not
+got breakfast ready yet. And Nancy's had to dress herself an' all."
+
+Mrs. Bruce opened her eyes--just like Dot did when she was very
+surprised, and said,--
+
+"Then go and _make_ Betty get up at once." But Cyril interrupted with--
+
+"She's not in bed at all. She's out playing somewhere; I daresay she's
+gone to school so's to be before me and Nancy. She's always doing that
+now."
+
+Mrs. Bruce had to hurry to make up for lost time--as she had perpetually
+to do--and she could not stay to lend an ear to Cyril's tale. So he was
+left grumbling on about Betty, and school, and a hundred and one things
+that were "not fair."
+
+Nancy had a bowl of porridge and milk in the kitchen, superintended in
+the eating of it by Mary, who was giving baby her morning portion of
+bread and milk.
+
+Cyril carried his porridge plate to the verandah that he might watch if
+Betty was lurking around in the hopes of breakfast.
+
+And Mr. Bruce read the paper and sipped a cup of abominably made coffee
+serenely.
+
+They were such a scattered family at breakfast time usually, that one
+away made little difference. No one but Cyril missed Betty at the table.
+Her services in the house were missed--so many duties had almost
+unnoticeably slipped upon her small shoulders, and now it was found
+there was no one to do them but slip-shod overworked Mary.
+
+Just as Cyril was setting off to school Mary ran after him with a
+newspaper parcel of clumsy bread and jam sandwiches.
+
+"I'm not sending Miss Betty's," she said--"it'll teach her not to clear
+out of the way again."
+
+Mrs. Bruce put her head out of the kitchen window--she had not had
+"time" for any breakfast yet beyond a cup of tea.
+
+"Send Betty home again," she said; "she _shan't_ go to school till her
+work's done."
+
+But even at eleven o'clock no Betty had arrived. Mary, who had done all
+the washing-up--and done some of it very badly--was sent by her mistress
+to strip Betty's bed and leave it to air. And she found the note on the
+pincushion, and after reading it through twice, carried it in open-eyed
+amazement to her mistress, who was eating a peach as she sat on the
+verandah edge, and merely said, "Very well, give it to your master."
+
+So Mr. Bruce took it, and opened it very leisurely, and then started and
+said: "Ye gods!" and read it through to himself first and then out
+aloud.
+
+
+    "DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER" (it said)--
+
+    "I am going away from my childhood's home to make a fortune for
+    all of you. My voice is my fortune. When I've made it I shall
+    come back to you. So good-bye to you all, and may you be very
+    happy always.
+
+          "Your loving daughter,
+                           "BETTY."
+
+Mrs. Bruce put down her peach and said: "Read it again, will you,
+dear," in a quiet steady way as though she were trying to understand.
+
+And Mr. Bruce read it again, and then passed it over to her to read for
+herself.
+
+"She's somewhere close at hand, of course!" he said. "Silly child!"
+
+"She _couldn't_ go very far, could she?" asked Mrs. Bruce, seeking
+comfort.
+
+Mr. Bruce shook his head.
+
+"One never quite knows _what_ Betty could do," he said. "She's gone to
+find her fortune, she says. I wonder now if that is her old crazy idea
+of hunting for a gold mine. No! 'My voice is my fortune,' she says. Good
+lord! Whom has she been talking to? What books has she been reading?"
+
+Mrs. Bruce sighed and smiled. As no immediate danger seemed to threaten
+Betty, there appeared no reason for instant action. They could still
+take life leisurely, as they had done all their married days. It was
+only madcap Betty who ever tried to hurry their pace or upset the calm
+of their domestic sky--Betty with her ways and plans and pranks.
+
+So Mrs. Bruce leaned back on the verandah post.
+
+"Where one has only _one_ child," she said, "life must be a simple
+matter. It is when there are several of several ages that the difficulty
+comes in. Now we, for instance, need to be--just a year old--and six
+years old--and twelve and seventeen--all in addition to our own weight
+of years."
+
+Her husband smiled. "You do very well," he said. "I saw you playing with
+Baby this morning, and I've heard you and Dot talk, and could have
+imagined she had a school-friend here."
+
+"Dot--yes! But Betty--no!"
+
+"Betty is at an awkward age," said Mr. Bruce. "I confess _I_ know very
+little of her. What is her _singing_ voice like? I think, dear, you'd
+better give me a list of the clothing she has on, and I'll go down the
+road and make a few inquiries."
+
+The only dress they could discover "missing," to Mrs. Bruce's horror,
+was the tattered Saturday frock. And Mary found the boots and stockings
+under the dressing-table, so the conviction that she had gone barefoot
+was forced upon them.
+
+At twelve o'clock Cyril was startled to see his father enter the
+schoolroom, and he observed that Mr. Sharman shook hands with him in a
+very affable manner, which was, of course, very condescending of Mr.
+Sharman. In fact, it led Cyril to hope for leniency from him in the
+looming arithmetic lesson.
+
+A low voiced conversation took place, and then Cyril was called down to
+the desk and questioned closely about his truant sister.
+
+But of course Cyril knew nothing.
+
+Then another very strange thing happened.
+
+While Mr. Bruce and Mr. Sharman and Cyril were standing in the middle of
+the floor--Cyril feeling covered with glory from his father's and Mr.
+Sharman's intimacy in the eyes of the whole school--another shadow
+darkened the doorway. And the other shadow belonged to no smaller a
+person than Captain Carew, of Dene Hall, Willoughby, N.S. Wales.
+
+Miss Sharman went out to meet him before the little trio knew he was
+there, and his hearty "Good morning, ma'am! I've come for news of that
+young scapegrace, my grandson, John Brown," filled the room.
+
+Whereat Mr. Bruce turned round, and he and the captain faced each other,
+and Cyril, in great fear, looked up to see if Arthur Smedley, the dread
+bully, had heard how the great captain of Dene Hall had absolutely, and
+in the hearing of the whole school acknowledged John Brown to be his
+grandson, and had not so much as glanced at Cyril, who stood there quite
+close to him.
+
+It was the first time for more than seventeen years that Captain Carew
+and Mr. Bruce had been so close together, despite the fact that the
+fences of their respective properties were within sight of each other.
+
+To-day Captain Carew grew a deep dark-red from his neck to the top of
+his forehead, and Mr. Bruce went quite white and held his head very
+high.
+
+And Mr. Sharman drew back nervously, for he, like most other people,
+knew all about the relationship of these two men to each other, and
+about their deadly feud.
+
+But the captain strode down the room, just as though he owned Mr. and
+Miss Sharman and every boy in the school, and he raised his voice
+somewhat as he repeated his statement about his grandson, "John Brown."
+
+"And if you'll kindly excuse Cyril, I'll take him with me," said Mr.
+Bruce quietly, continuing his sentence, just as if no interruption had
+occurred at all.
+
+In the playground Cyril received his commands, glad indeed to have them
+to execute instead of the arithmetic lesson and play-hour which the
+ordinary happenings of life would have brought about.
+
+"Go into the bush," said his father, "and search there for her. Look
+everywhere where you are accustomed to play. She may have fallen down
+somewhere and hurt herself."
+
+"Yes, father," said the boy obediently. "How'd it be to see if she's
+fallen in the creek?"
+
+His father gave him an angry look.
+
+"Afterwards go home," he said. "Let the creek alone, and don't talk such
+folly--Betty is more than five. Tell your mother I'm going to give it
+into the hands of the police."
+
+Cyril went into the bush--not very far--because the growth was thick,
+and he had a great dread of snakes.
+
+"S'pose I were bitten," he said, "and I just had to stay here by myself
+and die! Wonder where Betty is; it's very silly of her to go and lose
+herself like this. _I_ never lose myself at all."
+
+He came to a two-rail fence, and climbed up and sat on one of its posts,
+and then he looked around as far as the bush would let him see.
+
+"It's better to keep near a fence," he said. "Then if a bull comes,
+you're safe. If he jumped over I could roll under, and we could keep
+doing it, an' he couldn't catch me.... 'Tis silly of Betty to get lost.
+_I_ wouldn't get lost. You never know how many bulls and things there
+are about."
+
+He looked round again, and then he climbed down and ran back to the
+road.
+
+"I'll go home now," he said, "I can't find Betty anywhere. I've looked
+and looked. And school will be out soon, and how do I know Arthur
+Smedley took his lunch to-day; he might be coming home."
+
+Whereat this valiant youth looked over his shoulder, and saw the boys
+running out of the school gate. So he took to his heels and ran home as
+fast as ever he could.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+IN THE CITY
+
+
+The fortune seekers were set down at a street corner near the Quay at
+half-past six.
+
+When it had come to the matter of crossing the harbour, from the
+Northern Shore to the Quay, in the punt (they two sitting in the cart
+the while), they had found themselves called upon to pay a penny each
+for the passage over, which they had enjoyed amazingly. Betty paid both
+pennies, having the coppers, but she urged John to be quick and get his
+shilling changed to pay her back.
+
+At the street corner John suggested leaving her for awhile. "This would
+be as good a corner as any other for you, Betty," he said, and slapped
+the shutters of a chemist's shop as he spoke, "You stand here, and
+you'll catch everybody who goes by."
+
+"There's no one going by yet," said Betty. "What are you going to do?
+You're not going to leave me all alone?"
+
+"Well," said John, "we might stick together a bit longer, anyway. I'll
+come back for you. You sing your song, and I'll just go and see if any
+shops want a boy. I don't suppose the offices are opened yet. What I'd
+like is a good warehouse, and then I'd rise to be manager, and partner.
+That's the sort of thing. I don't think there's much in a shop after
+all, but I'll have to find out where the warehouses are. A tea warehouse
+is good, _I_ can tell you. You get sent out to India for the firm, and
+then come back and are made a partner."
+
+He started off, only to be stopped after he had gone a few steps, by
+Betty's voice calling, "Get your shilling changed, I want my penny"; to
+which he nodded.
+
+Betty had the corner all to herself then. Down the street, and up the
+street, and down the side street, whichever way she craned her neck she
+could see no one.
+
+It seemed to her a very good opportunity to try her powers. So she
+commenced. At first it must be confessed she made no more sound than
+she had done in talking to John. And the street was so used to voices
+that it did not open an eye.
+
+Therefore Betty grew bolder, and forgot in singing that she was
+not at the bend in the old home-road, where she had practised
+once or twice since she had decided upon her career. Her voice
+rose clearly--shrilly--and sometimes she remembered the tune
+quite fairly. When she forgot it, she filled in what would have
+otherwise been a pause with a little bit out of any other tune
+that came into her head.
+
+For those who would like to know the words of the song she was singing,
+and who may not have it among their mother's girlhood songs, as Betty
+had, it may be as well to copy them from the paper she held in her hand
+to refresh her memory from--
+
+    "Please give me a penny, sir; my mother dear is dead,
+     And, oh! I am so hungry, sir--a penny please for bread;
+     All day I have been asking, but no one heeds my cry,
+     Will you not give me something, or surely I must die?
+
+    "Please give me a penny, sir; you won't say 'no' to me,
+     Because I'm poor and ragged, sir, and oh! so cold you see;
+     We were not always begging--we once were rich like you,
+     But father died a drunkard, and mother she died too."
+
+    _Chorus_--
+
+    "Please give me a penny, sir; my mother dear is dead,
+     And, oh! I am so hungry, sir--a penny please for bread."
+
+At the end of the first verse she found it necessary to run her eye over
+the paper before beginning the second.
+
+Perhaps it was just as well for her serenity that she did not look up as
+she sang. For just as soon as her voice rose into anything approaching a
+tune--it was near the end of the first verse--a face looked down upon
+her from the corner window of the second story of the chemist's house.
+
+It was a young face, early old--white and drawn and marked by the
+unmistakable lines of suffering.
+
+Betty knew nothing about the trouble of the world in those days; nothing
+of suffering, nothing of sorrow. And the woman above her knew of all.
+She leaned over the window-sill and her eyes smiled pityingly as they
+rested on the small bared head.
+
+She had been praying her morning prayer near the open window, begging
+for strength to bear her sorrows, and for as many as might be to be
+taken from her, when Betty's voice quavered right up to her window.
+
+She looked down, and there was the small singer's curly brown head. She
+looked longer, and saw Betty clasp a bare foot in one hand and stand on
+one foot, drop the foot from her hand and reverse the action.
+
+It was merely a habit of Betty's, but the woman found in it a sign that
+the child was worn and weary--worn and weary before seven o'clock in the
+morning.
+
+She drew her dressing-gown around her, searched her dress pocket for her
+purse, and leaning out dropped sixpence upon the pavement close to the
+little singer.
+
+Betty stopped at once and looked around her, down the street and around
+the corner; at the shop shutters and door, but never once so high as the
+windows.
+
+The woman smiled to herself.
+
+"Poor little mite," she said. "I must remember even the little children
+have their griefs! It should make me grumble less."
+
+Betty ran along the street in the direction John had taken. She felt she
+_must_ tell some one. Then, as a thought struck her, she ran back to the
+house, looked up to the second story and saw a smiling face, and then
+set off again, running down the street for John.
+
+Not seeing him, she stopped at the next corner and examined her coin
+lovingly. Then she looked up at _that_ corner window and began to sing
+again.
+
+But this time her reward came from the street. Three bluejackets were
+walking down the street to the Quay, lurching over the pavement as they
+walked. The child's song touched and stirred that latent sentimentality
+of theirs.
+
+Her "or _surely_ I shall die," brought a silver threepence from one of
+them, and a copper from each of the others.
+
+Betty felt wealthy now, beyond the dreams of avarice. She had made a
+shilling in an hour!
+
+She looked at the post office clock high up in the air there above her
+head, and it informed her that it was only a quarter past seven. Not
+eight o'clock yet! And she had made a shilling! Twelve pennies! As much
+as she received in six months by staying at home!
+
+She sat down on the kerbstone to count her money, putting her feet in
+the dry gutter _a la manière_ born. She made first of all a stack of her
+half-pennies, and then of her pennies. There were nine half-pennies,
+three pennies, a threepenny bit and a sixpence. The grand total she
+found was one and fourpence halfpenny. More than even John had started
+out with.
+
+While she was thus like a small miser counting her money, a hand swooped
+suddenly down upon the heap of coppers and swept them away. Betty looked
+up to scream, but it was only John. And he warned her solemnly how
+easily such a dreadful theft could be committed.
+
+"I wish to goodness the shops would open," he said discontentedly. "I'm
+beginning to want some breakfast, I can tell you."
+
+Betty unfolded her hands and displayed her wealth of coin. "A shilling
+in an hour," she said, and John's look of surprised unbelief delighted
+her.
+
+"You picked it up!" he said.
+
+"Oh, I didn't!" cried Betty. "People gave it to me just for singing! A
+shilling an hour! I forget how much Madam S---- makes in an hour. I
+think its more than a pound!"
+
+"Don't you want your breakfast?" asked John.
+
+"Let's count how many hours in a day," said Betty, twisting about to see
+a clock, the high post office clock they were walking under now, and
+found it. "I want to make my fortune quickly and go home and surprise
+them. How much money is in a fortune, John?"
+
+John considered deeply for a minute and then gave it as his idea that
+five hundred pounds was usually called a fortune.
+
+[Illustration: "The child's song touched and stirred that latent
+sentimentality of theirs."]
+
+"That'll take a good bit of making," said Betty.
+
+"Well, you didn't expect to make it in a day did you?" asked John
+roughly.
+
+"Oh, no," said Betty cheerfully, "I was only wondering how many hours
+there are in a day--at a shilling an hour."
+
+She began to count slowly on the fingers of one hand all the hours until
+seven o'clock at night, the first hour to be from eight till nine
+o'clock in the morning.
+
+"Eleven hours!" she said. "That's eleven shillings! Eleven shillings,
+John. Oh, and one hour gone, that's twelve! Twelve _shillings_ a day,
+just fancy, John! Oh, I'll soon be rich."
+
+"But you couldn't sing every hour in the day," said sensible John,
+although his eyes plainly expressed admiration for her brilliant career.
+"Why, you'd get hoarse!"
+
+"I only sang twice in this hour," said Betty; "the rest of the time I've
+just been counting my money and looking round me."
+
+"But you mightn't make a shilling every hour," said John.
+
+"_But_--some hours I may make more, so it's about equal."
+
+"I wish we could have some breakfast," said John, reverting to his
+trouble. "I'm jolly hungry, I can tell you."
+
+"So am I," said Betty. "Twelve shillings a day--six days in a week. Oh,
+can I sing on Sundays, John?"
+
+"Hymns," quoth the boy.
+
+"Um! I could sing 'Scatter seeds of kindness' and 'Yield not to
+temptation.' Um! I never thought of hymns. I think I'll sing hymns
+to-day as well, 'cause I'm not very sure of my song yet, and every now
+and then I have to stop to look at the words. Can I sing hymns on other
+days than Sundays, John?"
+
+"Better not," said the cautious John; "better keep the proper things for
+the proper days. Well, Betty Bruce, if you're going to stay here all
+day, I'm not. I'm getting awfully hungry."
+
+At last Betty's motherliness awoke.
+
+"My poor John!" she said, "of course you're hungry. We'll go to a shop
+and get a really good breakfast. I wasn't thinking. When a person begins
+to make a lot of money, they generally forget other things, don't they?"
+
+"Um!" said John, who had made nothing at all. "We'll go and get a good
+breakfast and then we'll be fit for anything, won't we. Come on."
+
+They turned round the corner into King Street, and there to their
+delight found the shops one by one opening their eyes--drapers, chemist,
+fruiterers, and then at last a shop with cakes in the window.
+
+The children stood at the door and peeped in. They saw myriads of white
+tables and a couple of sleepy looking girls. One girl held a broom and
+was leaning on its handle and surveying the stretch of floor to be
+swept. Her eyes at last went to the door, and Betty, seeing they had
+been observed walked slowly in, leaving John outside.
+
+"No," said the girl, shaking her head.
+
+"We want some breakfast," said Betty, and added "please," as her eyes
+fell on a trayful of pastry on the counter.
+
+Again the girl shook her head.
+
+"Can't give you any here," she said; "now run away."
+
+Then Betty's face flushed; for though one may sing to earn an honest
+livelihood and competency, it is quite another thing to be taken for a
+beggar.
+
+"We'll pay for it," she said, and then forgot her pride and urged, "Go
+on, we're so hungry! We've been walking about since five o'clock."
+
+Something in the child's face touched the girl's heart. She herself had
+been up at half-past five and knew a great deal about poverty and
+privation.
+
+"Well, come on then," she said. "Go and sit down at one of them tables
+and I'll fetch you something."
+
+Betty ran to the door and called "John," in an ecstatic tone, "come on."
+
+Then the two of them chose a table and sat down.
+
+"Not porridge, please," called Betty to the girl. "Just cakes and
+things, and lemonade instead of tea. _I'll_ pay the bill."
+
+But John brought out his shilling.
+
+"I'll pay for myself," he said grimly, "and I'll pay you back the penny
+I owe you, too."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+ALMA'S SHILLING
+
+
+By ten o'clock Betty had made another shilling, having caught the
+workers of the city as they were going to their day's toil.
+
+And it must be owned it was a mysterious "something" about the child
+herself that arrested what attention she drew. Perhaps it lay in the
+fresh rosiness of her face, in the clearness of her sweet eyes, in the
+brightness of her young hair; for her courage ebbed away so soon as two
+or three were gathered around her; her voice sank to a whisper, she
+drooped her head, trifled with one wristband or the other, stood first
+on one foot and then on the other, and displayed the various signs of
+nervousness Mr. Sharman's stern eye provoked her to.
+
+At eleven o'clock, John, who had made threepence by carrying a bag for
+a lady, looked Betty up at the appointed corner and proposed lemonade
+and currant buns, for which she was quite ready.
+
+Afterwards they stood for a valuable half-hour outside the waxworks and
+explored the markets, where Betty sang "Scatter seeds of kindness," in
+spite of John's solemnly given advice to keep it for Sunday. Here she
+only made a penny halfpenny by her song, but as she said to John--
+
+"Every one must expect some bad hours."
+
+Then, too, there was in her heart a feeling of certainty that a keen
+eyed, bent shouldered old gentleman would be passing soon, and carry her
+away straight to the very threshold of fame, as Madam S----'s old
+gentleman carried _her_.
+
+When they had become thoroughly acquainted with the markets, John
+suggested she should again "count up," with a view of deciding what sort
+of lodgings she could afford for the night.
+
+Betty had not thought of such a trivial thing, leaving it possibly for
+her old gentleman to settle. But she was more than willing to "count
+up" again.
+
+So they went into a corner behind a deserted fruit stall, sat down upon
+an empty case, and made little stacks of pennies and half-pennies and
+small silver coins.
+
+She had two shillings and a penny, she found in all, and John told her
+she could afford to go to one of the places he had seen this morning,
+where a bed and breakfast were to be had for sixpence.
+
+"I have seen some places where they charge a shilling," said John. "It
+seems an awful lot to pay for a bed and a bit of breakfast. But a
+sixpenny place will do for you, and as you're only twelve they might
+take you for threepence."
+
+"And where will you go?" asked Betty anxiously.
+
+"Oh, I'd be sixpence, you see, because I'm thirteen and a half," said
+John. "I can't afford to pay sixpence. It's always harder for a fellow
+to get on than for a girl. That's why you hear more about self-made men
+than self-made women--they're thought more of. No bed for me, I expect,
+for some time to come. I'll have to sleep in the Domain. I heard a
+fellow talking this morning, and he said he's been sleeping there for a
+week now. And, you know, Peterborough, the artist I told you
+about--well, he slept for a week in a _barrel_!"
+
+"How much money have you got?" asked Betty.
+
+"Eightpence!" said John. "No one seems to want an errand boy to-day."
+
+Betty began to feel very doleful at being one step above John in this
+the beginning of their career. But she dared not offer to lend to him,
+he had been so very insistent upon paying her back her penny, and paying
+for his own breakfast and lemonade and buns.
+
+He took her and showed her two houses which bore the words, "Bed and
+breakfast, 6_d._!" and then he led the way to the Domain, having been
+through it many times with his grandfather, while to stay-at-home Betty
+it was no more than a name. Macquarie Street lay asleep as they
+travelled through it and past Parliament House and the Hospital and the
+Public Library.
+
+It never for a moment occurred to Betty that Dot was domiciled in that
+street of big high houses and hushed sounds. She knew Dot's school
+address was "Westmead House, Macquarie Street," but she had not the
+remotest idea that she and John were travelling down Macquarie Street
+past Westmead House.
+
+Just inside the Domain gates they paused to admire Governor Burke's
+statue, and to count their money again in its shade.
+
+Then John pointed out to her the tree-shaded path that runs to
+Woollomooloo Bay and the great sweeping grass stretch that lay on one
+side of it.
+
+Many men were there already, full length upon the grass, their hats over
+their eyes, asleep or callous to waking.
+
+Betty at once signified her intention of spending her first night out
+here, also, and pointed to a seat under a Norfolk Island pine tree.
+
+"We could be quite cosy there," she said, "and you could lend me your
+coat."
+
+"But I'd want it myself," said John.
+
+"John in _Girls and Boys Abroad_ used always to give Virginia his coat,"
+said Betty.
+
+It was slightly to the right of Governor Burke's statue that Betty was
+inspired to sing "Yield not to temptation," standing with her back to
+the iron railing.
+
+And it was just as she was being carried out of herself and singing her
+shrillest in the second verse that Miss Arnott, the English governess in
+Westmead House, brought her line of pupils for their daily
+constitutional down the Domain.
+
+Pretty Dot, and the judge's daughter, Nellie Harden, were at the head of
+the line, and were conversing in an affable manner and low voices upon
+the newest trimmings for summer hats, when the little couple near the
+statue came into view.
+
+Betty's eyes were downcast that she might not be distracted by her
+audience, but John, who was clinging to the railing near her, saw the
+marching school, saw Dot, and knew that she had seen.
+
+    "Each victory will help you
+     Some other to win,"
+
+sang Betty shrilly.
+
+Dot's face went white, sheet white. She heard the judge's daughter speak
+of eau de nil chiffon, and a hat turned up at the side. She was at the
+head of thirty fashionable "young ladies," and a fashionable young
+governess was close by. She wore her best shoes (the ones with the
+toe-caps of Russian leather) and her best dress (white with the gold
+silk sash given by Alma Montague).
+
+And there was Betty--dreadful scapegrace Betty, barefooted, dirty faced,
+bare-headed (her bonnet was of course under her arm), singing songs for
+coppers!
+
+Dot coughed, went white, choked, and walked on. She simply had not the
+courage to step out from that line of fashionable demoiselles and claim
+her little sister.
+
+But Alma Montague, who carried her purse for the purchase of chocolate
+nougats should a favourable opportunity occur, had her tender little
+heart touched by Betty's face and song.
+
+    "Each victory will help you
+     Some other to win."
+
+spoke directly to her, and her longing for chocolate nougats. She only
+had a shilling in her purse, wonderful to relate, and she and her
+conscience had a sharp short battle. Chocolate nougats or--pitiful
+hunger! Her face flushed as conscience won the battle.
+
+The next second she had slipped out of line and run across to Betty.
+
+"Here; little girl!" she said, and thrust a shilling into Betty's hand.
+
+The little singer looked up, shy and startled, and her song died on her
+lips while her eyes plainly rejoiced over the shilling.
+
+Then the English governess awoke from a happy day-dream and sharply
+ordered Alma back to her place.
+
+"You should have asked permission," she said stiffly. "I cannot have
+such disorders. I will punish you when we return to school!"
+
+Just as if the lost chocolates were not punishment enough.
+
+The deed and the reprimand travelled along the line, whispered from
+mouth to mouth, till it came to Dot.
+
+"That silly Alma Montague," the whisper ran, "has just broken line to
+give her money to that little beggar girl. She gave a shilling. She was
+going to buy chocolate nougats. Miss Arnott's going to punish her."
+
+Dot's sensitive soul shuddered over the terrible Betty. If she had been
+looking up instead of down! If she had rushed forward and claimed her
+before the eyes of the wondering school! If Miss Arnott had known! If
+Alma Montague had known! If any one of all those thirty girls had even
+guessed!
+
+The very possibility was so dreadful that Dot found herself unable to
+discuss fashion for all the rest of that constitutional.
+
+But later on in the day, in the evening, when the lamps were alight, she
+had crept away by herself to wonder where madcap Betty was. She felt
+quite sure she would go home again quite safely, she was always doing
+terrible things without any harm coming to her.
+
+The tears that fell from Dot's eyes were not for Betty, but altogether
+for herself. She had disowned, by not owning, her sister! She had been
+afraid to step forward before those thirty pairs of eyes and say, "This
+is my sister!" And she felt as one guilty of a mean and dishonourable
+deed.
+
+"I will tell every girl in the school in the morning," she said; and
+then, as her repentance increased: "I will tell them to-night."
+
+And to her credit be it spoken, she descended to the schoolroom and
+weepingly told her story.
+
+Some of the girls laughed, most of them "longed to know Betty," and all
+of the "intimate" friends tried to comfort Dot.
+
+"You're _such_ a darling," said Mona. "You've made us all love you more
+than ever."
+
+She was very enthusiastic for she _felt_ that Dot had been afraid and
+had conquered fear.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+THE BENT-SHOULDERED OLD GENTLEMAN
+
+
+"Let's go somewhere and count my money," said Betty, when she had
+watched the last pupil of Westmead House disappear down the long avenue.
+"You see I _easily_ make a shilling an hour, don't I?"
+
+John admitted she had chosen a good paying profession; and that if
+"things" didn't improve with him very soon he should try singing in the
+frequent spare moments of his errands running.
+
+The day wore on, and although it must be recorded that Betty did not
+always make a shilling an hour, her "takings" were very fair,
+considering many things, notably her lack of voice and great shyness so
+soon as anything approaching an audience gathered around her.
+
+[Illustration: "Only a little barefooted girl asleep--fast asleep upon
+his lounge."]
+
+By six o'clock a great weariness had crept over her. Unused to city
+pavements, her limbs ached wofully, her feet were blistered and swollen,
+her head ached from the noises of the busy city, and her heart ached for
+her little white bed at home. For the day was growing old and it was
+almost bed-time.
+
+Presently the stars stole out and began to play at hide and seek, and
+Betty who had finished counting her money again, was still standing
+tiredly on one foot at the corner of Market and George Streets, waiting
+for John--John who had promised to be with her at six; and now it was
+after seven and he had not come.
+
+The tears were too near for her to attempt to wile away the minutes with
+another song--tears of weariness and disappointment. The disappointment
+was caused by the non-arrival of the keen-eyed, bent-shouldered old
+gentleman who was to raise her eventually to the pinnacle of fame--and
+by John's absence.
+
+It was just as this great matter was straining her heart almost to
+breaking point that a heavy hand fell upon her shoulders, and she looked
+up into the face of a roughly clad, ill-kempt looking man--a face that
+in some way seemed familiar to her.
+
+"I b'lieve you're the very little girl as I've been on the look-out for
+all day," he said. "Le's look at you! Yes, s'elp my Jimmy Johnson, you
+are! If you'll just come along with me, we'll talk about your name an' a
+few other things."
+
+He held out his hand and took hers.
+
+"Your name," he said, "as it ain't John Brown, may be Elizabeth Bruce.
+Ain't I right now?"
+
+Betty tremblingly admitted that he was, and listened as she walked the
+length of a street by his side to his jocularly spoken lecture and to
+all the dire happenings--gaols, reformatories, ships, etc.--that befell
+she or he who left the home nest before such glorious time as they were
+twenty-one.
+
+Finally Betty and her earnings were placed in a cab, and the man,
+holding her arm firmly, stepped in after her. He seemed to be afraid,
+all the time, that if he moved his hand from her she would be off and
+away. They rattled down the Sydney streets in the lamplight, which
+Betty had never seen before this night, to the harbour waters and across
+them in a punt, and the little girl thought tiredly of her journey in
+the greengrocer's cart not so very many hours ago.
+
+The remembrance brought with it a flash of light. This man by her side
+was the greengrocer!--their morning friend. She decided that she would
+soon ask him about John, ask him whether he had found John also.
+
+But before she could satisfactorily arrange her question a great
+heaviness settled down upon her, and her head nodded and her eyes
+blinked and blinked and fell too. And all thought of money-making and
+street-singing, and John Brown slipped away and left her in a merry land
+of dreams playing with Cyril and Nancy in the old home garden.
+
+"Poor little mite," said the man, and he slipped his roughly clad arm
+around her and drew her towards him so that her head might rest on his
+coat. "Poor little mite! She'd find the world but a rough place, I'm
+thinking!"
+
+And they sped onwards into the hill country where Betty's home was, and
+John's, and the little school-house and the white church and the
+wonderful corner shop. Only they stopped before they came to Betty's
+home, stopped at the great iron gates of her grandfather's dwelling,
+drove through them and up the dark gum tree shaded path.
+
+The man, carrying the sleeping child in his arms, walked straight into
+the hall, to the huge astonishment of the sober man-servant who had
+opened the door.
+
+"I'll wait here for yer master," he said.
+
+The hall was wide and square, and contained besides three deck-chairs, a
+cane lounge covered with cushions.
+
+Perhaps the man had some eye for dramatic effect, perhaps it was only
+accident, but he placed Betty carefully upon the cushions, and put a
+crimson-covered one under her dark curly head. Then he withdrew to the
+door.
+
+It was not likely that, having worked hard for his reward, he was about
+to forego it. But he told himself that "his room would be better than
+his company" while the rejoicings over her recovery were going on.
+
+The captain came through the door slowly. One hour ago a policeman had
+arrived in a cab with John--and had departed with a substantial reward
+in his pocket. During the last hour the captain had heard John's
+story--thrashed him with his own hands, and sent him to bed.
+
+Now he was "wanted in the hall by a man with a little girl."
+
+But there was no man visible in the hall, only a little barefooted girl
+asleep--fast asleep upon his lounge. He could hear her breathing, see
+her face, and he knew in a moment who she was.
+
+He looked sharply at her, back to the door which was closed, forward to
+the front door which was drawn to, and around the empty hall.
+
+Then slowly and as if fearful of being caught he went nearer to the
+sofa, and looked down at this little creature--blood of his blood--who
+had appeared before him again. Her lashes lay still on her rosy
+sun-tanned cheeks, her curly hair was in confusion upon the red cushion,
+her bare feet were upon another. Such a pretty tired child she looked
+although she was but a tattered and soiled representative of the small
+pink-bonneted maiden he had seen only the other day.
+
+He knew the story of her "career" now, and of her desire to be a
+self-made woman. John had told him about her in speaking of his own
+ambition. The captain's slow mind went back to the time when his own
+"career" had been forced upon him, when he had only too often "slept
+out." And as remembrance after remembrance awoke, his heart warmed
+strangely to this brown-haired girl who seemed to be always stumbling
+into his pathway.
+
+Dirty, ragged imp as she was, that strange inexplicable sense of kinship
+stirred within him. Stirred as it had never stirred towards alien John,
+who was after all only the son of his first love's son, with no blood of
+his at all in him; stirred as it had stirred towards no one living since
+his daughter had left him more than seventeen years ago.
+
+He put out one hand and touched her hair (she could not know, no one
+could know, of course)--his only daughter's little child!
+
+And Betty slept on. Had she but known it, a bent-shouldered old
+gentleman, who might have exerted a wonderful influence over her whole
+life, was at that moment looking at her with softened eyes. But great
+possibilities are frequently blighted by small importunities.
+
+The greengrocer chose this moment to open the front door and look into
+the hall, and the captain saw him, started, and lost his feeling of
+kinship for the sleeper.
+
+"Good evenin'," said the greengrocer blandly, "I found her about an hour
+ago, an' came straight 'ome with her."
+
+Captain Carew explained briefly that his boy had been returned to him
+about an hour ago, and that the promised reward had been given on his
+behalf to the policeman.
+
+The man looked crestfallen.
+
+"My wife told me," he said, "when I come back from the markets. She said
+somebody had lost a boy, and you had lost a girl. And your reward was
+the biggest, so I went for the girl."
+
+Captain Carew put his hand in his pocket, and shook his head. To pay
+for Betty seemed to him to be publicly claiming her. Yet he could not
+help being glad that she was found.
+
+"And she ain't nothin' to you?" said the man, most evidently
+disappointed.
+
+"Nothing!" said Captain Carew firmly; "but I hear that she ran away with
+my boy--to make her fortune. She lives, I believe, in a small
+weather-board cottage a few yards further on."
+
+He felt much stronger after he had spoken that sentence. Of course she
+was nothing to him. He walked to his library, and then looked over his
+shoulder, and saw the man just stooping over the little girl again. And
+then, for no reason at all, of course, he put his hand into his pocket
+again, drew out a sovereign and gave it to the man.
+
+"To make up for your mistake," he said.
+
+Then he went away and shut the library door, while the two went away.
+
+"Little baggage!" he said, "she's nothing to me. John's the only
+grandchild I ever want."
+
+But he had an uncomfortable feeling that he had owned her.
+
+An hour later, on his way through the hall to his bedroom; he found a
+soiled crumpled piece of paper on the cane lounge, and opening it,
+read--"Please give me a penny, sir!"
+
+"The little vagabond!" he muttered. But he put the paper into his
+pocket.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+THE DAY AFTER SCHOOL
+
+
+A great day had dawned for Dorothea Bruce, a day long dreamed of and
+alas, long dreaded!
+
+The first day after school life!
+
+She would joyfully have taken another two years of school-days, with
+their sober joys and sweet intimate friendships; their griefs and small
+quarrellings; their lessons and their play hours; their meetings and
+their breakings up.
+
+But yesterday she had "broken up" for ever. Yesterday she had mournfully
+given eight locks of her beautiful hair away as "keepsakes," although it
+must be owned to-day she had examined her hair carefully, looking over
+her shoulder to see how it bore the loss of its tendrils.
+
+Yesterday she had wept separately with each of her "intimate" friends,
+excepting only Alma Montague, at this dreadful parting that had come
+about.
+
+Alma was not to lose Dorothea at all, instead she was to have her all to
+herself at Katoomba for the holidays, and her queer little yellow face
+wore a superior smile as she saw the other girls' sorrow at parting from
+their "darling Thea."
+
+Many things were promised and vowed in this touching season. The little
+band of intimates were to write to each other every week; still to tell
+each other _every single_ secret; to think of each other every night; to
+be each other's bridesmaids as long as there were maids to go round, and
+to visit each other in their married homes.
+
+For of course they were all going to be married--every one of them.
+
+It was Nellie Harden who had first alluded to the time "When I am
+married," "When you are married," etc. She said she was rather curious
+to see who would be married first, and even plain little Alma felt
+cheerful in looking forward to the time when she would be engaged. They
+simply took it for granted that in the great beautiful world into which
+they were going there were lovers--lovers in plenty; lovers who vowed
+beautiful vows, and performed gallant deeds, and wore immaculate
+clothing, and still more immaculate moustaches.
+
+Dorothea had decided to be "elder sister" to the best of her ability.
+She intensely admired the beautiful elder sister in _The Mother of
+Eight_, a book Mona had just lent to her.
+
+The mother of eight was a girl of eighteen, who had promised her mother
+on her death-bed to be a mother to all the little ones. Lovers had come
+to her, imploring her to "make their lives," friends had put in their
+claims, pleasures had beckoned; but the mother of eight had shaken her
+beautiful head and stood there at her post until the eight were married
+and settled in homes of their own, when the "mother" had suddenly died
+of a broken heart.
+
+This book formed the basis of Dorothea's day-dreams. She, too, was going
+to be an "elder sister" and reform the home. In the flights of her
+imagination she saw herself making Betty and Nancy new frocks, mending
+Cyril's trousers, trimming her mother's hats, correcting her father's
+manuscripts.
+
+Wherever she looked she seemed to be wanted. A great place gaped in the
+household, and it was for the elder sister to step in and fill it. And
+Betty, wild madcap Betty, would want talking to, and training and
+putting into the way in which she should go. And, of course, lovers
+would come for Dot, but until Baby was well started in life she would
+have none of them. And when she married, "a few silver threads would be
+discernible in her golden hair, and there would be patient tired lines
+at the corners of her mouth."
+
+But it was only the first day after school now, and she had much to
+think of. She was not going to commence the new order of things by being
+an elder sister, although the home needed her sorely.
+
+As things had fallen out, it was necessary, she found, to set duty aside
+for a while.
+
+She was invited to spend the end of December and the whole of January
+with Alma Montague at Katoomba. They were to stay at the best hotel
+there--Mrs. Montague, her sister Mrs. Stacey, Alma and Dot. Rooms had
+already been engaged for the party (Alma's and Dot's adjoining each
+other's), and all sorts of intoxicating details been settled.
+
+Dot, indeed, spoke to her mother once about coming home to help,
+instead of going away, but even if she had meant it--which must
+be questioned--Mrs. Bruce was quite decided that she should go.
+
+"It will do you good," she said, "and we don't need you at home at all.
+Betty will be here--it will be holiday-time and she must help."
+
+For February Dot had an invitation to Tasmania. In her wildest
+imaginings she did not dream of accepting it, but Minnie Stevenson,
+whose school-days lay behind her too, was going down before Christmas
+and declared she could not be without Dot longer than the middle of
+February.
+
+And Mona--Mona, her nearest and dearest friend, said it was _very_ hot
+on the Richmond River till the end of March, but April was a perfect
+month there, and in April she would take _no_ refusal. She must have
+Thea in her own home all to herself then.
+
+Nellie Harden had her mother's consent to ask Dot to "come out" with
+her. The début was to take place in June, at a big ball, and Nellie had
+"set her heart" on Thea and herself coming out at the _very_ same ball,
+on the _very_ same night as each other, "All in white, you know, Thea
+darling, and we _will_ look so nice."
+
+So it will be seen Dot's idea of being elder sister and home daughter
+had every chance of remaining an idea for the present. With such
+alluring pleasures, where was there room for duty?
+
+"I'll do my best _every_ time I am at home," said Dot to herself,
+weighing pleasure and duty in the balance and finding duty sadly
+wanting, "and I'll _write_ Betty good letters of advice, and take some
+mending away with me to do."
+
+But all that belonged to yesterday.
+
+To-day Dot was at home, and in the important position of being about to
+set out upon a journey. She was to start early in the morning and to go
+direct to the Redfern railway station.
+
+Mr. Bruce had gone to town to draw a five guinea cheque for his eldest
+daughter. He also had to do a little shopping on her account. All his
+instructions were written down in Dot's fair round hand-writing upon a
+piece of foreign notepaper and slipped into his waistcoat pocket.
+
+For those who are at all curious to know what the items were we will
+steal a look at the paper--
+
+    1. Pair of white canvas shoes, size 2.
+
+    2. One cake of blanco (for cleaning them with).
+
+    3. Two pairs of black silk _shoe_ laces--not boot laces--(all of
+    those things at the same shop).
+
+    4. 1-1/4 yds. of _white_ chiffon (_very_ thin--for a veil).
+
+    5. 1 bunch of scarlet poppies--just common ones (both of these
+    at same shop--draper's).
+
+    6. _At a chemist's_: sponge (6_d._), tooth-brush (9_d._),
+    Packet of violet powder (6_d._).
+
+Mrs. Bruce was letting down Dot's dresses, and altering a pretty blue
+silk evening blouse (bought ready made). Cyril had cleaned her shoes and
+the family portmanteau, an ugly black thing, and run half a dozen
+errands grumblingly--all for Dot!
+
+Betty was locked in her room in disgrace, for running away to seek her
+fortune. No one was allowed to speak to her, even Baby's "Bet, Bet," was
+sternly hushed; two slices of bread and a glass of water were placed
+outside her door three times a day; three times a day she was permitted
+to walk for five minutes, each time alone in the garden, then back again
+to her room.
+
+This state of things, which had commenced on Wednesday morning, was, if
+Betty showed proper penitence and meekness, to terminate on Saturday
+morning.
+
+Yet even prisoner Betty was employed on Dot's behalf. She had Dot's
+stockings to mend, and to add insignificant things like buttons and
+tapes and hooks and eyes to those of her garments which had an
+insufficiency of such trifles. And she was sewing away industriously
+as she brooded over her woes.
+
+Dot herself was unpacking and packing up. Unpacking all her exercise
+books, and notebooks, and stacks of neat examination papers; her lesson
+books and Czerney's 101 _Exercises for the Pianoforte_; her sewing
+samples and wool-work; her study of a head in crayon, and waratahs and
+flannel flowers in oils, and peep of Sydney Harbour in water colours.
+
+"When I come home again," she told herself gravely, "I will arrange
+life: I'll practise _at least_ two hours every morning; I'll do some
+solid good reading _every_ day--some one like Shakespeare or Milton or
+Bacon! I'll paint every afternoon. I really have a talent for
+landscapes. And I'll finish writing my novel. For some things I'm really
+glad I've finished learning."
+
+A keen observer, regarding Dot's new scheme for life, would detect very
+little time or thought for reforming the household, and training Betty
+and teaching the younger ones. But then, Dot's schemes varied, and a
+day seemed to her a very big piece of time to have to play with as she
+liked, all in her own hands. Hitherto it had been given out to her in
+hours by Miss Weir--this hour for French, that for English, this for a
+constitutional, that for sewing, this for the Scriptures, that for
+practice, and so on.
+
+What wonder that the felt she could crowd all the arts and sciences into
+a day when all the hours belonged to her for her very own.
+
+When she went to bed at night, by way of beginning the home reforms she
+looked at Betty very earnestly and shook her head, words being
+forbidden.
+
+And she removed her own particular text from above her bed to above
+Betty's, feeling very old and sedate the while, for it must be owned
+conscious virtue has a sobering effect.
+
+But the action threw Betty into a towering rage.
+
+"If you don't take down your old text I won't get into bed at all. I've
+only been trying to make you all rich."
+
+And Dot, who was always alarmed into placidity when she had provoked
+wrath, returned "Blessed are the pure in heart" to its own position on
+the wall.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+"GOOD-BYE, GOOD-BYE"
+
+
+All was ready very early in the morning, for Dot was to start upon her
+journey at ten o'clock.
+
+The little school trunk and the family portmanteau stood side by side in
+the hall, labelled and ready to go forth--neat clean labels, bearing the
+inscription in Dot's best hand-writing--
+
+    "MISS BRUCE,
+           Passenger to Katoomba,
+                 Blue Mountains."
+
+A strange excitement was upon Dot. She had never before in her life been
+upon a railway journey.
+
+The household generally, from her father down to little Nancy, treated
+her with gentle politeness as a newly arrived and just departing guest.
+
+At breakfast the bread was handed to her without her once asking for
+it; Nancy watched her plate eagerly, that she did not run out of butter;
+Mary ran in with a nicely poached egg just at the right moment; Mrs.
+Bruce kept her cup replenished without once asking if it was empty.
+
+"Don't do any view hunting or gully climbing alone," said Mr. Bruce.
+"It's the easiest thing in life to be lost in the bush. Besides, no girl
+should roam about alone."
+
+"Oh, don't be too venturesome, darling!" said Mrs. Bruce. "Just think if
+you fell down one of those valleys or gaps or falls!"
+
+Yet Dot had never been "too venturesome" in her life.
+
+"A little more bread?" inquired Cyril; "don't bother to eat that crusty
+bit; we can, and I'll give you some fresh."
+
+"More butter?" piped Nancy; then taking a leaf from Cyril's book--"Don't
+bover to eat it if it's nasty; _we_ will. Have some jam astead."
+
+And Betty, in the silence of her bedroom, was drinking cold water and
+eating dry bread, without any one asking solicitously "if she would
+have a little more, or leave that if she did not like it, and have
+something nicer."
+
+"Yet I was trying to earn money for them all," she said aloud. "I won't
+try any more. Dot only spends it, but they love her more than me."
+
+It was while these thoughts were busy in her mind that Dot ran down the
+passage and opened the door suddenly. Such a dainty pretty Dot, in her
+new blue muslin dress that _almost_ reached to the ground, and fitted
+closely to her slender little figure, and a new white straw hat with a
+new white gossamer floating out behind waiting to be tied when the
+kisses were all given and taken.
+
+The girl's face was like a tender blush rose; her eyes were shining with
+actual excitement (rare thing in placid Dot), and her hair hung down her
+back in a thick plait tied with blue ribbon.
+
+It was the plait which caught Betty's attention.
+
+"Oh!" she cried in disappointment, and then stopped, remembering the
+silence that had been imposed upon her.
+
+Dot ran to her and kissed her.
+
+"It's all right," she said. "You may talk to me. I asked mother, and she
+says _yes_ until I go."
+
+"I can't when you're gone," said Betty; but she brightened up very much.
+
+And she thought it very kind of Dot to have asked her mother to break
+the rule of silence, if it were only for an hour.
+
+"I thought you were going to wear your hair on the top of your head,"
+she said, surveying Dot's plait somewhat contemptuously.
+
+"Mother won't let me," said Dot; "she says sixteen's too young."
+
+"Why sixteen is _old_," said Betty, "and you've left school."
+
+"I know. And mother was married at sixteen. But she says she wants me to
+keep my girlhood a little longer than she kept hers."
+
+"Hem," said Betty.
+
+"_I_ don't want to," said Dot, and added virtuously, "but we can't do
+just as we like even with our own hair."
+
+"_I_ shall," said Betty, and gave her morsel of a plait a convincing
+pull. "Wasn't my hair as long as yours once; and didn't I cut it off
+because I wanted to?"
+
+Then Dot bethought her of the wisdom of sixteen, and the foolishness of
+twelve and a bit, and she slipped her arm as lovingly around her little
+sister as she was wont to do around any of her friends at Westmead
+House.
+
+"Dear little Betty," she said, "promise me, you poor little thing, to be
+good all the time I am away."
+
+But Betty, unused to caresses, slipped away.
+
+"You always are away," she said. "I'll be as good as I want to. I wonder
+how good you'd be if suddenly you had to stay at home and wash up and
+dust."
+
+The picture was quite unenticing to Dot. _Wash up and dust and stay at
+home!_ She moved slowly to the door, feeling very sorry for Betty.
+
+"I must go now," she said. "All this is just a finish up to my school
+time. Afterwards I shall have to stay at home and be eldest daughter
+while you have _your_ time. Mother says you may come to the gate and see
+me off if you like."
+
+But she was genuinely sorry for Betty all the way down the hall to the
+front door, and her heart gave her an unpleasant pang when Betty sprang
+after her and thrust a shilling into her hand.
+
+"It's my own," whispered Betty; "take it; it will buy something; I
+earned it. Don't be afraid; I'll earn plenty more some day," and she ran
+away down the path to the gate.
+
+"Dear little Betty," said Dot, and slipped the shilling into her purse.
+"I'll buy something for her with it."
+
+They all came down to the gate to see the little traveller off.
+
+Mr. Bruce wore his best suit--well brushed--because he was going to
+accompany his eldest daughter as far as Redfern station. As the others
+were saying good-bye to her, he occupied himself by counting his money,
+to make sure he had enough for a first-class return ticket for her, and
+the three half-sovereigns he had decided to slip into her purse before
+they reached the station.
+
+Mrs. Bruce, slight and small almost as Dot herself, put Baby down on the
+brown-green grass at the gate, while she put a few quite unnecessary
+finishing touches to her eldest daughter.
+
+"I went away from my home for a visit when I was sixteen," she said--"to
+Katoomba, too!" Then she took Dot into her arms and held her closely for
+a minute. "Come back to us the same little girl we are sending away,"
+she said as she let her go.
+
+Cyril was waiting on the bush track, with the home-made "go-cart" piled
+up with Dot's luggage. He had to push it to the corner of the road and
+help it on the coach.
+
+He was very anxious to get home again, for he had heard a few words
+whispered pleadingly by Dot, then a whispered consultation between Mr.
+and Mrs. Bruce. He knew what it was about. Even before his father patted
+Betty's head and told her to start afresh from that minute, and his
+mother kissed her and said, "Be a good madcap Betty, and we'll commence
+now instead of to-morrow morning."
+
+Whereat Cyril became anxious to get home again to discover his sister's
+plans for the day.
+
+Nancy was crying and clinging to Dot's skirt.
+
+"Be quick and come home again," she said. "You look so nice in that
+hat!"
+
+Betty climbed over the gate instead of going through it.
+
+"I'm going down to the road to wave my handkerchief to you," she said.
+"Oh, mother, will you lend me yours. Mine's gone."
+
+When she reached the road corner, a dog-cart flashed by, almost
+upsetting Cyril's equilibrium as he laboured along the road.
+
+In the dog-cart were Captain Carew and big John Brown. John looked
+steadily at the horse's head, fearing an explosion of wrath from his
+grandsire if he smiled at his fellow fortune-seeker. He, too, was going
+to the mountains for his holidays, preparation to commencing life at a
+Sydney Grammar School.
+
+But the Captain himself looked at Betty, and his grim face smiled. And
+there are not many who can translate a smile, so that we may take it
+that he was not altogether displeased with the little singer.
+
+Down the road went Dot, after her father and Cyril--a little maid fresh
+from school--dainty and fresh and crying gentle tears that would not
+hurt her eyes, and yet _must_ come because of all these partings.
+
+Perhaps we shall see her again some day when she comes back again to try
+to be an elder sister. Perhaps we shall see Betty, too, in her new
+position as one of the "young ladies" of Westmead House.
+
+But just now she has climbed an old tree-stump, and is standing there
+bare-headed and waving her handkerchief to cry--"Good-bye, good-bye."
+
+
+_Printed in Great Britain by_ Butler & Tanner, _Frome and London_
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of An Australian Lassie, by Lilian Turner
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+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of An Australian Lassie, by Lilian Turner
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of An Australian Lassie, by Lilian Turner
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: An Australian Lassie
+
+Author: Lilian Turner
+
+Illustrator: A.J. Johnson
+
+Release Date: January 28, 2008 [EBook #24443]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN AUSTRALIAN LASSIE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Wilson, Jacqueline Jeremy and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
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+</pre>
+
+
+
+<h1 class="head">AN AUSTRALIAN LASSIE</h1>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 399px;">
+<img src="images/illus-001.jpg" width="399" height="600" alt="Frontispiece" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;Seated on a partly submerged post ... was John Brown.&quot;
+(Page 25.)</span>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<p class="title"><big><span class="g">AN AUSTRALIAN<br />
+LASSIE</span></big><br /><br />
+
+<small>BY</small><br />
+
+LILIAN TURNER<br />
+
+<small><span class="smcap">author of "the perry girls," etc.</span></small><br />
+<br />
+ILLUSTRATIONS BY A. J. JOHNSON<br /><br />
+
+<span class="g">WARD, LOCK &amp; CO., LIMITED</span><br />
+<small>LONDON AND MELBOURNE</small>
+</p>
+
+
+<hr class="hr2a" />
+
+<p class="title h"><small>TO<br />
+
+MY STEPFATHER<br />
+
+CHARLES COPE</small></p>
+
+<hr class="hr2b" />
+
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span>
+<a name="contents" id="contents"></a>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<table summary="Table of Contents">
+<tr>
+<th class="tda">CHAP.</th>
+<th class="tdc" colspan="2">PAGE</th>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">I.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Wygate School</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#I">9</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">II.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">The Pearl Seekers</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#II">20</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">III.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">"The Daily Round&mdash;The Common Task"</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#III">30</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">IV.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Ghosts</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#IV">41</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">V.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">John Brown</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#V">59</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">VI.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Monday Morning</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#VI">68</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">VII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">"Carew-Brown"</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#VII">79</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">VIII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">The Fight</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#VIII">86</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">IX.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Dorothea's Friends</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#IX">101</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">X.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Riches or Rags</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#X">112</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XI.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">The Artist by the Wayside</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#XI">123</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Betty in the Lion's Den</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#XII">134</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XIII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">"If I were only You!"</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#XIII">147</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XIV.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">John's Plans</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#XIV">162</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XV.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">On the Road</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#XV">177</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XVI.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">The Note on the Pincushion</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#XVI">189</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XVII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">In the City</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#XVII">201</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XVIII.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Alma's Shilling</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#XVIII">214</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XIX.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">The Bent-Shouldered Old Gentleman</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#XIX">224</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XX.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">The Day After School</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#XX">234</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tda">XXI.</td>
+<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">"Good-bye, Good-bye"</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#XXI">245</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>
+<a name="I" id="I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2>
+
+<h3>WYGATE SCHOOL</h3>
+
+
+<p class="first">"<span class="smcap">Emily Underwood</span>, 19; Stanley Smith, 20; Cyril Bruce, 21; Nellie
+Underwood, 22; Elizabeth Bruce, 23&mdash;bottom of the class!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Sharman took off his eyeglasses, rubbed them, and put them on again.
+Then he looked very hard at the little girl at the end of the furthest
+form, who was hanging her head and industriously biting a slate pencil.</p>
+
+<p>"Stand up, Elizabeth Bruce. Put down your pencil and fold your hands
+behind you."</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth did as she was told instantly. Her rosy face looked anxiously
+into the master's stern one.</p>
+
+<p>"Yesterday morning," the master said, "you were head of the class. This
+morning I find your name at the end of the list. How was that?"</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth hung her head again, and her <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>dimpled chin hid itself behind
+the needlework of her pinafore.</p>
+
+<p>A small girl, a few seats higher, held up her hand and waved it
+impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" asked the master.</p>
+
+<p>"Please sir, she was promptin' Cyril Bruce."</p>
+
+<p>"Silence!" thundered the master sternly. Then his gaze went back to the
+bent head of the little culprit.</p>
+
+<p>"Stand upon the form," he said, "and tell me in a clear voice how it is
+you went down twenty-two places in one afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>The rosiness left the little girl's face. She raised her head, and her
+brown eyes looked pleadingly into the master's, her white face besought
+him, for one second. Then she scrambled up to the form by the aid of the
+desk in front of her.</p>
+
+<p>Down the room near the master's desk stood a new boy, an awkward looking
+figure of twelve years old or so, waiting to be given a place in the
+class. Elizabeth knew that her disgrace was meant as a solemn warning to
+him. So she tossed back the short dark <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>curls that hardly reached her
+neck, and looking angrily at him, said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I was top and I pulled Nelly Martin's hair, and was sent down three.
+Then I was fourth, and my pencil squeaked my slate and I was sent down
+six. Then Cyril had to spell 'giraffe,' and I said 'one r and two f's,'
+and she sent me to the bottom."</p>
+
+<p>All of this speech was directed to the new boy who stood on one leg and
+grew red. It was an immense relief to him when the master rapped the
+front desk with his cane and said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Look at me, miss. Whom do you mean by 'she'?"</p>
+
+<p>At the end of the room a sharp visaged lady of forty-five was watching
+the proceedings of the first class from over the heads of a row of small
+students who comprised the "Babies' Class."</p>
+
+<p>"D-o, do; g-o, go," she said mechanically, and looked anxiously from
+little Elizabeth to her stern son, the master of Wygate School.</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth jerked her head, "Mrs. Sharman," she said.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>"Sit down and fold your hands behind you," ordered the master. He
+turned to the new boy. "John Brown," he said, "go and take your seat
+next to Elizabeth Bruce&mdash;but one above her."</p>
+
+<p>The new boy moved across the room, red-faced and clumsy in every
+movement. When he found himself in front of the class he grew still
+redder, and hung hesitatingly upon the step that led to the platform
+upon which the form was placed.</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth looked at him disdainfully and drew her dress close around
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down, you silly," she said in a sharp whisper, and indicated with a
+little head toss the seat above her.</p>
+
+<p>John Brown slunk past her and dropped heavily into his seat. The master
+retired to his desk and made an entry or two in his long blue book while
+silence hung over the schoolroom.</p>
+
+<p>In Elizabeth's heart a flame of anger was spreading. That this boy, this
+new boy, should be placed above her, was in her eyes the greatest
+injustice. A small voice within <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>told her that she had been punished
+sufficiently yesterday afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>Her head moved slightly in the direction of the new boy and her rosy
+lips opened.</p>
+
+<p>"You cheat!" she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>The boy sat motionless and the anger burned hotter in Elizabeth's heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Cheaty, cheaty; go home and tell your mother!" she said in a sing-song
+way.</p>
+
+<p>Still Brown did not move.</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth slid her hand along the seat and gave him a sharp pinch, and
+he started uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>"Stand up the boy or girl who was speaking," ordered the master, without
+looking up.</p>
+
+<p>A small fair-haired fair-complexioned boy, two seats above Elizabeth,
+flushed. His name was Cyril Bruce and he was Elizabeth's twin
+brother&mdash;twelve years old.</p>
+
+<p>"I was only talking to myself&mdash;that's not speaking," he murmured.</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth rose slowly to her feet and stood working a corner of her
+pinafore into a knot. The master looked around, and his brow grew dark
+when he saw the small offender.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>"Repeat aloud what you said, Elizabeth Bruce," he ordered.</p>
+
+<p>The little girl grew white, then red, then white again, and went on
+twisting her pinafore.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you hear me?" shouted the master. "Stand upon the form and repeat
+your words."</p>
+
+<p>Once again Elizabeth clambered into a higher position.</p>
+
+<p>"I said&mdash;I said, 'Cheaty, cheaty; go home and tell your mother,'" she
+said in a clear voice that sounded all over the room.</p>
+
+<p>A shocked expression passed over the face of the class.</p>
+
+<p>"To whom were you addressing yourself?" asked the master.</p>
+
+<p>"The new boy," said the little girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down, and stay in the dinner-hour and write out the sentence fifty
+times."</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth sat down, and again her anger against the new boy blazed high.</p>
+
+<p>She put out her foot and kicked the heel of his boot, but this time she
+eschewed words, for the face of the master was towards her, and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>an
+expectant silence hung over the schoolroom.</p>
+
+<p>The clock struck ten, and the boy at the head of the class immediately
+began passing slates down&mdash;one to each pupil, with a piece of pencil
+upon it.</p>
+
+<p>The sight of the well-cleaned slate and nicely pointed pencil brought a
+feeling of great uneasiness to Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>It had been in her mind how nicely she could climb above the new boy,
+and the tell-tale girl, and all the other boys and girls, and now the
+order of the day was&mdash;sums.</p>
+
+<p>The master was writing them down on the blackboard, making them up as he
+went along, with due care working nines and eights and sevens into his
+multiplicand and dealing but sparsely with fives and twos and threes.</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth copied it down and rubbed it out. Copied it down and rubbed
+out half, by judicious breathings directed judiciously; looked up the
+class to see how Cyril was progressing, and back to the board to see if
+a pleasant little short division sum was lurking near this obnoxious
+multiplication; then <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>back to her slate to count the number of nines
+once more. And by that time the master was giving out his order:
+"Pencils down. Hands behind you. <i>At&mdash;tention.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Brown's face expressed such placidity that the master asked him to stand
+and give out the answer, and he gave it gladly enough&mdash;999.009&mdash;which
+sounded particularly learned to a class not yet introduced to decimals.</p>
+
+<p>The master nodded. "You are right," he said, "but no one is up to
+decimals yet."</p>
+
+<p>So it happened that Brown made his reputation straightway, and with such
+ease did he solve every arithmetical puzzle, that dinner-time saw him
+sitting smiling and covered with laurels at the head of the class, and
+Elizabeth still at the bottom cleaning her slate to write "Cheaty,
+cheaty; go home and tell your mother," fifty times.</p>
+
+<p>Wygate School was a preparatory school for boys and girls, although the
+girls out-numbered the boys. At the present stage of its existence it
+had eighteen girls and twelve boys. Not half a mile distant was a public
+school, to the precincts of which flocked fifty <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>pupils daily, each of
+whom paid a modest threepence a week for educationary advantages.</p>
+
+<p>Wygate School was the only private school in the district, and was
+regarded respectfully by the neighbourhood. So many "undesirables" were
+precluded from its benefits, by its charge of one guinea a quarter.</p>
+
+<p>John Brown, the new boy, whose age it appeared was thirteen years, was
+the eldest pupil in the school, and Floss Jones, who was four, was the
+baby.</p>
+
+<p>The neighbourhood frequently moaned that there was no private school for
+those of riper years&mdash;fifteen and sixteen or so; but in some cases it
+called in a governess, in others it forewent its dignity and adopted the
+public school, and in others again it sent its young folk over the water
+to Sydney&mdash;a matter of three miles or more.</p>
+
+<p>But the North Shore Highlands was at this time uncatered for by the
+tramway authorities. An old coach ran twice daily from Willoughby to the
+steamer&mdash;a morning trip and an evening-tide one&mdash;there and back. It was
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>largely patronized by the Chinese, and parents of the artisan class
+hesitated and frequently refused to allow their young folk to make the
+journey.</p>
+
+<p>The three young Bruces went every day across a beaten bush track, from
+their weather-board cottage home, past the big iron gates of Dene Hall,
+a house built of grey stone in the early days of the colony, where their
+irascible grandsire dwelt, up a red dusty road to the little
+school-house on the hill.</p>
+
+<p>And special terms were arranged for them because they were three&mdash;Cyril,
+and Elizabeth the twins, and six-year-old Nancy.</p>
+
+<p>They had always been three. For even in the days when Cyril and
+Elizabeth had belonged to the baby class there had been Dorothea,
+Dorothea who was sixteen and quite old now, who was a weekly boarder in
+a fashionable Sydney school (for a ridiculously small quarterly fee).</p>
+
+<p>And when Dorothea had left Wygate School little Nancy's hand had been
+put into Elizabeth's and she too had taken the long red road to school.
+And after Nancy there <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>was still a wee toddler who, it was said, would
+make the number up to three again when Cyril went to a "real" boy's
+school.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>
+<a name="II" id="II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2>
+
+<h3>THE PEARL SEEKERS</h3>
+
+
+<p class="first"><span class="smcap">They</span> were round the corner and away from school&mdash;Cyril, Elizabeth and
+Nancy. Behind them were all the trials and vexations of the day, among
+which may be counted Mrs. Sharman, Mr. Sharman&mdash;and John Brown.</p>
+
+<p>Cyril spoke with awe of John Brown's big hands and feet, and looked over
+his shoulder as he spoke. For that small hope of the Bruces had in the
+cloak-room inadvertently trodden upon Brown's hat, and had been startled
+by the way in which Brown had swung him round by his collar.</p>
+
+<p>"I pinched him," said Betty proudly. "He shouldn't have gone above me.
+I'll pinch him every time."</p>
+
+<p>Her sun-bonnet was tucked away under her arm, her boots and stockings
+were in the family lunch-basket that she carried, boy-like, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>swung over
+her shoulder, and she covered the ground most of the time with a hop,
+skip, and a jump, aided by a long stout stick.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose," she said, "we'll have to try the dangerous little coral
+islands this time. I know that's where the black pearl is hidden."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear," sighed Nancy, "I don't like curral islands a bit. Let's go
+home to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"Silly!" said Cyril loftily. "We've got to find the black pearl
+somehow."</p>
+
+<p>"It'll be worth hundreds and thousands of pounds," said Elizabeth. "Just
+<i>think</i> of taking that to mother, just <i>think</i> of all we could do. It
+wouldn't matter <i>then</i> grandfather not speaking. <i>We</i> could drive past
+him in our carriage then! Come on my lass." This last was to Nancy.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to go in the water, too, Betty," said the small lassie,
+following at a trot. "Don't want to be your old wife. I've been your
+wife for a lot of days now."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know who you mean when you say Betty," declared Elizabeth, and
+leapt forward so far that the other two had to sharpen their pace
+suddenly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>"Peter Lucky," said Nancy imploringly. "Oh, Peter Lucky, let Cywil be
+your wife a bit&mdash;do."</p>
+
+<p>"Cywil's"&mdash;it may be stated that Betty was still very backward sometimes
+in the matter of r's&mdash;"Cywil's got to be my chum&mdash;don't be such a stupid
+Nancy&mdash;er&mdash;Polly. He's got to try to murder me in the middle of the
+night to get the pearl. Look here, we've only just put you in to amuse
+you a bit, we can <i>just</i> as well do without you."</p>
+
+<p>Nancy's face fell. Such statements were lavishly used by these two
+elders of hers towards herself. But the indignity she feared most was to
+be told to go home and play with the baby, and she looked at her sister
+with an eager smile now to stop the words if possible.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't do wivout me, Betty dear," she said. "I'll love to be your
+wife. I was only thinking it would be nice to have your feet in the
+water."</p>
+
+<p>"You're six," said Betty. "You ought to be able to be my wife well
+now&mdash;cook the dinner, and wash up, and all that. If you do <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>well at
+this, we'll see how you'll do as a man some day."</p>
+
+<p>For a second they stopped before their grandfather's gates and peered up
+the long drive. It was an old habit of theirs, varied for instance by
+challenges of who dared to walk the furthest distance up the drive.
+Betty had once advanced just beyond that mysterious bend, but she had
+scudded back again soon, declaring her grandfather had a gun and was
+coming after them, with it aimed at her head. Oh, how they had run home
+that day!</p>
+
+<p>Another time she had climbed upon the topmost rail of the gate and,
+scrambling down quickly, had set off madly for home, followed
+breathlessly by the others who were afraid even to look over their
+shoulders. "He's set the emus loose," Betty told them as they ran, "and
+emus are like bloodhounds for scenting you out. And besides, they can
+fly."</p>
+
+<p>But that was fully a year ago now, and much of the terror had departed
+from their grandfather's gates for the two elder ones. It was only Nancy
+who had cold thrills down <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>her back and shudderings at passing the dread
+gates.</p>
+
+<p>To-day Betty did no more than peep through the railing, declare there
+was nobody about, and swing off again with her long pole. "Nobody there
+to-day," she said, and Nancy breathed easier and ran after her.</p>
+
+<p>They were on the well-trodden bush-track now, the track that led home
+between great gums and slim saplings. The iron roof of the cottage came
+into view and the row of tall pines that stood like grim sentinels
+between the two-rail fence and the sweet-scented garden. A small wicket
+gate stood invitingly ajar, and a black dog, lying meditatively outside
+it, pricked up his ears and raised his head as the trio came into sight.</p>
+
+<p>They took a cross-track, however, and disappeared into the bush again,
+and the dog shook off his thoughtful mood and ran gleefully after them.</p>
+
+<p>For he had not grown up from puppyhood to doghood with these children
+without knowing what tracks led to school and home, and what to the
+wonderful realm of play and fancy. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>Moreover, his anticipations were
+always aroused when Elizabeth changed her habit, and he had seen in the
+twinkling of his eye that she was bare-legged and bare-headed and
+provided with a pole. So he barked joyously and scampered away upon that
+cross-track too.</p>
+
+<p>Down in the gully where the growth was thicker, and where the wattles
+and willows made many a fairy grove, a small creek ran. The widest end
+of it ran into their grandfather's grounds, and had at one time in its
+career broken down the two-rail dividing fence, which now lay submerged
+in its waters and formed the "dangerous coral islands" alluded to by
+Betty.</p>
+
+<p>It pleased Elizabeth's fancy to state that her grandfather was unaware
+of this creek, but that some one would tell him soon, and then he would
+send men and have it well examined by divers.</p>
+
+<p>To-day, however, a dire disappointment awaited them. Seated on a partly
+submerged post, and holding a fishing-line in his hands, was John Brown.
+The three stared at him for <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>a minute in speechless disgust, but he
+returned their stare with a nod and a small smile and looked at his
+line.</p>
+
+<p>"Better come home," whispered Cyril, with a lively recollection in his
+mind of the big hand that had played with his collar so short a time
+past.</p>
+
+<p>But Betty was trying to swallow her indignation and to keep her voice
+quiet.</p>
+
+<p>"This is our place," she said. "This was our place before yours."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Brown, "it's mine now."</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't yours," said Betty shrilly; "it belongs to our grandfather&mdash;so
+there!"</p>
+
+<p>Again Brown smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that's a stuffer," he said, "it belongs to <i>my</i> grandfather."</p>
+
+<p>Betty's eyes widened in horror at the new boy's depravity. "Oh, you
+story!" she said in a shocked voice, then turning to the uneasy Cyril,
+"Hit him, Cyril!" she said. "Hit him one in the eye for taking our place
+and telling such a wicked story."</p>
+
+<p>But Cyril was already widening the distance between himself and John
+Brown, and a feeling <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>of anger was beginning to stir in his small breast
+against Betty for trying to mix him up in this quarrel.</p>
+
+<p>"Come on home," he said, "what's the good of having a row with a fellow
+like that?"</p>
+
+<p>"But it's our water," said Betty, her face red with anger towards the
+fisher. She stooped down and picked up a stone.</p>
+
+<p>Brown turned and looked at the little group; Cyril a good distance in
+the rear; and angry-faced Betty, with Nancy cowering in terror behind
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here," he said, "I'm not going to have any of you people poaching
+on my grandfather's property. You can come as far as the fence <i>if</i> you
+like, but I advise you to come no further."</p>
+
+<p>Betty's stone flew through the air&mdash;many yards distant from the boy on
+the post.</p>
+
+<p>"Good, again," he said. "There are plenty more stones and I'm here yet."</p>
+
+<p>Again Betty repeated the process, and with even worse results. She never
+<i>could</i> aim straight in all her life!</p>
+
+<p>"Good shot!" said Brown, laughing again.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>"Oh, Cywil, do <i>smash</i> him," begged Betty in desperation.</p>
+
+<p>"He daren't, he hasn't the pluck," mocked Brown.</p>
+
+<p>"No Bruce is afraid," said Betty, using her favourite taunt. "Come on
+Cyril!"</p>
+
+<p>But when she looked over her shoulder Cyril was nowhere in sight, and
+Nancy was scudding away, like a terrified rabbit, through the scrub
+around her.</p>
+
+<p>Through the air rang a clear shrill voice&mdash;it belonged to golden haired
+Dorothea&mdash;"Betty, come home."</p>
+
+<p>"You're called," said Brown, winding up a yard or so of his line.</p>
+
+<p>Betty stooped, grasped another stone, took aim at a distant wattle in
+sheer desperation, and caught Brown on the hand.</p>
+
+<p>The pain of it drew a sharp exclamation from him, and brought him from
+his post in a towering rage.</p>
+
+<p>And Betty took to her bare heels and ran&mdash;ran as though her grandfather
+and all his emus were after her.</p>
+
+<p>Near the wicket-gate she ran against Cyril, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>who was throwing stones in
+the air for the dog to snap at as they fell.</p>
+
+<p>"Bwoun!" she gasped. "He's coming!"</p>
+
+<p>Cyril looked down the track and beheld no one.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all right," he said; "go inside and shut the gate. I'll give him
+what for. I'd just like to see him touch you. I'd knock him into next
+year as soon as look at him."</p>
+
+<p>But no Brown appeared.</p>
+
+<p>Cyril put his hands in his pockets and strutted towards the track
+through the bush&mdash;to the intense admiration of Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>"No Bruce is afraid of any one," he said. "You and Nancy go in."</p>
+
+<p>A girl in a short long print dress ran down the verandah steps. A mane
+of golden hair hung down her back and some of it lay over her shoulders,
+and when she stood still she tossed it away.</p>
+
+<p>"You're to come home at once, Betty," she said, "and mind baby. And oh,
+you naughty girl, you've got your boots and stockings off again. What
+<i>will</i> mother say?"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>
+<a name="III" id="III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2>
+
+<h3>"THE DAILY ROUND&mdash;THE COMMON TASK"</h3>
+
+
+<p class="first"><span class="smcap">Betty's</span> boots and stockings were on once more, and her school frock
+exchanged for one whose school days lay far behind it. In spite of
+"lettings down" and repeated patchings and mendings it was in what its
+small wearer called the "ragetty tagetty" stage of its existence, and
+was donned only when she was about the dirty part of "cleaning up."</p>
+
+<p>It was Saturday morning now, and she was very busy. Her mother could
+never capably wield a broom, or scrub, or dust, or cook&mdash;she had done
+all four, but the results were pathetic. Even Nancy knew the story of
+her life, which began with "once upon a time, almost twenty years ago,"
+and was told in varying fragments whenever a story was begged for.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>There was the story of the jolly sea-captain and his one wee
+daughter&mdash;their own mother&mdash;and of how they had sailed the seas and seen
+many people and many lands. There was the story of the old house within
+the iron gates&mdash;built by convicts more than fifty years ago&mdash;and of how
+the sea-captain had bought it and built a tower and spiral staircase and
+a roof promenade, which he called his "deck." And of how he and his
+small daughter settled down in the great house together; and how her
+wardrobe was always full of beautiful clothes and her purse full of real
+sovereigns; and two ponies she had to her name, and a great dog that was
+the terror of the neighbourhood, and a little dog that lived as much as
+it could in her lap. There was the story of her garden full of rare
+flowers, and her ferneries of rare ferns, and her aviary of rare birds.</p>
+
+<p>Then there was the story of the little girl "grown up," with hair done
+on the top of her head, and long sweeping dresses, and a lover chosen by
+her father himself&mdash;by name John Brown; and of the pale young author
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>who lived beyond the iron gates, in a small weather-board cottage with
+an iron roof who wrote dainty little sonnets and ballads, which he read
+to her under the old gum trees.</p>
+
+<p>And lastly, there was the story of the captain's pretty daughter
+slipping away from the great house&mdash;to become mistress of the wee
+cottage behind the pine trees. And of how the captain returned all
+letters unopened and sailed away to other lands for five years; of how
+afterwards the poor author lay ill unto death, and the little
+wife&mdash;"mother" now&mdash;carried pretty Dorothy to the great house and sent
+her trotting into the library, saying "grandpa" as she ran; and of how
+the little girl had been lifted outside the house by a servant, who had
+civilly stated the orders he had received, never to allow any one from
+the author's house to "cross the threshold" of that other great one.</p>
+
+<p>And now it was to-day&mdash;and besides Dorothea there were the twins (Cyril
+and Elizabeth), Nancy and the baby; a goodly number for the small
+weather-board cottage <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>to shelter and for the author, who had only had
+one book published, to bring up.</p>
+
+<p>So it fell out that there was only a rough state girl to do the work of
+the cottage, and much sweeping and dusting was Elizabeth's "share"; much
+"washing-up" and tidying. To Nancy belonged the task of setting the
+tables and amusing the baby; and Cyril was engaged at a penny a week to
+stock the barrel in the kitchen with firewood and chips, and bits of
+bark to coax contrary fires. He was the only one who received payment
+for his work, and no one demurred, for was he not the only boy of the
+family and in the eyes of them all a sort of king!</p>
+
+<p>So Betty was dressed in working garb and was bestowing her usual
+Saturday morning attention upon the "living-room"&mdash;drawing-room they had
+none. The little room that had evidently been destined by its builder to
+fulfil such a mission, had been seized and occupied by the author in the
+beginning of his residence at The Gunyah.</p>
+
+<p>The living-room was a low-ceiled room with French windows leading to the
+verandah<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>. It had a centre table, several cane chairs, a small piano, a
+rocking-chair and a dilapidated sofa. Its floor was oilclothed and its
+windows uncurtained&mdash;only Dorothea had arrived at the stage that sighed
+for prettinesses.</p>
+
+<p>Betty was quite happy when she had swept the floor, shaken the cloth,
+put all the chairs with their backs to the wall, and polished the piano.</p>
+
+<p>She was surveying the room with pride when Dorothea walked in. Dorothea
+in the frock she had worn for five mornings during the week, and which
+was still clean and fresh; with her wonderful hair in a shining mass
+down her back, and a serviette in her hand (an extempore duster). It
+always took her the better part of Saturday to even find her own niche
+in the home.</p>
+
+<p>"I was going to dust this room, Betty," she said&mdash;"someway, everything I
+am going to do, I find you've done."</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth smiled drily. She could not even sweep a room and be just
+Elizabeth Bruce. Saturdays usually found her in imagination <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>Cinderella;
+and consequently harsh words from Dorothea, who in her eyes was a cruel
+step-sister, would have found more favour with her than kind ones.</p>
+
+<p>"There is the kitchen to be swept," said Betty; "the ashes are thick on
+the hearth and the breakfast things are not washed up."</p>
+
+<p>Dorothea looked startled. Betty's voice sounded tired and resigned.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear!" said Dorothea, "I do so <i>hate</i> doing kitchen work. It makes
+my hands so red and rough, and just spoils my dress."</p>
+
+<p>"The work is there and must be done," remarked Betty.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bruce looked in at the door. Her face was just Dorothea's grown
+older, and without its roses; her hair was Dorothea's with its gold
+grown dull; her very voice and dimples were Dorothea's. A large
+poppy-trimmed hat adorned her head, and a basket with an old pair of
+scissors in it was swung over her arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you'll not do kitchen work, my chicken," she said gaily;
+"slip on your hat and come and gather roses with me. It's <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>little enough
+of you home your get&mdash;that little shall not be spoilt by ashes and dust.</p>
+
+<p>"It's Mary's work, and Betty can see that she does it well."</p>
+
+<p>Betty stalked into the kitchen and regarded the fireplace in gleeful
+gloom, sitting down in front of it and staring into the heart of the
+small wood fire.</p>
+
+<p>Mary, the maid-of-all-work, took her duties in a very haphazard way. She
+had no particular time for doing anything, and no particular place for
+keeping anything. And alas! it is to be regretted her mistress was the
+last woman in the world to train her in the way she should go.</p>
+
+<p>To-day she had taken it into her head to try the effect of a few bows of
+blue ribbon upon her cherry-coloured straw hat, before the breakfast
+things were washed or the sweeping and scrubbing done. But the
+washing-up belonged to Betty.</p>
+
+<p>Outside in the garden Mrs. Bruce was drawing Dorothea's attention to the
+scent of the violets and mignonette, and her gay voice caused Betty to
+sigh heavily.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>"If my own mother had lived," she said gloomily, "I too might gather
+flowers. But what am I?&mdash;the family drudge!"</p>
+
+<p>Cyril entered the back door, his arms piled up with firewood.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm getting sick of chopping wood," he said grumblingly, "it's all very
+well to be you and stay in a nice cool kitchen. How'd you like it if you
+had to be me and stay chopping in the hot sun? I know what <i>I</i> wish."</p>
+
+<p>"What?" asked Betty, glancing round her "nice cool kitchen" without any
+appreciation of it lighting her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I wish mother had never run away and made grandfather mad. And I
+wish he'd suddenly think he was going to die, and say he wanted to adopt
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"How about me? Why shouldn't he adopt me?" demanded Betty.</p>
+
+<p>"'Cause I'm the only son," said Cyril. "He's got his pick of four girls,
+but if he wants a boy there's only me."</p>
+
+<p>He went outside and loaded himself with wood once more.</p>
+
+<p>"Cecil Duncan's father gives him threepence <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>a week, and he doesn't have
+to do anything to earn it," he said when he came in again. "He says
+every Monday morning his father gives him a threepenny bit and his
+mother's <i>always</i> giving him pennies."</p>
+
+<p>"H'em," said Cinderella, and fell to work sweeping up the hearth
+vigorously. Her own grievances faded away, as she looked at
+Cyril's&mdash;which was a way they had.</p>
+
+<p>"And he's not the only boy neither," said Cyril. He threw the wood
+angrily into the barrel. "There's Harry and Jim besides. I suppose they
+get threepence each as well. What's a penny a week? You can't do
+anything with it."</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth lifted down a tin bowl and filled it with water; placed in it
+a piece of yellow soap, a piece of sand soap and a scrubbing brush, and
+then began to roll up her sleeves. She was no longer Cinderella. A new
+and wonderful thought had flashed into her mind even as she listened to
+Cyril's plaint. It certainly <i>was</i> hard for him, her heart admitted,
+very hard.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>"How would you like to be rich, Cywil?" she asked, turning a shining
+face to him.</p>
+
+<p>Cyril thought a reply was one of those many things that could be
+dispensed with&mdash;he merely showered a little extra vindictiveness upon
+the firewood and kicked the cask with a shabby copper-toed boot.</p>
+
+<p>Betty danced across to him and put her sun-tanned face close to his fair
+freckled one.</p>
+
+<p>"How would you like to be <i>very</i> rich?" she said, "and to have a pony of
+your own, and jelly and things to eat, and a lovely house to live in,
+and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be so silly, Betty," said the boy irritably.</p>
+
+<p>Betty wagged her head. "I've got a thought," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Your silly-old pearl-seeking is no good. There are no pearls, so
+there," said Cyril crossly. "You needn't go thinking you really take me
+in. It's only a game&mdash;bah!"</p>
+
+<p>Betty was still dancing around him in a convincing, yet aggravating way.</p>
+
+<p>"How'd you like to be adopted, Cywil?" <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>she asked&mdash;"really adopted, not
+pretending? Oh, I've got a very big thought, and it wants a lot of
+thinking. You go on getting your wood while I think."</p>
+
+<p>And Cyril gave her one of his old respectful looks as he went out of the
+kitchen door.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>
+<a name="IV" id="IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+
+<h3>GHOSTS</h3>
+
+
+<p class="first"><span class="smcap">Betty's</span> plan was beautifully simple. As Cyril said, he could easily have
+thought of it himself. It was nothing more than to effect a
+reconcilement between their grandfather and their mother, and the means
+to bring it about was to be "ghosts."</p>
+
+<p>"Mother said he was superstitious," said Betty; "she says all sailors
+are. He doesn't like omens and things, mother says. What we want to do
+is to give him a severe fright."</p>
+
+<p>She had thought out alone all the details of her plan, helped only by a
+few incidental words of her mother's. The story of baby Dorothea being
+taken to melt a father's heart, for instance, had fired Betty with the
+resolve to try what baby Nancy could do in that direction.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>Cyril was more matter-of-fact.</p>
+
+<p>"If he wouldn't forgive mother when she took Dot, he's not very likely
+to soften to you with Baby," he said.</p>
+
+<p>But Betty had counted that risk too.</p>
+
+<p>"You forget he's ever so many years older," she said. "He's an old man
+now, and it's quite time he woke up. I've been thinking of everything
+we've to do and everything we've to say."</p>
+
+<p>"Ghosts don't talk," said Cyril.</p>
+
+<p>"They moan," replied Betty; "and they <i>do</i> talk. In <i>Lady Anne's
+Causeway</i> there's a ghost, and it speaks in sepulchral tones and says:
+'Come hither, come hither to my home; thy time is come.'"</p>
+
+<p>The little girl's eyes were shining; the very thought of that other
+ghost's "sepulchral" tones gave her a thrill down her back and lifted
+her out of herself. Of all her plots and plans, and they were many and
+various, there was not one to compare in magnitude with this. In her
+thoughts she became a ghost, straightway. She glided about the house,
+her lips moved but gave no sound, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>her eyes shone. Underneath the
+exhilaration, that her ghostly feelings gave, was the smooth sense of
+being about to do a great deed that would benefit every one&mdash;Cyril, her
+mother, her father, Dot, every one. Tears glistened in her eyes as she
+thought of the meeting between her grandfather and her mother, and
+beheld in fancy her pretty mother clasped at last in the sea-captain's
+arms.</p>
+
+<p>Throughout that Saturday afternoon she made her preparations, only now
+and then giving Cyril a trifling explanation. He was much relieved to
+hear he would not be expected to take any active part in the
+proceedings, only to be at hand, in hiding, to help his ghostly sister
+carry the baby.</p>
+
+<p>Tea was always an early meal at The Gunyah, that Mr. Bruce might have a
+long evening at his writing, and the children at their home lessons.</p>
+
+<p>To-night, after the last cup and saucer had been washed and dried by
+Betty and put away by Dot, and after the baby, had been tucked into her
+little crib, by Betty again, a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>long pleasant evening seemed to stretch
+before every one.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bruce brought out <i>My Study Windows</i>, and declared he had "broken
+up" till Monday. Mrs. Bruce opened a certain exercise book her eldest
+daughter had given her, imploring secrecy, and Dot sat down to the piano
+and wandered stumblingly into Mendelssohn's Duetto. The twins, to every
+one's entire satisfaction, "slipped away"&mdash;Betty to her bedroom to make
+her preparations, and Cyril (who was strictly forbidden even to peep
+through the key-hole) to the dark passage that ran from the bedrooms to
+the dining-room and front door. He went on with his plans while he
+waited. All day he had been thinking of the rainbow coloured future
+Betty assured him was his. He had quite decided to leave school directly
+he was adopted, and to have "some one" come to teach him at home. Of
+course his grandfather would not be able to bear him out of his sight.
+He had heard of such cases, and supposed he was about to become one.
+Then he decided to have a pony, a nice quiet little thing with <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>a back
+not <i>too</i> far from the ground; and he would have a boat and sail her
+where the coral islands were, and he would have a few new marbles&mdash;and
+get his grandfather to have the emus killed.</p>
+
+<p>He had just arrived at the part of the story where his grandfather was
+giving orders for the destruction of his emus, when Betty opened the
+bedroom door a crack, and whispered his name.</p>
+
+<p>She shut the door at once, before he was fairly inside the room, and
+then he saw her.</p>
+
+<p>Such a strange new Betty she was, that he almost cried out. Her
+face was white&mdash;white as death; two black cork lines stood for
+eyebrows, and black lines lay under her eyes, making them larger
+and unnatural-looking. She wore a black gown of her mother's, and
+a black capacious bonnet, and had a rusty dog chain tied to one
+arm. She moved her arm and fixed her eyes on her startled brother.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you hear my clanking chain?" she asked in what she fondly believed
+to be "sepulchral tones." "Ghosts always have them. Come on."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>But Cyril hung back somewhat&mdash;perhaps the glories of "being adopted"
+paled beside the unpleasantness of walking a lonely road in such unusual
+company.</p>
+
+<p>"It's&mdash;it's a silly game," he said. "I don't see any good in it at all."</p>
+
+<p>But the little ghost turned upon him spiritedly.</p>
+
+<p>"This isn't a game at all," she said. "This is <i>real</i>. It'll make mother
+friends with grandfather, and get you adopted. Get baby and come on&mdash;it
+might frighten her if she saw me."</p>
+
+<p>"They'll find out that she's gone," said Cyril, still leaning upon the
+bed-foot and eyeing his sister distrustfully. "Let's chuck it, Betty,
+we'll only get in a row."</p>
+
+<p>"We won't get in a row," said Betty staunchly. "She'll be only too glad
+when we come back and tell them all. I didn't undress Baby to-night, and
+I put on her blue sash and everything. All you've to do is to wrap that
+shawl round her and catch me up. I'll be at the gate."</p>
+
+<p>Baby was used, as were all of the others <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>except Dot, to an open-air
+existence. Most of her daylight hours were spent, either rolling on the
+rough lawn, or sleeping in a hammock swung beneath an apple tree, and as
+a result, night-tide found her a very drowsy baby indeed. The children
+might romp and sing and chatter around her very cot as she slept, but
+she could not steal out of her slumbers even to blink a golden eyelash
+at them.</p>
+
+<p>So that when Cyril overtook Elizabeth at the gate, my Lady Baby was
+asleep in his arms, and so she stayed in spite of the thumping of his
+heart, and the chatter of the ghost, and the rough road.</p>
+
+<p>The night was dark with the luminous darkness of an Australian summer
+night. The tender sky was scattered with star-dust, a baby-moon peeped
+over the hill-top and the leaves and branches of the great bush trees
+lay like dark fretwork over the heavens.</p>
+
+<p>Betty, holding her dress well up, and Cyril carrying the sleeping baby,
+hurried through the belt of bush that lay between their home and their
+grandfather's. Betty strove to instil energy into her listless brother,
+telling <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>him stories of a golden future in store for him. But at the
+two-rail fence below "Coral Island Brook," Cyril came to a standstill,
+and urged Betty, who was under it in a trice and on her feet again, to
+"come along home."</p>
+
+<p>Betty turned her ghastly face towards him indignantly. "I won't," she
+said fiercely. "Give me the baby and go home yourself if you like."</p>
+
+<p>Between the outer world of bush and the house was a slip of ground
+called the banana grove, and known in story to both boy and girl, as the
+play-place of their mother.</p>
+
+<p>Cyril followed Betty through this grove, trying to make up his mind as
+he went, whether to go or stay. To stay and take his part in the
+proceedings; to do and be bold&mdash;as an inner voice kept urging him&mdash;to
+blend his moans with Betty's, and carry the heavy baby; or to turn upon
+his heels, and fly through the darkness from these horrid haunted
+grounds where his grandsire, and the great emus and dogs lived; where
+John Brown stated he had his dwelling&mdash;away <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>from all these terrors to
+his small cottage home on the other edge of the bush, where were parents
+and sisters, music and lights&mdash;and another voice urged this.</p>
+
+<p>So he neither followed Betty nor went home; but, in dreadful doubt and
+great fear, he hung between the two courses in the banana grove, and
+shivered at the tree-trunks and the rustling leaves and the stray
+patches of moonlight.</p>
+
+<p>And Betty went forward alone with the baby. Her heart was beating in a
+sickening way, but her courage was, as usual, equal to the occasion. It
+was far easier to her to go forward than backward now, and she braced
+herself up with a few of her stock phrases&mdash;"He won't eat me anyway";
+"It'll be all the same in a hundred years"; "No Bruce is afraid <i>ever</i>."</p>
+
+<p>A great bay window jutted into the darkness and gave out a blaze of
+light. This was the lowest room in the tower portion of the house and
+was, as Betty knew, her grandfather's study.</p>
+
+<p>Betty's mind was swiftly made up. All <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>fear had left her, and she
+stepped into the soft moonlight&mdash;a ghost indeed.</p>
+
+<p>She called Cyril, and her voice was so imperative that he quitted his
+sheltering tree and ran to where she stood on the edge of the grove.</p>
+
+<p>"Take Baby," she said whisperingly; "I can't do what I want with her in
+my arms."</p>
+
+<p>"Come home, B&mdash;B&mdash;Betty," implored the small youth&mdash;and his teeth
+chattered as he spoke&mdash;"I&mdash;I don't want to be adopted. I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush!" urged Betty, and filled his arms with the baby. "I&mdash;I don't want
+to be r&mdash;rich," cried Cyril. "It's b&mdash;b&mdash;better to be poor."</p>
+
+<p>"H&mdash;sh!" said Betty again.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I don't want to be like a c&mdash;camel!" whimpered the boy. "R&mdash;remember
+about rich men getting to Heaven."</p>
+
+<p>"Stay close here with Baby," ordered the little ghost, and the next
+second she had glided away over the path to the verandah. She went close
+to the window&mdash;three blinds had been left undrawn and the window panes
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>ran down to the verandah floor. Surely the room had been designed
+expressly for this night.</p>
+
+<p>Cyril, in horror, beheld his sister creep to the first window and peep
+in; creep to the second&mdash;to the third.</p>
+
+<p>All the other windows were darkened; only this one room in all the great
+house seemed to be awake.</p>
+
+<p>Then, in the silence which lay everywhere, a blood-curdling thing
+happened. Betty's "clanking chain" came in contact with something of
+iron reared up near the window and gave forth a fearsome sound. Cold
+chills played about Cyril's back, a distant dog barked&mdash;and Baby awoke.</p>
+
+<p>Betty at once perceived this to be the one moment. Many people can
+recognize their moment when it has gone. Betty's talent lay in seeing it
+just as it arrived.</p>
+
+<p>If truth must be confessed, fear had once or twice during this campaign
+tugged at her heart; when Cyril had urged home, her greatest desire had
+been to flee. But Betty never quite knew herself&mdash;was never in any
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>crisis of her life absolutely certain what this second terribly
+insistent self would do.</p>
+
+<p>Instead of scampering away with Cyril through the night, her feet had
+taken her to the windows, and the proportions of her plan had grown
+gloriously, albeit her heart-beats could be heard aloud.</p>
+
+<p>Now, when her chain clanked, it seemed to her the war drum had been
+sounded. She darted from the verandah across the path and snatched the
+baby from her brother's arms; then, running back to the verandah, her
+chain clanked again and again, and she rent the air with a dismal wail&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="center">"Father! Father!"</p>
+
+<p>From the depths of an easy chair whose back was to her there rose the
+tall bent figure of an old man.</p>
+
+<p>Betty had arranged to "rend the air with wail upon wail"&mdash;to "press her
+pinched white face, and her little one's, time after time upon the
+window pane," but opportunity interfered, the window flew up, and Betty
+crouched on the floor in terror.</p>
+
+<p>In the banana grove Cyril fled from tree <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>to tree, crying dismally. The
+darkness, the screams, the chain, the opening of the window, had each
+and all terrified him almost past endurance. Now he felt convinced his
+grandfather was chasing him with the emus.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Betty on the verandah was also quaking. A stern voice from the
+open window demanded "Who is there?" but her fortitude was not equal to
+a wail.</p>
+
+<p>"I heard some one say 'Father, Father,' I'll swear," said a somewhat
+familiar boyish voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I saw a face," said the old man.</p>
+
+<p>And then Baby began to whimper piteously, and Betty's heart sank into
+her shabby small shoes.</p>
+
+<p>Footsteps were coming her way; the inevitable was at hand and she
+recognized it, and with an effort stood upright cuddling the baby close.</p>
+
+<p>The old man put his hand on her shoulder, and with a "I'll just trouble
+you&mdash;this way please," and not so much as a quaver in his voice, led her
+into the brightly-lighted study.</p>
+
+<p>And there followed him "big John Brown," of mathematical and pugilistic
+renown.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>He stared at Betty very hard, and Betty stared at him&mdash;only for a
+moment, though, for Baby began to cry and had to be hushed&mdash;and the
+chain clanked and frightened her while it produced no visible effect
+upon her grandfather.</p>
+
+<p>The old man turned sharply to the wondering boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Is this a trick of yours, John?" he demanded sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Betty, "it's&mdash;it's only me," and she looked straight into her
+grandfather's face, although her voice was trembling.</p>
+
+<p>"And who are <i>only you</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>The child hesitated. In a vague way she felt she would be doing her
+mother's and Cyril's great future an injury to tell her name. And yet,
+quick-witted as she was, it did not occur to her to find a new one.</p>
+
+<p>The young face in the old black bonnet looked beseechingly into the
+man's.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Please</i> don't ask my name," she begged.</p>
+
+<p>"Take off your bonnet."</p>
+
+<p>She put Baby on the floor at her feet and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>pulled off her bonnet. And
+her dark curly hair fell loosely around her odd white face.</p>
+
+<p>"Now&mdash;your name!" shouted the old captain, as if he were calling to a
+sailor high up a mast.</p>
+
+<p>"Elizabeth Bruce," faltered the girl, for her reason showed her in a
+second how John Brown would give it if she did not.</p>
+
+<p>A certain gleam that had been in the old man's eyes went away and his
+brow grew black as thunder. Betty instinctively picked up the baby again
+and gathered up the train of her dress.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said the old man, breathing hard.</p>
+
+<p>Then suddenly a light dawned on Betty and she saw things as this old man
+would see them, which was the very way of all others that he must not
+do.</p>
+
+<p>She repeated swiftly to herself her old charm against fear&mdash;"No Bruce is
+afraid. I can only die once. He won't eat me."</p>
+
+<p>"It's all my fault," she said, and her brown eyes looked into his brown
+ones. "Cyril and I got tried of being poor, and I&mdash;I thought it would be
+a good plan if you adopted Cyril&mdash;and&mdash;and I came to frighten you."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>"Ah&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you were old, and&mdash;and&mdash;might be sorry now, and I thought a
+bit of a fright&mdash;I thought if a ghost&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Her chain clanked and her hands trembled, and Baby bumped up and down in
+her arms. The very remembrance of her words left her, for a great frown
+was spreading over the old man's face. He turned angrily to the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Put her out of the door," he said. "Put her out of the place!" and some
+hot words, fearful and unintelligible some of them to the small girl,
+burst from his lips.</p>
+
+<p>And Betty, Baby and chain and all went out into the darkness. Only the
+bonnet remained.</p>
+
+<p>Cyril was on the outermost edge of the grove, and with danger behind
+him, and Betty and Baby before his eyes, safe and unhurt, a wave of very
+ill-temper swept over him. He refused to have part in any more of
+Betty's "silly games," left her to carry the baby unaided, and told her
+she had spoilt his chance of ever being adopted. But he was all the time
+wishing passionately that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>he too had "done and dared"&mdash;that he had not
+crouched there among the trees, afraid and trembling. A small inner
+voice, that spoke to him very sharply after such occasions, told him
+contemptuously, that he had been more afraid than a girl; that he had
+been a coward; and as soon as he reached their small lamp-lit home, he
+ran away from silent Betty and the babbling baby, to his own bedroom, to
+cry in loneliness over this second self who had done the wrong.</p>
+
+<p>And Betty stole silently into her bedroom. The dining room door was
+still closed, and those quiet elder ones were having their "pleasant"
+evening. She undressed the baby, and kissed her over and over, then put
+her into her little cot and gave her a dimpled thumb to suck. And she
+herself cuddled up very close to her, and began to cry too. So much for
+all her show of bravery now.</p>
+
+<p>And a small voice spoke to her also, and showed her the seamy side of
+this great deed of hers. Told her that no one else in all the world
+would have dreamed of doing so wrong a thing; pointed out her mother and
+father <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>and pretty Dot, Mrs. and Mr. Sharman as examples of great
+goodness. When the baby was placidly sleeping, she sat upright on the
+end of her mother's bed in her earnestness to "see" if any of those
+righteous five would be guilty of the wickedness of becoming ghosts to
+frighten an old man. She would have felt easier at once if she could
+have convinced herself that they would; but she could only see each of
+them rounding eyes of horror at her, and her sobs, broke out afresh.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened and Cyril came into the darkness, whispering and
+whimpering,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't play fair, Betty," he said&mdash;"I wish I'd played fair&mdash;I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said Betty sobbingly&mdash;"Oh, Cyril, you're ever so much nobler than
+I am. You wouldn't frighten an old man, neither. Oh, I wish I was as
+good as you!"</p>
+
+<p>Whereat a sweet sense of well-doing stole over Cyril. "Never mind," he
+said cheerfully, "do as I do another time."</p>
+
+<p>"There won't be another time," said Betty. "I'm going to turn over a new
+leaf, and be as good as if I was grown up."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>
+<a name="V" id="V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2>
+
+<h3>JOHN BROWN</h3>
+
+
+<p class="first"><span class="smcap">John Brown's</span> life had hitherto been a curiously rough and tumble sort of
+existence. There had been a season, brief and entirely unremembered by
+him, when his home had been in one of Sydney's most fashionable suburbs;
+when a tender-eyed mother had watched delightedly over his first gleams
+of intelligence, and a proud father had perched him on his shoulder for
+a bed-time romp. When he had been taken tenderly for an "airing" by the
+trimmest of nursemaids, and in the daintiest of perambulators. When he
+had worn tiny silk frocks and socks and bonnets. When hopes and fears
+had arisen over "teething-time." When he had been carried round a
+drawing-room, to display to admiring friends, his chubby wrists, his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>dimpled fat legs, his quite remarkable length of limb and growth of
+bone.</p>
+
+<p>Then Death slipped in unawares, and called the sweet young mother from
+that happy home, and little John Brown became a perplexity and a care to
+a grief-maddened father.</p>
+
+<p>For a space it was conjectured that the baby, pending the arrival of a
+step-mother, would be handed over to the cook, a rotund motherly person
+who was fond of asserting that she had buried thirteen children and
+reared one.</p>
+
+<p>But conjectures have a way of falling beside the mark.</p>
+
+<p>One morning an old schoolmate of poor little Mrs. Brown's arrived from
+"out back," packed up the baby's things with her own quick brown hands
+and returned "out back" the same evening.</p>
+
+<p>The perambulator, the cradle, the cot, the dainty baby basket and a
+multitude of other things were sold the next week along with the tables
+and chairs and other "household effects," and Mr. John Brown, senior, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>a
+cabin box and a portmanteau, left by a mail steamer for Japan.</p>
+
+<p>And the small suburban house became "to let." Thenceforward the pattern
+of little John Brown's existence became altered. He was one of three
+other children, and not even the baby, although scarcely one year old.</p>
+
+<p>His elegant lace-trimmed silken and muslin garments were "laid by." He
+wore dark laundry-saving dresses and neither boots nor socks. He was
+never carried around for admiration, for the very good reason that
+visitors were few and far between&mdash;and there was (except to doting
+parents, perhaps) very little to admire about him. He lost his
+chubbiness and his pink prettiness and became thin and wiry, brown faced
+and brown limbed.</p>
+
+<p>He was always abnormally tall and abnormally strong, so that he became
+almost a jest on the station. He learned to fight at three, to swim at
+four, shoot at seven, ride, yard cattle, milk, chop wood, make bush
+fires and put them out again, ring bark trees all <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>before he was eleven.
+In short, to do, and to do remarkably well, the hundred and one things
+that make up a man's and boy's existence on an Australian station.</p>
+
+<p>At thirteen he learned that his name was Brown, and that he had a father
+other than the bluff squatter he had grown up with. And at thirteen he
+was taken from the station-life he loved, and, after much travelling,
+delivered by a station-hand into his father's care in Sydney.</p>
+
+<p>Before he could form any idea as to what was about to happen to him, and
+to this grey-bearded father of his, he was taken across the blue harbour
+water, and thence by coach to the little township over the northern
+hills.</p>
+
+<p>They walked past the small weather-board school together, and few, if
+any, words passed between them. For the man's thoughts were away down
+the slope of many years, and the boy's were away in that flat country
+"out back" where he had been brought up.</p>
+
+<p>They were close to the great iron gates <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>when the man broke the silence;
+pointing beyond them he remarked&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"This is where your home will be in the future, John."</p>
+
+<p>John considered the prospect thoughtfully and shook his head&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I'd rather go home," he said. "Let me go home."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said his father, "it can't be done. I ought to have fetched you
+away sooner, only I shirked a duty. Open the little gate, I see the big
+ones are padlocked. Push, it's stiff."</p>
+
+<p>They walked up the long red drive, John's mind busy over the questions
+he wished to ask his father and he began to lag behind considering them.</p>
+
+<p>"This will be your home," repeated Mr. Brown quietly, "and it's a
+marvellous thing how life has arranged itself. The turn of Fortune's
+wheel, we may say. Walk quicker, John."</p>
+
+<p>When they stood before the great front door, Mr. Brown became
+retrospective again.</p>
+
+<p>"We played here together," he said&mdash;,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> "down these very steps, along these
+very paths. It is strange how life has fallen out&mdash;how my boy will
+be&mdash;&mdash;" He put out his hand and pulled the bell vigorously, then turned
+his back to the house and surveyed the garden.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it a school?" whispered John. But before his father could reply the
+door had rolled back and a man-servant stood looking at them.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Brown walked in, put his hat on a table, motioned to John, and
+opened a door at one side of the wide hall.</p>
+
+<p>"It's me&mdash;Brown," he said as he entered the room. "I've brought the
+boy."</p>
+
+<p>John followed very quickly, being curious now. His father stood half-way
+across the room, looking hesitating and apologetic.</p>
+
+<p>A man of sixty or so, with a red, merry-looking face, and an
+unmistakable sea-captain air, glanced up from a paper he was reading.</p>
+
+<p>"Eh?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Then he sent his look&mdash;it was a quick darting look that saw everything
+in the twinkling <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>of an ordinary person's eye&mdash;to the thin badly-dressed
+figure in the rear. "Eh? The boy? Oh&mdash;ah! My newly-found grandson."</p>
+
+<p>"He is scarcely what I had hoped to find," said Mr. Brown, apologetic
+still. "Yet his mother was a good-looking woman and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Be hanged to looks," said Mr. Carew. "He'll get on all the better
+without 'em. And you were never anything to boast of yourself you know.
+What's his name?"</p>
+
+<p>"John."</p>
+
+<p>"Um! John Brown. John Carew-Brown, we'll say. It's a pity it's not John
+Brown Carew."</p>
+
+<p>"That's a matter that can easily be altered. It can be merely John
+Carew, if you like, and let the melodious Brown go hang."</p>
+
+<p>"Eh? What does the boy say? What do you say John to changing your name
+and letting the Brown go hang?"</p>
+
+<p>To Mr. Brown's surprise and consternation, the boy gave an emphatic
+"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said old Mr. Carew, "and how's that? Speak up, John."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>"The boys 'ud forget me," said John anxiously, "and I'd have to begin
+all over agen."</p>
+
+<p>"What with?&mdash;Leave him alone, Brown."</p>
+
+<p>"Thrashing 'em. They know me everywhere about Warrena. I can make 'em
+all sit up. I don't want to change my name."</p>
+
+<p>A sparkle came into the old man's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Well said, my lad," he snapped. "I'd not have given a rap for you if
+you'd have cast your name away as easily as a pinching pair o' boots.
+Stick to your own name, John, and you'll look all the better after
+mine."</p>
+
+<p>He waited a bit, eyeing the boy up and down keenly. The thin brown face,
+with its square determined mouth, quiet grey eyes and high forehead; the
+sturdy figure, countrified clothes, copper-toed boots, all passed under
+his scrutiny.</p>
+
+<p>"So you're of the fighting kind?" he asked at last.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said John proudly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! You never were, you remember, Brown. Things might have been
+different if you had been."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>He waited again. Then he smiled queerly.</p>
+
+<p>"John," he said, "your father's going away again to-night. You're my
+grandson. It may not seem a great matter to you now&mdash;but it is, all the
+same. You stay here. You and I have to take life together, boy&mdash;though
+you're at one end of the ladder and I'm at t'other. Your name's your
+name right enough, but I want you to be good enough to tack mine on to
+it, and to do a bit of fighting for mine too if necessary. I've fought
+for it hard in my day too. And now, John Carew-Brown, we'll have a bit
+of lunch if it's all the same to you."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>
+<a name="VI" id="VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+
+<h3>MONDAY MORNING</h3>
+
+
+<p class="first"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bruce</span> was down on her knees caressing tiny Czar violets. Quite
+early in the morning (before the breakfast things were washed or the
+beds made) she had slipped on one of Dot's picturesque poppy-trimmed
+hats and declared her intention of planting the bed outside the study
+windows thick with these the sweetest-scented of all flowers.</p>
+
+<p>"And all the time you are working and thinking and plotting, daddie
+darling, the sweetest scents will be stealing round you," she said.</p>
+
+<p>For some little time she was quite happy among her violets. But
+presently a richly hued wall-flower called her attention to a cluster of
+its blooms, drooping on the pebbly path for a careless foot to
+crush,&mdash;all for the want of a few tacks and little <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>shreds of cloth. A
+heavily-blossomed rose-tree begged that some of its buds might be
+clipped, and a favourite carnation put in its claim for a stake.</p>
+
+<p>"So much to do!" said Mrs. Bruce, as she flitted here and there in the
+old-fashioned garden, which was a veritable paradise to her. "The roses
+<i>must</i> be clipped, the violets <i>must</i> be thinned, the carnations <i>must</i>
+be staked. And there are the new seedlings to be planted. Oh, I <i>think</i>
+I will take the week for my garden&mdash;and let the house go!"</p>
+
+<p>A flush of almost girlish excitement was in her cheeks, her garden meant
+so very much to her. Certainly the house had strong claims&mdash;and it was
+Monday morning&mdash;the very morning for forming and carrying out good plans
+and resolutions! Meals wanted cooking, cupboards and drawers tidying;
+garments darning and patching! But then&mdash;the garden! Did it not also
+need her. Ah! and did she not also need it!</p>
+
+<p>Even as she hesitated, balancing duty with beauty, Betty's voice floated
+out through the kitchen window, past the passion-fruit <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>creeper and the
+white magnolia tree, past the tiny sweet violets and the study windows,
+right to where she stood among the roses and wall-flowers.</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>am</i> so tired of washing up," it said, "it wasn't fair of Dot. She
+had four plates for her breakfast&mdash;<i>I</i> only had one. She might remember
+I've to go to school as well as her."</p>
+
+<p>Then Mrs. Bruce advanced one foot towards the house, and in thought
+wielded the tea-towel and attacked the trayful of cups and saucers that
+she knew would be awaiting the tea-towel.</p>
+
+<p>It was Cyril's voice that arrested her. It came from the kitchen too.</p>
+
+<p>"What's washing up!" said Cyril contemptuously. "Washing up a few cups
+and spoons&mdash;pooh! How'd you like to be me and have to clean all the
+knives, I wonder."</p>
+
+<p>Whereat Mrs. Bruce relinquished thoughts of the tea-towel. It would
+never do, she told herself, to assist Betty and leave poor Cyril
+unaided. "And I <i>couldn't</i> clean knives," she said.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>But she ran indoors to her bedroom, whence came an angry crying voice.
+Six-year-old Nancy was, in the frequent intervals that occurred in the
+doing of her hair, frolicking about the small hot bedroom and trying
+frantically to catch the interest of the thumb-and-cot-disgusted baby.</p>
+
+<p>"Do your hair nicely," said Mrs. Bruce to her second youngest daughter.
+"I will take baby into the garden. Button your shoes and ask Betty to
+see that your ears are clean. And your nails. A little lady always has
+nice nails."</p>
+
+<p>She carried her baby away, kissing her neck and cheeks and hands, and
+telling her, as she had told them all, from Dorothy downwards, that
+there never had been such a baby in the world before.</p>
+
+<p>And she slipped her into the much used hammock under the old apple tree,
+and left her to play with her toes and fingers, whilst she went back to
+her violets and roses singing&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i">"Rock-a-bye, Baby on a tree top,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There you are put, there you must stop."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="first"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>and trying to be rid of that uncomfortable feeling, of having done what
+she wanted and not what she ought.</p>
+
+<p>In the study Mr. Bruce sat before a paper-strewn table. Most of the
+papers related to his beloved book&mdash;which was almost half-completed. It
+had reached that stage several times before, and what had been written
+thereafter had been consigned to the kitchen fire.</p>
+
+<p>Now it was necessary that he should put it away, even out of thought,
+and turn his attention towards something that would bring in a quick
+return. For Dot's school fees would be due very shortly, and he
+remembered, with a smile-lit sigh, that this quarter she had taken up
+two extras, singing and dancing.</p>
+
+<p>His income would not admit of extras&mdash;and yet, as Mrs. Bruce frequently
+put it, Dot was the eldest and was very pretty. She certainly must be
+able to dance and sing!</p>
+
+<p>He gathered up a few stray leaves of his manuscript, rolled them up with
+the bulk, and heroically put them away.</p>
+
+<p>But, as he returned to his seat, he caught <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>a glimpse of his wife,
+kneeling on the path, and making a little trench with a trowel in the
+bed outside his window.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, little mother!" he called, and felt blithe as he said it, and
+young and fresh hearted, just because of the bright face in the
+poppy-trimmed hat.</p>
+
+<p>"I ought to be in the kitchen making a pudding," she said, screwing up
+her face into a grimace.</p>
+
+<p>"You are far better where you are," he said fondly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. But, oh, dear! I wish I had a cook, and laundress, and a
+housemaid. Oh, and a nursemaid, too! It is dreadful to be poor, isn't
+it, daddie?"</p>
+
+<p>She went on with her gardening, just as happy as before, but the face
+that the little author took to his work-table had grown grave in a
+minute.</p>
+
+<p>"She was born to have servants," he said, "servants and ease. I must
+work harder."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril's voice broke into his reverie. He had come beneath the study
+windows to interview his mother.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>"Can't I be raised to twopence a week now I'm going on for thirteen,"
+he said. "Bert Davis gets threepence, and he's only nine."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Brace did not catch the reply. But he told himself that most men
+would have been more liberal in the matter of <i>&pound;. s. d.</i> to their only
+son.</p>
+
+<p>He began to pace round and round his study.</p>
+
+<p>"I must work harder&mdash;harder&mdash;harder!" he said. "I must put my book away,
+and grind out those articles for Montgomery!"</p>
+
+<p>Nancy, in a big white sun-bonnet, clean for the new week, passed under
+his window and turned her face to the wicket gate. He could hear that
+she was crying in a miserable forsaken way, crying and talking to
+herself away within that capacious bonnet of hers.</p>
+
+<p>He called "Baby!" and leaned over his window sill to her. But she did
+not hear him. She just went murmuring on to the gate.</p>
+
+<p>Then two other hurrying little figures came along. Cyril, with a
+battered hat crushed <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>down on his head, and his school-bag over his
+shoulders, and Betty with her boots unlaced, a white bonnet under her
+arm, and a newspaper parcel, which she was trying to coax into neatness,
+in one hand.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all through you and your ghosts," Cyril was saying grumblingly. "I
+know I'd have done my lessons only for you, Betty Bruce."</p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter with Nancy?" asked their father, leaning over the
+window sill once more. "Why was she crying?"</p>
+
+<p>"'Cause she thinks she'll be late," said Betty easily. "She always cries
+if she thinks she's late."</p>
+
+<p>Down the road they went, Nancy hurrying and crying, Cyril grumbling,
+Betty silent.</p>
+
+<p>To none of them had Monday morning come exactly right&mdash;fresh and
+uncrumpled.</p>
+
+<p>Betty sat down, just outside her grandfather's gate, to lace her boots,
+and Cyril went grumbling on about a hundred yards behind Nancy.</p>
+
+<p>Then did a fresh crease get into the new week's first day for Betty.
+Looking under <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>her arm as she bent over her boot, she beheld three
+figures walking down the road, and at the first glimpse of them her face
+grew hot.</p>
+
+<p>"Geraldine and Fay!" she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>The centre figure was dressed in a lilac print, and wore a spotless
+apron and a straw hat. Upon either side of her walked a little
+golden-haired girl, one apparently about Betty's age, and one Nancy's.
+Their dresses were white and spotless, and reached almost to their
+knees; their hats were flat shady things trimmed with muslin and lace.
+Their hair was beautifully dressed and curled, their boots shining&mdash;and
+buttoned, and their faces smiling and happy-looking.</p>
+
+<p>They were Betty's ideals! Little rich girls, who rode ponies, and
+drove&mdash;sometimes in a village cart with a nurse, and sometimes in a
+carriage with a lady who invariably wore beautiful hats and dresses.
+Sometimes, again, they were to be seen in a dog-cart with a dark man who
+seemed a splendid creature indeed to Betty.</p>
+
+<p>The little girl by the roadside grasped her unbuttoned boot in one hand,
+her bonnet <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>and newspaper parcel in the other, and in a trice had
+squeezed herself under her grandfather's fence, just at a point where
+two or three panels were broken down.</p>
+
+<p>Then she peeped out to see if they were looking. But no&mdash;they had not
+seen her. Betty gave a great sigh of relief as she watched them. How
+beautiful they were. How dainty! Betty looked down at her own old boots,
+old stockings, old dress. She turned her bonnet over disdainfully and
+thought of their lace-trimmed hats&mdash;their golden hair!</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I am glad they didn't see me!" she said aloud fervently.</p>
+
+<p>Just then a voice shouted, a rough word to her from the path, and Betty
+awoke to two alarming facts. The one, that she was in the emu's
+enclosure and that one great bird was bearing curiously towards her
+already; the other, that her grandfather was the one who had called to
+her, and that John Brown, who was careering down the path on his
+bicycle, had stopped and was evidently giving information about her.</p>
+
+<p>Her grandfather waved an angry hand.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>"Out you go!" he shouted. "If you come here again, I'll set the dogs
+loose!"</p>
+
+<p>Betty squeezed herself under the fence just before the emu reached her,
+and once more faced a very crumpled Monday morning.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>
+<a name="VII" id="VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+
+<h3>"CAREW-BROWN"</h3>
+
+
+<p class="first"><span class="smcap">It</span> must be confessed that John Brown&mdash;or to be polite and
+up-to-date&mdash;John Carew-Brown surveyed the pupils of Wygate School with a
+fighting eye, which is to say, he considered them carefully with
+regarded to their pugilistic abilities, and he decided very soon that he
+"could make them all sing small."</p>
+
+<p>Even upon that first day when he, a new boy, had been standing in view
+of the whole school, his mind had chiefly been occupied in running over
+the boys' obvious fighting qualities&mdash;tall, short, fat, thin, all sorts
+and conditions of them were there.</p>
+
+<p>The girls he had passed by with but slight notice; to him they were
+absolutely valueless and uninteresting. Betty Bruce had certainly caught
+his attention by her public punishment, and he had been taken aback by
+that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>sharp little pinch of hers. Hitherto he had had nothing to do with
+girls but he supposed immediately that that was their manner of
+fighting, and he did not admire it.</p>
+
+<p>Not many days later an opportunity occurred for him to defend his newly
+adopted name. Truth to tell, he had been longing for such an occasion
+from the day on which old Captain Carew had asked him to fight for his
+name too.</p>
+
+<p>He was in the playground, round by the school house, just where the
+babies' end of the school room joined the cloak room, and school was
+over for the day. Having a piece of chalk in one hand, and nothing
+particular to do, he occupied a few minutes by writing upon the weather
+boards of the cloak-room&mdash;"J. C. Brown, J. C. Brown, John C. Brown, John
+C. Brown," and the hinting C. raised a small dispute in a circle of
+onlooking boys and girls.</p>
+
+<p>It was Peter Bailey who said, "John Clara Brown," and it was silly
+little Jack Smith who said "John Codfish Brown."</p>
+
+<p>A burst of laughter followed, and Peter <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>Bailey and Jack Smith chased
+each other down the playground, and in and out among the sapling clump
+away at the end of it, where some shabby scrub and three gum trees grew.</p>
+
+<p>When they came back, John Brown was still silently writing apparently
+deaf to all the surmising going on around him.</p>
+
+<p>Nellie Underwood said it was&mdash;"Crabby John Brown," and Arthur Smedley,
+the school bully, said&mdash;"John Brown the clown."</p>
+
+<p>Whereupon Brown sought out a clean weather-board a shade or so above his
+head and wrote in bold letters.</p>
+
+<p>"John Carew-Brown, Dene Hall, Willoughby," which made Bailey say&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo, he's got hold of Bruce's grandfather."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril, who was one of the little circle of jesters, grew pink to the
+tips of his pretty pink ears, but feeling the majority and the bully
+were against Brown, ventured to say&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"He's only running you!"</p>
+
+<p>Nellie Underwood pushed herself into a prominent position in the group
+and cried&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I seen him coming out of Dene Hall gates, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>and old Mr. Carew was with
+him. So there!"</p>
+
+<p>John Brown chose another weather-board and the group closed round him to
+read&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"John Carew-Brown, only grandson of Captain Carew, of Dene Hall,
+Willoughby, Sydney, N.S. Wales, Australia, Southern Hemisphere," which
+certainly looked imposing and had the effect of silencing every one for
+almost half a minute.</p>
+
+<p>Then the bully's eyes glared into Cyril's pretty blue ones, and he said
+angrily&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"You said you were the only grandson."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril did not speak.</p>
+
+<p>"You said," repeated the bully, "you said the Captain was going to
+adopt you, and give you his collection of guinea pigs."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril hung his crimson face and kicked the ground with the toe of his
+boot.</p>
+
+<p>John Brown chose another weather-board and wrote&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Captain Carew has no guinea pigs," which sent most of the blood away
+from Cyril's face. The bully was eyeing him angrily, and even went as
+far as doubling up one fist.</p>
+
+<p>"You said he was going to give you five <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>shillings a week pocket-money,
+and let you buy my white mice," he muttered, and Cyril found himself
+face to face with the occasion, and with no clever intervening Betty to
+throw the right word into the right place, and so save his skin and his
+honour.</p>
+
+<p>"So he is," he said, moving away from Brown as far as he dared&mdash;"and so
+I am the only grandson." He looked over his shoulder and beheld Brown's
+back, whereupon he felt if Brown could not see he could not hear.
+"<i>He's</i> only the gardener's boy," he said; "ask"&mdash;his mind made a swift
+excursion for an authority&mdash;"ask my grandfather," he said, "any of you
+who like, ask my grandfather."</p>
+
+<p>Brown and his chalk advanced to Cyril.</p>
+
+<p>"Who told you I was the gardener's boy?" he asked. Cyril looked from foe
+to foe, and the wild thought of denying he had said such words entered
+his mind, only to be followed by a swift remembrance of various daring
+deeds of the bully's.</p>
+
+<p>So he went over recklessly to Arthur Smedley's side.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>"My grandfather!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you going to be adopted?" asked the bully.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Cyril in desperation.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you going to have five shillings a week?" demanded the bully.</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;I'm going to have ten," roared Cyril.</p>
+
+<p>A window belonging to Mr. Sharman's private house, which adjoined the
+school, flew open, and John Brown's name was sharply called. It entered
+into Arthur Smedley's mind to see what writing remained upon the wall,
+and he went across to the cloak-room for that purpose.</p>
+
+<p>Whereupon Cyril looked to the right of him, to the left of him, to the
+back of him, and beheld neither friend nor foe in his vicinity; and he
+heaved a sigh of great satisfaction, ran to the fence, squeezed himself
+through a hole in it, and was upon the road towards home in a trice.</p>
+
+<p>But before he had gone more than a hundred yards he heard quick
+footsteps behind him, and looking over his shoulder he saw John C.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>Brown. Then did a sickening sense of terror sweep over him, and his
+heart leapt into his mouth, for had he not said John Carew-Brown was
+"only the gardener's boy"?</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>
+<a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+
+<h3>THE FIGHT</h3>
+
+
+<p class="first"><span class="smcap">Betty</span> was in the belt of bush that lay between the wicket-gate of her
+home and the road. Her idea was to be sufficiently near to home to
+gather from the sound of the voices that might call her if she were
+<i>really</i> needed and yet to be so far from sight that the continual
+"Betty, come here," and "Betty, go there," could not be.</p>
+
+<p>She had come home as soon as school was out, come home leaving Cyril and
+Nancy behind her, flung herself beneath the shade of one of her
+favourite old gum trees, and begun to write.</p>
+
+<p>When Mr. Bruce was busy over a story, or an article, or a book, every
+one in the house knew. Then the study door would be closed and the
+window only opened at the top; then the children would be banished from
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>the side garden into which the study looked, and from the passage
+outside the study door; then Mrs. Bruce would carry his meals to him
+upon a tray, and he would have strong black coffee in the early evening.
+And then at last a neatly folded missive, gummed and tied with thin
+string, with a mysterious "<i>MS. only</i>" inscribed in one corner, would be
+carried to the post by either Cyril or Betty.</p>
+
+<p>When Dot wrote a story, as she very frequently did now-a-days, portions
+of it would be carried into the study for her father to see, and her
+mother would proudly read page after page of the neat round hand, and
+wonder where on earth the child got her ideas from.</p>
+
+<p>But when Betty wrote her stories, no one in the house&mdash;excepting Cyril,
+of course&mdash;knew anything about it! no one kept the house quiet for
+Betty, and no one wondered wherever she got her ideas from. And yet she
+had quite a collection of fairy stories and poems of her own
+composition. She and an exercise book, or a few scraps of paper and a
+stumpy bit of pencil were to be seen sometimes in very close
+companionship.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>But for all that no one did see; or seeing, they did not understand.</p>
+
+<p>Still Betty wrote her stories&mdash;not necessarily for publication like her
+father&mdash;nor as a guarantee that the scribbling genius was within her,
+like Dot&mdash;but for the love of story writing alone.</p>
+
+<p>Her fairy story to-day had to do with the bold and handsome Waratah
+which ran mad in the bush behind her home, towards Middle Harbour. Her
+fertile fancy had suggested many roles for these flowers to take.</p>
+
+<p>It occurred to her as she wrote that she had intended to write a poem
+which should stir Cyril&mdash;not one of <i>her</i> sort of poems, about streams
+and flowers and dells and birds, but a dashing sort of poem, one that
+would make Cyril say "By <i>Jup-i-ter</i>, Betty," and learn it off by heart
+without any asking.</p>
+
+<p>For a space she laid down her story, which began, "Once upon a time,"
+and asked herself what there was that she could make a poem of for
+Cyril.</p>
+
+<p>"It must be something brave," she said. "A horse, a dog, a fire, a
+man&mdash;a St. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>Bernard dog saving a boy&mdash;a soldier&mdash;I think a soldier would
+suit Cyril!"</p>
+
+<p>She stared through the bush to the red road consideringly, holding her
+pencil ready to write. As she looked she became aware of a small figure
+running along the road, and entering the bush track. It was Cyril, and
+Cyril in woe. She could see that at a glance, and of course the first
+thing she did was to throw down her paper and pencil and run to meet
+him.</p>
+
+<p>As she got nearer to him she saw tears were running down his face and
+she heard, ever and anon as he ran, a great sob, half of anger and half
+of fear, come bursting from his lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my poor boy, whatever <i>is</i> the matter?" she cried in her most
+motherly way.</p>
+
+<p>"The g-g-great big bully!" sobbed Cyril.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear!" exclaimed Betty in distress.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh the b-b-big bully. Let's get home."</p>
+
+<p>"Big John Brown?" asked Betty, for only yesterday this same John Brown
+had sent her small brother home weeping over a sore head.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, of course. He&mdash;he said he'd knock <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>me into next year. Come on,
+can't you?"</p>
+
+<p>Betty was running by his side at quite a brisk trot to keep up with him.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I hope you knocked him down," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"He said grandfather isn't our grandfather at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!&mdash;and you <i>did</i> give him a black eye Cywil dear?" asked Betty
+eagerly. Her "r's" had a way of rolling themselves into "w's" whenever
+she was excited.</p>
+
+<p>They were at the wicket-gate now, and Cyril slackened his speed, and
+looked over his shoulder. No one was in sight.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I will do!" he said boldly. "I told him no Bruce was afraid!"</p>
+
+<p>"That's right," said Betty eagerly. "That's right Cywil. No Bruce is
+afraid. But you did knock him down, didn't you."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril hesitated&mdash;then his trouble broke from him in a burst. "We fight
+to-night down at our coral islands at seven," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh my bwave Cywil!" exclaimed Betty admiringly. "Oh, I am so glad&mdash;oh, I
+am so very glad!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>But Cyril looked doleful, and was lagging behind his small eager
+sister.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not so sure that he meant us to fight," he said. "He&mdash;he never
+asked me to."</p>
+
+<p>"What did he say?"</p>
+
+<p>"He only said something about a challenge and things."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said Betty, eager again in a minute; "<i>if</i> he said 'challenge' you
+<i>must</i> fight. There's no get out."</p>
+
+<p>"But I've hurt my leg."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh never mind your leg&mdash;think of the honour of the Bruces!" said the
+fervent Betty, who regarded the family cognomen as something sacred and
+against which no breath of evil must be allowed to come.</p>
+
+<p>"Honour of the Bruces be hanged, if I'm lame," said Cyril savagely.</p>
+
+<p>A sense of foreboding swept over Betty as she followed Cyril into the
+house. Her imagination showed her willows and the "coral islands," and
+only John Brown&mdash;big square John Brown&mdash;there. She knew the story that
+would soon be all over the school&mdash;all over the neighbourhood&mdash;that
+Cyril had been <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span><i>afraid</i> to fight. Of course she, Betty, his own twin
+sister, knew there would not be a grain of truth in it. She knew he was
+shy and delicate, and had hurt his leg. But for all that, she wished
+eagerly that he were not shy and delicate, and did not always have some
+bodily ill when fighting time came. And more than one sob shook her, for
+she beheld the honour of the Bruces being trampled under John Brown's
+big boots.</p>
+
+<p>She set the table and went about her usual household tasks in a very
+half-hearted way. Cyril would not look at her, and crept off to bed at
+six o'clock, complaining of the pain in his leg. Tea was over by then,
+and Betty, with her woeful look still on her face was helping "wash up"
+in the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>Cyril in his bedroom turned down his stocking and examined the little
+blue bruise near his knee. That there was some outward and visible sign
+of his hurt he was very thankful. It raised his self-respect and brought
+tears of self-pity to his eyes, that Betty should have expected him to
+fight under such circumstances! So much did the sight of his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>wound
+upset him that he only went on one leg while undressing, though it must
+be confessed it was not always the same leg that did the hopping.</p>
+
+<p>Presently, after he had been lying in bed for some little time and
+commiserating with himself over his sad fate, the door opened and Betty,
+with the wistfulness quite gone from her face, came in. And <i>such</i> a
+Betty! Her brown hair was bundled away under one of Cyril's battered
+straw hats, and thankful indeed had she been that she had so little hair
+to bundle. She wore one of Cyril's sailor jackets, and a pair of his
+serge knickers, and few looking at her casually, would have insulted her
+with the supposition that she was a mere girl.</p>
+
+<p>Her face was alight with eagerness as she besought her brother to "just
+<i>see</i> if he'd know her!"</p>
+
+<p>"It'll be almost dark when I get there," she said, "and he'll never
+<i>dweam</i> I'm not you."</p>
+
+<p>"But what'll you do when you get there?" asked Cyril, sitting up in bed;
+"perhaps a challenge <i>does</i> mean a fight!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>"Fight him!" said Betty stoutly; "I've been wanting to ever since he
+went above me."</p>
+
+<p>"You can't fight," said Cyril disgustedly. "You're only a girl."</p>
+
+<p>Betty's face positively flamed with eagerness.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't fight!" she said. "Why Fred Jones taught me. He says I've got the
+knack, but not <i>very</i> much strength. Anyway, I fought that Barry kid the
+other day, <i>I</i> can promise you!"</p>
+
+<p>"But John Brown is three times as big as Ces Barry."</p>
+
+<p>"I know!" she sighed dismally. "Anyway, it's better to be beaten than
+not to fight at all. And if you don't fight, they&mdash;they <i>might</i> say you
+were afraid." Her face grew scarlet as she put the horrid thought into
+words.</p>
+
+<p>When the door was shut, Cyril jumped out of bed to watch her go, and so
+occupied was he over <i>her</i> danger, that he forget his own hurt and did
+not limp at all.</p>
+
+<p>Up and down the garden paths his mother <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>and father were walking, his
+mother's arm through his father's, and a happy peaceful look on her
+face. The thought ran through the boy's mind, how little grown up ones
+know of the troubles of childhood. Nancy was rolling with baby on the
+little lawn, singing&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i">"John, John, John, the grey goose is gone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fox is away o'er the hill, Oh!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="first">and he thought how good it was to be a girl&mdash;a goose&mdash;a fox&mdash;anything
+but a boy!</p>
+
+<p>Then he crept back to bed, covered up his head and began to cry. For he
+was afraid that Betty would be hurt&mdash;and once again had he hung back
+when he should have gone forward. And his heart told him that again he
+had been a coward.</p>
+
+<p>Down by the willows John Brown was waiting. He had very much enjoyed
+issuing his "challenge" but he felt morally certain that it would not be
+accepted. He was therefore surprised when he saw his small adversary
+approaching him in the dusk.</p>
+
+<p>Who shall say what fancies were running riot in his head! He was a
+squire going <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>to punish a rash youth for trying to thrust himself into
+their family. He, his grandfather's grandson, was going to thrash a
+foolish boy for taking his grandfather's name in vain!</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile his little foe came on, over the rough sun-burnt grass, over a
+fallen tree through a small stretch of denser scrub, to the very shores
+of the "coral island sea." And the baby-moon chose the moment of their
+meeting to slip behind a cloud and leave the world in semi-darkness.</p>
+
+<p>"Well done, Bruce!" said Brown coming forward and speaking in a hearty
+tone; "I didn't believe you'd come&mdash;I didn't think you had a fight in
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"We Bruces fight till we die!" piped Betty, and bit her lip to still its
+quivering.</p>
+
+<p>Brown laughed. He detected the nervousness in his opponent's voice, and
+had fully expected it. If he had found "Bruce" over-bold, he would have
+been surprised indeed. As it was, the reply in some way pleased him.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>"Well," he said, "you're not going to fight me. <i>I'm</i> not in a fighting
+mood; I'm going to <i>thrash</i> you."</p>
+
+<p>Betty caught her breath. It certainly entered into her mind to cry out
+and run away, but she did nothing of the sort, she only clenched her
+hands, and stood her ground&mdash;having as usual a sufficiency of courage
+for the occasion.</p>
+
+<p>The next minute Brown's great hand had grasped her coat collar, and she
+felt herself swung round, stood down and swung round again. Then a sharp
+swish lashed her once, twice, thrice.</p>
+
+<p>Whereupon Betty began to fight on her own account, forgetting all the
+advice Fred Jones had given her about "hitting out from the shoulder,"
+etc. etc. She kicked Brown's legs with all the strength she could put
+into her own. She pinched his wrists and his cheek, and lastly and to
+his disgust she set her sharp little teeth into his hand.</p>
+
+<p>He dropped her quickly, her hat rolled off, and down tumbled her short
+curly hair. And the moon chose that moment to sail from <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>under the cloud
+and put Betty's face in a soft silver light.</p>
+
+<p>Brown whistled. "By Jove!" he said, the "sister."</p>
+
+<p>Betty crammed her hat down upon her head again.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not," she said. "It's not! It's me, Cyril. Come on, <i>coward</i>,
+<i>bully</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>She made a little rush at him, but Brown threw down his switch.</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks," he said. "I'm not taking any this trip."</p>
+
+<p>"Come on," urged Betty.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't fight girls, thanks."</p>
+
+<p>Betty began to cry in a heart-broken desperate way.</p>
+
+<p>"It's not me," she said. "It's Cyril. It's Cyril. Oh, it's Cyril!"</p>
+
+<p>But Brown, smiling darkly, turned from her, jumped over the fence, and
+took his way through the banana grove to his home.</p>
+
+<p>And what pen could tell of his heaviness of heart, and great shame in
+that he had <i>thrashed</i> a girl. He could feel her light weight yet as he
+swung her round, hear her <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>girlish voice crying, "We Bruces fight till
+we die!" see her thin white face in the moonlight as her hat fell off,
+and she looked at him and said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Come on, coward, bully!"</p>
+
+<p>How he tingled with shame. Coward, bully! Yes, he had hit a girl.</p>
+
+<p>Betty started for home at a brisk run, for during her adventure the
+night had advanced, and her imagination peopled the surrounding bush
+with bogeys, and imps and elves.</p>
+
+<p>And as she ran, sobs broke from her, solely on account of her physical
+woes.</p>
+
+<p>Within the wicket gate she walked slowly. How could fear of outer
+darkness remain, when the dinning-room window sent such a bar of light
+beyond.</p>
+
+<p>She crept softly along the verandah to the window and peeped in. Her
+father was lying on the old cane lounge, his eyes upon her mother who
+sat at the piano, in a pretty fresh dress, flower-like as ever. For a
+space, while little boy-Betty looked, she just touched the keys tenderly
+as if she loved them like her flowers, then she struck a few chords, and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>began to sing "Home, Sweet Home," in her sweet girlish voice.</p>
+
+<p>And Betty turned away, the tears running down her cheeks, and her small
+heart aching.</p>
+
+<p>"I've been bad again," she said, "and I meant to be good always. I don't
+believe you <i>can</i> be good till you are grown up." She ran along the
+passage into the little bedroom which she and Dot and Nancy shared, and
+she fell down by Dot's quiet white bed and buried her face in the quilt.</p>
+
+<p>"Bad again," she sobbed. "I've been bad again. Oh, I'm <i>glad</i> I got
+thrashed, it ought to do me good." But it is to be feared her gladness
+was not very deep, because a sense of great satisfaction swept over her
+as she remembered, she had kicked, really kicked, big John Brown.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>
+<a name="IX" id="IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+
+<h3>DOROTHEA'S FRIENDS</h3>
+
+
+<p class="first"><span class="smcap">Alma Montague</span>, a wealthy doctor's daughter; Elsie and Minnie Stevenson,
+daughters of a Queensland squatter; and Nellie Harden, only child of a
+Supreme Court Judge, were Dorothea Bruce's "intimate" friends. Mona
+Parbury was her only "bosom" friend. Thus she defined them herself when
+speaking of them to members of her family and to the girls themselves,
+who were one and all eager to stand a "bosom" friend to pretty Thea
+Bruce as they called her.</p>
+
+<p>The difference between an "intimate" friend and a "bosom" friend is too
+subtle to be described, but school-girls all the world over, and those
+who have left school days just behind them, will know and understand.</p>
+
+<p>Mona Parbury was one week older than <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>Dorothea and one inch (they
+measured upon the verandah wall) taller. Her waist was two sizes larger;
+her boots and gloves were three. In every way she was cast in a
+different mould from Dorothea. She was a heavily built girl, who looked
+at sixteen as though her teens were a year or two behind her. Her
+features were pronounced&mdash;high cheek-bones, square chin, high forehead;
+her hair was black and straight and plentiful, and she wore it in a
+heavy plait down her back. Her eyes were brown, clear, faithful, good
+eyes, and her mouth was distinctly large and ill-shaped.</p>
+
+<p>Such was Mona in the days when Dorothea loved her&mdash;in the days when
+Dorothea told her all her hopes, and dreams, and often very foolish
+thoughts; when she made her the heroine of her stories; and wrote little
+poems to her as&mdash;"her love"&mdash;and little loving letters if the cruel fate
+which sometimes hovers over such friendships separated them for half a
+day.</p>
+
+<p>We have seen Dorothea before. She was small and fairy-like;
+slender-waisted and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>light in movement. Her hair was golden and curly,
+and was usually worn quite loose about her shoulders; her eyes were blue
+and sunshiny and lashed by dark curling lashes; her mouth was small and
+red, and her complexion delicate pink and white. All of her "intimate"
+friends gave her the frankest admiration&mdash;they all loved her, and they
+were all eager to stand first with her.</p>
+
+<p>But it was Mona who loved her the most. Mona who kept and treasured
+every one of the little "private" notes sent to her by Dot. She worked
+out all her most troublesome sums, brushed and curled her hair; bore
+many of her punishments; brought her numberless fal-lals (keepsakes she
+called them); wore a lock of her golden hair in a locket around her
+neck, and told her all of her secrets&mdash;she had as many as ten a week
+sometimes.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Weir, the "principal" of the school, had, many years ago, given to
+Dorothea's mother much the same sort of love as Mona Parbury now gave to
+Dorothea. And it was owing to this old love that Dorothea was now
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>admitted on very low terms to the most fashionable school in Sydney.</p>
+
+<p>No one among all the pupils (there were fifteen) knew anything about
+poverty&mdash;no one but Dorothea. As she once said in a burst of anguish to
+her mother&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"They are all rich, every <i>one</i> of them. They live in beautiful houses
+and have parlourmaids and housemaids and nursemaids, and kitchenmaids
+and cooks and carriages, and as much money to spend as we have to live
+on, I believe."</p>
+
+<p>It was very rarely, though, that any of her troubles ruffled her calm
+serenity. Dorothea was usually as placid as the placidest baby. She
+longed to be rich, and to have pretty things to wear and a handsome
+house to live in, but she never talked of her poverty. Instead she
+draped its cloven foot gracefully, and turned her back on it&mdash;and
+<i>imagined</i> she was rich&mdash;from Monday till Friday.</p>
+
+<p>She discussed "fashion" and "society" with Alma Montague and Nellie
+Harden, and grew quite familiar with the names and doings of the great
+society dames. She even learned&mdash;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>at considerable pains&mdash;a "society"
+tone of voice with a drawl in it and a little lisp.</p>
+
+<p>School life was a great happiness to her&mdash;the regular hours, the
+beautifully ordered house, the neat table, the daily constitutional, the
+morning and evening prayer-time, and the hour in the drawing-room at
+night, everything that made life from Monday till Friday.</p>
+
+<p>It was Friday till Monday that was the cross, Friday till Monday, the
+days when the cloven foot would not be draped, when the elegancies of
+life were left behind in the city, when the twins and the babies were
+everywhere, when the meals were often but suddenly thought of snatches
+of food.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes the thought of the looming future&mdash;the time when all the days
+would be as Friday till Monday, when there would no longer be any school
+days to be lived by her&mdash;would quite break down her placidity, and make
+her feel she could put down her head anywhere and cry.</p>
+
+<p>Yet away they were marching, one by one, all the beautiful school-days,
+all the days of discipline and pleasant duty, and the ugly <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>slack days,
+when there would be nothing but home with house-work to do, were drawing
+near.</p>
+
+<p>And at last she could bear the thought of it by herself no longer.</p>
+
+<p>It was early evening, and she was on the schoolroom verandah, watching
+the young moon rise over a distant chimney. Every moment she expected
+the prayer-bell to ring, and meanwhile, as it was not ringing, she
+filled up the time by counting how many more evening prayer-bells would
+ring before the end of term.</p>
+
+<p>She counted on her fingers, out aloud, and found there were just
+twenty-nine&mdash;twenty-nine without Fridays, Saturdays, or Sundays.
+Twenty-nine days, and then came the end of term, and the end of her
+school-days.</p>
+
+<p>It would then be Betty's turn&mdash;larrikin Betty's! The moon sailed over
+the chimney, and Dot put her head down on the verandah railing and began
+to cry. She did not cry in the vigorous whole-hearted way in which Betty
+cried, but she sighed heavily, and sobbed gently, and allowed two or
+three tears to run <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>down her cheek before she brought out her dainty
+handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>And at that precise moment Mona was crossing the schoolroom floor, and
+she saw her darling Thea in tears! She was not given to light impulsive
+movements at all, but this time she really did <i>spring</i> forward and
+kneel at Dot's side.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear, darling Thea!" she whispered, "what is the matter? Miss Cowdell
+has been bullying you for the silly old French? That's it, isn't it
+dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no!" said Dot hopelessly, "nothing <i>half</i> as small as that."</p>
+
+<p>"You've lost the new sleeve-links Alma gave you? Never mind&mdash;there are
+plenty more. Not that? What then? Tell your own Mona&mdash;tell your own old
+Mona."</p>
+
+<p>Two more tears ran down Dot's cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"It's&mdash;it's nearly the end of term," she said.</p>
+
+<p>Mona nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"And I'm going to leave school," she said.</p>
+
+<p>Again Mona nodded and waited.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>"I've to go home," said Dot, and she put her head down on Mona's
+shoulder heavily.</p>
+
+<p>"I've to go home too," said Mona, and she sighed, "right away to the
+Richmond river, where you girls never come."</p>
+
+<p>"My home," said Dot, "is like a little plain, hedged round with prickly
+pear, and put on the top of a mountain. No one ever comes in, and we
+never go out."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor little Thea," said Mona.</p>
+
+<p>"And we're very poor," went on Dorothea with strange recklessness; "we
+ought to be rich, but we're not, and the house is full of children, and
+there's never any peace from morning till night."</p>
+
+<p>Mona grew crimson. She wanted to say something very much, and she lacked
+the courage. Instead she asked how old were the children, as if she did
+not know!</p>
+
+<p>"There's Betty," said Dot, "she's to come here when I leave, and she
+won't enjoy it a bit&mdash;she's such a romp&mdash;and there's Cyril, they're both
+about twelve. And there's Nancy, she's six, and the baby."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>"I wish," said Mona, "I <i>wish</i> they belonged to me."</p>
+
+<p>"How can I practise with them everywhere about. How can I read, how can
+I paint even, write my book, do anything, with them everywhere?" asked
+Dot dismally. "They just fill the house."</p>
+
+<p>Again Mona stumbled to what she wanted to say, and stopped. Dot would
+say she was "lecturing." It would never do.</p>
+
+<p>"You're rich," said pretty Dot pouting; "you can have everything you
+want, do anything, go anywhere."</p>
+
+<p>A few puckers got into Mona's high forehead.</p>
+
+<p>"Once," she said, "I had four sisters, all younger than myself, and they
+all died. I told you, didn't I?"</p>
+
+<p>"But it's long ago," said Dot. "Three years ago since the baby died. You
+must have forgotten."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd promised my mother, when she was dying, to be a mother to them.
+Father and aunt <i>made</i> me go to school, and all the time I was counting
+on when I should leave, and be an elder sister."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>Dot opened her eyes very wide.</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you want to be an elder sister?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>Mona still looked red and ashamed.</p>
+
+<p>"You should read <i>The Flower of the Family</i>," she said, and "<i>The Eldest
+of Seven, Holding in Trust</i>. You'd know then."</p>
+
+<p>Dorothea had read the last, and she began to see and understand.</p>
+
+<p>"You've got your mother and sisters," said Mona shyly.</p>
+
+<p>And then for the first time it occurred to Dorothea that she herself was
+an elder sister, that she was the eldest of five, and that infinite
+possibilities lay before her.</p>
+
+<p>"There's only my father and my aunt and brother when <i>I</i> go home," said
+Mona. "And I've only twenty-nine days, too, and then, oh! Thea darling,
+I have to lose you."</p>
+
+<p>"We'll write twice a week always," whispered Dot, twining her arms round
+her friend's waist.</p>
+
+<p>"And always be each other's bosom friend," said Mona.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>Then the prayer-bell rang, and the four intimate friends scanned Thea
+closely, seeing that she had been crying, and feeling angry with "that"
+Mona Parbury for letting her.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>
+<a name="X" id="X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2>
+
+<h3>RICHES OR RAGS</h3>
+
+
+<p class="first"><span class="smcap">Captain Carew</span> and John Brown&mdash;big John Brown in Betty's parlance&mdash;sat at
+dinner together.</p>
+
+<p>Although not an elegant dinner table it was very far removed from being
+a poor one. The linen, silver and glass were all of the best, the very
+best; the man-servant was decorous and swift of eye, foot and hand, and
+the menu was beyond any that had entered into John Brown's knowledge,
+before he came to Dene Hall. Yet he was out of love with it all.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Carew had his glass of clear saffron-coloured wine at his right
+hand. His silver fork was making easy journeyings from a slice of cold
+turkey on his plate, to his mouth, and his eyes were now and again
+running over a long type-written letter that lay before him.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>He was well pleased, well fed, and interested, and he had no reason to
+suppose John Brown was in any other humour than himself.</p>
+
+<p>He had heard that the thoughts of youth were of vast length, and perhaps
+he believed it. But he did not think John's had reached quite as far as
+wishing to be a cobbler in a country village.</p>
+
+<p>And it must be confessed that few, seeing the appetite the boy brought
+to his plate of cold turkey and "snowed" potato, would have suspected
+him of longing for a "crust of bread and a drink of cold water."</p>
+
+<p>The truth was, he had been of late ransacking his grandfather's library
+and had found besides sea-stories and stories of wrecks, and foreign
+lands and pirates and deep sea treasure&mdash;what interested him more than
+all, a volume of biographies of self-made men.</p>
+
+<p>He had lingered longingly over their boyhoods; their brief school times
+(when such times were lacking altogether he liked both man and story
+better); their privations, struggles, self-reliance and success. The
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>success interested him the least. That came, of course, he decided, to
+all who tried hard enough. But the privations! The struggle! The
+self-reliance! How his eyes shone and his heart beat at it!</p>
+
+<p>There was the story of Richard Arkwright, the great mechanician. <i>He</i>
+was never at school in his life&mdash;never forced to do ridiculous sums, to
+spell correctly, to parse, to drill, to sing! His biographer said that
+the only education he ever received he gave himself&mdash;that he was fifty
+years of age when he set to work to learn grammar and to improve his
+hand-writing. He did not waste the precious hours of his youth over such
+things. When he was a boy he was apprenticed to a barber, and when he
+set up in business for himself he occupied an underground cellar and put
+up his sign&mdash;"Come to the subterraneous barber; he shaves for a penny."
+This caused brisk competition, and a general reduction in barber's
+prices. Yet not to be beaten, Arkwright altered his sign to "A clean
+shave for a halfpenny." Then he turned his attention to wig-making, and
+from <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>that to machine-making. And years and years passed. Years filled
+with patient labour, privations, obstacles, and at last <i>Success</i>!
+"Eighteen years after he had constructed his first machine he rose to
+such estimation in Derbyshire that he was appointed High Sheriff of the
+county, and shortly afterwards George III conferred upon him the honour
+of knighthood." So said the book.</p>
+
+<p>Shakespeare, he read, was the son of a butcher and grazier; Sir
+Cloudesley Shovel, the great admiral, a cobbler's son; Stephenson was an
+engine-fireman; Turner, the great painter, came from a barber's shop.</p>
+
+<p>Life after life he had turned over of men who had risen from the ranks
+and gotten for themselves fame and riches. So that at last he came to
+regard humble birth and poverty as the necessary foundations of ultimate
+success. He noticed that his heroes all worked hard and patiently; were
+all brave and sternly self-disciplined, plodding onwards past every
+obstacle and hardship. But he forgot to notice that they all made <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>the
+<i>best of that sphere of life into which they were born</i>.</p>
+
+<p>He had quite decided to be a self-made man. That was simple enough. The
+question that troubled him was what sort of a self-made man to be! A
+Newton? A Shakespeare? A Stephenson? A Turner? An Arkwright?</p>
+
+<p>The wide choice worried and perplexed him. It was pitiful to his
+thinking that he could, try and strive as he might, only be <i>one</i>.</p>
+
+<p>He had put himself through several examinations. He had lain under a
+pear tree and watched the leaves fall; he felt another man had the
+monopoly of apple trees. And he had decided that the leaves fell because
+they had become unfastened from the branches, and that they did not fall
+straight because the wind blew them sideways. And there was an end of
+the leaves.</p>
+
+<p>He had studied kitchen furnishings and their ways, avoiding only the
+kettle, since some one else had risen on its steam.</p>
+
+<p>He had tried himself with a pencil and paper, but he had composed
+nothing even <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>reminiscent of Shakespeare. In fact, he had composed
+nothing at all.</p>
+
+<p>And at last he became convinced it was the circumstances of his life
+that were at fault, not he himself. <i>If</i> he had only been a cobbler's
+son, a tailor's, a barber's!</p>
+
+<p>But alas! he was well-dressed, well-fed, well-housed; sent to a good
+school. He had a pony of his own and a man to groom him; a bicycle; a
+watch; every equipment for cricket and football; a dog; pigeons and most
+of the possessions dear to the heart of a boy.</p>
+
+<p>He had almost finished his dinner to-day when he put a question to the
+Captain sitting there smiling over his letter.</p>
+
+<p>"Grandfather," he asked, "are you rich?"</p>
+
+<p>His grandfather sat straight immediately, which is to speak of his
+features as well as his figure.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what do you think, lad?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>John shook his head dolefully.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> think you are," he said, "but <i>are</i> you?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>"That depends on how riches are counted," said the old man cautiously,
+"and who does the counting. King Solomon, now, might consider me but an
+old pauper."</p>
+
+<p>John went on with his dinner thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you wondering what I am going to do with my money?" asked the old
+man, watching him closely.</p>
+
+<p>John looked him straight in the face.</p>
+
+<p>"I expect you're going to leave it to me," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said his grandfather. "And who has been talking to you now? Who
+told you that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Johnson and Roberts and Mrs. Wilkins. Mrs. Wilkins says you'll give
+it me in a will," said John carelessly.</p>
+
+<p>"Who the dickens is Mrs. Wilkins?"</p>
+
+<p>John opened his eyes widely. Not to know Mrs. Wilkins was indeed to
+argue oneself unknown.</p>
+
+<p>"Why the lady at the store next our school," he said. "She sells
+pea-nuts and chewing gum and everything."</p>
+
+<p>"And she says I'll leave all my money <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>to you, eh? Hum. Well, how'd you
+like it if I do?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want it," said John with blunt force. He went on sturdily with
+his blanc-mange, arranging his strawberry jam carefully, that he should
+have an excess of that for the last spoonful.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Carew stared surprisedly at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Eh? What's that?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"When you were as old as me," said John, lifting his carefully trimmed
+spoon to his mouth, "were you as rich as now?"</p>
+
+<p>The question stirred the old man immediately. His eyes brightened, he
+put down his letter, pushed his glasses up high on his forehead and
+struck the table with one hand.</p>
+
+<p>"I should think not," he said excitedly, "I should rather think not. As
+rich as now&mdash;God bless my life!"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you weren't," said John calmly.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't remember my father and mother," said Captain Carew, speaking a
+little more quietly as his thoughts began to run backwards. "I lived
+with my uncle in London; <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>he kept a ham and beef shop, and had thirteen
+or fourteen youngsters of his own to bring up. He was going to put me to
+the butchering, but I settled all that myself. I ran away."</p>
+
+<p>"You ran away?" asked John breathlessly, and regarding the old man with
+more interest than he had ever given him yet.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay! When I was no older than you. Half a crown I had in my pocket, I
+remember. It was all the start in life <i>I</i> ever got."</p>
+
+<p>John put down his spoon and stared at his grandfather earnestly,
+eagerly, admiringly.</p>
+
+<p>"You're a self-made man!" he said. And old as the Captain was, and young
+as was his admirer, he warmed pleasantly at the words.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay!" he said exultingly, "I'm a self-made man right enough. Every bit
+of me! I started life as an errand boy in the London slums, and it
+seemed for a time as if I was going to die an errand boy in the London
+slums. At least, it might have seemed so to most people. <i>I'd</i> made up
+my mind how it was to be, how it had got to be."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>"What did you do?" asked John eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Do&mdash;well, I had about a year at errand running and then I got a chance
+to go to sea, and I took it. I went first to China. By gad, how well I
+remember that trip!"</p>
+
+<p>And forthwith he launched into a sea-story more enthralling by far to
+the boy than any in that library so stocked with sea-stories.</p>
+
+<p>At dinner again, at night, the talk was the same. The usually silent
+ruminative old man was positively loquacious, and John gave him a rapt
+attention.</p>
+
+<p>When nine o'clock struck a dim remembrance come to the boy that he was
+still a pupil of Wygate School and had home tasks to prepare for the
+morrow.</p>
+
+<p>But he had slipped too far out of his groove to go back again that
+night.</p>
+
+<p>He began to wander in and out of the lower floor rooms; out of the front
+door, round the verandah, and in by the French windows to the
+dining-room.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll chuck school," he said. "Catch any of those self-made men going to
+school when <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>they were thirteen. I'll have to struggle and screw and put
+myself to a night-school. That's what they did. A self-made man is good
+enough for me."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>
+<a name="XI" id="XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+
+<h3>THE ARTIST BY THE WAYSIDE</h3>
+
+
+<p class="first"><span class="smcap">Elizabeth Bruce</span> was "detained for inattention."</p>
+
+<p>No one else out of all the four and thirty scholars of Wygate School was
+kept in to-day. One after the other, hands folded behind them, they had
+marched to the door. Then delightful sounds&mdash;the scuffling of feet,
+stifled screams, gigglings and low buzzings of talk&mdash;had stolen over the
+partition that separated the cloak-room from the class-room, and
+Elizabeth, sitting on the high-backed form, with all the other empty
+forms in front of her, nibbled her pencil in melancholy loneliness.</p>
+
+<p>She wondered if Nellie Underwood and Cyril would wait for her. Only
+yesterday she had waited a dreary hour for them and had carried Cyril's
+bag home for him to ease his wounded spirit.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>Then she began her task. She seized a slate, arranged two slate-pencils
+to work together and expedite her task and wrote: "Elizabeth Bruce
+detained for inattention."</p>
+
+<p>When she had written the statement ten times the silence in the
+cloak-room struck chill upon her. All the rest had found their hats and
+bonnets then and gone outside.</p>
+
+<p>She sat on the floor under her desk and tried to see the playground
+through the open door. Two small pinkly-clad figures dashed past the
+door, chased by a maiden in blue&mdash;all screaming and laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"Nell Underwood!" ejaculated Betty gladly, and went back to her slate
+warmed and cheered.</p>
+
+<p>She made her pencils work harder than before, kneeling upon the form in
+an excess of industry.</p>
+
+<p>Even as she wrote the statement for the fortieth time, voices and
+laughter came from the playground&mdash;but a cold silence had come by the
+fiftieth.</p>
+
+<p>At the sixtieth her little moist hand was cramped, and she had to stay
+to work her <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>fingers rapidly. At the seventieth the tears were trickling
+down her cheeks, for she was only Elizabeth Bruce "detained for
+inattention," the schoolroom was only a schoolroom, and the forms were
+only forms&mdash;and empty. And that was the master down at the desk there,
+exercise books and slates around him and a pen behind his ear. For a
+space the tears splashed down hard and fast upon her slate and the sight
+of the big drops aroused her self-pity. The larger the splashes the
+larger her self-sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>A sharp "Go on with your work, Elizabeth Bruce" waked her to the
+necessity of drying her eyes and slate and adjusting her pencils for
+again writing, "Elizabeth Bruce detained for inattention."</p>
+
+<p>But at the eightieth time of writing it, she was no longer Elizabeth
+Bruce, the daughter of a moneyless author. Her name was now Geraldine
+Montgomery, and she was the adopted daughter of a millionaire. Her
+mother, she had decided, was a gipsy, and was even now hovering near at
+hand to steal back her beautifully dressed child.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>By the time she had written the melancholy statement of Elizabeth
+Bruce's detention, her face had all its old smiling serenity again.</p>
+
+<p>She rose, sighing thankfully, and collecting her slates, walked down
+soberly to the busy master at his desk.</p>
+
+<p>"Let this be a lesson to you, Elizabeth," he said, running his eye down
+slate after slate. "Ten times each side, twenty times each slate, five
+slates&mdash;one hundred. More punishments are meted out to you than to any
+other child in the school. I shall find it necessary, if this state of
+things continues, to write to your father. Clean the slates and return
+them to their places&mdash;then go."</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth found the cloak-room empty. She assured herself that every one
+had gone home&mdash;of course; but her eyes flashed round the press room, and
+to that corner between the press and the door, for a blue-frocked little
+girl with red hair. And, of course, as she was now Geraldine Montgomery,
+the disappointment of finding the corner empty was not so keen as it
+would have been merely to Elizabeth Bruce.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>"I think," said this foolish little girl aloud, "I'll wear my leghorn
+hat with the ostrich feathers in it to-day. Papa always likes that." And
+she took her old pink bonnet down from her peg and slipped it upon her
+head. Then she stuffed her books into her black school-bag and turned to
+the door.</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth Bruce fancied Cyril would be away there under the saplings
+playing knucklebones impatiently, and her eyes eagerly scanned the
+deserted playground. No kneeling figures, no Nellie Underwood, no Cyril,
+no knucklebones. For a second the tears trembled in her eyes at the
+thought that no one had waited for her, but in a minute Elizabeth Bruce
+slipped away, and Geraldine Montgomery in her leghorn hat was treading
+the homeward way.</p>
+
+<p>Behind her, she told herself, an old gipsy woman was skulking&mdash;she had
+seen the ostrich feathers, the "rare lace upon the simple rich dress."</p>
+
+<p>It was just behind the store that the gipsy and Geraldine both
+disappeared.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>The store turned one blank wall upon Carlyle Road&mdash;which was the home
+road&mdash;and Elizabeth came round the corner sharply and then stood still.
+There, kneeling upon the red clayey earth, his face to the wall, was big
+John Brown.</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth made out that he was writing or figuring with blue chalk upon
+the wall's blankness, and although her heart feared the big rough boy
+she had "fought," she drew nearer.</p>
+
+<p>"Hulloa!" said John Brown, flushing when he saw the small pinafored
+maiden he had an unpleasant recollection of beating so short a time ago,
+and whom he had carefully avoided ever since.</p>
+
+<p>"Hulloa!" said Betty, surprised into speaking to him.</p>
+
+<p>Brown made a seat of his boot-heels and surveyed her, being much too
+bashful to open up a conversation.</p>
+
+<p>But Betty was not bashful.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you doing?" she asked, and a very inquisitive face stared at
+him from the depths of the pink sun-bonnet.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 399px;">
+<img src="images/illus-128.jpg" width="399" height="600" alt="&quot;&#39;Is it a horse?&#39; queried Betty.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;&#39;Is it a horse?&#39; queried Betty.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>"H'm!" said John, and made a few more strokes with his pencil.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it a horse?" queried Betty. "Yes it is&mdash;there are no horns, and it's
+too big for a dog or cat. Yes, it's a horse."</p>
+
+<p>"H'm!" said John again. Then he looked at his handiwork, drawing further
+off to see it from Betty's point of view.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, with badly concealed pride; "it's a horse right enough.
+It's a race-horse. I drew him from memory."</p>
+
+<p>"Why didn't you draw him on paper?" asked the small girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Won't be let. And no sooner do I see a bit of blank wall than I begin
+drawing something on it," said the reader of <i>Self-made Men</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Betty only heeded the first part of his sentence.</p>
+
+<p>"Who won't let you?" she asked, standing on one leg as she put the
+question.</p>
+
+<p>"My people," said John. "They don't want me to be an artist."</p>
+
+<p>Betty's eyes rounded themselves.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Are</i> you going to be an artist?" she asked. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>She was intensely
+interested. The boys who played in her kingdom had not arrived at the
+stage of thinking what they were going to be. What they were was
+all-sufficient unto them. Cyril had once declared his intention of
+keeping a sweets' shop, but that was quite a year ago now.</p>
+
+<p>Betty had read many stories about artists, and they were always set in
+romantic or tragic circumstances. The look she gave to the one before
+her warmed him into becoming confidential on the spot. He did not tell
+her all at once, not all even that first afternoon, although they took
+the homeward way together.</p>
+
+<p>But he gave her a rough outline of the lives of several artists who had
+sprung from the ranks, and of one in particular who lived in a cellar,
+and tasted of starvation as a boy; one who, denied paper, could not yet
+deny the genius within him, but drew in coloured chalks upon any vacant
+wall that came in his way. And he always drew animals&mdash;and usually
+horses and dogs.</p>
+
+<p>The little brown face under the sun-bonnet <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>glowed with delight. Never
+in all her life had the imaginative small maiden come across a boy like
+this. Big John Brown, indeed! Bully, indeed! Gardener's boy, indeed! How
+could she and Cyril ever have said, ever have thought, such things?</p>
+
+<p>Presently, for the boy had never had such a listener in his life before,
+he told her of other men&mdash;Stephenson, Newton, Shakespeare&mdash;and Betty
+took off her bonnet as her earnestness increased, and tucked it under
+her arm after a way she had when agitated.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I wish I was a boy," she said. "What's the good of a girl? What can
+a girl do? Don't you know anything about self-made women?"</p>
+
+<p>John knew very little. In fact he too very much doubted the "good of a
+girl." He told her so quite bluntly, but added that she'd better make
+the best of it.</p>
+
+<p>"There <i>must</i> be some self-made women," insisted Betty. "I'll ask father
+to-night."</p>
+
+<p>John thought deeply for a few minutes, seeing her distress. He really
+ransacked his mind, for besides sorrow for her sorrowing he <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>could
+plainly see the admiration with which she regarded him, and he wanted to
+show her that he knew something about women too.</p>
+
+<p>"There's Joan of Arc," he said, "and&mdash;there's Grace Darling!"</p>
+
+<p>But Betty was indignant. "They're in the history book!" she said.</p>
+
+<p>John thought again, but could only shake his head.</p>
+
+<p>"All women can do," he said, "is wash up, and cook dinners, and mend
+clothes!"</p>
+
+<p>Betty's lips quivered.</p>
+
+<p>"I won't be a woman," she said, "I <i>won't</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>John owned to sharing her craving to be rich, but he wanted to <i>make</i>
+his wealth himself&mdash;which set Betty's imagination galloping down a new
+road. <i>She</i> had only thought hitherto of her grandfather's riches, which
+had seemed to her and Cyril to be all the money there was in the world.</p>
+
+<p>But now John had slid back a door and let her peep into all the glories
+of a new world, and she had seen there wealth and fame to be had for the
+earning&mdash;by men and boys!</p>
+
+<p>"Try and find out about self-made women," <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>she said, when he left her at
+the turn through the bush. "See if there were any women artists, or
+women inventors, or women pirates, or <i>anything</i>. Good-bye."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>
+<a name="XII" id="XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+
+<h3>BETTY IN THE LION'S DEN</h3>
+
+
+<p class="first"><span class="smcap">So</span> that it was John who showed Betty the thing in all its beauty. It was
+he, who, so to speak, called her to the mountain top, and pointed out to
+her the cities of the world to be climbed above. And it seemed to little
+independent-hearted Betty to be the most glorious thing in the world to
+climb upon one's own feet, pulling oneself upwards with one's own hands.</p>
+
+<p>She wondered how she could have ever wanted such a very ordinary
+happening as for her grandfather to <i>adopt</i> them and give them <i>his</i>
+money. Here was this wonderful John Brown actually longing to give up
+her grandfather&mdash;his grandfather. For he had soon convinced her that
+Captain Carew was his grandfather too, and while allowing that he might
+be hers, he showed her how very <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>little in the eyes of the world <i>her</i>
+relationship counted for. He, he said, was the son of his grandfather's
+eldest son&mdash;that their names were different was solely owing to the fact
+that his father had changed his name for private reasons. She and Cyril
+and all the rest of them were merely the children of his grandfather's
+<i>daughter</i>. And, as he impressed upon Betty, women didn't count for much
+in the world's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Yet Betty was very earnest in her intention to be something
+great&mdash;something self-made, and John was willing enough not to stand in
+her way. He himself was going to start at once; <i>he</i> was not going to
+waste any more time over going to school and doing lessons. He pointed
+to his grandfather as a fine example of a man who had risen <i>because</i> he
+had not wasted time in learning. He told Betty they could not begin
+their "career" too early.</p>
+
+<p>It was Betty who suggested waiting till the Christmas holidays, and it
+was John who said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you'd better wait till the next <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>Christmas. I will have got a
+bit of a start by then and will be able to help you."</p>
+
+<p>But Betty was indignant at that.</p>
+
+<p>"I won't be helped!" she said. "I won't be helped by you, John Brown.
+Stay at home till Christmas yourself&mdash;I'm going <i>now</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>Her career had to be decided upon, and very little time remained in
+which to decide. John intended beginning life as an errand boy. In his
+spare time, he said, he would go on with his drawing, and if an
+opportunity occurred, he would work his passage out somewhere in some
+ship. He was rather vague about all but the errand running; that he saw
+to be the first step towards greatness.</p>
+
+<p>Betty was not long before she decided he was keeping some part of his
+design from her. And every afternoon when they had left school and each
+other, she was nervous lest he should have gone by morning&mdash;gone and
+left her to find her way into the world alone!</p>
+
+<p>And here was she unable to decide upon her career! She even asked
+questions about Joan of Arc and Grace Darling, and set herself to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>find
+out if there were any other women in the history book.</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't fair!" she said at last to the thoughtful John Brown. "You'd
+never have known about being an errand boy and an artist only for your
+books. You've got a lot of books to help you."</p>
+
+<p>But John told her how he had been decided upon his "career" all his
+life, ever since his father had left him alone on the station in the
+country which time was, as the reader will be aware, situated somewhere
+about his first birthday. But he magnanimously proposed to place his
+grandfather's library at her feet, or rather to place her feet within
+his grandfather's library.</p>
+
+<p>"You can come and take your pick," he said.</p>
+
+<p>At this period of her life Betty was not troubled with pride&mdash;the pride
+of the slighted and poor relation.</p>
+
+<p>She accepted his offer rapturously, only adding, "You'd better keep my
+grandfather out of the way when I come."</p>
+
+<p>"Come when he's having his afternoon sleep," said John.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>So Betty was smuggled into her grandfather's library.</p>
+
+<p>It was Saturday afternoon when she went to the great house. She had to
+slip away from Dot, who was making elaborate alterations to a pretty
+blue muslin frock (she was invited to spend the next Saturday and Sunday
+with Alma Montague, the doctor's daughter); her mother was calling
+"Betty, come here," in the front garden as she reached the track through
+the bush, and Cyril and Nancy had implored her to "come and play
+something."</p>
+
+<p>But Betty had a "career" to think of. She ran through the bush and
+arrived breathless at that part of her grandfather's fence which ran
+past their coral islands. At a certain hour every afternoon, John said,
+his grandfather went to sleep. It was during this sleep time that Betty
+was to search the shelves of his library for a book that should
+enlighten her as to the best way to become a "self-made woman."</p>
+
+<p>She slipped under the fence, and into the little belt of bush that
+bounded the emu run, and where she, as a ghost, had waited.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>John's signal came very soon, and Betty immediately took off her bonnet
+and rolled it up under her arm&mdash;the better to hear&mdash;and marched boldly
+across the gravel paths to the library window where John stood.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is he?" asked Betty.</p>
+
+<p>"Asleep on the little verandah," said John; "he always sleeps a long
+time after dinner."</p>
+
+<p>Betty stepped into the room and looked around her curiously.</p>
+
+<p>It was such a room as she had never seen yet, and it pleased her
+greatly. Two enormous bookcases full of books stood side by side against
+one wall. Another wall was book-lined for about eight feet of its height
+and ten of its length. The centre-table had a dark blue cloth upon it
+and bore magazines, books and newspapers and writing materials.</p>
+
+<p>Betty's feet rested pleasurably on the thick rich carpet and her eyes
+went from easy chair to easy chair.</p>
+
+<p>"My father ought to have this room," she said, "he writes the most
+beautiful books, and I know he'd write ever so many more if he lived
+here."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>"Here's the book I got myself from," said John, advancing to a
+bookcase.</p>
+
+<p>But Betty was oblivious of her errand. She lingered by the table,
+turning over the covers of the magazines, and picture after picture
+caught her eye.</p>
+
+<p>One in particular she lingered over. It represented a bric-a-brac strewn
+room.</p>
+
+<p>"The boudoir of Madam S&mdash;&mdash;," it said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" exclaimed Betty, and dropped her sun-bonnet into her grandfather's
+chair. "Oh, John, when I've made myself, I'll have a room like <i>this</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>She began to read and her eyes smiled. Then she sank down on the floor,
+carrying the book with her, and leaning her back against a table-leg she
+lost herself in an interview with Madam S&mdash;&mdash;.</p>
+
+<p>Madam replied to several searching questions blithely. She told a little
+story about her large family of brothers and sisters, their extreme
+poverty and her own inordinate love of music. Then there was a pathetic
+touch when sickness, poverty and hunger darkened the poor little home,
+and she, a mite of eight, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>had stood at a street corner in a foreign
+city and sung a simple song. A crowd had soon collected, and a
+keen-eyed, bent-shouldered man had been passing by hurriedly, and had
+stopped, caught by a "something" in the little singer's voice, and face,
+and attitude. He had finally pushed his way through the crowd and stood
+beside the little girl in the tattered frock.</p>
+
+<p><i>That</i> song and <i>that</i> interview had been the beginning of a great
+career. Hard work and small pay had intervened, but success had followed
+success, and now not one of her concerts to-day meant less to her than
+hundreds of pounds. Dukes threw flowers at her feet, Princes loaded her
+with diamond brooches, tiaras, necklaces, bangles; kings and queens and
+emperors "commanded her to sing before them," and gave her beautiful
+mementos.</p>
+
+<p>Betty was breathing quickly as she came to this stage of Madam S&mdash;&mdash;'s
+career. She turned a leaf, and a face smiling under a coronet looked at
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"Madame S&mdash;&mdash;, present day," the words below said.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>A neighbouring photograph showed a mite with a pinched face and a
+tattered frock.</p>
+
+<p>"Madame S&mdash;&mdash;, at eight years old!" was the inscription.</p>
+
+<p>"And I'm twelve," said Betty. "Twelve and a bit."</p>
+
+<p>She turned her head, then raised it sharply. There standing beside her
+was her grandfather.</p>
+
+<p>The two looked at each other.</p>
+
+<p>What Betty saw at first&mdash;it must be confessed&mdash;was the keen-eyed,
+bent-shouldered individual who had appeared to the little street singer,
+and the silly little imaginative maiden waited for him to speak.</p>
+
+<p>What the grandfather saw was a small girl of "twelve and a bit," in a
+pink print frock; a small girl with a brown shining face, golden-brown
+hair and brown eyes, and parted red lips, a little person in every way
+different from the pale-faced ghost who had visited him awhile back&mdash;so
+different that he did not know her.</p>
+
+<p>He simply took her for a little school-girl and no more.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>Then Betty remembered who he was&mdash;who she was&mdash;where she was&mdash;and a few
+other matters of similar importance, and a red, red flush spread over
+her face and to the tips of her small pink ears.</p>
+
+<p>The sea-captain opened his mouth in a jocular roar.</p>
+
+<p>"Who's been sitting in my room?" he demanded. "Why, here she is!"</p>
+
+<p>Betty's lip quivered. She <i>was</i> beginning to be afraid&mdash;or rather she
+was afraid.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I just wanted to see a book," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"And what book did you <i>just</i> want to see?"</p>
+
+<p>He took the magazine from her and noticed two things&mdash;how her hand shook
+and how bravely her eyes met his.</p>
+
+<p>His glance wandered over the open page, and a wonderment came to him
+what there was here to interest such a child.</p>
+
+<p>The next second the fatal question was on his lips.</p>
+
+<p>"And what is your name?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Betty's lips moved, but no sound left them. She just sat dumbly there
+gazing into her grandsire's face.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>The old man sat down on the pink bonnet. He was not in the least
+anxious over her name. She was a schoolmate of John's, of course; he had
+often stumbled over these active eager little creatures in the back
+yard, in the near paddock, by the emus' run, near the pigeon-boxes, on
+the staircase. <i>Only</i> hitherto they had been of John's own sex. This
+pretty little nervous girl interested him.</p>
+
+<p>He drew her magazine towards him.</p>
+
+<p>"We're waiting for the name&mdash;aren't we, Jack?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>Then Betty realized that her hour was indeed come. She rose to her feet
+and stood in front of him gulping down a few hard breaths.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I didn't come to get us adopted this time," she quavered.</p>
+
+<p>"Eh?" said Captain Carew. He spoke dully, yet the faintest glimmerings
+of light were beginning to break on him. Her attitude, something
+familiar in her voice, her height and shining curly head brought that
+evening to his mind, when she had owned to an intention of wishing to
+frighten him. A <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>slow anger stirred him, anger against this child, her
+parents, and himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Your name!" he said harshly.</p>
+
+<p>And at the sound of his own voice his anger grew. His lip thrust itself
+out when he had spoken, and his whole face wore its hardest, most
+unlovely look.</p>
+
+<p>"Your name, girl?"</p>
+
+<p>And Betty hesitated no longer. Her only point of pride at this age lay
+in assuming bravery whether she had it or not. "We Bruces are afraid of
+no one," being her favourite speech, and as inspiriting to her as the
+sound of the war-drum to a warrior bold.</p>
+
+<p>She stood straight and her brown eyes looked straight into his brown
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Elizabeth Bruce," she said.</p>
+
+<p>The old man's anger blazed fiercely.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here my girl," he said, "you can tell your father it's a bit late
+in the day for these games. Tell him I've got the only grandchild here
+that ever I want. Now&mdash;go."</p>
+
+<p>But Betty stood her ground.</p>
+
+<p>"My father didn't send me," she said, and her face went from red to
+white. "He didn't <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>know I was coming at all&mdash;and&mdash;sure's death! he never
+knew anything about the ghosts. I came to get Cyril adopted because he's
+getting tired of cutting wood an' only getting a penny a week."</p>
+
+<p>The old man broke into a hoarse laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"And this time to get yourself adopted," he said.</p>
+
+<p>But Betty shook her head vigorously.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I only wanted to see what sort of woman to be," she said. She
+walked to the open window.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not going to adopt you," said the old man, "so go&mdash;GO! Never let me
+see you inside my gates again&mdash;by day or by night. Go!"</p>
+
+<p>And once more Betty took a swift departure by way of the balcony door.
+And again she left a bonnet behind her.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>
+<a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+
+<h3>"IF I WERE ONLY YOU!"</h3>
+
+
+<p class="first"><span class="smcap">The</span> third Saturday and Sunday before the ending of term, Dorothea spent
+with her "intimate" friend, Alma Montague.</p>
+
+<p>Alma's home was a very beautiful one at Elizabeth Bay, and, as Dot told
+her mother, there were parlour-maid, housemaid, kitchen-maid and every
+other sort of maid there.</p>
+
+<p>Dot slept in one of the visitor's rooms, and had a bathroom and a
+sitting-room opening off her bedroom for her exclusive use. The
+sitting-room and bedroom were "treated" with the same colouring&mdash;a
+tender wonderful shade of blue. The wall paper was just suggestive of
+blue; the ceiling was delicately veined with blue; the curtains <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>were,
+Dot felt certain, blue. The easy chairs and the lounge, the footstools
+and the cushions were dull blue.</p>
+
+<p>Such a beautiful room.</p>
+
+<p>Again, in the bedroom, there were delicate suggestions of blue among the
+whiteness.</p>
+
+<p>And the bathroom! How different in every way from the little wooden
+unlined room at home. There the ceiling-joists were gracefully festooned
+with cobwebs, the floor had many a great hole in it, caused by white ant
+and damp. No water was laid on&mdash;only a tap came from a tank outside,
+which in its turn was fed from an underground well. And whenever Dot
+wanted a bath she had to coax or bribe Cyril or Betty to work the pump.
+Dot herself hated working the pump&mdash;it blistered her little hands.</p>
+
+<p>Here the floor was leaded the walls tiled, the bath itself painted a
+delicate sea blue. There was a square of carpet just beyond the edge of
+the lead; a cushioned chair, two hospitable taps, one offering cold, one
+hot water. All sorts of toilet luxuries were at hand, pretty coloured
+soaps, loofahs, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>lavender-water, ammonia, violet powder, violet scent.</p>
+
+<p>No wonder poor Dot was in an ecstasy with her surroundings, and that she
+roamed round her rooms and sighed with happiness because she was here,
+and with sorrow because she was going away in two days.</p>
+
+<p>On Saturday morning she and Alma went shopping. They breakfasted alone
+at nine o'clock, Alma's father being in his consulting-room and her
+mother in bed (she had been at the theatre on Friday evening and Dot had
+not even seen her).</p>
+
+<p>So the two girls lingered over a very dainty breakfast table till nearly
+ten o'clock, when Alma suggested "shopping."</p>
+
+<p>Dot had only two frocks, besides her morning pink print with her. One
+was a blue muslin that had to last her for next week at school; the
+other was a white muslin and her best. She had taken them out of her
+dress-basket and hung them carefully in her pretty wardrobe, and now
+that Alma spoke of shopping she was in miserable doubt which to wear.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>"I'm going to wear a blue," said Alma, "you wear yours, too, Thea dear,
+and then people will think we are sisters. Sisters! Oh, don't I wish I
+had a sister!"</p>
+
+<p>Dot, who possessed three, shook her head as she handled her muslin
+dress.</p>
+
+<p>"I think it's very nice to be the only one," she said. "The only child!
+It's lovely!"</p>
+
+<p>"But I'm so lonely except when I'm at school," said Alma sadly.</p>
+
+<p>Dot opened her eyes. She was just slipping her blue frock carefully over
+her shining curly head, but she stopped with her head half through to
+wonder at Alma.</p>
+
+<p>"Lonely!" she said. "Here! In this house! And you've got your father and
+mother!"</p>
+
+<p>Alma shook her head dolefully.</p>
+
+<p>"Father is always busy," she said, "and mother is always out&mdash;or
+entertaining. Oh, Thea, I would love to have you for my very own sister.
+I would give everything I have if I could have you."</p>
+
+<p>Dorothea smiled kindly. Mona Parbury had told her the same&mdash;and Minnie
+Stevenson, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>and Nellie Harden. They all wanted her for their <i>very</i> own
+sister. It was only such little madcaps as her own sisters, Betty and
+Nancy, who were indifferent.</p>
+
+<p>Alma was small and undeveloped. She was seventeen and looked hardly
+fifteen. Her large dark eyes looked pathetic in her thin sallow face.
+Her lips were thin and colourless, her hair straight and dull brown. No
+prettiness at all belonged to her. Only wistfulness and gentleness.</p>
+
+<p>So they went shopping together, the two little girls in blue. And they
+had no chaperon at all with them, no schoolmistress, or governess, or
+mother, or aunt&mdash;no one to direct their eyes where they should look, and
+their smiles when they should be given out and when withheld. No one to
+carry the purse.</p>
+
+<p>Dot had two shillings and sixpence halfpenny in her small worn purse.
+Her mother had slipped the money in. "I can't bear for you to be without
+money, Dot dear," she had said, "but try your best not to spend it."</p>
+
+<p>Alma's purse seemed full of half-crowns and shillings and sixpences!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>Dot bought herself a new hat-band and a pretty lace-trimmed
+handkerchief; and she tried to hide from Alma how very little both had
+cost.</p>
+
+<p>Alma made several peculiar mistakes in her purchases. For instance, she
+bought just twice as much gold liberty silk as she would need for a
+sash, and she had to beg Dot to accept the part that was too much, as
+she would be so tired of the thing if she had two <i>just</i> alike. And she
+bought a pair of size two evening shoes, and remembered when they were
+going home that size two was a size too big for her. She wished she knew
+of any one who wore two's. Dot wore three's, didn't she? No?&mdash;two's! How
+lovely! Then Dot would take the shoes, wouldn't she, and save them from
+becoming mouldy! And she bought two pretty lace-trimmed collars, just
+alike&mdash;and she hated two of her things to be alike. So Dot would take
+one off her hands, wouldn't she?</p>
+
+<p>Only each time she said "Thea," or "Thea darling!" And she bought her a
+silver <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span>"wish" bangle as a keepsake, and a little scent bottle and fan
+for "remembrance."</p>
+
+<p>Before they went home they went into an arcade shop and had strawberries
+and cream, and a big ice cream and sponge cake each. And they met
+several straw-hatted youths to whom Alma bowed.</p>
+
+<p>She told Dot to count how many hats were taken off to her, and Dot
+counted, and behold, the number was ten.</p>
+
+<p>Dot herself felt rather envious. She only knew one grammar-school boy,
+who smiled from ear to ear and blushed with delight on seeing her.</p>
+
+<p>Then they went home.</p>
+
+<p>When they opened the dining-room door the table was set for luncheon,
+and a bald-headed gentleman was waiting at the head of it, a book
+propped up before him.</p>
+
+<p>When the girls came in he went on reading just as before, deaf to their
+chatter, blind to the pretty blue of their dresses.</p>
+
+<p>Alma ran down the room to him, and kissed the top of his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Home again, father!" she said.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>And then he looked up smiling, and stroked her little sallow face with
+one finger.</p>
+
+<p>"This is my <i>very</i> dearest friend&mdash;Dorothea Bruce!" said Alma
+delightedly, and drawing Dot forward.</p>
+
+<p>The great doctor, who was small in stature, stood up then and took
+little Dot's hand in his, and a very kindly smile came to his eyes as he
+looked into her lovely childish face.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm very glad to see my daughter's dearest friend," he said, and he
+patted her soft pink cheeks also.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened again just as this introduction was over, and a new
+nervousness attacked Alma. Another tinge of yellowness crept into her
+skin, her eyes grew wistful, and she began to stammer.</p>
+
+<p>"My f-friend, mother&mdash;Thea&mdash;Dorothea Bruce," and Dot turned curiously
+and shyly round to the door. Entering there was a very beautiful woman
+in a tea gown. Her eyes were like Alma's, only far lovelier, her
+complexion was only a few years less fresh and perfect than Dorothea's
+own&mdash;and her hair was red-gold and beautiful.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>When her glance rested on Dorothea's face, a look of pleasure crept
+into them&mdash;just pleasure at seeing any one so flower-like and sweet as
+this little maid from school.</p>
+
+<p>"I am very pleased to see you, dear," she said graciously, and she
+stooped forward and kissed the girl's cheek.</p>
+
+<p>Then she looked at Alma&mdash;poor undersized Alma, with her yellow skin and
+bloodless lips&mdash;and she sighed. But she kissed her also, and asked how
+she had spent her morning and whether she had come from school this
+morning or yesterday afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>When luncheon became the order of the day conversation died out. Dr.
+Montague, indeed made two or three attempts at light talk&mdash;but Dot was
+shy and Alma was nervous and Mrs. Montague was apparently elsewhere in
+thought, so that presently silence fell.</p>
+
+<p>Dinner was at seven that night. It was a meal of many courses, several
+wines two servants, and finger glasses. And again Dot was perfectly if
+silently happy&mdash;although the finger glasses (of which she had seen none
+before) threw, her off her balance until she had stolen a glance <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>at
+Alma to "see how she did," whereupon Dot performed the operation with
+infinitely more grace than Alma.</p>
+
+<p>Alma wore a white silk dress and gold sash, and Dorothea white muslin
+and gold sash, and the doctor's eyes went from one little whitely clad
+maid to the other, smilingly.</p>
+
+<p>The happy look on his small daughter's face pleased him greatly.</p>
+
+<p>His wife often said he neither saw nor heard what was going on around
+him, but he had very soon discovered his little girl's supreme
+contentment.</p>
+
+<p>He asked Dorothea if she were going away for Christmas and the holidays,
+and Dorothea shook her golden head and said, "No; she was going to stay
+at home."</p>
+
+<p>Whereupon he asked Alma if she wouldn't like to carry her "dearest
+friend" up the mountains with her, and Alma went quite pink with delight
+and said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Father! Oh, Thea <i>dear</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>And Dot raised her pretty shy eyes and said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>"Oh, Alma!" and then looked at Mrs. Montague as if to ask if such
+happiness was possible.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Montague laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"I will write and ask your mother," she said, "but we really can't take
+'no.'" And she said it so graciously that the tears came into Alma's
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"It would be <i>too</i> lovely!" said Dot breathlessly.</p>
+
+<p>On Sunday afternoon, just as the evening shadows were stealing out and
+the daylight was growing grey, Alma ran into the little blue
+sitting-room, her great eyes luminous.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Thea <i>darling!</i>" she said, and then she stopped in surprise. Only a
+little while ago Dot had tripped upstairs, her hair in a golden plait
+down her back, her dress not so low as her boot-tops by quite three
+inches.</p>
+
+<p>And now! She was sitting in an easy chair, her dress skirt lowered till
+it reached the floor, her hair loosely done up on the top of her head,
+her blue, blue eyes staring <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>through the windows to the darkening
+harbour waters, afar off.</p>
+
+<p>She blushed rosily red when Alma ran in.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I was just thinking," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"What were you thinking of, Thea?" asked Alma, "and what have you done
+your hair like this for? You <i>do</i> look so pretty&mdash;I wish the girls could
+see you."</p>
+
+<p>Dot pulled her friend towards her and patted the arm of her chair for
+her to sit there. Then she leaned her head upon Alma's shoulder and held
+one of her hands between her own two.</p>
+
+<p>"I was <i>wishing</i> I were grown-up, really grown-up," she said; "I did my
+hair up to see how I looked. I tried to do it like your mother does
+hers."</p>
+
+<p>Alma stroked her head gently.</p>
+
+<p>"My mother is in love with you," she said. "She has just been saying all
+sorts of <i>beautiful</i> things about you. She says she wishes you were her
+daughter."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Dot. "Her daughter! How I <i>wish</i> I were!"&mdash;and no disloyalty
+to her own mother was meant. "To live here always! To be rich! To&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>She paused. "Oh, Alma," she added, "you <i>are</i> a lucky girl."</p>
+
+<p>But Alma only sighed.</p>
+
+<p>Dot began to think again, comparing in her own mind this home of Alma's
+with her own little bush home.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" she said at last; "How happy you ought to be. How would you like
+to change places with me!"</p>
+
+<p>And to her surprise Alma burst into tears, covering her face with her
+little trembling hands.</p>
+
+<p>Gentle ways belonged to Dorothea.</p>
+
+<p>She stood up and put her friend into her chair and then she knelt beside
+her, and slipped her arm round her waist.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Dearest</i> Alma!" she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," sobbed Alma, "if only you were my <i>very</i> own sister Thea&mdash;I
+<i>couldn't</i> love you more. I'm <i>so</i> lonely. Father is always busy, and
+mother&mdash;mother is disappointed in me."</p>
+
+<p>Dot opened her eyes in surprise. She had never dreamed of a mother being
+<i>disappointed</i> in her child.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>"I'm not pretty&mdash;or clever&mdash;or <i>any</i>thing," sobbed Alma. "She's always
+been disappointed in me&mdash;ever since I was a tiny baby&mdash;and I've always
+known it&mdash;and&mdash;and&mdash;she doesn't know I know. Oh dear!"</p>
+
+<p>Dot was shocked. "Darling Alma!" she said again.</p>
+
+<p>"It's dreadful to be the only child&mdash;and to be a disappointment," said
+Alma. "I think father is sorry for us both."</p>
+
+<p>Dot stroked the girl's straight hair.</p>
+
+<p>"You've got lovely eyes," she said, "and you're very clever at crotchet
+work."</p>
+
+<p>"What's that!" said Alma drearily. "Mother wouldn't mind if I never
+touched a needle. She says if a girl hasn't beauty she has only one
+other chance in the world&mdash;and that is to be brilliant. I <i>do</i> try to be
+clever&mdash;but it's no good."</p>
+
+<p>Dot kissed her.</p>
+
+<p>"When you are grown up you'll look different," she said. "You'll wear
+long trailing dresses&mdash;and&mdash;do your hair like this&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But Alma sprang to her feet.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>"What a croaker I am," she said. "I <i>never</i> told this to any one
+before. Thea&mdash;it is my very <i>biggest</i> secret. You'll never tell any one,
+will you? Never! never! Father says if I'm good I'll be beautiful enough
+for <i>him</i>. But oh, I wish I were you!"</p>
+
+<p>"And <i>I've</i> been wishing I were you," said Dot.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose," said Alma, with one of her most wistful looks, "I suppose
+we're <i>meant</i> to be ourselves for some reason. And we must make the best
+of ourselves just as we are!"</p>
+
+<p>And the two girls kissed each other tenderly.</p>
+
+<p>"I've to be an elder sister," said Dot, with a sudden thought towards
+Mona Parbury.</p>
+
+<p>"And I've to be an only child," said Alma, "and we've both to make the
+best of our state of life&mdash;eh?"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>
+<a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+
+<h3>JOHN'S PLANS</h3>
+
+
+<p class="first"><span class="smcap">On</span> Monday morning Betty took the road to school with running feet. A
+fear was at her heart that John Brown had set out upon his expedition
+into the world this day. Had gone&mdash;and left her behind! Had begun "life"
+and left her at school!</p>
+
+<p>And it must be confessed that she liked the thought of two waifs facing
+the world together, very much better than one.</p>
+
+<p>She was not at all disturbed (when it was over) about the interview with
+her grandfather. It had not, like its predecessor, sent her to bed
+weeping and ashamed and resolved upon the expediency of "turning over a
+new leaf."</p>
+
+<p>She had been vexed that her grandfather had had so short a sleep&mdash;and
+that John had not given her warning of his approach&mdash;as he had promised
+to do.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>And she was very much distressed to find she had left her pink bonnet
+behind her. Her mother had discovered its loss when giving out the
+week's clean one, and had insisted upon her searching every corner in
+the house for it.</p>
+
+<p>"It's was Dot's," said Mrs. Bruce. "Dot never lost a bonnet in her life.
+You will have done with bonnets soon, but yours will do for Nancy. I
+expect you left it at school, you tiresome child."</p>
+
+<p>It certainly would have electrified Mrs. Bruce if her small daughter had
+confessed to her bonnet's whereabouts. But Betty's scrapes were many and
+various at this period of her life, and it never entered into her head
+to tell them to her mother, who was absorbed in her garden and her
+books, nor to her father, who was supposed to be always "thinking
+stories."</p>
+
+<p>So Betty ran to school with her clean bonnet tucked under her arm, after
+promising that she would "try to bring the other one home with her."</p>
+
+<p>Her mind was now at rest upon her future <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>"career." She had quite
+determined to be a second Madam S&mdash;&mdash; with this sole difference in their
+lives&mdash;Madam S&mdash;&mdash; faced the world at <i>her</i> street corner at the age of
+eight, and Betty was not beginning till she was "twelve and a bit."</p>
+
+<p>Still, she had a few worries.</p>
+
+<p>She was worried over John&mdash;lest he should have gone and left her; and
+she was worried over the great question, "What song to sing?" as many
+singers have been before.</p>
+
+<p>She had thought of "God save the Queen," but the words did not fulfil
+all requirements, while "Please give me a penny, sir"&mdash;that song she had
+found among a heap of yellow old ones with her mother's name&mdash;maiden
+name, Dorothea Carew&mdash;upon them, seemed to have been written just for
+the occasion. The only pity was, that whereas Betty knew "God Save the
+Queen" perfectly, "Please give me a penny, sir" was almost a stranger to
+her.</p>
+
+<p>She had learnt a verse of it on Saturday night when she ought to have
+been doing her arithmetic; and on Sunday evening she <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>had coaxed her
+mother to the piano, and begged her to sing "<i>just</i> this one song,
+<i>please</i>." Her mother sang very prettily&mdash;like Dot&mdash;and she had thrown a
+good deal of pathos into the old song, so that Betty's ambition was
+fired, and she had <i>almost</i> decided upon the song straightaway.</p>
+
+<p>This morning she arrived at school flushed and hot, before either Cyril
+or Nancy, and she began at once to explore the playground for John Brown
+the artist. Two little lines of boys and girls were playing a sober game
+of French and English away under the gum trees, and Betty ran her eyes
+along the lines&mdash;but no John Brown was there.</p>
+
+<p>Two boys were skirmishing just behind the cloak-room, but neither of
+them was John Brown. Five were playing "leap frog," but John Brown was
+not there. One sat on the doorstep learning a lesson, but that was only
+Artie Jones.</p>
+
+<p>Then a motley crowd of boys and girls came trailing in at the gate, and
+the bell began to ring.</p>
+
+<p>Betty drew into the shadow of the new <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>wing, the "Babies' Wing," and
+scanned the new arrivals eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>Fat Nellie Underwood gave her a bunch of jonquils and fell into line to
+march into the schoolroom. Minute Hetty Ferguson begged to be allowed to
+do her hair in the dinner-hour. "<i>Please</i>, Betty dear," she urged. But
+Betty was looking for John and did not heed.</p>
+
+<p>Cyril was there and grumbling. He was pushing a boy who had pushed him,
+and pressing his lips together as he pushed, when, all at once, he saw
+Betty, and left the field to the other boy.</p>
+
+<p>"You're going to catch it, Betty Bruce!" he whispered. "You'll just see!
+I'm going to tell of you when I go home. Teach you to sneak off to
+school by yourself."</p>
+
+<p>But Betty's eyes were looking past Cyril, looking for a squarely built
+figure in grey.</p>
+
+<p>Cyril drew nearer. "You never washed up the porridge plates," he said.
+"I found them in the dresser cupboard. An' the knives an' forks. An'
+baby's basin. I'll tell of you."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>Then he fell into line and carried his fair pretty face into the
+schoolroom, where Miss Sharman patted his cheeks when he went to present
+a little bunch of Czar violets to her.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Sharman presided over Class A for grammar upon Mondays and
+Thursdays, and Cyril, who was but very weak on adverbs and prepositions,
+always gave her a sweet-smelling nosegay to begin the day with.</p>
+
+<p>And Miss Sharman had a very tender spot in her heart for pretty Cyril,
+where she had none for scapegrace Betty. She had doctored Cyril for
+bruises, had washed his face in her own room and brushed his wavy hair;
+had kissed him, and given him cakes, and acid drops, and bananas. And
+although these small sweet matters were just between Miss Sharman and
+Cyril&mdash;their influence might be felt upon grammar days.</p>
+
+<p>Nancy came into school crying&mdash;crying noisily. She was rubbing her eyes
+with one hand, a moist dirty hand, and leaving her face the worse for
+the contact.</p>
+
+<p>The master inquired sternly what was the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>matter, and called her to his
+side. And Nancy told him sobbingly that she "fort she was late, an' now
+she wasn't." And he patted her head so kindly that the little maid
+lowered her sobs at once and finally let them die away in an occasional
+hiccough of sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>Betty came in at last. She had run as far as the store and back again in
+search of John Brown&mdash;and had found him not. She felt quite certain now
+that he was away practising his genius upon some wall in the great
+world.</p>
+
+<p>When she came into the schoolroom her face was red with running and
+excitement, her hair was rough, and her bonnet under her arm still, so
+oblivious was she to the things of this very every-day and commonplace
+world.</p>
+
+<p>"Elizabeth Bruce, what is that you have under your arm," Miss Sharman
+inquired, as Betty walked to her place, which was somewhere in the
+second form.</p>
+
+<p>Betty looked in surprise&mdash;and there was her bonnet. She had to walk out
+and hang it <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>up, while the class, and even the babies tittered at her
+blunder.</p>
+
+<p>But there in the cloak-room she found John Brown. He was in the act of
+hanging his hat upon his own particular peg&mdash;the highest one in the
+room.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Betty, "<i>here</i> you are!"</p>
+
+<p>"You're a nice one," said John Brown.</p>
+
+<p>"What have I done?" asked the little girl eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>But John Brown simply looked his scorn, and it made his face very ugly
+indeed.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what <i>have</i> I done?" begged Betty. "Do tell me."</p>
+
+<p>"Trust a girl to mull things up," said John.</p>
+
+<p>"Elizabeth Bruce, return to your class," said a stern voice from the
+schoolroom, and Betty shot herself back through the door in the
+twinkling of an eye.</p>
+
+<p>A lengthy space of valuable time was given over to moods and tenses,
+perfects, pluperfects, pasts, futures; and Betty, whose fortitude was
+much shaken by John Brown's remarks, sat listlessly five places above
+him, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>caring not the least about such mighty words as "cans" and
+"coulds" and "shalls" and "shoulds," although the air was full of them.</p>
+
+<p>She went down a place, through not being able to find a passive
+participle for the verb "to bid," Miss Sharman shaking an angry head at
+her eager "bidded." And she went down two for knowing nothing of the
+present tense of "slain."</p>
+
+<p>That brought her one place removed from John Brown, and all her
+eagerness now was to go one lower and learn at once wherein lay her
+offence.</p>
+
+<p>So, although she knew perfectly that the verb "to fall" had "fell" for
+its past participle, she uttered an eager "failed" and sat next to John
+Brown.</p>
+
+<p>"Disgraceful!" said Miss Sharman. "You could not have opened your book,
+Elizabeth (which was only too true). Your little sister Nancy, in the
+babies' class, could have told you that."</p>
+
+<p>But Elizabeth saved herself with the verb, "to sing," and sat uneasily
+in case John should <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>blunder over "to fight." But he was quite correct
+and did not need his small neighbour's eager whisper.</p>
+
+<p>And then Miss Sharman passed on to other verbs and other pupils, and
+John and Betty were left in peace, side by side, outwardly two
+indifferently intelligent pupils, inwardly perplexed, distressed and
+elated by their new ambition.</p>
+
+<p>"What have I done?" whispered Betty.</p>
+
+<p>"Silly!" whispered John.</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;what <i>have</i> I done?"</p>
+
+<p>"Girl!" whispered John in scorn.</p>
+
+<p>The trouble at Betty's heart stirred and hurt her. Was it not enough <i>to
+be</i> a girl, without being <i>called</i> one&mdash;and in such a whisper. She sat
+still, and, to save herself from tears, bit her lips and pressed them
+together, and pinched her left arm with her right hand, as she sat there
+with her arms folded behind her.</p>
+
+<p>And John thought she didn't care!</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her out of an eye-corner and added, "I'm done with you," as
+a final stab.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>Betty said, "Oh no, John," imploringly, and Miss Sharman caught her
+whisper and saw her lips move, and said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Elizabeth Bruce&mdash;don't let me have to look at you again this morning.
+You are very troublesome. Why can you not take a leaf out of your
+brother's book, I wonder?"</p>
+
+<p>The morning wore on, and tenses and moods gave place to drill. Then they
+all went into the playground, and armed themselves with poles, and
+formed into lines.</p>
+
+<p>John, as the tallest and straightest-backed and sturdiest-limbed pupil
+in the school, was always at the head of one line. While Nellie
+Underwood and Betty Bruce, being of a height and age, headed a line
+alternately.</p>
+
+<p>It fell to Betty's lot to be head of a line to-day, and though she had
+to "right wheel and march," with John for a partner, down the middle and
+up again, and "left wheel and march" from John to meet again, and "right
+wheel and march," and all of it over and over and over again, John's
+eyes only <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>ignored the little distressed face in the cotton bonnet, or
+told her contemptuously that she was a "girl."</p>
+
+<p>At eleven o'clock recess he was skirmishing with four smaller boys
+(using only one hand to their eight) and Betty walked up and down under
+the gum trees arm in arm with two other girls in sun-bonnets.</p>
+
+<p>At dinner-time John scampered home to roast fowl and bread sauce, and
+Betty and Cyril and Nancy carried their lunch bag to a shady corner and
+ate bread and jam sandwiches with relish, finishing up with a banana
+each.</p>
+
+<p>It was not until afternoon school was well over that Betty found John in
+any way approachable. He was skimming stones along the dusty road with
+practised skill, and Betty, alone and hurrying, caught him up.</p>
+
+<p>She artfully admired a stone that sped for a couple of hundred yards an
+inch or so above the earth, without, to all seeming, ever touching it.
+And John condescended to be pleased at her praise.</p>
+
+<p>When she had at his command tried her <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>hand at throwing and been
+condemned by him, she put her question again.</p>
+
+<p>"Why aren't you speaking to me, John? What have I done?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm speaking!" quoth John. "But I'm done with you."</p>
+
+<p>"But what have I done?"</p>
+
+<p>"Done! Only got me into a row with my grandfather. Only got me to bed at
+six o'clock without any tea for speaking to you. That's all."</p>
+
+<p>"And shan't you speak to me any more?" asked Betty.</p>
+
+<p>"Only just speak," said John.</p>
+
+<p>"And&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;" Betty's voice quavered with anxiety&mdash;"shan't you run away
+with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mightn't" said John. He sent another stone speeding down the road, and
+Betty watched it with misty eyes, as she trudged along behind him. She
+did not speak.</p>
+
+<p>"You should have cleared when I coughed," said John. "I told you I'd
+cough, but you sat there reading and wouldn't look up."</p>
+
+<p>Still Betty was silent.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>"You'd give the whole blessed show away," said John. "What's the good
+of running away and being brought back to school. That comes of being a
+girl."</p>
+
+<p>And then he looked at her and saw the tears were running down her cheeks
+and her lips quivering.</p>
+
+<p>"You're crying!" he said, turning round to her sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm not," said Betty, and dragged her bonnet further over her face.
+"That horrid stone of yours made a d-dust, and its&mdash;it's got in my
+eyes."</p>
+
+<p>John laughed. "If you do run away," he said, "what shall you do?"</p>
+
+<p>Betty's ambition leapt to life, and her tears dried themselves on her
+cheeks and in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to sing," she said. "I'm going to stand at a street corner
+and sing, and I'm going to wear a tattered old dress and no boots and
+stockings. And then an old gentleman will pass by and he'll hear me and
+stand still, and he'll take me away to make a singer of me; and even
+lords will come to hear me sing, and kings and queens."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>John was stirred.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going without boots, too," he said, "and I shall be in tattered
+things. I shall get a place as errand boy first, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"When are you going?" asked Betty artfully.</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow," said John.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, so am I," said Betty. "How funny."</p>
+
+<p>"If you like," said John, "I'll see you to some street corner. I'm going
+at five o'clock in the morning."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, so am I," said Betty. "Oh, yes; let's go together."</p>
+
+<p>"You can be down at the store by half-past five," said John. "That'll
+give us time to get a bit of breakfast. And we'll be in Sydney early,
+before they find out we've gone."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/illus-178.jpg" width="400" height="600" alt="&quot;She went back to her bedroom, to place by Nancy&#39;s side
+her only remaining doll.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;She went back to her bedroom, to place by Nancy&#39;s side
+her only remaining doll.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span>
+<a name="XV" id="XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2>
+
+<h3>ON THE ROAD</h3>
+
+
+<p class="first"><span class="smcap">Needless</span> to say Betty did not "waste" any time that night over
+home-lessons. How can the beginner of a great singer be expected to care
+whether the pronoun "that" in "I dare do all 'that' may become a man,"
+is relative or possessive? or whether Smyrna is the capital of Turkey or
+Japan? or even whether the Red Sea has to do with Africa or China.</p>
+
+<p>Betty did not even open her school satchel, or peep at the cover of her
+books. Instead, she copied out the words of her song and learnt them
+sitting there at the table with Cyril.</p>
+
+<p>Neither was Cyril doing home-lessons. He certainly had his books spread
+out before him, but the contents of his pockets were strewn upon his
+open books, and he was <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>examining them and grumbling now and again at
+the rapacity of certain school-mates who had caused him to lose certain
+treasures, or accept less valuable ones, on the school system of "I'll
+give you this for that."</p>
+
+<p>He turned over three coloured marbles in disgust. For them he had
+bartered away a catapult, and now his heart was heavy over the exchange.</p>
+
+<p>"Artie Jones is a sneak," he grumbled. "He ought to have given me six
+marbles for that catapult. Eh? What do you say?"</p>
+
+<p>The question was directed to Betty, whose lips were moving.</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head, and sighed drearily, for she had entered into the
+very being of the little beggar girl who sang for a penny.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing," she said. "Nothing you'd understand. Don't chatter."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be so silly," said Cyril. "I'm as old as you, any way."</p>
+
+<p>"Mother says I'm an hour older than you," said Betty.</p>
+
+<p>"That's nothing," said Cyril.</p>
+
+<p>"You can learn a lot in an hour," quoth <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span>Betty, and bent her attention
+to her strip of paper.</p>
+
+<p>"I told mother about the dirty plates, so there," said the boy.
+"And&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Bah!" said Betty, and pushed her fingers into her ears.</p>
+
+<p>Betty had several plans for waking early, amongst which may be
+named&mdash;putting marbles in her bed that in rolling unconsciously about
+for comfort she might be awakened by the discomfort. That had answered
+very well once or twice. Another was to place her pillow half-way down
+the bed, that she might be within reach of the foot of it&mdash;and then to
+rest her own foot on a lower rail and tie it there. Another was to prop
+herself into a sitting position and fold her hands across her chest,
+that by sleeping badly she might not sleep long.</p>
+
+<p>Many a night had her father and mother laughed at the attitude chosen by
+their second daughter, and arranged her that her sleep might be easier.</p>
+
+<p>"Betty wants to get up early," they would say and smile. But upon this
+night&mdash;the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>night before the battle&mdash;they did not go to her room at all.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bruce was reading a new magazine, and saying now and again, as she
+turned a leaf or smiled at her husband, that she <i>had</i> intended doing a
+bit of mending; and Mr. Bruce was polishing up a chapter in his book,
+and saying now and again as he paused for a choicer word, or smiled at
+his wife, that he <i>had</i> intended doing that blessed article on Cats, for
+Flavelle. So they both went on being uncomfortably comfortable.</p>
+
+<p>Betty tried all her expedients for early rising, and yet peaceful was
+her sleep throughout the night. Her lashes lay still on her rounded
+cheeks, her rosy lips smiled and her brown curls strewed the pillow,
+just as effectively as though she were on a velvet couch, and a living
+illustration of a small princess, sleeping to be awakened by a kiss.</p>
+
+<p>She awoke just as the day was pinkly breaking and the night stealing
+greyly away, awoke under the impression that John Brown was cutting off
+her foot. It was a great comfort <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>to find it there and merely cold and
+cramped from lack of covering and an unnatural position.</p>
+
+<p>She remembered everything immediately without even waiting to rub her
+eyes, and she sprang out of bed at once, even though her right foot
+refused to do its duty, and she had to stand for a valuable minute on
+her left.</p>
+
+<p>The clock hands (she had carried the kitchen clock into her bedroom to
+Mary's chagrin), pointed to a quarter to five, and Betty realized she
+had only an hour in which to dress eat her breakfast, bid good-bye to
+any home objects she held dear, and travel down the road to the store.</p>
+
+<p>She was vexed, for she had meant to get up at four.</p>
+
+<p>She got into her tattered Saturday's frock (her Cinderella costume) and
+she brushed and plaited her short curly hair, as well as it would allow
+itself to be plaited. Then she made a bundle of her boots and stockings
+and school-day frock and hid them away under the skirt of her draped
+dressing-table, and opened her money-box and extracted the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span>contents
+(thirteen half-pennies). This was the fortune with which she purposed to
+face the world.</p>
+
+<p>And so real had this thing become to her now, that she crept to the far
+side of the double bed to kiss the sleeping Nancy, and down the passage
+to Cyril's room, to look at his face upon the pillows; and the tears
+were heavy in her eyes because she was quitting her "early" home.</p>
+
+<p>When she had reached the pantry she remembered something, and went back
+to her bed room, to place by Nancy's side her only remaining doll, a
+faded hairless beauty, Belinda, by name.</p>
+
+<p>And she pinned a note upon the pincushion (all her heroines who fled
+from their early homes, left notes upon the pincushion) addressed to
+"Father and Mother," and as she passed their door she stroked it
+lovingly. In the pantry she was guilty of several sobs, while she cut
+the bread, it seemed so pitiful to her to be going away from her home in
+the grey dawn to seek a livelihood for her family. In truth her small
+heart ached creditably as <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span>she ate her solitary breakfast, and it might
+have gone on aching only that she suddenly bethought herself of time.
+Half-past five, John had said, and she remembered all that she had done
+since half-past four.</p>
+
+<p>"It <i>must</i> be half-past five now," she said. "I'll eat this as I go,"
+and she folded two pieces of bread and butter together.</p>
+
+<p>Then she found her bonnet and the strip of paper with the song upon it,
+and grasping her half-pennies set forth.</p>
+
+<p>She ran most of the way to the store, which, it may be remembered,
+occupied the corner, just before you come to Wygate School.</p>
+
+<p>As Betty came in sight of it she saw John standing still there, and she
+thought gratefully how good it was of him to wait for her.</p>
+
+<p>He wore a very old and very baggy suit, a dirty torn straw hat (of which
+it must be owned he had plenty), and neither boots nor stockings.</p>
+
+<p>The children eyed each other carefully, noting every detail, and both in
+their own heart admiring the other exceedingly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>Betty's face had lost its traces of tears, but had not got back its
+happy look. Her mouth drooped sadly.</p>
+
+<p>"What's up?" asked John as they turned their faces towards the silent
+south.</p>
+
+<p>"It hurts me, leaving the little ones," said Betty, who was now in
+imagination Madam S&mdash;&mdash;. "You have no brothers and sisters to provide
+for."</p>
+
+<p>John sighed. "No," he said, "I've no one but an old grandfather, and he
+grudges me every crust I eat. He's cut me off with a shilling."</p>
+
+<p>For a space Betty was envious. For a space she liked John's imagination
+better than her own. That "cutting off with a shilling" seemed to her
+very fine.</p>
+
+<p>He showed her his shilling. "I've <i>that</i>," he said, "to begin life on.
+Many a fellow would starve on it. <i>I'm</i> going to make my fortune with
+it."</p>
+
+<p>They were the words one of his heroes had spoken, and sounded splendid
+to both.</p>
+
+<p>"I've sixpence-halfpenny," said Betty, and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>unclosed her little brown
+hand for a second. "That's all!"</p>
+
+<p>They walked on. In front of them and behind ran the dusty road, like a
+red line dividing a still bush world. Overhead was a tender sky, grey
+stealing shyly away to give place to a soft still blue. Already the
+daylight was wakening others than these foolish barefooted waifs. Here
+and there a frog uttered its protest against, mayhap, the water it had
+discovered, or been born to; the locusts lustily prophesied a hot day.
+Occasionally an industrious rabbit travelled at express speed from the
+world on one side of the red road to the world on the other. And above
+all this bustle and business and frivolity rang the brazen laugh of a
+company of kookaburras, who were answering each other from every corner
+of the bush.</p>
+
+<p>After some little travelling the fortune seekers came upon a cottage
+standing alone in a small bush-clearing on their right. Three cows stood
+chewing their cud, and waiting to be milked, a scattering of fowls was
+shaking off dull sleep, and making no little ado about it, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>and near the
+door a shock-headed youth was rubbing both eyes with both hands.</p>
+
+<p>Betty and John walked on. These signs of awakening life roused them to a
+livelier sense of being alive.</p>
+
+<p>Yet a little further and they came to what Betty always called a
+"calico" cottage, which is to say, a cottage made of scrim, and
+white-washed. Windows belonged to it, and a door, and a garden enclosed
+by a brushwood fence.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's peep in the gate," said Betty, "it's such a <i>sweet</i> little
+house."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait till you see the house <i>I</i> mean to have," quoth John.</p>
+
+<p>But Betty preferred to peep in then. She went close to the half-open
+gate and popped in her head.</p>
+
+<p>Inside the gate was a garden, and all its beds were defined by upended
+stout bottles&mdash;weedless, sweet-scented beds wherein grew such blooms as
+daisies, and violets, stocks, sweetpeas, sweet williams, lad's love and
+mignonette.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Betty. "Oh&mdash;just smell! just put your head in for a minute,
+John."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>But John was for "pushing on," and getting to Sydney to make his
+shilling two.</p>
+
+<p>While they were parleying, a man came round the corner of the "sweet
+little house," and his eyes fell on the bonneted maiden.</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo!" he exclaimed, "and who's this? Polly?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Betty.</p>
+
+<p>"Na-o. Then p'raps it's Lucy. Eh?"</p>
+
+<p>John tugged at Betty's dress and said "Come on," urgingly; but the man
+was already letting down two slip-rails a little way from the crazy
+gate, and his eyes rested on the second barefooted imp.</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo!" he exclaimed, "An' how's this any'ow?"</p>
+
+<p>John, who had a greater dread of capture than Betty, inquired innocently
+if there were any wild flowers up this way.</p>
+
+<p>The man drew his hand across his eyes to banish sleep inclinations. "Not
+many now, I reckon," he said. "There might be a few sprigs of 'eath an'
+the flannel flowers ain't all done yet. Goin' to town?"</p>
+
+<p>Betty nodded, and John said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>"Yes&mdash;we'll be gettin' back 'ome" in a fair imitation of his
+questioner's voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be goin' as far as the markets," said the man "an' I don't mind
+givin' you a lift ef you like."</p>
+
+<p>John's eyes brightened, for he was longing for the centre of the city,
+and he had felt they were covering ground very slowly. And Betty's
+brightened because she thought she would soon coax the man into letting
+her drive.</p>
+
+<p>So the fortune seekers made their entry into town in a fruit cart.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>
+<a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+
+<h3>THE NOTE ON THE PINCUSHION</h3>
+
+
+<p class="first"><span class="smcap">Every</span> morning there was a skirmish between Betty and Cyril as to who
+should have the first bath, and Betty generally won, because as she
+pointed out, she had Nancy to bath, too, and to make her bed, and set
+the table, and cut the lunches, whereas Cyril only had to bring up two
+loads of wood.</p>
+
+<p>But this morning, to Cyril's delight, he was first and he got right into
+the room and fastened the door with the prop (a short thick stick which
+was wedged between the centre of the door and the bath, and was Mr.
+Bruce's patent to replace the handle that "lost itself"), and still
+Betty came not. And he loitered in the bathroom and played, and
+half-dressed, and then undressed, and got back into the bath, and out
+again, and dressed, and still no Betty banged at the door.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>"Can't make out where Miss Betty's got to," said Mary sulkily, "I'll
+tell your mother on her. She's not set the table, and she's not cut the
+lunches, and she's not done nothing."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril, who had brought up his wood and otherwise and in every way
+performed his morning's duties, waxed indignant at Betty and her
+negligence, and went down the passage to her room, muttering&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell mother of you, Betty Bruce, so there!"</p>
+
+<p>But no Betty Bruce was there. Only Nancy in her nightgown still, and
+playing with poor faded Belinda.</p>
+
+<p>Mary had to set the table, and Mary had to cut the lunches, and Nancy
+had to miss her bath, and go to Mary for the buttoning of her clothes.
+And all because Betty had gone out to make her fortune!</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bruce came out of her room late&mdash;which was a very usual thing for
+her to do&mdash;and she called:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Nancy, come and take baby. Betty, find me a safety pin <i>quickly</i>. I
+think I saw one on the floor near the piano."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>And Mr. Bruce followed her in his slippers, and called&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Nancy&mdash;Betty&mdash;one of you go down to the gate and bring up the paper."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril ran to them breathless with his news&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Betty's never got up yet. Mary's had to do all her work an' she's not
+got breakfast ready yet. And Nancy's had to dress herself an' all."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bruce opened her eyes&mdash;just like Dot did when she was very
+surprised, and said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Then go and <i>make</i> Betty get up at once." But Cyril interrupted with&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"She's not in bed at all. She's out playing somewhere; I daresay she's
+gone to school so's to be before me and Nancy. She's always doing that
+now."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bruce had to hurry to make up for lost time&mdash;as she had perpetually
+to do&mdash;and she could not stay to lend an ear to Cyril's tale. So he was
+left grumbling on about Betty, and school, and a hundred and one things
+that were "not fair."</p>
+
+<p>Nancy had a bowl of porridge and milk in the kitchen, superintended in
+the eating of it <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>by Mary, who was giving baby her morning portion of
+bread and milk.</p>
+
+<p>Cyril carried his porridge plate to the verandah that he might watch if
+Betty was lurking around in the hopes of breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>And Mr. Bruce read the paper and sipped a cup of abominably made coffee
+serenely.</p>
+
+<p>They were such a scattered family at breakfast time usually, that one
+away made little difference. No one but Cyril missed Betty at the table.
+Her services in the house were missed&mdash;so many duties had almost
+unnoticeably slipped upon her small shoulders, and now it was found
+there was no one to do them but slip-shod overworked Mary.</p>
+
+<p>Just as Cyril was setting off to school Mary ran after him with a
+newspaper parcel of clumsy bread and jam sandwiches.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not sending Miss Betty's," she said&mdash;"it'll teach her not to clear
+out of the way again."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bruce put her head out of the kitchen window&mdash;she had not had
+"time" for any breakfast yet beyond a cup of tea.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span>"Send Betty home again," she said; "she <i>shan't</i> go to school till her
+work's done."</p>
+
+<p>But even at eleven o'clock no Betty had arrived. Mary, who had done all
+the washing-up&mdash;and done some of it very badly&mdash;was sent by her mistress
+to strip Betty's bed and leave it to air. And she found the note on the
+pincushion, and after reading it through twice, carried it in open-eyed
+amazement to her mistress, who was eating a peach as she sat on the
+verandah edge, and merely said, "Very well, give it to your master."</p>
+
+<p>So Mr. Bruce took it, and opened it very leisurely, and then started and
+said: "Ye gods!" and read it through to himself first and then out
+aloud.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p class="first">"<span class="smcap">Dear Father and Mother</span>" (it said)&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I am going away from my childhood's home to make a fortune for
+all of you. My voice is my fortune. When I've made it I shall
+come back to you. So good-bye to you all, and may you be very
+happy always.</p>
+
+<p class="first"><span class="indent1">"Your loving daughter,</span><br />
+<span class="smcap indent2">"Betty.</span>"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span>Mrs. Bruce put down her peach and said: "Read it again, will you,
+dear," in a quiet steady way as though she were trying to understand.</p>
+
+<p>And Mr. Bruce read it again, and then passed it over to her to read for
+herself.</p>
+
+<p>"She's somewhere close at hand, of course!" he said. "Silly child!"</p>
+
+<p>"She <i>couldn't</i> go very far, could she?" asked Mrs. Bruce, seeking
+comfort.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bruce shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"One never quite knows <i>what</i> Betty could do," he said. "She's gone to
+find her fortune, she says. I wonder now if that is her old crazy idea
+of hunting for a gold mine. No! 'My voice is my fortune,' she says. Good
+lord! Whom has she been talking to? What books has she been reading?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bruce sighed and smiled. As no immediate danger seemed to threaten
+Betty, there appeared no reason for instant action. They could still
+take life leisurely, as they had done all their married days. It was
+only madcap Betty who ever tried to hurry their pace or upset the calm
+of their domestic sky&mdash;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>Betty with her ways and plans and pranks.</p>
+
+<p>So Mrs. Bruce leaned back on the verandah post.</p>
+
+<p>"Where one has only <i>one</i> child," she said, "life must be a simple
+matter. It is when there are several of several ages that the difficulty
+comes in. Now we, for instance, need to be&mdash;just a year old&mdash;and six
+years old&mdash;and twelve and seventeen&mdash;all in addition to our own weight
+of years."</p>
+
+<p>Her husband smiled. "You do very well," he said. "I saw you playing with
+Baby this morning, and I've heard you and Dot talk, and could have
+imagined she had a school-friend here."</p>
+
+<p>"Dot&mdash;yes! But Betty&mdash;no!"</p>
+
+<p>"Betty is at an awkward age," said Mr. Bruce. "I confess <i>I</i> know very
+little of her. What is her <i>singing</i> voice like? I think, dear, you'd
+better give me a list of the clothing she has on, and I'll go down the
+road and make a few inquiries."</p>
+
+<p>The only dress they could discover "missing," to Mrs. Bruce's horror,
+was the tattered <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span>Saturday frock. And Mary found the boots and stockings
+under the dressing-table, so the conviction that she had gone barefoot
+was forced upon them.</p>
+
+<p>At twelve o'clock Cyril was startled to see his father enter the
+schoolroom, and he observed that Mr. Sharman shook hands with him in a
+very affable manner, which was, of course, very condescending of Mr.
+Sharman. In fact, it led Cyril to hope for leniency from him in the
+looming arithmetic lesson.</p>
+
+<p>A low voiced conversation took place, and then Cyril was called down to
+the desk and questioned closely about his truant sister.</p>
+
+<p>But of course Cyril knew nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Then another very strange thing happened.</p>
+
+<p>While Mr. Bruce and Mr. Sharman and Cyril were standing in the middle of
+the floor&mdash;Cyril feeling covered with glory from his father's and Mr.
+Sharman's intimacy in the eyes of the whole school&mdash;another shadow
+darkened the doorway. And the other shadow belonged to no smaller a
+person than <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span>Captain Carew, of Dene Hall, Willoughby, N.S. Wales.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Sharman went out to meet him before the little trio knew he was
+there, and his hearty "Good morning, ma'am! I've come for news of that
+young scapegrace, my grandson, John Brown," filled the room.</p>
+
+<p>Whereat Mr. Bruce turned round, and he and the captain faced each other,
+and Cyril, in great fear, looked up to see if Arthur Smedley, the dread
+bully, had heard how the great captain of Dene Hall had absolutely, and
+in the hearing of the whole school acknowledged John Brown to be his
+grandson, and had not so much as glanced at Cyril, who stood there quite
+close to him.</p>
+
+<p>It was the first time for more than seventeen years that Captain Carew
+and Mr. Bruce had been so close together, despite the fact that the
+fences of their respective properties were within sight of each other.</p>
+
+<p>To-day Captain Carew grew a deep dark-red from his neck to the top of
+his forehead, and Mr. Bruce went quite white and held his head very
+high.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span>And Mr. Sharman drew back nervously, for he, like most other people,
+knew all about the relationship of these two men to each other, and
+about their deadly feud.</p>
+
+<p>But the captain strode down the room, just as though he owned Mr. and
+Miss Sharman and every boy in the school, and he raised his voice
+somewhat as he repeated his statement about his grandson, "John Brown."</p>
+
+<p>"And if you'll kindly excuse Cyril, I'll take him with me," said Mr.
+Bruce quietly, continuing his sentence, just as if no interruption had
+occurred at all.</p>
+
+<p>In the playground Cyril received his commands, glad indeed to have them
+to execute instead of the arithmetic lesson and play-hour which the
+ordinary happenings of life would have brought about.</p>
+
+<p>"Go into the bush," said his father, "and search there for her. Look
+everywhere where you are accustomed to play. She may have fallen down
+somewhere and hurt herself."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, father," said the boy obediently. "How'd it be to see if she's
+fallen in the creek?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>His father gave him an angry look.</p>
+
+<p>"Afterwards go home," he said. "Let the creek alone, and don't talk such
+folly&mdash;Betty is more than five. Tell your mother I'm going to give it
+into the hands of the police."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril went into the bush&mdash;not very far&mdash;because the growth was thick,
+and he had a great dread of snakes.</p>
+
+<p>"S'pose I were bitten," he said, "and I just had to stay here by myself
+and die! Wonder where Betty is; it's very silly of her to go and lose
+herself like this. <i>I</i> never lose myself at all."</p>
+
+<p>He came to a two-rail fence, and climbed up and sat on one of its posts,
+and then he looked around as far as the bush would let him see.</p>
+
+<p>"It's better to keep near a fence," he said. "Then if a bull comes,
+you're safe. If he jumped over I could roll under, and we could keep
+doing it, an' he couldn't catch me.... 'Tis silly of Betty to get lost.
+<i>I</i> wouldn't get lost. You never know how many bulls and things there
+are about."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>He looked round again, and then he climbed down and ran back to the
+road.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll go home now," he said, "I can't find Betty anywhere. I've looked
+and looked. And school will be out soon, and how do I know Arthur
+Smedley took his lunch to-day; he might be coming home."</p>
+
+<p>Whereat this valiant youth looked over his shoulder, and saw the boys
+running out of the school gate. So he took to his heels and ran home as
+fast as ever he could.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>
+<a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+
+<h3>IN THE CITY</h3>
+
+
+<p class="first"><span class="smcap">The</span> fortune seekers were set down at a street corner near the Quay at
+half-past six.</p>
+
+<p>When it had come to the matter of crossing the harbour, from the
+Northern Shore to the Quay, in the punt (they two sitting in the cart
+the while), they had found themselves called upon to pay a penny each
+for the passage over, which they had enjoyed amazingly. Betty paid both
+pennies, having the coppers, but she urged John to be quick and get his
+shilling changed to pay her back.</p>
+
+<p>At the street corner John suggested leaving her for awhile. "This would
+be as good a corner as any other for you, Betty," he said, and slapped
+the shutters of a chemist's shop as he spoke, "You stand here, and
+you'll catch everybody who goes by."</p>
+
+<p>"There's no one going by yet," said Betty. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>"What are you going to do?
+You're not going to leave me all alone?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said John, "we might stick together a bit longer, anyway. I'll
+come back for you. You sing your song, and I'll just go and see if any
+shops want a boy. I don't suppose the offices are opened yet. What I'd
+like is a good warehouse, and then I'd rise to be manager, and partner.
+That's the sort of thing. I don't think there's much in a shop after
+all, but I'll have to find out where the warehouses are. A tea warehouse
+is good, <i>I</i> can tell you. You get sent out to India for the firm, and
+then come back and are made a partner."</p>
+
+<p>He started off, only to be stopped after he had gone a few steps, by
+Betty's voice calling, "Get your shilling changed, I want my penny"; to
+which he nodded.</p>
+
+<p>Betty had the corner all to herself then. Down the street, and up the
+street, and down the side street, whichever way she craned her neck she
+could see no one.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to her a very good opportunity to try her powers. So she
+commenced. At <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>first it must be confessed she made no more sound than
+she had done in talking to John. And the street was so used to voices
+that it did not open an eye.</p>
+
+<p>Therefore Betty grew bolder, and forgot in singing that she was
+not at the bend in the old home-road, where she had practised
+once or twice since she had decided upon her career. Her voice
+rose clearly&mdash;shrilly&mdash;and sometimes she remembered the tune
+quite fairly. When she forgot it, she filled in what would have
+otherwise been a pause with a little bit out of any other tune
+that came into her head.</p>
+
+<p>For those who would like to know the words of the song she was singing,
+and who may not have it among their mother's girlhood songs, as Betty
+had, it may be as well to copy them from the paper she held in her hand
+to refresh her memory from&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i">"Please give me a penny, sir; my mother dear is dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, oh! I am so hungry, sir&mdash;a penny please for bread;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All day I have been asking, but no one heeds my cry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Will you not give me something, or surely I must die?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span>
+<span class="i">"Please give me a penny, sir; you won't say 'no' to me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Because I'm poor and ragged, sir, and oh! so cold you see;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We were not always begging&mdash;we once were rich like you,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But father died a drunkard, and mother she died too."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="ix"><i>Chorus</i>&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i">"Please give me a penny, sir; my mother dear is dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, oh! I am so hungry, sir&mdash;a penny please for bread."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>At the end of the first verse she found it necessary to run her eye over
+the paper before beginning the second.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps it was just as well for her serenity that she did not look up as
+she sang. For just as soon as her voice rose into anything approaching a
+tune&mdash;it was near the end of the first verse&mdash;a face looked down upon
+her from the corner window of the second story of the chemist's house.</p>
+
+<p>It was a young face, early old&mdash;white and drawn and marked by the
+unmistakable lines of suffering.</p>
+
+<p>Betty knew nothing about the trouble of the world in those days; nothing
+of suffering, nothing of sorrow. And the woman above <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>her knew of all.
+She leaned over the window-sill and her eyes smiled pityingly as they
+rested on the small bared head.</p>
+
+<p>She had been praying her morning prayer near the open window, begging
+for strength to bear her sorrows, and for as many as might be to be
+taken from her, when Betty's voice quavered right up to her window.</p>
+
+<p>She looked down, and there was the small singer's curly brown head. She
+looked longer, and saw Betty clasp a bare foot in one hand and stand on
+one foot, drop the foot from her hand and reverse the action.</p>
+
+<p>It was merely a habit of Betty's, but the woman found in it a sign that
+the child was worn and weary&mdash;worn and weary before seven o'clock in the
+morning.</p>
+
+<p>She drew her dressing-gown around her, searched her dress pocket for her
+purse, and leaning out dropped sixpence upon the pavement close to the
+little singer.</p>
+
+<p>Betty stopped at once and looked around her, down the street and around
+the corner; at the shop shutters and door, but never once so high as the
+windows.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span>The woman smiled to herself.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor little mite," she said. "I must remember even the little children
+have their griefs! It should make me grumble less."</p>
+
+<p>Betty ran along the street in the direction John had taken. She felt she
+<i>must</i> tell some one. Then, as a thought struck her, she ran back to the
+house, looked up to the second story and saw a smiling face, and then
+set off again, running down the street for John.</p>
+
+<p>Not seeing him, she stopped at the next corner and examined her coin
+lovingly. Then she looked up at <i>that</i> corner window and began to sing
+again.</p>
+
+<p>But this time her reward came from the street. Three bluejackets were
+walking down the street to the Quay, lurching over the pavement as they
+walked. The child's song touched and stirred that latent sentimentality
+of theirs.</p>
+
+<p>Her "or <i>surely</i> I shall die," brought a silver threepence from one of
+them, and a copper from each of the others.</p>
+
+<p>Betty felt wealthy now, beyond the dreams <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span>of avarice. She had made a
+shilling in an hour!</p>
+
+<p>She looked at the post office clock high up in the air there above her
+head, and it informed her that it was only a quarter past seven. Not
+eight o'clock yet! And she had made a shilling! Twelve pennies! As much
+as she received in six months by staying at home!</p>
+
+<p>She sat down on the kerbstone to count her money, putting her feet in
+the dry gutter <i>a la mani&egrave;re</i> born. She made first of all a stack of her
+half-pennies, and then of her pennies. There were nine half-pennies,
+three pennies, a threepenny bit and a sixpence. The grand total she
+found was one and fourpence halfpenny. More than even John had started
+out with.</p>
+
+<p>While she was thus like a small miser counting her money, a hand swooped
+suddenly down upon the heap of coppers and swept them away. Betty looked
+up to scream, but it was only John. And he warned her solemnly how
+easily such a dreadful theft could be committed.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>"I wish to goodness the shops would open," he said discontentedly. "I'm
+beginning to want some breakfast, I can tell you."</p>
+
+<p>Betty unfolded her hands and displayed her wealth of coin. "A shilling
+in an hour," she said, and John's look of surprised unbelief delighted
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"You picked it up!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I didn't!" cried Betty. "People gave it to me just for singing! A
+shilling an hour! I forget how much Madam S&mdash;&mdash; makes in an hour. I
+think its more than a pound!"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you want your breakfast?" asked John.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's count how many hours in a day," said Betty, twisting about to see
+a clock, the high post office clock they were walking under now, and
+found it. "I want to make my fortune quickly and go home and surprise
+them. How much money is in a fortune, John?"</p>
+
+<p>John considered deeply for a minute and then gave it as his idea that
+five hundred pounds was usually called a fortune.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 399px;">
+<img src="images/illus-212.jpg" width="399" height="600" alt="&quot;The child&#39;s song touched and stirred that latent
+sentimentality of theirs.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;The child&#39;s song touched and stirred that latent
+sentimentality of theirs.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>"That'll take a good bit of making," said Betty.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you didn't expect to make it in a day did you?" asked John
+roughly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no," said Betty cheerfully, "I was only wondering how many hours
+there are in a day&mdash;at a shilling an hour."</p>
+
+<p>She began to count slowly on the fingers of one hand all the hours until
+seven o'clock at night, the first hour to be from eight till nine
+o'clock in the morning.</p>
+
+<p>"Eleven hours!" she said. "That's eleven shillings! Eleven shillings,
+John. Oh, and one hour gone, that's twelve! Twelve <i>shillings</i> a day,
+just fancy, John! Oh, I'll soon be rich."</p>
+
+<p>"But you couldn't sing every hour in the day," said sensible John,
+although his eyes plainly expressed admiration for her brilliant career.
+"Why, you'd get hoarse!"</p>
+
+<p>"I only sang twice in this hour," said Betty; "the rest of the time I've
+just been counting my money and looking round me."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>"But you mightn't make a shilling every hour," said John.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>But</i>&mdash;some hours I may make more, so it's about equal."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish we could have some breakfast," said John, reverting to his
+trouble. "I'm jolly hungry, I can tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"So am I," said Betty. "Twelve shillings a day&mdash;six days in a week. Oh,
+can I sing on Sundays, John?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hymns," quoth the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Um! I could sing 'Scatter seeds of kindness' and 'Yield not to
+temptation.' Um! I never thought of hymns. I think I'll sing hymns
+to-day as well, 'cause I'm not very sure of my song yet, and every now
+and then I have to stop to look at the words. Can I sing hymns on other
+days than Sundays, John?"</p>
+
+<p>"Better not," said the cautious John; "better keep the proper things for
+the proper days. Well, Betty Bruce, if you're going to stay here all
+day, I'm not. I'm getting awfully hungry."</p>
+
+<p>At last Betty's motherliness awoke.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>"My poor John!" she said, "of course you're hungry. We'll go to a shop
+and get a really good breakfast. I wasn't thinking. When a person begins
+to make a lot of money, they generally forget other things, don't they?"</p>
+
+<p>"Um!" said John, who had made nothing at all. "We'll go and get a good
+breakfast and then we'll be fit for anything, won't we. Come on."</p>
+
+<p>They turned round the corner into King Street, and there to their
+delight found the shops one by one opening their eyes&mdash;drapers, chemist,
+fruiterers, and then at last a shop with cakes in the window.</p>
+
+<p>The children stood at the door and peeped in. They saw myriads of white
+tables and a couple of sleepy looking girls. One girl held a broom and
+was leaning on its handle and surveying the stretch of floor to be
+swept. Her eyes at last went to the door, and Betty, seeing they had
+been observed walked slowly in, leaving John outside.</p>
+
+<p>"No," said the girl, shaking her head.</p>
+
+<p>"We want some breakfast," said Betty, and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>added "please," as her eyes
+fell on a trayful of pastry on the counter.</p>
+
+<p>Again the girl shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't give you any here," she said; "now run away."</p>
+
+<p>Then Betty's face flushed; for though one may sing to earn an honest
+livelihood and competency, it is quite another thing to be taken for a
+beggar.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll pay for it," she said, and then forgot her pride and urged, "Go
+on, we're so hungry! We've been walking about since five o'clock."</p>
+
+<p>Something in the child's face touched the girl's heart. She herself had
+been up at half-past five and knew a great deal about poverty and
+privation.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, come on then," she said. "Go and sit down at one of them tables
+and I'll fetch you something."</p>
+
+<p>Betty ran to the door and called "John," in an ecstatic tone, "come on."</p>
+
+<p>Then the two of them chose a table and sat down.</p>
+
+<p>"Not porridge, please," called Betty to the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span>girl. "Just cakes and
+things, and lemonade instead of tea. <i>I'll</i> pay the bill."</p>
+
+<p>But John brought out his shilling.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll pay for myself," he said grimly, "and I'll pay you back the penny
+I owe you, too."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>
+<a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+
+<h3>ALMA'S SHILLING</h3>
+
+
+<p class="first"><span class="smcap">By</span> ten o'clock Betty had made another shilling, having caught the
+workers of the city as they were going to their day's toil.</p>
+
+<p>And it must be owned it was a mysterious "something" about the child
+herself that arrested what attention she drew. Perhaps it lay in the
+fresh rosiness of her face, in the clearness of her sweet eyes, in the
+brightness of her young hair; for her courage ebbed away so soon as two
+or three were gathered around her; her voice sank to a whisper, she
+drooped her head, trifled with one wristband or the other, stood first
+on one foot and then on the other, and displayed the various signs of
+nervousness Mr. Sharman's stern eye provoked her to.</p>
+
+<p>At eleven o'clock, John, who had made <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>threepence by carrying a bag for
+a lady, looked Betty up at the appointed corner and proposed lemonade
+and currant buns, for which she was quite ready.</p>
+
+<p>Afterwards they stood for a valuable half-hour outside the waxworks and
+explored the markets, where Betty sang "Scatter seeds of kindness," in
+spite of John's solemnly given advice to keep it for Sunday. Here she
+only made a penny halfpenny by her song, but as she said to John&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Every one must expect some bad hours."</p>
+
+<p>Then, too, there was in her heart a feeling of certainty that a keen
+eyed, bent shouldered old gentleman would be passing soon, and carry her
+away straight to the very threshold of fame, as Madam S&mdash;&mdash;'s old
+gentleman carried <i>her</i>.</p>
+
+<p>When they had become thoroughly acquainted with the markets, John
+suggested she should again "count up," with a view of deciding what sort
+of lodgings she could afford for the night.</p>
+
+<p>Betty had not thought of such a trivial thing, leaving it possibly for
+her old gentleman <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>to settle. But she was more than willing to "count
+up" again.</p>
+
+<p>So they went into a corner behind a deserted fruit stall, sat down upon
+an empty case, and made little stacks of pennies and half-pennies and
+small silver coins.</p>
+
+<p>She had two shillings and a penny, she found in all, and John told her
+she could afford to go to one of the places he had seen this morning,
+where a bed and breakfast were to be had for sixpence.</p>
+
+<p>"I have seen some places where they charge a shilling," said John. "It
+seems an awful lot to pay for a bed and a bit of breakfast. But a
+sixpenny place will do for you, and as you're only twelve they might
+take you for threepence."</p>
+
+<p>"And where will you go?" asked Betty anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'd be sixpence, you see, because I'm thirteen and a half," said
+John. "I can't afford to pay sixpence. It's always harder for a fellow
+to get on than for a girl. That's why you hear more about self-made men
+than self-made women&mdash;they're thought more of. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span>No bed for me, I expect,
+for some time to come. I'll have to sleep in the Domain. I heard a
+fellow talking this morning, and he said he's been sleeping there for a
+week now. And, you know, Peterborough, the artist I told you
+about&mdash;well, he slept for a week in a <i>barrel</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"How much money have you got?" asked Betty.</p>
+
+<p>"Eightpence!" said John. "No one seems to want an errand boy to-day."</p>
+
+<p>Betty began to feel very doleful at being one step above John in this
+the beginning of their career. But she dared not offer to lend to him,
+he had been so very insistent upon paying her back her penny, and paying
+for his own breakfast and lemonade and buns.</p>
+
+<p>He took her and showed her two houses which bore the words, "Bed and
+breakfast, 6<i>d.</i>!" and then he led the way to the Domain, having been
+through it many times with his grandfather, while to stay-at-home Betty
+it was no more than a name. Macquarie Street lay asleep as they
+travelled through it and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>past Parliament House and the Hospital and the
+Public Library.</p>
+
+<p>It never for a moment occurred to Betty that Dot was domiciled in that
+street of big high houses and hushed sounds. She knew Dot's school
+address was "Westmead House, Macquarie Street," but she had not the
+remotest idea that she and John were travelling down Macquarie Street
+past Westmead House.</p>
+
+<p>Just inside the Domain gates they paused to admire Governor Burke's
+statue, and to count their money again in its shade.</p>
+
+<p>Then John pointed out to her the tree-shaded path that runs to
+Woollomooloo Bay and the great sweeping grass stretch that lay on one
+side of it.</p>
+
+<p>Many men were there already, full length upon the grass, their hats over
+their eyes, asleep or callous to waking.</p>
+
+<p>Betty at once signified her intention of spending her first night out
+here, also, and pointed to a seat under a Norfolk Island pine tree.</p>
+
+<p>"We could be quite cosy there," she said, "and you could lend me your
+coat."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span>"But I'd want it myself," said John.</p>
+
+<p>"John in <i>Girls and Boys Abroad</i> used always to give Virginia his coat,"
+said Betty.</p>
+
+<p>It was slightly to the right of Governor Burke's statue that Betty was
+inspired to sing "Yield not to temptation," standing with her back to
+the iron railing.</p>
+
+<p>And it was just as she was being carried out of herself and singing her
+shrillest in the second verse that Miss Arnott, the English governess in
+Westmead House, brought her line of pupils for their daily
+constitutional down the Domain.</p>
+
+<p>Pretty Dot, and the judge's daughter, Nellie Harden, were at the head of
+the line, and were conversing in an affable manner and low voices upon
+the newest trimmings for summer hats, when the little couple near the
+statue came into view.</p>
+
+<p>Betty's eyes were downcast that she might not be distracted by her
+audience, but John, who was clinging to the railing near her, saw the
+marching school, saw Dot, and knew that she had seen.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>
+<span class="i">"Each victory will help you<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some other to win,"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="first">sang Betty shrilly.</p>
+
+<p>Dot's face went white, sheet white. She heard the judge's daughter speak
+of eau de nil chiffon, and a hat turned up at the side. She was at the
+head of thirty fashionable "young ladies," and a fashionable young
+governess was close by. She wore her best shoes (the ones with the
+toe-caps of Russian leather) and her best dress (white with the gold
+silk sash given by Alma Montague).</p>
+
+<p>And there was Betty&mdash;dreadful scapegrace Betty, barefooted, dirty faced,
+bare-headed (her bonnet was of course under her arm), singing songs for
+coppers!</p>
+
+<p>Dot coughed, went white, choked, and walked on. She simply had not the
+courage to step out from that line of fashionable demoiselles and claim
+her little sister.</p>
+
+<p>But Alma Montague, who carried her purse for the purchase of chocolate
+nougats should a favourable opportunity occur, had her tender little
+heart touched by Betty's face and song.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span>
+<span class="i">"Each victory will help you<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some other to win."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="first">spoke directly to her, and her longing for chocolate nougats. She only
+had a shilling in her purse, wonderful to relate, and she and her
+conscience had a sharp short battle. Chocolate nougats or&mdash;pitiful
+hunger! Her face flushed as conscience won the battle.</p>
+
+<p>The next second she had slipped out of line and run across to Betty.</p>
+
+<p>"Here; little girl!" she said, and thrust a shilling into Betty's hand.</p>
+
+<p>The little singer looked up, shy and startled, and her song died on her
+lips while her eyes plainly rejoiced over the shilling.</p>
+
+<p>Then the English governess awoke from a happy day-dream and sharply
+ordered Alma back to her place.</p>
+
+<p>"You should have asked permission," she said stiffly. "I cannot have
+such disorders. I will punish you when we return to school!"</p>
+
+<p>Just as if the lost chocolates were not punishment enough.</p>
+
+<p>The deed and the reprimand travelled along <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span>the line, whispered from
+mouth to mouth, till it came to Dot.</p>
+
+<p>"That silly Alma Montague," the whisper ran, "has just broken line to
+give her money to that little beggar girl. She gave a shilling. She was
+going to buy chocolate nougats. Miss Arnott's going to punish her."</p>
+
+<p>Dot's sensitive soul shuddered over the terrible Betty. If she had been
+looking up instead of down! If she had rushed forward and claimed her
+before the eyes of the wondering school! If Miss Arnott had known! If
+Alma Montague had known! If any one of all those thirty girls had even
+guessed!</p>
+
+<p>The very possibility was so dreadful that Dot found herself unable to
+discuss fashion for all the rest of that constitutional.</p>
+
+<p>But later on in the day, in the evening, when the lamps were alight, she
+had crept away by herself to wonder where madcap Betty was. She felt
+quite sure she would go home again quite safely, she was always doing
+terrible things without any harm coming to her.</p>
+
+<p>The tears that fell from Dot's eyes were not <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span>for Betty, but altogether
+for herself. She had disowned, by not owning, her sister! She had been
+afraid to step forward before those thirty pairs of eyes and say, "This
+is my sister!" And she felt as one guilty of a mean and dishonourable
+deed.</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell every girl in the school in the morning," she said; and
+then, as her repentance increased: "I will tell them to-night."</p>
+
+<p>And to her credit be it spoken, she descended to the schoolroom and
+weepingly told her story.</p>
+
+<p>Some of the girls laughed, most of them "longed to know Betty," and all
+of the "intimate" friends tried to comfort Dot.</p>
+
+<p>"You're <i>such</i> a darling," said Mona. "You've made us all love you more
+than ever."</p>
+
+<p>She was very enthusiastic for she <i>felt</i> that Dot had been afraid and
+had conquered fear.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>
+<a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
+
+<h3>THE BENT-SHOULDERED OLD GENTLEMAN</h3>
+
+
+<p class="first">"<span class="smcap">Let's</span> go somewhere and count my money," said Betty, when she had
+watched the last pupil of Westmead House disappear down the long avenue.
+"You see I <i>easily</i> make a shilling an hour, don't I?"</p>
+
+<p>John admitted she had chosen a good paying profession; and that if
+"things" didn't improve with him very soon he should try singing in the
+frequent spare moments of his errands running.</p>
+
+<p>The day wore on, and although it must be recorded that Betty did not
+always make a shilling an hour, her "takings" were very fair,
+considering many things, notably her lack of voice and great shyness so
+soon as anything approaching an audience gathered around her.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 396px;">
+<img src="images/illus-230.jpg" width="396" height="600" alt="&quot;Only a little barefooted girl asleep&mdash;fast asleep upon
+his lounge.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;Only a little barefooted girl asleep&mdash;fast asleep upon
+his lounge.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>By six o'clock a great weariness had crept <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span>over her. Unused to city
+pavements, her limbs ached wofully, her feet were blistered and swollen,
+her head ached from the noises of the busy city, and her heart ached for
+her little white bed at home. For the day was growing old and it was
+almost bed-time.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the stars stole out and began to play at hide and seek, and
+Betty who had finished counting her money again, was still standing
+tiredly on one foot at the corner of Market and George Streets, waiting
+for John&mdash;John who had promised to be with her at six; and now it was
+after seven and he had not come.</p>
+
+<p>The tears were too near for her to attempt to wile away the minutes with
+another song&mdash;tears of weariness and disappointment. The disappointment
+was caused by the non-arrival of the keen-eyed, bent-shouldered old
+gentleman who was to raise her eventually to the pinnacle of fame&mdash;and
+by John's absence.</p>
+
+<p>It was just as this great matter was straining her heart almost to
+breaking point that a heavy hand fell upon her shoulders, and she looked
+up into the face of a roughly clad, ill-kempt <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>looking man&mdash;a face that
+in some way seemed familiar to her.</p>
+
+<p>"I b'lieve you're the very little girl as I've been on the look-out for
+all day," he said. "Le's look at you! Yes, s'elp my Jimmy Johnson, you
+are! If you'll just come along with me, we'll talk about your name an' a
+few other things."</p>
+
+<p>He held out his hand and took hers.</p>
+
+<p>"Your name," he said, "as it ain't John Brown, may be Elizabeth Bruce.
+Ain't I right now?"</p>
+
+<p>Betty tremblingly admitted that he was, and listened as she walked the
+length of a street by his side to his jocularly spoken lecture and to
+all the dire happenings&mdash;gaols, reformatories, ships, etc.&mdash;that befell
+she or he who left the home nest before such glorious time as they were
+twenty-one.</p>
+
+<p>Finally Betty and her earnings were placed in a cab, and the man,
+holding her arm firmly, stepped in after her. He seemed to be afraid,
+all the time, that if he moved his hand from her she would be off and
+away. They rattled down the Sydney streets in the lamplight, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span>which
+Betty had never seen before this night, to the harbour waters and across
+them in a punt, and the little girl thought tiredly of her journey in
+the greengrocer's cart not so very many hours ago.</p>
+
+<p>The remembrance brought with it a flash of light. This man by her side
+was the greengrocer!&mdash;their morning friend. She decided that she would
+soon ask him about John, ask him whether he had found John also.</p>
+
+<p>But before she could satisfactorily arrange her question a great
+heaviness settled down upon her, and her head nodded and her eyes
+blinked and blinked and fell too. And all thought of money-making and
+street-singing, and John Brown slipped away and left her in a merry land
+of dreams playing with Cyril and Nancy in the old home garden.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor little mite," said the man, and he slipped his roughly clad arm
+around her and drew her towards him so that her head might rest on his
+coat. "Poor little mite! She'd find the world but a rough place, I'm
+thinking!"</p>
+
+<p>And they sped onwards into the hill country <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>where Betty's home was, and
+John's, and the little school-house and the white church and the
+wonderful corner shop. Only they stopped before they came to Betty's
+home, stopped at the great iron gates of her grandfather's dwelling,
+drove through them and up the dark gum tree shaded path.</p>
+
+<p>The man, carrying the sleeping child in his arms, walked straight into
+the hall, to the huge astonishment of the sober man-servant who had
+opened the door.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll wait here for yer master," he said.</p>
+
+<p>The hall was wide and square, and contained besides three deck-chairs, a
+cane lounge covered with cushions.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps the man had some eye for dramatic effect, perhaps it was only
+accident, but he placed Betty carefully upon the cushions, and put a
+crimson-covered one under her dark curly head. Then he withdrew to the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>It was not likely that, having worked hard for his reward, he was about
+to forego it. But he told himself that "his room would be better than
+his company" while the rejoicings over her recovery were going on.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>The captain came through the door slowly. One hour ago a policeman had
+arrived in a cab with John&mdash;and had departed with a substantial reward
+in his pocket. During the last hour the captain had heard John's
+story&mdash;thrashed him with his own hands, and sent him to bed.</p>
+
+<p>Now he was "wanted in the hall by a man with a little girl."</p>
+
+<p>But there was no man visible in the hall, only a little barefooted girl
+asleep&mdash;fast asleep upon his lounge. He could hear her breathing, see
+her face, and he knew in a moment who she was.</p>
+
+<p>He looked sharply at her, back to the door which was closed, forward to
+the front door which was drawn to, and around the empty hall.</p>
+
+<p>Then slowly and as if fearful of being caught he went nearer to the
+sofa, and looked down at this little creature&mdash;blood of his blood&mdash;who
+had appeared before him again. Her lashes lay still on her rosy
+sun-tanned cheeks, her curly hair was in confusion upon the red cushion,
+her bare feet were upon <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span>another. Such a pretty tired child she looked
+although she was but a tattered and soiled representative of the small
+pink-bonneted maiden he had seen only the other day.</p>
+
+<p>He knew the story of her "career" now, and of her desire to be a
+self-made woman. John had told him about her in speaking of his own
+ambition. The captain's slow mind went back to the time when his own
+"career" had been forced upon him, when he had only too often "slept
+out." And as remembrance after remembrance awoke, his heart warmed
+strangely to this brown-haired girl who seemed to be always stumbling
+into his pathway.</p>
+
+<p>Dirty, ragged imp as she was, that strange inexplicable sense of kinship
+stirred within him. Stirred as it had never stirred towards alien John,
+who was after all only the son of his first love's son, with no blood of
+his at all in him; stirred as it had stirred towards no one living since
+his daughter had left him more than seventeen years ago.</p>
+
+<p>He put out one hand and touched her hair (she could not know, no one
+could know, of course)&mdash;his only daughter's little child!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span>And Betty slept on. Had she but known it, a bent-shouldered old
+gentleman, who might have exerted a wonderful influence over her whole
+life, was at that moment looking at her with softened eyes. But great
+possibilities are frequently blighted by small importunities.</p>
+
+<p>The greengrocer chose this moment to open the front door and look into
+the hall, and the captain saw him, started, and lost his feeling of
+kinship for the sleeper.</p>
+
+<p>"Good evenin'," said the greengrocer blandly, "I found her about an hour
+ago, an' came straight 'ome with her."</p>
+
+<p>Captain Carew explained briefly that his boy had been returned to him
+about an hour ago, and that the promised reward had been given on his
+behalf to the policeman.</p>
+
+<p>The man looked crestfallen.</p>
+
+<p>"My wife told me," he said, "when I come back from the markets. She said
+somebody had lost a boy, and you had lost a girl. And your reward was
+the biggest, so I went for the girl."</p>
+
+<p>Captain Carew put his hand in his pocket, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span>and shook his head. To pay
+for Betty seemed to him to be publicly claiming her. Yet he could not
+help being glad that she was found.</p>
+
+<p>"And she ain't nothin' to you?" said the man, most evidently
+disappointed.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing!" said Captain Carew firmly; "but I hear that she ran away with
+my boy&mdash;to make her fortune. She lives, I believe, in a small
+weather-board cottage a few yards further on."</p>
+
+<p>He felt much stronger after he had spoken that sentence. Of course she
+was nothing to him. He walked to his library, and then looked over his
+shoulder, and saw the man just stooping over the little girl again. And
+then, for no reason at all, of course, he put his hand into his pocket
+again, drew out a sovereign and gave it to the man.</p>
+
+<p>"To make up for your mistake," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Then he went away and shut the library door, while the two went away.</p>
+
+<p>"Little baggage!" he said, "she's nothing to me. John's the only
+grandchild I ever want."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span>But he had an uncomfortable feeling that he had owned her.</p>
+
+<p>An hour later, on his way through the hall to his bedroom; he found a
+soiled crumpled piece of paper on the cane lounge, and opening it,
+read&mdash;"Please give me a penny, sir!"</p>
+
+<p>"The little vagabond!" he muttered. But he put the paper into his
+pocket.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span>
+<a name="XX" id="XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2>
+
+<h3>THE DAY AFTER SCHOOL</h3>
+
+
+<p class="first"><span class="smcap">A great</span> day had dawned for Dorothea Bruce, a day long dreamed of and
+alas, long dreaded!</p>
+
+<p>The first day after school life!</p>
+
+<p>She would joyfully have taken another two years of school-days, with
+their sober joys and sweet intimate friendships; their griefs and small
+quarrellings; their lessons and their play hours; their meetings and
+their breakings up.</p>
+
+<p>But yesterday she had "broken up" for ever. Yesterday she had mournfully
+given eight locks of her beautiful hair away as "keepsakes," although it
+must be owned to-day she had examined her hair carefully, looking over
+her shoulder to see how it bore the loss of its tendrils.</p>
+
+<p>Yesterday she had wept separately with each of her "intimate" friends,
+excepting <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span>only Alma Montague, at this dreadful parting that had come
+about.</p>
+
+<p>Alma was not to lose Dorothea at all, instead she was to have her all to
+herself at Katoomba for the holidays, and her queer little yellow face
+wore a superior smile as she saw the other girls' sorrow at parting from
+their "darling Thea."</p>
+
+<p>Many things were promised and vowed in this touching season. The little
+band of intimates were to write to each other every week; still to tell
+each other <i>every single</i> secret; to think of each other every night; to
+be each other's bridesmaids as long as there were maids to go round, and
+to visit each other in their married homes.</p>
+
+<p>For of course they were all going to be married&mdash;every one of them.</p>
+
+<p>It was Nellie Harden who had first alluded to the time "When I am
+married," "When you are married," etc. She said she was rather curious
+to see who would be married first, and even plain little Alma felt
+cheerful in looking forward to the time when she would be engaged. They
+simply took it for <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span>granted that in the great beautiful world into which
+they were going there were lovers&mdash;lovers in plenty; lovers who vowed
+beautiful vows, and performed gallant deeds, and wore immaculate
+clothing, and still more immaculate moustaches.</p>
+
+<p>Dorothea had decided to be "elder sister" to the best of her ability.
+She intensely admired the beautiful elder sister in <i>The Mother of
+Eight</i>, a book Mona had just lent to her.</p>
+
+<p>The mother of eight was a girl of eighteen, who had promised her mother
+on her death-bed to be a mother to all the little ones. Lovers had come
+to her, imploring her to "make their lives," friends had put in their
+claims, pleasures had beckoned; but the mother of eight had shaken her
+beautiful head and stood there at her post until the eight were married
+and settled in homes of their own, when the "mother" had suddenly died
+of a broken heart.</p>
+
+<p>This book formed the basis of Dorothea's day-dreams. She, too, was going
+to be an "elder sister" and reform the home. In the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span>flights of her
+imagination she saw herself making Betty and Nancy new frocks, mending
+Cyril's trousers, trimming her mother's hats, correcting her father's
+manuscripts.</p>
+
+<p>Wherever she looked she seemed to be wanted. A great place gaped in the
+household, and it was for the elder sister to step in and fill it. And
+Betty, wild madcap Betty, would want talking to, and training and
+putting into the way in which she should go. And, of course, lovers
+would come for Dot, but until Baby was well started in life she would
+have none of them. And when she married, "a few silver threads would be
+discernible in her golden hair, and there would be patient tired lines
+at the corners of her mouth."</p>
+
+<p>But it was only the first day after school now, and she had much to
+think of. She was not going to commence the new order of things by being
+an elder sister, although the home needed her sorely.</p>
+
+<p>As things had fallen out, it was necessary, she found, to set duty aside
+for a while.</p>
+
+<p>She was invited to spend the end of December and the whole of January
+with Alma <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span>Montague at Katoomba. They were to stay at the best hotel
+there&mdash;Mrs. Montague, her sister Mrs. Stacey, Alma and Dot. Rooms had
+already been engaged for the party (Alma's and Dot's adjoining each
+other's), and all sorts of intoxicating details been settled.</p>
+
+<p>Dot, indeed, spoke to her mother once about coming home to help, instead
+of going away, but even if she had meant it&mdash;which must be
+questioned&mdash;Mrs. Bruce was quite decided that she should go.</p>
+
+<p>"It will do you good," she said, "and we don't need you at home at all.
+Betty will be here&mdash;it will be holiday-time and she must help."</p>
+
+<p>For February Dot had an invitation to Tasmania. In her wildest
+imaginings she did not dream of accepting it, but Minnie Stevenson,
+whose school-days lay behind her too, was going down before Christmas
+and declared she could not be without Dot longer than the middle of
+February.</p>
+
+<p>And Mona&mdash;Mona, her nearest and dearest friend, said it was <i>very</i> hot
+on the Richmond <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span>River till the end of March, but April was a perfect
+month there, and in April she would take <i>no</i> refusal. She must have
+Thea in her own home all to herself then.</p>
+
+<p>Nellie Harden had her mother's consent to ask Dot to "come out" with
+her. The d&eacute;but was to take place in June, at a big ball, and Nellie had
+"set her heart" on Thea and herself coming out at the <i>very</i> same ball,
+on the <i>very</i> same night as each other, "All in white, you know, Thea
+darling, and we <i>will</i> look so nice."</p>
+
+<p>So it will be seen Dot's idea of being elder sister and home daughter
+had every chance of remaining an idea for the present. With such
+alluring pleasures, where was there room for duty?</p>
+
+<p>"I'll do my best <i>every</i> time I am at home," said Dot to herself,
+weighing pleasure and duty in the balance and finding duty sadly
+wanting, "and I'll <i>write</i> Betty good letters of advice, and take some
+mending away with me to do."</p>
+
+<p>But all that belonged to yesterday.</p>
+
+<p>To-day Dot was at home, and in the important <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span>position of being about to
+set out upon a journey. She was to start early in the morning and to go
+direct to the Redfern railway station.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bruce had gone to town to draw a five guinea cheque for his eldest
+daughter. He also had to do a little shopping on her account. All his
+instructions were written down in Dot's fair round hand-writing upon a
+piece of foreign notepaper and slipped into his waistcoat pocket.</p>
+
+<p>For those who are at all curious to know what the items were we will
+steal a look at the paper&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<ol>
+<li>Pair of white canvas shoes, size 2.</li>
+
+<li>One cake of blanco (for cleaning them with).</li>
+
+<li>Two pairs of black silk <i>shoe</i> laces&mdash;not boot laces&mdash;(all of
+those things at the same shop).</li>
+
+<li>1&frac14; yds. of <i>white</i> chiffon (<i>very</i> thin&mdash;for a veil).</li>
+
+<li>1 bunch of scarlet poppies&mdash;just common ones (both of these
+at same shop&mdash;draper's).</li>
+
+<li><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span>
+<i>At a chemist's</i>: sponge (6<i>d.</i>), tooth-brush (9<i>d.</i>),
+Packet of violet powder (6<i>d.</i>).</li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bruce was letting down Dot's dresses, and altering a pretty blue
+silk evening blouse (bought ready made). Cyril had cleaned her shoes and
+the family portmanteau, an ugly black thing, and run half a dozen
+errands grumblingly&mdash;all for Dot!</p>
+
+<p>Betty was locked in her room in disgrace, for running away to seek her
+fortune. No one was allowed to speak to her, even Baby's "Bet, Bet," was
+sternly hushed; two slices of bread and a glass of water were placed
+outside her door three times a day; three times a day she was permitted
+to walk for five minutes, each time alone in the garden, then back again
+to her room.</p>
+
+<p>This state of things, which had commenced on Wednesday morning, was, if
+Betty showed proper penitence and meekness, to terminate on Saturday
+morning.</p>
+
+<p>Yet even prisoner Betty was employed on Dot's behalf. She had Dot's
+stockings to mend, and to add insignificant things like buttons and
+tapes and hooks and eyes to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>those of her garments which had an
+insufficiency of such trifles. And she was sewing away industriously
+as she brooded over her woes.</p>
+
+<p>Dot herself was unpacking and packing up. Unpacking all her exercise
+books, and notebooks, and stacks of neat examination papers; her lesson
+books and Czerney's 101 <i>Exercises for the Pianoforte</i>; her sewing
+samples and wool-work; her study of a head in crayon, and waratahs and
+flannel flowers in oils, and peep of Sydney Harbour in water colours.</p>
+
+<p>"When I come home again," she told herself gravely, "I will arrange
+life: I'll practise <i>at least</i> two hours every morning; I'll do some
+solid good reading <i>every</i> day&mdash;some one like Shakespeare or Milton or
+Bacon! I'll paint every afternoon. I really have a talent for
+landscapes. And I'll finish writing my novel. For some things I'm really
+glad I've finished learning."</p>
+
+<p>A keen observer, regarding Dot's new scheme for life, would detect very
+little time or thought for reforming the household, and training Betty
+and teaching the younger ones. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span>But then, Dot's schemes varied, and a
+day seemed to her a very big piece of time to have to play with as she
+liked, all in her own hands. Hitherto it had been given out to her in
+hours by Miss Weir&mdash;this hour for French, that for English, this for a
+constitutional, that for sewing, this for the Scriptures, that for
+practice, and so on.</p>
+
+<p>What wonder that the felt she could crowd all the arts and sciences into
+a day when all the hours belonged to her for her very own.</p>
+
+<p>When she went to bed at night, by way of beginning the home reforms she
+looked at Betty very earnestly and shook her head, words being
+forbidden.</p>
+
+<p>And she removed her own particular text from above her bed to above
+Betty's, feeling very old and sedate the while, for it must be owned
+conscious virtue has a sobering effect.</p>
+
+<p>But the action threw Betty into a towering rage.</p>
+
+<p>"If you don't take down your old text I won't get into bed at all. I've
+only been trying to make you all rich."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span>And Dot, who was always alarmed into placidity when she had provoked
+wrath, returned "Blessed are the pure in heart" to its own position on
+the wall.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>
+<a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2>
+
+<h3>"GOOD-BYE, GOOD-BYE"</h3>
+
+
+<p class="first"><span class="smcap">All</span> was ready very early in the morning, for Dot was to start upon her
+journey at ten o'clock.</p>
+
+<p>The little school trunk and the family portmanteau stood side by side in
+the hall, labelled and ready to go forth&mdash;neat clean labels, bearing the
+inscription in Dot's best hand-writing&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+<span class="indent smcap">Miss Bruce</span>,<br />
+<span class="indent1">Passenger to Katoomba,</span><br />
+<span class="indent2">Blue Mountains."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>A strange excitement was upon Dot. She had never before in her life been
+upon a railway journey.</p>
+
+<p>The household generally, from her father down to little Nancy, treated
+her with gentle politeness as a newly arrived and just departing guest.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span>At breakfast the bread was handed to her without her once asking for
+it; Nancy watched her plate eagerly, that she did not run out of butter;
+Mary ran in with a nicely poached egg just at the right moment; Mrs.
+Bruce kept her cup replenished without once asking if it was empty.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't do any view hunting or gully climbing alone," said Mr. Bruce.
+"It's the easiest thing in life to be lost in the bush. Besides, no girl
+should roam about alone."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't be too venturesome, darling!" said Mrs. Bruce. "Just think if
+you fell down one of those valleys or gaps or falls!"</p>
+
+<p>Yet Dot had never been "too venturesome" in her life.</p>
+
+<p>"A little more bread?" inquired Cyril; "don't bother to eat that crusty
+bit; we can, and I'll give you some fresh."</p>
+
+<p>"More butter?" piped Nancy; then taking a leaf from Cyril's book&mdash;"Don't
+bover to eat it if it's nasty; <i>we</i> will. Have some jam astead."</p>
+
+<p>And Betty, in the silence of her bedroom, was drinking cold water and
+eating dry <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span>bread, without any one asking solicitously "if she would
+have a little more, or leave that if she did not like it, and have
+something nicer."</p>
+
+<p>"Yet I was trying to earn money for them all," she said aloud. "I won't
+try any more. Dot only spends it, but they love her more than me."</p>
+
+<p>It was while these thoughts were busy in her mind that Dot ran down the
+passage and opened the door suddenly. Such a dainty pretty Dot, in her
+new blue muslin dress that <i>almost</i> reached to the ground, and fitted
+closely to her slender little figure, and a new white straw hat with a
+new white gossamer floating out behind waiting to be tied when the
+kisses were all given and taken.</p>
+
+<p>The girl's face was like a tender blush rose; her eyes were shining with
+actual excitement (rare thing in placid Dot), and her hair hung down her
+back in a thick plait tied with blue ribbon.</p>
+
+<p>It was the plait which caught Betty's attention.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" she cried in disappointment, and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span>then stopped, remembering the
+silence that had been imposed upon her.</p>
+
+<p>Dot ran to her and kissed her.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all right," she said. "You may talk to me. I asked mother, and she
+says <i>yes</i> until I go."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't when you're gone," said Betty; but she brightened up very much.</p>
+
+<p>And she thought it very kind of Dot to have asked her mother to break
+the rule of silence, if it were only for an hour.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you were going to wear your hair on the top of your head,"
+she said, surveying Dot's plait somewhat contemptuously.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother won't let me," said Dot; "she says sixteen's too young."</p>
+
+<p>"Why sixteen is <i>old</i>," said Betty, "and you've left school."</p>
+
+<p>"I know. And mother was married at sixteen. But she says she wants me to
+keep my girlhood a little longer than she kept hers."</p>
+
+<p>"Hem," said Betty.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> don't want to," said Dot, and added <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span>virtuously, "but we can't do
+just as we like even with our own hair."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> shall," said Betty, and gave her morsel of a plait a convincing
+pull. "Wasn't my hair as long as yours once; and didn't I cut it off
+because I wanted to?"</p>
+
+<p>Then Dot bethought her of the wisdom of sixteen, and the foolishness of
+twelve and a bit, and she slipped her arm as lovingly around her little
+sister as she was wont to do around any of her friends at Westmead
+House.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear little Betty," she said, "promise me, you poor little thing, to be
+good all the time I am away."</p>
+
+<p>But Betty, unused to caresses, slipped away.</p>
+
+<p>"You always are away," she said. "I'll be as good as I want to. I wonder
+how good you'd be if suddenly you had to stay at home and wash up and
+dust."</p>
+
+<p>The picture was quite unenticing to Dot. <i>Wash up and dust and stay at
+home!</i> She moved slowly to the door, feeling very sorry for Betty.</p>
+
+<p>"I must go now," she said. "All this is <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span>just a finish up to my school
+time. Afterwards I shall have to stay at home and be eldest daughter
+while you have <i>your</i> time. Mother says you may come to the gate and see
+me off if you like."</p>
+
+<p>But she was genuinely sorry for Betty all the way down the hall to the
+front door, and her heart gave her an unpleasant pang when Betty sprang
+after her and thrust a shilling into her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"It's my own," whispered Betty; "take it; it will buy something; I
+earned it. Don't be afraid; I'll earn plenty more some day," and she ran
+away down the path to the gate.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear little Betty," said Dot, and slipped the shilling into her purse.
+"I'll buy something for her with it."</p>
+
+<p>They all came down to the gate to see the little traveller off.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bruce wore his best suit&mdash;well brushed&mdash;because he was going to
+accompany his eldest daughter as far as Redfern station. As the others
+were saying good-bye to her, he occupied himself by counting his money,
+to make sure he had enough for a first-class <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>return ticket for her, and
+the three half-sovereigns he had decided to slip into her purse before
+they reached the station.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bruce, slight and small almost as Dot herself, put Baby down on the
+brown-green grass at the gate, while she put a few quite unnecessary
+finishing touches to her eldest daughter.</p>
+
+<p>"I went away from my home for a visit when I was sixteen," she said&mdash;"to
+Katoomba, too!" Then she took Dot into her arms and held her closely for
+a minute. "Come back to us the same little girl we are sending away,"
+she said as she let her go.</p>
+
+<p>Cyril was waiting on the bush track, with the home-made "go-cart" piled
+up with Dot's luggage. He had to push it to the corner of the road and
+help it on the coach.</p>
+
+<p>He was very anxious to get home again, for he had heard a few words
+whispered pleadingly by Dot, then a whispered consultation between Mr.
+and Mrs. Bruce. He knew what it was about. Even before his father patted
+Betty's head and told her to start afresh from that minute, and his
+mother <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span>kissed her and said, "Be a good madcap Betty, and we'll commence
+now instead of to-morrow morning."</p>
+
+<p>Whereat Cyril became anxious to get home again to discover his sister's
+plans for the day.</p>
+
+<p>Nancy was crying and clinging to Dot's skirt.</p>
+
+<p>"Be quick and come home again," she said. "You look so nice in that
+hat!"</p>
+
+<p>Betty climbed over the gate instead of going through it.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going down to the road to wave my handkerchief to you," she said.
+"Oh, mother, will you lend me yours. Mine's gone."</p>
+
+<p>When she reached the road corner, a dog-cart flashed by, almost
+upsetting Cyril's equilibrium as he laboured along the road.</p>
+
+<p>In the dog-cart were Captain Carew and big John Brown. John looked
+steadily at the horse's head, fearing an explosion of wrath from his
+grandsire if he smiled at his fellow fortune-seeker. He, too, was going
+to the mountains for his holidays, preparation <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span>to commencing life at a
+Sydney Grammar School.</p>
+
+<p>But the Captain himself looked at Betty, and his grim face smiled. And
+there are not many who can translate a smile, so that we may take it
+that he was not altogether displeased with the little singer.</p>
+
+<p>Down the road went Dot, after her father and Cyril&mdash;a little maid fresh
+from school&mdash;dainty and fresh and crying gentle tears that would not
+hurt her eyes, and yet <i>must</i> come because of all these partings.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps we shall see her again some day when she comes back again to try
+to be an elder sister. Perhaps we shall see Betty, too, in her new
+position as one of the "young ladies" of Westmead House.</p>
+
+<p>But just now she has climbed an old tree-stump, and is standing there
+bare-headed and waving her handkerchief to cry&mdash;"Good-bye, good-bye."</p>
+
+<hr class="hr3" />
+
+<h5 class="end"><i>Printed in Great Britain by</i> Butler &amp; Tanner, <i>Frome and London</i></h5>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
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@@ -0,0 +1,5688 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of An Australian Lassie, by Lilian Turner
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: An Australian Lassie
+
+Author: Lilian Turner
+
+Illustrator: A.J. Johnson
+
+Release Date: January 28, 2008 [EBook #24443]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN AUSTRALIAN LASSIE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Wilson, Jacqueline Jeremy and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "Seated on a partly submerged post ... was John Brown."]
+
+
+
+
+    AN AUSTRALIAN
+    LASSIE
+
+    BY
+
+    LILIAN TURNER
+
+    AUTHOR OF "THE PERRY GIRLS," ETC.
+
+    ILLUSTRATIONS BY A. J. JOHNSON
+
+    WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED
+    LONDON AND MELBOURNE
+
+
+
+
+    TO
+    MY STEPFATHER
+    CHARLES COPE
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+CHAP.                                            PAGE
+
+        I WYGATE SCHOOL                             9
+
+       II THE PEARL SEEKERS                        20
+
+      III "THE DAILY ROUND--THE COMMON TASK"       30
+
+       IV GHOSTS                                   41
+
+        V JOHN BROWN                               59
+
+       VI MONDAY MORNING                           68
+
+      VII "CAREW-BROWN"                            79
+
+     VIII THE FIGHT                                86
+
+       IX DOROTHEA'S FRIENDS                      101
+
+        X RICHES OR RAGS                          112
+
+       XI THE ARTIST BY THE WAYSIDE               123
+
+      XII BETTY IN THE LION'S DEN                 134
+
+     XIII "IF I WERE ONLY YOU!"                   147
+
+      XIV JOHN'S PLANS                            162
+
+       XV ON THE ROAD                             177
+
+      XVI THE NOTE ON THE PINCUSHION              189
+
+     XVII IN THE CITY                             201
+
+    XVIII ALMA'S SHILLING                         214
+
+      XIX THE BENT-SHOULDERED OLD GENTLEMAN       224
+
+       XX THE DAY AFTER SCHOOL                    234
+
+      XXI "GOOD-BYE, GOOD-BYE"                    245
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+WYGATE SCHOOL
+
+
+"Emily Underwood, 19; Stanley Smith, 20; Cyril Bruce, 21; Nellie
+Underwood, 22; Elizabeth Bruce, 23--bottom of the class!"
+
+Mr. Sharman took off his eyeglasses, rubbed them, and put them on again.
+Then he looked very hard at the little girl at the end of the furthest
+form, who was hanging her head and industriously biting a slate pencil.
+
+"Stand up, Elizabeth Bruce. Put down your pencil and fold your hands
+behind you."
+
+Elizabeth did as she was told instantly. Her rosy face looked anxiously
+into the master's stern one.
+
+"Yesterday morning," the master said, "you were head of the class. This
+morning I find your name at the end of the list. How was that?"
+
+Elizabeth hung her head again, and her dimpled chin hid itself behind
+the needlework of her pinafore.
+
+A small girl, a few seats higher, held up her hand and waved it
+impatiently.
+
+"Well?" asked the master.
+
+"Please sir, she was promptin' Cyril Bruce."
+
+"Silence!" thundered the master sternly. Then his gaze went back to the
+bent head of the little culprit.
+
+"Stand upon the form," he said, "and tell me in a clear voice how it is
+you went down twenty-two places in one afternoon."
+
+The rosiness left the little girl's face. She raised her head, and her
+brown eyes looked pleadingly into the master's, her white face besought
+him, for one second. Then she scrambled up to the form by the aid of the
+desk in front of her.
+
+Down the room near the master's desk stood a new boy, an awkward looking
+figure of twelve years old or so, waiting to be given a place in the
+class. Elizabeth knew that her disgrace was meant as a solemn warning to
+him. So she tossed back the short dark curls that hardly reached her
+neck, and looking angrily at him, said--
+
+"I was top and I pulled Nelly Martin's hair, and was sent down three.
+Then I was fourth, and my pencil squeaked my slate and I was sent down
+six. Then Cyril had to spell 'giraffe,' and I said 'one r and two f's,'
+and she sent me to the bottom."
+
+All of this speech was directed to the new boy who stood on one leg and
+grew red. It was an immense relief to him when the master rapped the
+front desk with his cane and said--
+
+"Look at me, miss. Whom do you mean by 'she'?"
+
+At the end of the room a sharp visaged lady of forty-five was watching
+the proceedings of the first class from over the heads of a row of small
+students who comprised the "Babies' Class."
+
+"D-o, do; g-o, go," she said mechanically, and looked anxiously from
+little Elizabeth to her stern son, the master of Wygate School.
+
+Elizabeth jerked her head, "Mrs. Sharman," she said.
+
+"Sit down and fold your hands behind you," ordered the master. He
+turned to the new boy. "John Brown," he said, "go and take your seat
+next to Elizabeth Bruce--but one above her."
+
+The new boy moved across the room, red-faced and clumsy in every
+movement. When he found himself in front of the class he grew still
+redder, and hung hesitatingly upon the step that led to the platform
+upon which the form was placed.
+
+Elizabeth looked at him disdainfully and drew her dress close around
+her.
+
+"Sit down, you silly," she said in a sharp whisper, and indicated with a
+little head toss the seat above her.
+
+John Brown slunk past her and dropped heavily into his seat. The master
+retired to his desk and made an entry or two in his long blue book while
+silence hung over the schoolroom.
+
+In Elizabeth's heart a flame of anger was spreading. That this boy, this
+new boy, should be placed above her, was in her eyes the greatest
+injustice. A small voice within told her that she had been punished
+sufficiently yesterday afternoon.
+
+Her head moved slightly in the direction of the new boy and her rosy
+lips opened.
+
+"You cheat!" she whispered.
+
+The boy sat motionless and the anger burned hotter in Elizabeth's heart.
+
+"Cheaty, cheaty; go home and tell your mother!" she said in a sing-song
+way.
+
+Still Brown did not move.
+
+Elizabeth slid her hand along the seat and gave him a sharp pinch, and
+he started uneasily.
+
+"Stand up the boy or girl who was speaking," ordered the master, without
+looking up.
+
+A small fair-haired fair-complexioned boy, two seats above Elizabeth,
+flushed. His name was Cyril Bruce and he was Elizabeth's twin
+brother--twelve years old.
+
+"I was only talking to myself--that's not speaking," he murmured.
+
+Elizabeth rose slowly to her feet and stood working a corner of her
+pinafore into a knot. The master looked around, and his brow grew dark
+when he saw the small offender.
+
+"Repeat aloud what you said, Elizabeth Bruce," he ordered.
+
+The little girl grew white, then red, then white again, and went on
+twisting her pinafore.
+
+"Do you hear me?" shouted the master. "Stand upon the form and repeat
+your words."
+
+Once again Elizabeth clambered into a higher position.
+
+"I said--I said, 'Cheaty, cheaty; go home and tell your mother,'" she
+said in a clear voice that sounded all over the room.
+
+A shocked expression passed over the face of the class.
+
+"To whom were you addressing yourself?" asked the master.
+
+"The new boy," said the little girl.
+
+"Sit down, and stay in the dinner-hour and write out the sentence fifty
+times."
+
+Elizabeth sat down, and again her anger against the new boy blazed high.
+
+She put out her foot and kicked the heel of his boot, but this time she
+eschewed words, for the face of the master was towards her, and an
+expectant silence hung over the schoolroom.
+
+The clock struck ten, and the boy at the head of the class immediately
+began passing slates down--one to each pupil, with a piece of pencil
+upon it.
+
+The sight of the well-cleaned slate and nicely pointed pencil brought a
+feeling of great uneasiness to Elizabeth.
+
+It had been in her mind how nicely she could climb above the new boy,
+and the tell-tale girl, and all the other boys and girls, and now the
+order of the day was--sums.
+
+The master was writing them down on the blackboard, making them up as he
+went along, with due care working nines and eights and sevens into his
+multiplicand and dealing but sparsely with fives and twos and threes.
+
+Elizabeth copied it down and rubbed it out. Copied it down and rubbed
+out half, by judicious breathings directed judiciously; looked up the
+class to see how Cyril was progressing, and back to the board to see if
+a pleasant little short division sum was lurking near this obnoxious
+multiplication; then back to her slate to count the number of nines
+once more. And by that time the master was giving out his order:
+"Pencils down. Hands behind you. _At--tention._"
+
+Brown's face expressed such placidity that the master asked him to stand
+and give out the answer, and he gave it gladly enough--999.009--which
+sounded particularly learned to a class not yet introduced to decimals.
+
+The master nodded. "You are right," he said, "but no one is up to
+decimals yet."
+
+So it happened that Brown made his reputation straightway, and with such
+ease did he solve every arithmetical puzzle, that dinner-time saw him
+sitting smiling and covered with laurels at the head of the class, and
+Elizabeth still at the bottom cleaning her slate to write "Cheaty,
+cheaty; go home and tell your mother," fifty times.
+
+Wygate School was a preparatory school for boys and girls, although the
+girls out-numbered the boys. At the present stage of its existence it
+had eighteen girls and twelve boys. Not half a mile distant was a public
+school, to the precincts of which flocked fifty pupils daily, each of
+whom paid a modest threepence a week for educationary advantages.
+
+Wygate School was the only private school in the district, and was
+regarded respectfully by the neighbourhood. So many "undesirables" were
+precluded from its benefits, by its charge of one guinea a quarter.
+
+John Brown, the new boy, whose age it appeared was thirteen years, was
+the eldest pupil in the school, and Floss Jones, who was four, was the
+baby.
+
+The neighbourhood frequently moaned that there was no private school for
+those of riper years--fifteen and sixteen or so; but in some cases it
+called in a governess, in others it forewent its dignity and adopted the
+public school, and in others again it sent its young folk over the water
+to Sydney--a matter of three miles or more.
+
+But the North Shore Highlands was at this time uncatered for by the
+tramway authorities. An old coach ran twice daily from Willoughby to the
+steamer--a morning trip and an evening-tide one--there and back. It was
+largely patronized by the Chinese, and parents of the artisan class
+hesitated and frequently refused to allow their young folk to make the
+journey.
+
+The three young Bruces went every day across a beaten bush track, from
+their weather-board cottage home, past the big iron gates of Dene Hall,
+a house built of grey stone in the early days of the colony, where their
+irascible grandsire dwelt, up a red dusty road to the little
+school-house on the hill.
+
+And special terms were arranged for them because they were three--Cyril,
+and Elizabeth the twins, and six-year-old Nancy.
+
+They had always been three. For even in the days when Cyril and
+Elizabeth had belonged to the baby class there had been Dorothea,
+Dorothea who was sixteen and quite old now, who was a weekly boarder in
+a fashionable Sydney school (for a ridiculously small quarterly fee).
+
+And when Dorothea had left Wygate School little Nancy's hand had been
+put into Elizabeth's and she too had taken the long red road to school.
+And after Nancy there was still a wee toddler who, it was said, would
+make the number up to three again when Cyril went to a "real" boy's
+school.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE PEARL SEEKERS
+
+
+They were round the corner and away from school--Cyril, Elizabeth and
+Nancy. Behind them were all the trials and vexations of the day, among
+which may be counted Mrs. Sharman, Mr. Sharman--and John Brown.
+
+Cyril spoke with awe of John Brown's big hands and feet, and looked over
+his shoulder as he spoke. For that small hope of the Bruces had in the
+cloak-room inadvertently trodden upon Brown's hat, and had been startled
+by the way in which Brown had swung him round by his collar.
+
+"I pinched him," said Betty proudly. "He shouldn't have gone above me.
+I'll pinch him every time."
+
+Her sun-bonnet was tucked away under her arm, her boots and stockings
+were in the family lunch-basket that she carried, boy-like, swung over
+her shoulder, and she covered the ground most of the time with a hop,
+skip, and a jump, aided by a long stout stick.
+
+"I suppose," she said, "we'll have to try the dangerous little coral
+islands this time. I know that's where the black pearl is hidden."
+
+"Oh dear," sighed Nancy, "I don't like curral islands a bit. Let's go
+home to-day."
+
+"Silly!" said Cyril loftily. "We've got to find the black pearl
+somehow."
+
+"It'll be worth hundreds and thousands of pounds," said Elizabeth. "Just
+_think_ of taking that to mother, just _think_ of all we could do. It
+wouldn't matter _then_ grandfather not speaking. _We_ could drive past
+him in our carriage then! Come on my lass." This last was to Nancy.
+
+"I want to go in the water, too, Betty," said the small lassie,
+following at a trot. "Don't want to be your old wife. I've been your
+wife for a lot of days now."
+
+"I don't know who you mean when you say Betty," declared Elizabeth, and
+leapt forward so far that the other two had to sharpen their pace
+suddenly.
+
+"Peter Lucky," said Nancy imploringly. "Oh, Peter Lucky, let Cywil be
+your wife a bit--do."
+
+"Cywil's"--it may be stated that Betty was still very backward sometimes
+in the matter of r's--"Cywil's got to be my chum--don't be such a stupid
+Nancy--er--Polly. He's got to try to murder me in the middle of the
+night to get the pearl. Look here, we've only just put you in to amuse
+you a bit, we can _just_ as well do without you."
+
+Nancy's face fell. Such statements were lavishly used by these two
+elders of hers towards herself. But the indignity she feared most was to
+be told to go home and play with the baby, and she looked at her sister
+with an eager smile now to stop the words if possible.
+
+"Oh, don't do wivout me, Betty dear," she said. "I'll love to be your
+wife. I was only thinking it would be nice to have your feet in the
+water."
+
+"You're six," said Betty. "You ought to be able to be my wife well
+now--cook the dinner, and wash up, and all that. If you do well at
+this, we'll see how you'll do as a man some day."
+
+For a second they stopped before their grandfather's gates and peered up
+the long drive. It was an old habit of theirs, varied for instance by
+challenges of who dared to walk the furthest distance up the drive.
+Betty had once advanced just beyond that mysterious bend, but she had
+scudded back again soon, declaring her grandfather had a gun and was
+coming after them, with it aimed at her head. Oh, how they had run home
+that day!
+
+Another time she had climbed upon the topmost rail of the gate and,
+scrambling down quickly, had set off madly for home, followed
+breathlessly by the others who were afraid even to look over their
+shoulders. "He's set the emus loose," Betty told them as they ran, "and
+emus are like bloodhounds for scenting you out. And besides, they can
+fly."
+
+But that was fully a year ago now, and much of the terror had departed
+from their grandfather's gates for the two elder ones. It was only Nancy
+who had cold thrills down her back and shudderings at passing the dread
+gates.
+
+To-day Betty did no more than peep through the railing, declare there
+was nobody about, and swing off again with her long pole. "Nobody there
+to-day," she said, and Nancy breathed easier and ran after her.
+
+They were on the well-trodden bush-track now, the track that led home
+between great gums and slim saplings. The iron roof of the cottage came
+into view and the row of tall pines that stood like grim sentinels
+between the two-rail fence and the sweet-scented garden. A small wicket
+gate stood invitingly ajar, and a black dog, lying meditatively outside
+it, pricked up his ears and raised his head as the trio came into sight.
+
+They took a cross-track, however, and disappeared into the bush again,
+and the dog shook off his thoughtful mood and ran gleefully after them.
+
+For he had not grown up from puppyhood to doghood with these children
+without knowing what tracks led to school and home, and what to the
+wonderful realm of play and fancy. Moreover, his anticipations were
+always aroused when Elizabeth changed her habit, and he had seen in the
+twinkling of his eye that she was bare-legged and bare-headed and
+provided with a pole. So he barked joyously and scampered away upon that
+cross-track too.
+
+Down in the gully where the growth was thicker, and where the wattles
+and willows made many a fairy grove, a small creek ran. The widest end
+of it ran into their grandfather's grounds, and had at one time in its
+career broken down the two-rail dividing fence, which now lay submerged
+in its waters and formed the "dangerous coral islands" alluded to by
+Betty.
+
+It pleased Elizabeth's fancy to state that her grandfather was unaware
+of this creek, but that some one would tell him soon, and then he would
+send men and have it well examined by divers.
+
+To-day, however, a dire disappointment awaited them. Seated on a partly
+submerged post, and holding a fishing-line in his hands, was John Brown.
+The three stared at him for a minute in speechless disgust, but he
+returned their stare with a nod and a small smile and looked at his
+line.
+
+"Better come home," whispered Cyril, with a lively recollection in his
+mind of the big hand that had played with his collar so short a time
+past.
+
+But Betty was trying to swallow her indignation and to keep her voice
+quiet.
+
+"This is our place," she said. "This was our place before yours."
+
+"Well," said Brown, "it's mine now."
+
+"It isn't yours," said Betty shrilly; "it belongs to our grandfather--so
+there!"
+
+Again Brown smiled.
+
+"Well, that's a stuffer," he said, "it belongs to _my_ grandfather."
+
+Betty's eyes widened in horror at the new boy's depravity. "Oh, you
+story!" she said in a shocked voice, then turning to the uneasy Cyril,
+"Hit him, Cyril!" she said. "Hit him one in the eye for taking our place
+and telling such a wicked story."
+
+But Cyril was already widening the distance between himself and John
+Brown, and a feeling of anger was beginning to stir in his small breast
+against Betty for trying to mix him up in this quarrel.
+
+"Come on home," he said, "what's the good of having a row with a fellow
+like that?"
+
+"But it's our water," said Betty, her face red with anger towards the
+fisher. She stooped down and picked up a stone.
+
+Brown turned and looked at the little group; Cyril a good distance in
+the rear; and angry-faced Betty, with Nancy cowering in terror behind
+her.
+
+"Look here," he said, "I'm not going to have any of you people poaching
+on my grandfather's property. You can come as far as the fence _if_ you
+like, but I advise you to come no further."
+
+Betty's stone flew through the air--many yards distant from the boy on
+the post.
+
+"Good, again," he said. "There are plenty more stones and I'm here yet."
+
+Again Betty repeated the process, and with even worse results. She never
+_could_ aim straight in all her life!
+
+"Good shot!" said Brown, laughing again.
+
+"Oh, Cywil, do _smash_ him," begged Betty in desperation.
+
+"He daren't, he hasn't the pluck," mocked Brown.
+
+"No Bruce is afraid," said Betty, using her favourite taunt. "Come on
+Cyril!"
+
+But when she looked over her shoulder Cyril was nowhere in sight, and
+Nancy was scudding away, like a terrified rabbit, through the scrub
+around her.
+
+Through the air rang a clear shrill voice--it belonged to golden haired
+Dorothea--"Betty, come home."
+
+"You're called," said Brown, winding up a yard or so of his line.
+
+Betty stooped, grasped another stone, took aim at a distant wattle in
+sheer desperation, and caught Brown on the hand.
+
+The pain of it drew a sharp exclamation from him, and brought him from
+his post in a towering rage.
+
+And Betty took to her bare heels and ran--ran as though her grandfather
+and all his emus were after her.
+
+Near the wicket-gate she ran against Cyril, who was throwing stones in
+the air for the dog to snap at as they fell.
+
+"Bwoun!" she gasped. "He's coming!"
+
+Cyril looked down the track and beheld no one.
+
+"It's all right," he said; "go inside and shut the gate. I'll give him
+what for. I'd just like to see him touch you. I'd knock him into next
+year as soon as look at him."
+
+But no Brown appeared.
+
+Cyril put his hands in his pockets and strutted towards the track
+through the bush--to the intense admiration of Elizabeth.
+
+"No Bruce is afraid of any one," he said. "You and Nancy go in."
+
+A girl in a short long print dress ran down the verandah steps. A mane
+of golden hair hung down her back and some of it lay over her shoulders,
+and when she stood still she tossed it away.
+
+"You're to come home at once, Betty," she said, "and mind baby. And oh,
+you naughty girl, you've got your boots and stockings off again. What
+_will_ mother say?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+"THE DAILY ROUND--THE COMMON TASK"
+
+
+Betty's boots and stockings were on once more, and her school frock
+exchanged for one whose school days lay far behind it. In spite of
+"lettings down" and repeated patchings and mendings it was in what its
+small wearer called the "ragetty tagetty" stage of its existence, and
+was donned only when she was about the dirty part of "cleaning up."
+
+It was Saturday morning now, and she was very busy. Her mother could
+never capably wield a broom, or scrub, or dust, or cook--she had done
+all four, but the results were pathetic. Even Nancy knew the story of
+her life, which began with "once upon a time, almost twenty years ago,"
+and was told in varying fragments whenever a story was begged for.
+
+There was the story of the jolly sea-captain and his one wee
+daughter--their own mother--and of how they had sailed the seas and seen
+many people and many lands. There was the story of the old house within
+the iron gates--built by convicts more than fifty years ago--and of how
+the sea-captain had bought it and built a tower and spiral staircase and
+a roof promenade, which he called his "deck." And of how he and his
+small daughter settled down in the great house together; and how her
+wardrobe was always full of beautiful clothes and her purse full of real
+sovereigns; and two ponies she had to her name, and a great dog that was
+the terror of the neighbourhood, and a little dog that lived as much as
+it could in her lap. There was the story of her garden full of rare
+flowers, and her ferneries of rare ferns, and her aviary of rare birds.
+
+Then there was the story of the little girl "grown up," with hair done
+on the top of her head, and long sweeping dresses, and a lover chosen by
+her father himself--by name John Brown; and of the pale young author
+who lived beyond the iron gates, in a small weather-board cottage with
+an iron roof who wrote dainty little sonnets and ballads, which he read
+to her under the old gum trees.
+
+And lastly, there was the story of the captain's pretty daughter
+slipping away from the great house--to become mistress of the wee
+cottage behind the pine trees. And of how the captain returned all
+letters unopened and sailed away to other lands for five years; of how
+afterwards the poor author lay ill unto death, and the little
+wife--"mother" now--carried pretty Dorothy to the great house and sent
+her trotting into the library, saying "grandpa" as she ran; and of how
+the little girl had been lifted outside the house by a servant, who had
+civilly stated the orders he had received, never to allow any one from
+the author's house to "cross the threshold" of that other great one.
+
+And now it was to-day--and besides Dorothea there were the twins (Cyril
+and Elizabeth), Nancy and the baby; a goodly number for the small
+weather-board cottage to shelter and for the author, who had only had
+one book published, to bring up.
+
+So it fell out that there was only a rough state girl to do the work of
+the cottage, and much sweeping and dusting was Elizabeth's "share"; much
+"washing-up" and tidying. To Nancy belonged the task of setting the
+tables and amusing the baby; and Cyril was engaged at a penny a week to
+stock the barrel in the kitchen with firewood and chips, and bits of
+bark to coax contrary fires. He was the only one who received payment
+for his work, and no one demurred, for was he not the only boy of the
+family and in the eyes of them all a sort of king!
+
+So Betty was dressed in working garb and was bestowing her usual
+Saturday morning attention upon the "living-room"--drawing-room they had
+none. The little room that had evidently been destined by its builder to
+fulfil such a mission, had been seized and occupied by the author in the
+beginning of his residence at The Gunyah.
+
+The living-room was a low-ceiled room with French windows leading to the
+verandah. It had a centre table, several cane chairs, a small piano, a
+rocking-chair and a dilapidated sofa. Its floor was oilclothed and its
+windows uncurtained--only Dorothea had arrived at the stage that sighed
+for prettinesses.
+
+Betty was quite happy when she had swept the floor, shaken the cloth,
+put all the chairs with their backs to the wall, and polished the piano.
+
+She was surveying the room with pride when Dorothea walked in. Dorothea
+in the frock she had worn for five mornings during the week, and which
+was still clean and fresh; with her wonderful hair in a shining mass
+down her back, and a serviette in her hand (an extempore duster). It
+always took her the better part of Saturday to even find her own niche
+in the home.
+
+"I was going to dust this room, Betty," she said--"someway, everything I
+am going to do, I find you've done."
+
+Elizabeth smiled drily. She could not even sweep a room and be just
+Elizabeth Bruce. Saturdays usually found her in imagination Cinderella;
+and consequently harsh words from Dorothea, who in her eyes was a cruel
+step-sister, would have found more favour with her than kind ones.
+
+"There is the kitchen to be swept," said Betty; "the ashes are thick on
+the hearth and the breakfast things are not washed up."
+
+Dorothea looked startled. Betty's voice sounded tired and resigned.
+
+"Oh dear!" said Dorothea, "I do so _hate_ doing kitchen work. It makes
+my hands so red and rough, and just spoils my dress."
+
+"The work is there and must be done," remarked Betty.
+
+Mrs. Bruce looked in at the door. Her face was just Dorothea's grown
+older, and without its roses; her hair was Dorothea's with its gold
+grown dull; her very voice and dimples were Dorothea's. A large
+poppy-trimmed hat adorned her head, and a basket with an old pair of
+scissors in it was swung over her arm.
+
+"Of course you'll not do kitchen work, my chicken," she said gaily;
+"slip on your hat and come and gather roses with me. It's little enough
+of you home your get--that little shall not be spoilt by ashes and dust.
+
+"It's Mary's work, and Betty can see that she does it well."
+
+Betty stalked into the kitchen and regarded the fireplace in gleeful
+gloom, sitting down in front of it and staring into the heart of the
+small wood fire.
+
+Mary, the maid-of-all-work, took her duties in a very haphazard way. She
+had no particular time for doing anything, and no particular place for
+keeping anything. And alas! it is to be regretted her mistress was the
+last woman in the world to train her in the way she should go.
+
+To-day she had taken it into her head to try the effect of a few bows of
+blue ribbon upon her cherry-coloured straw hat, before the breakfast
+things were washed or the sweeping and scrubbing done. But the
+washing-up belonged to Betty.
+
+Outside in the garden Mrs. Bruce was drawing Dorothea's attention to the
+scent of the violets and mignonette, and her gay voice caused Betty to
+sigh heavily.
+
+"If my own mother had lived," she said gloomily, "I too might gather
+flowers. But what am I?--the family drudge!"
+
+Cyril entered the back door, his arms piled up with firewood.
+
+"I'm getting sick of chopping wood," he said grumblingly, "it's all very
+well to be you and stay in a nice cool kitchen. How'd you like it if you
+had to be me and stay chopping in the hot sun? I know what _I_ wish."
+
+"What?" asked Betty, glancing round her "nice cool kitchen" without any
+appreciation of it lighting her eyes.
+
+"Why, I wish mother had never run away and made grandfather mad. And I
+wish he'd suddenly think he was going to die, and say he wanted to adopt
+me."
+
+"How about me? Why shouldn't he adopt me?" demanded Betty.
+
+"'Cause I'm the only son," said Cyril. "He's got his pick of four girls,
+but if he wants a boy there's only me."
+
+He went outside and loaded himself with wood once more.
+
+"Cecil Duncan's father gives him threepence a week, and he doesn't have
+to do anything to earn it," he said when he came in again. "He says
+every Monday morning his father gives him a threepenny bit and his
+mother's _always_ giving him pennies."
+
+"H'em," said Cinderella, and fell to work sweeping up the hearth
+vigorously. Her own grievances faded away, as she looked at
+Cyril's--which was a way they had.
+
+"And he's not the only boy neither," said Cyril. He threw the wood
+angrily into the barrel. "There's Harry and Jim besides. I suppose they
+get threepence each as well. What's a penny a week? You can't do
+anything with it."
+
+Elizabeth lifted down a tin bowl and filled it with water; placed in it
+a piece of yellow soap, a piece of sand soap and a scrubbing brush, and
+then began to roll up her sleeves. She was no longer Cinderella. A new
+and wonderful thought had flashed into her mind even as she listened to
+Cyril's plaint. It certainly _was_ hard for him, her heart admitted,
+very hard.
+
+"How would you like to be rich, Cywil?" she asked, turning a shining
+face to him.
+
+Cyril thought a reply was one of those many things that could be
+dispensed with--he merely showered a little extra vindictiveness upon
+the firewood and kicked the cask with a shabby copper-toed boot.
+
+Betty danced across to him and put her sun-tanned face close to his fair
+freckled one.
+
+"How would you like to be _very_ rich?" she said, "and to have a pony of
+your own, and jelly and things to eat, and a lovely house to live in,
+and----"
+
+"Don't be so silly, Betty," said the boy irritably.
+
+Betty wagged her head. "I've got a thought," she said.
+
+"Your silly-old pearl-seeking is no good. There are no pearls, so
+there," said Cyril crossly. "You needn't go thinking you really take me
+in. It's only a game--bah!"
+
+Betty was still dancing around him in a convincing, yet aggravating way.
+
+"How'd you like to be adopted, Cywil?" she asked--"really adopted, not
+pretending? Oh, I've got a very big thought, and it wants a lot of
+thinking. You go on getting your wood while I think."
+
+And Cyril gave her one of his old respectful looks as he went out of the
+kitchen door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+GHOSTS
+
+
+Betty's plan was beautifully simple. As Cyril said, he could easily have
+thought of it himself. It was nothing more than to effect a
+reconcilement between their grandfather and their mother, and the means
+to bring it about was to be "ghosts."
+
+"Mother said he was superstitious," said Betty; "she says all sailors
+are. He doesn't like omens and things, mother says. What we want to do
+is to give him a severe fright."
+
+She had thought out alone all the details of her plan, helped only by a
+few incidental words of her mother's. The story of baby Dorothea being
+taken to melt a father's heart, for instance, had fired Betty with the
+resolve to try what baby Nancy could do in that direction.
+
+Cyril was more matter-of-fact.
+
+"If he wouldn't forgive mother when she took Dot, he's not very likely
+to soften to you with Baby," he said.
+
+But Betty had counted that risk too.
+
+"You forget he's ever so many years older," she said. "He's an old man
+now, and it's quite time he woke up. I've been thinking of everything
+we've to do and everything we've to say."
+
+"Ghosts don't talk," said Cyril.
+
+"They moan," replied Betty; "and they _do_ talk. In _Lady Anne's
+Causeway_ there's a ghost, and it speaks in sepulchral tones and says:
+'Come hither, come hither to my home; thy time is come.'"
+
+The little girl's eyes were shining; the very thought of that other
+ghost's "sepulchral" tones gave her a thrill down her back and lifted
+her out of herself. Of all her plots and plans, and they were many and
+various, there was not one to compare in magnitude with this. In her
+thoughts she became a ghost, straightway. She glided about the house,
+her lips moved but gave no sound, her eyes shone. Underneath the
+exhilaration, that her ghostly feelings gave, was the smooth sense of
+being about to do a great deed that would benefit every one--Cyril, her
+mother, her father, Dot, every one. Tears glistened in her eyes as she
+thought of the meeting between her grandfather and her mother, and
+beheld in fancy her pretty mother clasped at last in the sea-captain's
+arms.
+
+Throughout that Saturday afternoon she made her preparations, only now
+and then giving Cyril a trifling explanation. He was much relieved to
+hear he would not be expected to take any active part in the
+proceedings, only to be at hand, in hiding, to help his ghostly sister
+carry the baby.
+
+Tea was always an early meal at The Gunyah, that Mr. Bruce might have a
+long evening at his writing, and the children at their home lessons.
+
+To-night, after the last cup and saucer had been washed and dried by
+Betty and put away by Dot, and after the baby, had been tucked into her
+little crib, by Betty again, a long pleasant evening seemed to stretch
+before every one.
+
+Mr. Bruce brought out _My Study Windows_, and declared he had "broken
+up" till Monday. Mrs. Bruce opened a certain exercise book her eldest
+daughter had given her, imploring secrecy, and Dot sat down to the piano
+and wandered stumblingly into Mendelssohn's Duetto. The twins, to every
+one's entire satisfaction, "slipped away"--Betty to her bedroom to make
+her preparations, and Cyril (who was strictly forbidden even to peep
+through the key-hole) to the dark passage that ran from the bedrooms to
+the dining-room and front door. He went on with his plans while he
+waited. All day he had been thinking of the rainbow coloured future
+Betty assured him was his. He had quite decided to leave school directly
+he was adopted, and to have "some one" come to teach him at home. Of
+course his grandfather would not be able to bear him out of his sight.
+He had heard of such cases, and supposed he was about to become one.
+Then he decided to have a pony, a nice quiet little thing with a back
+not _too_ far from the ground; and he would have a boat and sail her
+where the coral islands were, and he would have a few new marbles--and
+get his grandfather to have the emus killed.
+
+He had just arrived at the part of the story where his grandfather was
+giving orders for the destruction of his emus, when Betty opened the
+bedroom door a crack, and whispered his name.
+
+She shut the door at once, before he was fairly inside the room, and
+then he saw her.
+
+Such a strange new Betty she was, that he almost cried out. Her
+face was white--white as death; two black cork lines stood for
+eyebrows, and black lines lay under her eyes, making them larger
+and unnatural-looking. She wore a black gown of her mother's, and
+a black capacious bonnet, and had a rusty dog chain tied to one
+arm. She moved her arm and fixed her eyes on her startled brother.
+
+"Do you hear my clanking chain?" she asked in what she fondly believed
+to be "sepulchral tones." "Ghosts always have them. Come on."
+
+But Cyril hung back somewhat--perhaps the glories of "being adopted"
+paled beside the unpleasantness of walking a lonely road in such unusual
+company.
+
+"It's--it's a silly game," he said. "I don't see any good in it at all."
+
+But the little ghost turned upon him spiritedly.
+
+"This isn't a game at all," she said. "This is _real_. It'll make mother
+friends with grandfather, and get you adopted. Get baby and come on--it
+might frighten her if she saw me."
+
+"They'll find out that she's gone," said Cyril, still leaning upon the
+bed-foot and eyeing his sister distrustfully. "Let's chuck it, Betty,
+we'll only get in a row."
+
+"We won't get in a row," said Betty staunchly. "She'll be only too glad
+when we come back and tell them all. I didn't undress Baby to-night, and
+I put on her blue sash and everything. All you've to do is to wrap that
+shawl round her and catch me up. I'll be at the gate."
+
+Baby was used, as were all of the others except Dot, to an open-air
+existence. Most of her daylight hours were spent, either rolling on the
+rough lawn, or sleeping in a hammock swung beneath an apple tree, and as
+a result, night-tide found her a very drowsy baby indeed. The children
+might romp and sing and chatter around her very cot as she slept, but
+she could not steal out of her slumbers even to blink a golden eyelash
+at them.
+
+So that when Cyril overtook Elizabeth at the gate, my Lady Baby was
+asleep in his arms, and so she stayed in spite of the thumping of his
+heart, and the chatter of the ghost, and the rough road.
+
+The night was dark with the luminous darkness of an Australian summer
+night. The tender sky was scattered with star-dust, a baby-moon peeped
+over the hill-top and the leaves and branches of the great bush trees
+lay like dark fretwork over the heavens.
+
+Betty, holding her dress well up, and Cyril carrying the sleeping baby,
+hurried through the belt of bush that lay between their home and their
+grandfather's. Betty strove to instil energy into her listless brother,
+telling him stories of a golden future in store for him. But at the
+two-rail fence below "Coral Island Brook," Cyril came to a standstill,
+and urged Betty, who was under it in a trice and on her feet again, to
+"come along home."
+
+Betty turned her ghastly face towards him indignantly. "I won't," she
+said fiercely. "Give me the baby and go home yourself if you like."
+
+Between the outer world of bush and the house was a slip of ground
+called the banana grove, and known in story to both boy and girl, as the
+play-place of their mother.
+
+Cyril followed Betty through this grove, trying to make up his mind as
+he went, whether to go or stay. To stay and take his part in the
+proceedings; to do and be bold--as an inner voice kept urging him--to
+blend his moans with Betty's, and carry the heavy baby; or to turn upon
+his heels, and fly through the darkness from these horrid haunted
+grounds where his grandsire, and the great emus and dogs lived; where
+John Brown stated he had his dwelling--away from all these terrors to
+his small cottage home on the other edge of the bush, where were parents
+and sisters, music and lights--and another voice urged this.
+
+So he neither followed Betty nor went home; but, in dreadful doubt and
+great fear, he hung between the two courses in the banana grove, and
+shivered at the tree-trunks and the rustling leaves and the stray
+patches of moonlight.
+
+And Betty went forward alone with the baby. Her heart was beating in a
+sickening way, but her courage was, as usual, equal to the occasion. It
+was far easier to her to go forward than backward now, and she braced
+herself up with a few of her stock phrases--"He won't eat me anyway";
+"It'll be all the same in a hundred years"; "No Bruce is afraid _ever_."
+
+A great bay window jutted into the darkness and gave out a blaze of
+light. This was the lowest room in the tower portion of the house and
+was, as Betty knew, her grandfather's study.
+
+Betty's mind was swiftly made up. All fear had left her, and she
+stepped into the soft moonlight--a ghost indeed.
+
+She called Cyril, and her voice was so imperative that he quitted his
+sheltering tree and ran to where she stood on the edge of the grove.
+
+"Take Baby," she said whisperingly; "I can't do what I want with her in
+my arms."
+
+"Come home, B--B--Betty," implored the small youth--and his teeth
+chattered as he spoke--"I--I don't want to be adopted. I----"
+
+"Hush!" urged Betty, and filled his arms with the baby. "I--I don't want
+to be r--rich," cried Cyril. "It's b--b--better to be poor."
+
+"H--sh!" said Betty again.
+
+"I--I don't want to be like a c--camel!" whimpered the boy. "R--remember
+about rich men getting to Heaven."
+
+"Stay close here with Baby," ordered the little ghost, and the next
+second she had glided away over the path to the verandah. She went close
+to the window--three blinds had been left undrawn and the window panes
+ran down to the verandah floor. Surely the room had been designed
+expressly for this night.
+
+Cyril, in horror, beheld his sister creep to the first window and peep
+in; creep to the second--to the third.
+
+All the other windows were darkened; only this one room in all the great
+house seemed to be awake.
+
+Then, in the silence which lay everywhere, a blood-curdling thing
+happened. Betty's "clanking chain" came in contact with something of
+iron reared up near the window and gave forth a fearsome sound. Cold
+chills played about Cyril's back, a distant dog barked--and Baby awoke.
+
+Betty at once perceived this to be the one moment. Many people can
+recognize their moment when it has gone. Betty's talent lay in seeing it
+just as it arrived.
+
+If truth must be confessed, fear had once or twice during this campaign
+tugged at her heart; when Cyril had urged home, her greatest desire had
+been to flee. But Betty never quite knew herself--was never in any
+crisis of her life absolutely certain what this second terribly
+insistent self would do.
+
+Instead of scampering away with Cyril through the night, her feet had
+taken her to the windows, and the proportions of her plan had grown
+gloriously, albeit her heart-beats could be heard aloud.
+
+Now, when her chain clanked, it seemed to her the war drum had been
+sounded. She darted from the verandah across the path and snatched the
+baby from her brother's arms; then, running back to the verandah, her
+chain clanked again and again, and she rent the air with a dismal wail--
+
+    "Father! Father!"
+
+From the depths of an easy chair whose back was to her there rose the
+tall bent figure of an old man.
+
+Betty had arranged to "rend the air with wail upon wail"--to "press her
+pinched white face, and her little one's, time after time upon the
+window pane," but opportunity interfered, the window flew up, and Betty
+crouched on the floor in terror.
+
+In the banana grove Cyril fled from tree to tree, crying dismally. The
+darkness, the screams, the chain, the opening of the window, had each
+and all terrified him almost past endurance. Now he felt convinced his
+grandfather was chasing him with the emus.
+
+Meanwhile Betty on the verandah was also quaking. A stern voice from the
+open window demanded "Who is there?" but her fortitude was not equal to
+a wail.
+
+"I heard some one say 'Father, Father,' I'll swear," said a somewhat
+familiar boyish voice.
+
+"I saw a face," said the old man.
+
+And then Baby began to whimper piteously, and Betty's heart sank into
+her shabby small shoes.
+
+Footsteps were coming her way; the inevitable was at hand and she
+recognized it, and with an effort stood upright cuddling the baby close.
+
+The old man put his hand on her shoulder, and with a "I'll just trouble
+you--this way please," and not so much as a quaver in his voice, led her
+into the brightly-lighted study.
+
+And there followed him "big John Brown," of mathematical and pugilistic
+renown.
+
+He stared at Betty very hard, and Betty stared at him--only for a
+moment, though, for Baby began to cry and had to be hushed--and the
+chain clanked and frightened her while it produced no visible effect
+upon her grandfather.
+
+The old man turned sharply to the wondering boy.
+
+"Is this a trick of yours, John?" he demanded sharply.
+
+"No," said Betty, "it's--it's only me," and she looked straight into her
+grandfather's face, although her voice was trembling.
+
+"And who are _only you_?"
+
+The child hesitated. In a vague way she felt she would be doing her
+mother's and Cyril's great future an injury to tell her name. And yet,
+quick-witted as she was, it did not occur to her to find a new one.
+
+The young face in the old black bonnet looked beseechingly into the
+man's.
+
+"_Please_ don't ask my name," she begged.
+
+"Take off your bonnet."
+
+She put Baby on the floor at her feet and pulled off her bonnet. And
+her dark curly hair fell loosely around her odd white face.
+
+"Now--your name!" shouted the old captain, as if he were calling to a
+sailor high up a mast.
+
+"Elizabeth Bruce," faltered the girl, for her reason showed her in a
+second how John Brown would give it if she did not.
+
+A certain gleam that had been in the old man's eyes went away and his
+brow grew black as thunder. Betty instinctively picked up the baby again
+and gathered up the train of her dress.
+
+"Ah!" said the old man, breathing hard.
+
+Then suddenly a light dawned on Betty and she saw things as this old man
+would see them, which was the very way of all others that he must not
+do.
+
+She repeated swiftly to herself her old charm against fear--"No Bruce is
+afraid. I can only die once. He won't eat me."
+
+"It's all my fault," she said, and her brown eyes looked into his brown
+ones. "Cyril and I got tried of being poor, and I--I thought it would be
+a good plan if you adopted Cyril--and--and I came to frighten you."
+
+"Ah----"
+
+"I thought you were old, and--and--might be sorry now, and I thought a
+bit of a fright--I thought if a ghost----"
+
+Her chain clanked and her hands trembled, and Baby bumped up and down in
+her arms. The very remembrance of her words left her, for a great frown
+was spreading over the old man's face. He turned angrily to the boy.
+
+"Put her out of the door," he said. "Put her out of the place!" and some
+hot words, fearful and unintelligible some of them to the small girl,
+burst from his lips.
+
+And Betty, Baby and chain and all went out into the darkness. Only the
+bonnet remained.
+
+Cyril was on the outermost edge of the grove, and with danger behind
+him, and Betty and Baby before his eyes, safe and unhurt, a wave of very
+ill-temper swept over him. He refused to have part in any more of
+Betty's "silly games," left her to carry the baby unaided, and told her
+she had spoilt his chance of ever being adopted. But he was all the time
+wishing passionately that he too had "done and dared"--that he had not
+crouched there among the trees, afraid and trembling. A small inner
+voice, that spoke to him very sharply after such occasions, told him
+contemptuously, that he had been more afraid than a girl; that he had
+been a coward; and as soon as he reached their small lamp-lit home, he
+ran away from silent Betty and the babbling baby, to his own bedroom, to
+cry in loneliness over this second self who had done the wrong.
+
+And Betty stole silently into her bedroom. The dining room door was
+still closed, and those quiet elder ones were having their "pleasant"
+evening. She undressed the baby, and kissed her over and over, then put
+her into her little cot and gave her a dimpled thumb to suck. And she
+herself cuddled up very close to her, and began to cry too. So much for
+all her show of bravery now.
+
+And a small voice spoke to her also, and showed her the seamy side of
+this great deed of hers. Told her that no one else in all the world
+would have dreamed of doing so wrong a thing; pointed out her mother and
+father and pretty Dot, Mrs. and Mr. Sharman as examples of great
+goodness. When the baby was placidly sleeping, she sat upright on the
+end of her mother's bed in her earnestness to "see" if any of those
+righteous five would be guilty of the wickedness of becoming ghosts to
+frighten an old man. She would have felt easier at once if she could
+have convinced herself that they would; but she could only see each of
+them rounding eyes of horror at her, and her sobs, broke out afresh.
+
+The door opened and Cyril came into the darkness, whispering and
+whimpering,--
+
+"I didn't play fair, Betty," he said--"I wish I'd played fair--I----"
+
+"Oh," said Betty sobbingly--"Oh, Cyril, you're ever so much nobler than
+I am. You wouldn't frighten an old man, neither. Oh, I wish I was as
+good as you!"
+
+Whereat a sweet sense of well-doing stole over Cyril. "Never mind," he
+said cheerfully, "do as I do another time."
+
+"There won't be another time," said Betty. "I'm going to turn over a new
+leaf, and be as good as if I was grown up."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+JOHN BROWN
+
+
+John Brown's life had hitherto been a curiously rough and tumble sort of
+existence. There had been a season, brief and entirely unremembered by
+him, when his home had been in one of Sydney's most fashionable suburbs;
+when a tender-eyed mother had watched delightedly over his first gleams
+of intelligence, and a proud father had perched him on his shoulder for
+a bed-time romp. When he had been taken tenderly for an "airing" by the
+trimmest of nursemaids, and in the daintiest of perambulators. When he
+had worn tiny silk frocks and socks and bonnets. When hopes and fears
+had arisen over "teething-time." When he had been carried round a
+drawing-room, to display to admiring friends, his chubby wrists, his
+dimpled fat legs, his quite remarkable length of limb and growth of
+bone.
+
+Then Death slipped in unawares, and called the sweet young mother from
+that happy home, and little John Brown became a perplexity and a care to
+a grief-maddened father.
+
+For a space it was conjectured that the baby, pending the arrival of a
+step-mother, would be handed over to the cook, a rotund motherly person
+who was fond of asserting that she had buried thirteen children and
+reared one.
+
+But conjectures have a way of falling beside the mark.
+
+One morning an old schoolmate of poor little Mrs. Brown's arrived from
+"out back," packed up the baby's things with her own quick brown hands
+and returned "out back" the same evening.
+
+The perambulator, the cradle, the cot, the dainty baby basket and a
+multitude of other things were sold the next week along with the tables
+and chairs and other "household effects," and Mr. John Brown, senior, a
+cabin box and a portmanteau, left by a mail steamer for Japan.
+
+And the small suburban house became "to let." Thenceforward the pattern
+of little John Brown's existence became altered. He was one of three
+other children, and not even the baby, although scarcely one year old.
+
+His elegant lace-trimmed silken and muslin garments were "laid by." He
+wore dark laundry-saving dresses and neither boots nor socks. He was
+never carried around for admiration, for the very good reason that
+visitors were few and far between--and there was (except to doting
+parents, perhaps) very little to admire about him. He lost his
+chubbiness and his pink prettiness and became thin and wiry, brown faced
+and brown limbed.
+
+He was always abnormally tall and abnormally strong, so that he became
+almost a jest on the station. He learned to fight at three, to swim at
+four, shoot at seven, ride, yard cattle, milk, chop wood, make bush
+fires and put them out again, ring bark trees all before he was eleven.
+In short, to do, and to do remarkably well, the hundred and one things
+that make up a man's and boy's existence on an Australian station.
+
+At thirteen he learned that his name was Brown, and that he had a father
+other than the bluff squatter he had grown up with. And at thirteen he
+was taken from the station-life he loved, and, after much travelling,
+delivered by a station-hand into his father's care in Sydney.
+
+Before he could form any idea as to what was about to happen to him, and
+to this grey-bearded father of his, he was taken across the blue harbour
+water, and thence by coach to the little township over the northern
+hills.
+
+They walked past the small weather-board school together, and few, if
+any, words passed between them. For the man's thoughts were away down
+the slope of many years, and the boy's were away in that flat country
+"out back" where he had been brought up.
+
+They were close to the great iron gates when the man broke the silence;
+pointing beyond them he remarked--
+
+"This is where your home will be in the future, John."
+
+John considered the prospect thoughtfully and shook his head--
+
+"I'd rather go home," he said. "Let me go home."
+
+"No," said his father, "it can't be done. I ought to have fetched you
+away sooner, only I shirked a duty. Open the little gate, I see the big
+ones are padlocked. Push, it's stiff."
+
+They walked up the long red drive, John's mind busy over the questions
+he wished to ask his father and he began to lag behind considering them.
+
+"This will be your home," repeated Mr. Brown quietly, "and it's a
+marvellous thing how life has arranged itself. The turn of Fortune's
+wheel, we may say. Walk quicker, John."
+
+When they stood before the great front door, Mr. Brown became
+retrospective again.
+
+"We played here together," he said--, "down these very steps, along these
+very paths. It is strange how life has fallen out--how my boy will
+be----" He put out his hand and pulled the bell vigorously, then turned
+his back to the house and surveyed the garden.
+
+"Is it a school?" whispered John. But before his father could reply the
+door had rolled back and a man-servant stood looking at them.
+
+Mr. Brown walked in, put his hat on a table, motioned to John, and
+opened a door at one side of the wide hall.
+
+"It's me--Brown," he said as he entered the room. "I've brought the
+boy."
+
+John followed very quickly, being curious now. His father stood half-way
+across the room, looking hesitating and apologetic.
+
+A man of sixty or so, with a red, merry-looking face, and an
+unmistakable sea-captain air, glanced up from a paper he was reading.
+
+"Eh?" he asked.
+
+Then he sent his look--it was a quick darting look that saw everything
+in the twinkling of an ordinary person's eye--to the thin badly-dressed
+figure in the rear. "Eh? The boy? Oh--ah! My newly-found grandson."
+
+"He is scarcely what I had hoped to find," said Mr. Brown, apologetic
+still. "Yet his mother was a good-looking woman and----"
+
+"Be hanged to looks," said Mr. Carew. "He'll get on all the better
+without 'em. And you were never anything to boast of yourself you know.
+What's his name?"
+
+"John."
+
+"Um! John Brown. John Carew-Brown, we'll say. It's a pity it's not John
+Brown Carew."
+
+"That's a matter that can easily be altered. It can be merely John
+Carew, if you like, and let the melodious Brown go hang."
+
+"Eh? What does the boy say? What do you say John to changing your name
+and letting the Brown go hang?"
+
+To Mr. Brown's surprise and consternation, the boy gave an emphatic
+"No."
+
+"Ah!" said old Mr. Carew, "and how's that? Speak up, John."
+
+"The boys 'ud forget me," said John anxiously, "and I'd have to begin
+all over agen."
+
+"What with?--Leave him alone, Brown."
+
+"Thrashing 'em. They know me everywhere about Warrena. I can make 'em
+all sit up. I don't want to change my name."
+
+A sparkle came into the old man's eyes.
+
+"Well said, my lad," he snapped. "I'd not have given a rap for you if
+you'd have cast your name away as easily as a pinching pair o' boots.
+Stick to your own name, John, and you'll look all the better after
+mine."
+
+He waited a bit, eyeing the boy up and down keenly. The thin brown face,
+with its square determined mouth, quiet grey eyes and high forehead; the
+sturdy figure, countrified clothes, copper-toed boots, all passed under
+his scrutiny.
+
+"So you're of the fighting kind?" he asked at last.
+
+"Yes," said John proudly.
+
+"Ah! You never were, you remember, Brown. Things might have been
+different if you had been."
+
+He waited again. Then he smiled queerly.
+
+"John," he said, "your father's going away again to-night. You're my
+grandson. It may not seem a great matter to you now--but it is, all the
+same. You stay here. You and I have to take life together, boy--though
+you're at one end of the ladder and I'm at t'other. Your name's your
+name right enough, but I want you to be good enough to tack mine on to
+it, and to do a bit of fighting for mine too if necessary. I've fought
+for it hard in my day too. And now, John Carew-Brown, we'll have a bit
+of lunch if it's all the same to you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+MONDAY MORNING
+
+
+Mrs. Bruce was down on her knees caressing tiny Czar violets. Quite
+early in the morning (before the breakfast things were washed or the
+beds made) she had slipped on one of Dot's picturesque poppy-trimmed
+hats and declared her intention of planting the bed outside the study
+windows thick with these the sweetest-scented of all flowers.
+
+"And all the time you are working and thinking and plotting, daddie
+darling, the sweetest scents will be stealing round you," she said.
+
+For some little time she was quite happy among her violets. But
+presently a richly hued wall-flower called her attention to a cluster of
+its blooms, drooping on the pebbly path for a careless foot to
+crush,--all for the want of a few tacks and little shreds of cloth. A
+heavily-blossomed rose-tree begged that some of its buds might be
+clipped, and a favourite carnation put in its claim for a stake.
+
+"So much to do!" said Mrs. Bruce, as she flitted here and there in the
+old-fashioned garden, which was a veritable paradise to her. "The roses
+_must_ be clipped, the violets _must_ be thinned, the carnations _must_
+be staked. And there are the new seedlings to be planted. Oh, I _think_
+I will take the week for my garden--and let the house go!"
+
+A flush of almost girlish excitement was in her cheeks, her garden meant
+so very much to her. Certainly the house had strong claims--and it was
+Monday morning--the very morning for forming and carrying out good plans
+and resolutions! Meals wanted cooking, cupboards and drawers tidying;
+garments darning and patching! But then--the garden! Did it not also
+need her. Ah! and did she not also need it!
+
+Even as she hesitated, balancing duty with beauty, Betty's voice floated
+out through the kitchen window, past the passion-fruit creeper and the
+white magnolia tree, past the tiny sweet violets and the study windows,
+right to where she stood among the roses and wall-flowers.
+
+"I _am_ so tired of washing up," it said, "it wasn't fair of Dot. She
+had four plates for her breakfast--_I_ only had one. She might remember
+I've to go to school as well as her."
+
+Then Mrs. Bruce advanced one foot towards the house, and in thought
+wielded the tea-towel and attacked the trayful of cups and saucers that
+she knew would be awaiting the tea-towel.
+
+It was Cyril's voice that arrested her. It came from the kitchen too.
+
+"What's washing up!" said Cyril contemptuously. "Washing up a few cups
+and spoons--pooh! How'd you like to be me and have to clean all the
+knives, I wonder."
+
+Whereat Mrs. Bruce relinquished thoughts of the tea-towel. It would
+never do, she told herself, to assist Betty and leave poor Cyril
+unaided. "And I _couldn't_ clean knives," she said.
+
+But she ran indoors to her bedroom, whence came an angry crying voice.
+Six-year-old Nancy was, in the frequent intervals that occurred in the
+doing of her hair, frolicking about the small hot bedroom and trying
+frantically to catch the interest of the thumb-and-cot-disgusted baby.
+
+"Do your hair nicely," said Mrs. Bruce to her second youngest daughter.
+"I will take baby into the garden. Button your shoes and ask Betty to
+see that your ears are clean. And your nails. A little lady always has
+nice nails."
+
+She carried her baby away, kissing her neck and cheeks and hands, and
+telling her, as she had told them all, from Dorothy downwards, that
+there never had been such a baby in the world before.
+
+And she slipped her into the much used hammock under the old apple tree,
+and left her to play with her toes and fingers, whilst she went back to
+her violets and roses singing--
+
+    "Rock-a-bye, Baby on a tree top,
+     There you are put, there you must stop."
+
+and trying to be rid of that uncomfortable feeling, of having done what
+she wanted and not what she ought.
+
+In the study Mr. Bruce sat before a paper-strewn table. Most of the
+papers related to his beloved book--which was almost half-completed. It
+had reached that stage several times before, and what had been written
+thereafter had been consigned to the kitchen fire.
+
+Now it was necessary that he should put it away, even out of thought,
+and turn his attention towards something that would bring in a quick
+return. For Dot's school fees would be due very shortly, and he
+remembered, with a smile-lit sigh, that this quarter she had taken up
+two extras, singing and dancing.
+
+His income would not admit of extras--and yet, as Mrs. Bruce frequently
+put it, Dot was the eldest and was very pretty. She certainly must be
+able to dance and sing!
+
+He gathered up a few stray leaves of his manuscript, rolled them up with
+the bulk, and heroically put them away.
+
+But, as he returned to his seat, he caught a glimpse of his wife,
+kneeling on the path, and making a little trench with a trowel in the
+bed outside his window.
+
+"Well, little mother!" he called, and felt blithe as he said it, and
+young and fresh hearted, just because of the bright face in the
+poppy-trimmed hat.
+
+"I ought to be in the kitchen making a pudding," she said, screwing up
+her face into a grimace.
+
+"You are far better where you are," he said fondly.
+
+"Yes. But, oh, dear! I wish I had a cook, and laundress, and a
+housemaid. Oh, and a nursemaid, too! It is dreadful to be poor, isn't
+it, daddie?"
+
+She went on with her gardening, just as happy as before, but the face
+that the little author took to his work-table had grown grave in a
+minute.
+
+"She was born to have servants," he said, "servants and ease. I must
+work harder."
+
+Cyril's voice broke into his reverie. He had come beneath the study
+windows to interview his mother.
+
+"Can't I be raised to twopence a week now I'm going on for thirteen,"
+he said. "Bert Davis gets threepence, and he's only nine."
+
+Mr. Brace did not catch the reply. But he told himself that most men
+would have been more liberal in the matter of _L. s. d._ to their only
+son.
+
+He began to pace round and round his study.
+
+"I must work harder--harder--harder!" he said. "I must put my book away,
+and grind out those articles for Montgomery!"
+
+Nancy, in a big white sun-bonnet, clean for the new week, passed under
+his window and turned her face to the wicket gate. He could hear that
+she was crying in a miserable forsaken way, crying and talking to
+herself away within that capacious bonnet of hers.
+
+He called "Baby!" and leaned over his window sill to her. But she did
+not hear him. She just went murmuring on to the gate.
+
+Then two other hurrying little figures came along. Cyril, with a
+battered hat crushed down on his head, and his school-bag over his
+shoulders, and Betty with her boots unlaced, a white bonnet under her
+arm, and a newspaper parcel, which she was trying to coax into neatness,
+in one hand.
+
+"It's all through you and your ghosts," Cyril was saying grumblingly. "I
+know I'd have done my lessons only for you, Betty Bruce."
+
+"What is the matter with Nancy?" asked their father, leaning over the
+window sill once more. "Why was she crying?"
+
+"'Cause she thinks she'll be late," said Betty easily. "She always cries
+if she thinks she's late."
+
+Down the road they went, Nancy hurrying and crying, Cyril grumbling,
+Betty silent.
+
+To none of them had Monday morning come exactly right--fresh and
+uncrumpled.
+
+Betty sat down, just outside her grandfather's gate, to lace her boots,
+and Cyril went grumbling on about a hundred yards behind Nancy.
+
+Then did a fresh crease get into the new week's first day for Betty.
+Looking under her arm as she bent over her boot, she beheld three
+figures walking down the road, and at the first glimpse of them her face
+grew hot.
+
+"Geraldine and Fay!" she exclaimed.
+
+The centre figure was dressed in a lilac print, and wore a spotless
+apron and a straw hat. Upon either side of her walked a little
+golden-haired girl, one apparently about Betty's age, and one Nancy's.
+Their dresses were white and spotless, and reached almost to their
+knees; their hats were flat shady things trimmed with muslin and lace.
+Their hair was beautifully dressed and curled, their boots shining--and
+buttoned, and their faces smiling and happy-looking.
+
+They were Betty's ideals! Little rich girls, who rode ponies, and
+drove--sometimes in a village cart with a nurse, and sometimes in a
+carriage with a lady who invariably wore beautiful hats and dresses.
+Sometimes, again, they were to be seen in a dog-cart with a dark man who
+seemed a splendid creature indeed to Betty.
+
+The little girl by the roadside grasped her unbuttoned boot in one hand,
+her bonnet and newspaper parcel in the other, and in a trice had
+squeezed herself under her grandfather's fence, just at a point where
+two or three panels were broken down.
+
+Then she peeped out to see if they were looking. But no--they had not
+seen her. Betty gave a great sigh of relief as she watched them. How
+beautiful they were. How dainty! Betty looked down at her own old boots,
+old stockings, old dress. She turned her bonnet over disdainfully and
+thought of their lace-trimmed hats--their golden hair!
+
+"Oh, I am glad they didn't see me!" she said aloud fervently.
+
+Just then a voice shouted, a rough word to her from the path, and Betty
+awoke to two alarming facts. The one, that she was in the emu's
+enclosure and that one great bird was bearing curiously towards her
+already; the other, that her grandfather was the one who had called to
+her, and that John Brown, who was careering down the path on his
+bicycle, had stopped and was evidently giving information about her.
+
+Her grandfather waved an angry hand.
+
+"Out you go!" he shouted. "If you come here again, I'll set the dogs
+loose!"
+
+Betty squeezed herself under the fence just before the emu reached her,
+and once more faced a very crumpled Monday morning.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+"CAREW-BROWN"
+
+
+It must be confessed that John Brown--or to be polite and
+up-to-date--John Carew-Brown surveyed the pupils of Wygate School with a
+fighting eye, which is to say, he considered them carefully with
+regarded to their pugilistic abilities, and he decided very soon that he
+"could make them all sing small."
+
+Even upon that first day when he, a new boy, had been standing in view
+of the whole school, his mind had chiefly been occupied in running over
+the boys' obvious fighting qualities--tall, short, fat, thin, all sorts
+and conditions of them were there.
+
+The girls he had passed by with but slight notice; to him they were
+absolutely valueless and uninteresting. Betty Bruce had certainly caught
+his attention by her public punishment, and he had been taken aback by
+that sharp little pinch of hers. Hitherto he had had nothing to do with
+girls but he supposed immediately that that was their manner of
+fighting, and he did not admire it.
+
+Not many days later an opportunity occurred for him to defend his newly
+adopted name. Truth to tell, he had been longing for such an occasion
+from the day on which old Captain Carew had asked him to fight for his
+name too.
+
+He was in the playground, round by the school house, just where the
+babies' end of the school room joined the cloak room, and school was
+over for the day. Having a piece of chalk in one hand, and nothing
+particular to do, he occupied a few minutes by writing upon the weather
+boards of the cloak-room--"J. C. Brown, J. C. Brown, John C. Brown, John
+C. Brown," and the hinting C. raised a small dispute in a circle of
+onlooking boys and girls.
+
+It was Peter Bailey who said, "John Clara Brown," and it was silly
+little Jack Smith who said "John Codfish Brown."
+
+A burst of laughter followed, and Peter Bailey and Jack Smith chased
+each other down the playground, and in and out among the sapling clump
+away at the end of it, where some shabby scrub and three gum trees grew.
+
+When they came back, John Brown was still silently writing apparently
+deaf to all the surmising going on around him.
+
+Nellie Underwood said it was--"Crabby John Brown," and Arthur Smedley,
+the school bully, said--"John Brown the clown."
+
+Whereupon Brown sought out a clean weather-board a shade or so above his
+head and wrote in bold letters.
+
+"John Carew-Brown, Dene Hall, Willoughby," which made Bailey say--
+
+"Hullo, he's got hold of Bruce's grandfather."
+
+Cyril, who was one of the little circle of jesters, grew pink to the
+tips of his pretty pink ears, but feeling the majority and the bully
+were against Brown, ventured to say--
+
+"He's only running you!"
+
+Nellie Underwood pushed herself into a prominent position in the group
+and cried--
+
+"I seen him coming out of Dene Hall gates, and old Mr. Carew was with
+him. So there!"
+
+John Brown chose another weather-board and the group closed round him to
+read--
+
+"John Carew-Brown, only grandson of Captain Carew, of Dene Hall,
+Willoughby, Sydney, N.S. Wales, Australia, Southern Hemisphere," which
+certainly looked imposing and had the effect of silencing every one for
+almost half a minute.
+
+Then the bully's eyes glared into Cyril's pretty blue ones, and he said
+angrily--
+
+"You said you were the only grandson."
+
+Cyril did not speak.
+
+"You said," repeated the bully, "you said the Captain was going to
+adopt you, and give you his collection of guinea pigs."
+
+Cyril hung his crimson face and kicked the ground with the toe of his
+boot.
+
+John Brown chose another weather-board and wrote--
+
+"Captain Carew has no guinea pigs," which sent most of the blood away
+from Cyril's face. The bully was eyeing him angrily, and even went as
+far as doubling up one fist.
+
+"You said he was going to give you five shillings a week pocket-money,
+and let you buy my white mice," he muttered, and Cyril found himself
+face to face with the occasion, and with no clever intervening Betty to
+throw the right word into the right place, and so save his skin and his
+honour.
+
+"So he is," he said, moving away from Brown as far as he dared--"and so
+I am the only grandson." He looked over his shoulder and beheld Brown's
+back, whereupon he felt if Brown could not see he could not hear.
+"_He's_ only the gardener's boy," he said; "ask"--his mind made a swift
+excursion for an authority--"ask my grandfather," he said, "any of you
+who like, ask my grandfather."
+
+Brown and his chalk advanced to Cyril.
+
+"Who told you I was the gardener's boy?" he asked. Cyril looked from foe
+to foe, and the wild thought of denying he had said such words entered
+his mind, only to be followed by a swift remembrance of various daring
+deeds of the bully's.
+
+So he went over recklessly to Arthur Smedley's side.
+
+"My grandfather!" he said.
+
+"Are you going to be adopted?" asked the bully.
+
+"Yes," said Cyril in desperation.
+
+"Are you going to have five shillings a week?" demanded the bully.
+
+"No--I'm going to have ten," roared Cyril.
+
+A window belonging to Mr. Sharman's private house, which adjoined the
+school, flew open, and John Brown's name was sharply called. It entered
+into Arthur Smedley's mind to see what writing remained upon the wall,
+and he went across to the cloak-room for that purpose.
+
+Whereupon Cyril looked to the right of him, to the left of him, to the
+back of him, and beheld neither friend nor foe in his vicinity; and he
+heaved a sigh of great satisfaction, ran to the fence, squeezed himself
+through a hole in it, and was upon the road towards home in a trice.
+
+But before he had gone more than a hundred yards he heard quick
+footsteps behind him, and looking over his shoulder he saw John C.
+Brown. Then did a sickening sense of terror sweep over him, and his
+heart leapt into his mouth, for had he not said John Carew-Brown was
+"only the gardener's boy"?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE FIGHT
+
+
+Betty was in the belt of bush that lay between the wicket-gate of her
+home and the road. Her idea was to be sufficiently near to home to
+gather from the sound of the voices that might call her if she were
+_really_ needed and yet to be so far from sight that the continual
+"Betty, come here," and "Betty, go there," could not be.
+
+She had come home as soon as school was out, come home leaving Cyril and
+Nancy behind her, flung herself beneath the shade of one of her
+favourite old gum trees, and begun to write.
+
+When Mr. Bruce was busy over a story, or an article, or a book, every
+one in the house knew. Then the study door would be closed and the
+window only opened at the top; then the children would be banished from
+the side garden into which the study looked, and from the passage
+outside the study door; then Mrs. Bruce would carry his meals to him
+upon a tray, and he would have strong black coffee in the early evening.
+And then at last a neatly folded missive, gummed and tied with thin
+string, with a mysterious "_MS. only_" inscribed in one corner, would be
+carried to the post by either Cyril or Betty.
+
+When Dot wrote a story, as she very frequently did now-a-days, portions
+of it would be carried into the study for her father to see, and her
+mother would proudly read page after page of the neat round hand, and
+wonder where on earth the child got her ideas from.
+
+But when Betty wrote her stories, no one in the house--excepting Cyril,
+of course--knew anything about it! no one kept the house quiet for
+Betty, and no one wondered wherever she got her ideas from. And yet she
+had quite a collection of fairy stories and poems of her own
+composition. She and an exercise book, or a few scraps of paper and a
+stumpy bit of pencil were to be seen sometimes in very close
+companionship.
+
+But for all that no one did see; or seeing, they did not understand.
+
+Still Betty wrote her stories--not necessarily for publication like her
+father--nor as a guarantee that the scribbling genius was within her,
+like Dot--but for the love of story writing alone.
+
+Her fairy story to-day had to do with the bold and handsome Waratah
+which ran mad in the bush behind her home, towards Middle Harbour. Her
+fertile fancy had suggested many roles for these flowers to take.
+
+It occurred to her as she wrote that she had intended to write a poem
+which should stir Cyril--not one of _her_ sort of poems, about streams
+and flowers and dells and birds, but a dashing sort of poem, one that
+would make Cyril say "By _Jup-i-ter_, Betty," and learn it off by heart
+without any asking.
+
+For a space she laid down her story, which began, "Once upon a time,"
+and asked herself what there was that she could make a poem of for
+Cyril.
+
+"It must be something brave," she said. "A horse, a dog, a fire, a
+man--a St. Bernard dog saving a boy--a soldier--I think a soldier would
+suit Cyril!"
+
+She stared through the bush to the red road consideringly, holding her
+pencil ready to write. As she looked she became aware of a small figure
+running along the road, and entering the bush track. It was Cyril, and
+Cyril in woe. She could see that at a glance, and of course the first
+thing she did was to throw down her paper and pencil and run to meet
+him.
+
+As she got nearer to him she saw tears were running down his face and
+she heard, ever and anon as he ran, a great sob, half of anger and half
+of fear, come bursting from his lips.
+
+"Oh, my poor boy, whatever _is_ the matter?" she cried in her most
+motherly way.
+
+"The g-g-great big bully!" sobbed Cyril.
+
+"Oh dear!" exclaimed Betty in distress.
+
+"Oh the b-b-big bully. Let's get home."
+
+"Big John Brown?" asked Betty, for only yesterday this same John Brown
+had sent her small brother home weeping over a sore head.
+
+"Yes, of course. He--he said he'd knock me into next year. Come on,
+can't you?"
+
+Betty was running by his side at quite a brisk trot to keep up with him.
+
+"I--I hope you knocked him down," she said.
+
+"He said grandfather isn't our grandfather at all."
+
+"Oh!--and you _did_ give him a black eye Cywil dear?" asked Betty
+eagerly. Her "r's" had a way of rolling themselves into "w's" whenever
+she was excited.
+
+They were at the wicket-gate now, and Cyril slackened his speed, and
+looked over his shoulder. No one was in sight.
+
+"Oh, I will do!" he said boldly. "I told him no Bruce was afraid!"
+
+"That's right," said Betty eagerly. "That's right Cywil. No Bruce is
+afraid. But you did knock him down, didn't you."
+
+Cyril hesitated--then his trouble broke from him in a burst. "We fight
+to-night down at our coral islands at seven," he said.
+
+"Oh my bwave Cywil!" exclaimed Betty admiringly. "Oh, I am so glad--oh,
+I am so very glad!"
+
+But Cyril looked doleful, and was lagging behind his small eager
+sister.
+
+"I'm not so sure that he meant us to fight," he said. "He--he never
+asked me to."
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"He only said something about a challenge and things."
+
+"Oh," said Betty, eager again in a minute; "_if_ he said 'challenge' you
+_must_ fight. There's no get out."
+
+"But I've hurt my leg."
+
+"Oh never mind your leg--think of the honour of the Bruces!" said the
+fervent Betty, who regarded the family cognomen as something sacred and
+against which no breath of evil must be allowed to come.
+
+"Honour of the Bruces be hanged, if I'm lame," said Cyril savagely.
+
+A sense of foreboding swept over Betty as she followed Cyril into the
+house. Her imagination showed her willows and the "coral islands," and
+only John Brown--big square John Brown--there. She knew the story that
+would soon be all over the school--all over the neighbourhood--that
+Cyril had been _afraid_ to fight. Of course she, Betty, his own twin
+sister, knew there would not be a grain of truth in it. She knew he was
+shy and delicate, and had hurt his leg. But for all that, she wished
+eagerly that he were not shy and delicate, and did not always have some
+bodily ill when fighting time came. And more than one sob shook her, for
+she beheld the honour of the Bruces being trampled under John Brown's
+big boots.
+
+She set the table and went about her usual household tasks in a very
+half-hearted way. Cyril would not look at her, and crept off to bed at
+six o'clock, complaining of the pain in his leg. Tea was over by then,
+and Betty, with her woeful look still on her face was helping "wash up"
+in the kitchen.
+
+Cyril in his bedroom turned down his stocking and examined the little
+blue bruise near his knee. That there was some outward and visible sign
+of his hurt he was very thankful. It raised his self-respect and brought
+tears of self-pity to his eyes, that Betty should have expected him to
+fight under such circumstances! So much did the sight of his wound
+upset him that he only went on one leg while undressing, though it must
+be confessed it was not always the same leg that did the hopping.
+
+Presently, after he had been lying in bed for some little time and
+commiserating with himself over his sad fate, the door opened and Betty,
+with the wistfulness quite gone from her face, came in. And _such_ a
+Betty! Her brown hair was bundled away under one of Cyril's battered
+straw hats, and thankful indeed had she been that she had so little hair
+to bundle. She wore one of Cyril's sailor jackets, and a pair of his
+serge knickers, and few looking at her casually, would have insulted her
+with the supposition that she was a mere girl.
+
+Her face was alight with eagerness as she besought her brother to "just
+_see_ if he'd know her!"
+
+"It'll be almost dark when I get there," she said, "and he'll never
+_dweam_ I'm not you."
+
+"But what'll you do when you get there?" asked Cyril, sitting up in bed;
+"perhaps a challenge _does_ mean a fight!"
+
+"Fight him!" said Betty stoutly; "I've been wanting to ever since he
+went above me."
+
+"You can't fight," said Cyril disgustedly. "You're only a girl."
+
+Betty's face positively flamed with eagerness.
+
+"Can't fight!" she said. "Why Fred Jones taught me. He says I've got the
+knack, but not _very_ much strength. Anyway, I fought that Barry kid the
+other day, _I_ can promise you!"
+
+"But John Brown is three times as big as Ces Barry."
+
+"I know!" she sighed dismally. "Anyway, it's better to be beaten than
+not to fight at all. And if you don't fight, they--they _might_ say you
+were afraid." Her face grew scarlet as she put the horrid thought into
+words.
+
+When the door was shut, Cyril jumped out of bed to watch her go, and so
+occupied was he over _her_ danger, that he forget his own hurt and did
+not limp at all.
+
+Up and down the garden paths his mother and father were walking, his
+mother's arm through his father's, and a happy peaceful look on her
+face. The thought ran through the boy's mind, how little grown up ones
+know of the troubles of childhood. Nancy was rolling with baby on the
+little lawn, singing--
+
+    "John, John, John, the grey goose is gone,
+     The fox is away o'er the hill, Oh!"
+
+and he thought how good it was to be a girl--a goose--a fox--anything
+but a boy!
+
+Then he crept back to bed, covered up his head and began to cry. For he
+was afraid that Betty would be hurt--and once again had he hung back
+when he should have gone forward. And his heart told him that again he
+had been a coward.
+
+Down by the willows John Brown was waiting. He had very much enjoyed
+issuing his "challenge" but he felt morally certain that it would not be
+accepted. He was therefore surprised when he saw his small adversary
+approaching him in the dusk.
+
+Who shall say what fancies were running riot in his head! He was a
+squire going to punish a rash youth for trying to thrust himself into
+their family. He, his grandfather's grandson, was going to thrash a
+foolish boy for taking his grandfather's name in vain!
+
+Meanwhile his little foe came on, over the rough sun-burnt grass, over a
+fallen tree through a small stretch of denser scrub, to the very shores
+of the "coral island sea." And the baby-moon chose the moment of their
+meeting to slip behind a cloud and leave the world in semi-darkness.
+
+"Well done, Bruce!" said Brown coming forward and speaking in a hearty
+tone; "I didn't believe you'd come--I didn't think you had a fight in
+you."
+
+"We Bruces fight till we die!" piped Betty, and bit her lip to still its
+quivering.
+
+Brown laughed. He detected the nervousness in his opponent's voice, and
+had fully expected it. If he had found "Bruce" over-bold, he would have
+been surprised indeed. As it was, the reply in some way pleased him.
+
+"Well," he said, "you're not going to fight me. _I'm_ not in a fighting
+mood; I'm going to _thrash_ you."
+
+Betty caught her breath. It certainly entered into her mind to cry out
+and run away, but she did nothing of the sort, she only clenched her
+hands, and stood her ground--having as usual a sufficiency of courage
+for the occasion.
+
+The next minute Brown's great hand had grasped her coat collar, and she
+felt herself swung round, stood down and swung round again. Then a sharp
+swish lashed her once, twice, thrice.
+
+Whereupon Betty began to fight on her own account, forgetting all the
+advice Fred Jones had given her about "hitting out from the shoulder,"
+etc. etc. She kicked Brown's legs with all the strength she could put
+into her own. She pinched his wrists and his cheek, and lastly and to
+his disgust she set her sharp little teeth into his hand.
+
+He dropped her quickly, her hat rolled off, and down tumbled her short
+curly hair. And the moon chose that moment to sail from under the cloud
+and put Betty's face in a soft silver light.
+
+Brown whistled. "By Jove!" he said, the "sister."
+
+Betty crammed her hat down upon her head again.
+
+"I'm not," she said. "It's not! It's me, Cyril. Come on, _coward_,
+_bully_!"
+
+She made a little rush at him, but Brown threw down his switch.
+
+"Thanks," he said. "I'm not taking any this trip."
+
+"Come on," urged Betty.
+
+"I don't fight girls, thanks."
+
+Betty began to cry in a heart-broken desperate way.
+
+"It's not me," she said. "It's Cyril. It's Cyril. Oh, it's Cyril!"
+
+But Brown, smiling darkly, turned from her, jumped over the fence, and
+took his way through the banana grove to his home.
+
+And what pen could tell of his heaviness of heart, and great shame in
+that he had _thrashed_ a girl. He could feel her light weight yet as he
+swung her round, hear her girlish voice crying, "We Bruces fight till
+we die!" see her thin white face in the moonlight as her hat fell off,
+and she looked at him and said--
+
+"Come on, coward, bully!"
+
+How he tingled with shame. Coward, bully! Yes, he had hit a girl.
+
+Betty started for home at a brisk run, for during her adventure the
+night had advanced, and her imagination peopled the surrounding bush
+with bogeys, and imps and elves.
+
+And as she ran, sobs broke from her, solely on account of her physical
+woes.
+
+Within the wicket gate she walked slowly. How could fear of outer
+darkness remain, when the dinning-room window sent such a bar of light
+beyond.
+
+She crept softly along the verandah to the window and peeped in. Her
+father was lying on the old cane lounge, his eyes upon her mother who
+sat at the piano, in a pretty fresh dress, flower-like as ever. For a
+space, while little boy-Betty looked, she just touched the keys tenderly
+as if she loved them like her flowers, then she struck a few chords, and
+began to sing "Home, Sweet Home," in her sweet girlish voice.
+
+And Betty turned away, the tears running down her cheeks, and her small
+heart aching.
+
+"I've been bad again," she said, "and I meant to be good always. I don't
+believe you _can_ be good till you are grown up." She ran along the
+passage into the little bedroom which she and Dot and Nancy shared, and
+she fell down by Dot's quiet white bed and buried her face in the quilt.
+
+"Bad again," she sobbed. "I've been bad again. Oh, I'm _glad_ I got
+thrashed, it ought to do me good." But it is to be feared her gladness
+was not very deep, because a sense of great satisfaction swept over her
+as she remembered, she had kicked, really kicked, big John Brown.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+DOROTHEA'S FRIENDS
+
+
+Alma Montague, a wealthy doctor's daughter; Elsie and Minnie Stevenson,
+daughters of a Queensland squatter; and Nellie Harden, only child of a
+Supreme Court Judge, were Dorothea Bruce's "intimate" friends. Mona
+Parbury was her only "bosom" friend. Thus she defined them herself when
+speaking of them to members of her family and to the girls themselves,
+who were one and all eager to stand a "bosom" friend to pretty Thea
+Bruce as they called her.
+
+The difference between an "intimate" friend and a "bosom" friend is too
+subtle to be described, but school-girls all the world over, and those
+who have left school days just behind them, will know and understand.
+
+Mona Parbury was one week older than Dorothea and one inch (they
+measured upon the verandah wall) taller. Her waist was two sizes larger;
+her boots and gloves were three. In every way she was cast in a
+different mould from Dorothea. She was a heavily built girl, who looked
+at sixteen as though her teens were a year or two behind her. Her
+features were pronounced--high cheek-bones, square chin, high forehead;
+her hair was black and straight and plentiful, and she wore it in a
+heavy plait down her back. Her eyes were brown, clear, faithful, good
+eyes, and her mouth was distinctly large and ill-shaped.
+
+Such was Mona in the days when Dorothea loved her--in the days when
+Dorothea told her all her hopes, and dreams, and often very foolish
+thoughts; when she made her the heroine of her stories; and wrote little
+poems to her as--"her love"--and little loving letters if the cruel fate
+which sometimes hovers over such friendships separated them for half a
+day.
+
+We have seen Dorothea before. She was small and fairy-like;
+slender-waisted and light in movement. Her hair was golden and curly,
+and was usually worn quite loose about her shoulders; her eyes were blue
+and sunshiny and lashed by dark curling lashes; her mouth was small and
+red, and her complexion delicate pink and white. All of her "intimate"
+friends gave her the frankest admiration--they all loved her, and they
+were all eager to stand first with her.
+
+But it was Mona who loved her the most. Mona who kept and treasured
+every one of the little "private" notes sent to her by Dot. She worked
+out all her most troublesome sums, brushed and curled her hair; bore
+many of her punishments; brought her numberless fal-lals (keepsakes she
+called them); wore a lock of her golden hair in a locket around her
+neck, and told her all of her secrets--she had as many as ten a week
+sometimes.
+
+Miss Weir, the "principal" of the school, had, many years ago, given to
+Dorothea's mother much the same sort of love as Mona Parbury now gave to
+Dorothea. And it was owing to this old love that Dorothea was now
+admitted on very low terms to the most fashionable school in Sydney.
+
+No one among all the pupils (there were fifteen) knew anything about
+poverty--no one but Dorothea. As she once said in a burst of anguish to
+her mother--
+
+"They are all rich, every _one_ of them. They live in beautiful houses
+and have parlourmaids and housemaids and nursemaids, and kitchenmaids
+and cooks and carriages, and as much money to spend as we have to live
+on, I believe."
+
+It was very rarely, though, that any of her troubles ruffled her calm
+serenity. Dorothea was usually as placid as the placidest baby. She
+longed to be rich, and to have pretty things to wear and a handsome
+house to live in, but she never talked of her poverty. Instead she
+draped its cloven foot gracefully, and turned her back on it--and
+_imagined_ she was rich--from Monday till Friday.
+
+She discussed "fashion" and "society" with Alma Montague and Nellie
+Harden, and grew quite familiar with the names and doings of the great
+society dames. She even learned--at considerable pains--a "society"
+tone of voice with a drawl in it and a little lisp.
+
+School life was a great happiness to her--the regular hours, the
+beautifully ordered house, the neat table, the daily constitutional, the
+morning and evening prayer-time, and the hour in the drawing-room at
+night, everything that made life from Monday till Friday.
+
+It was Friday till Monday that was the cross, Friday till Monday, the
+days when the cloven foot would not be draped, when the elegancies of
+life were left behind in the city, when the twins and the babies were
+everywhere, when the meals were often but suddenly thought of snatches
+of food.
+
+Sometimes the thought of the looming future--the time when all the days
+would be as Friday till Monday, when there would no longer be any school
+days to be lived by her--would quite break down her placidity, and make
+her feel she could put down her head anywhere and cry.
+
+Yet away they were marching, one by one, all the beautiful school-days,
+all the days of discipline and pleasant duty, and the ugly slack days,
+when there would be nothing but home with house-work to do, were drawing
+near.
+
+And at last she could bear the thought of it by herself no longer.
+
+It was early evening, and she was on the schoolroom verandah, watching
+the young moon rise over a distant chimney. Every moment she expected
+the prayer-bell to ring, and meanwhile, as it was not ringing, she
+filled up the time by counting how many more evening prayer-bells would
+ring before the end of term.
+
+She counted on her fingers, out aloud, and found there were just
+twenty-nine--twenty-nine without Fridays, Saturdays, or Sundays.
+Twenty-nine days, and then came the end of term, and the end of her
+school-days.
+
+It would then be Betty's turn--larrikin Betty's! The moon sailed over
+the chimney, and Dot put her head down on the verandah railing and began
+to cry. She did not cry in the vigorous whole-hearted way in which Betty
+cried, but she sighed heavily, and sobbed gently, and allowed two or
+three tears to run down her cheek before she brought out her dainty
+handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.
+
+And at that precise moment Mona was crossing the schoolroom floor, and
+she saw her darling Thea in tears! She was not given to light impulsive
+movements at all, but this time she really did _spring_ forward and
+kneel at Dot's side.
+
+"Dear, darling Thea!" she whispered, "what is the matter? Miss Cowdell
+has been bullying you for the silly old French? That's it, isn't it
+dear?"
+
+"Oh, no!" said Dot hopelessly, "nothing _half_ as small as that."
+
+"You've lost the new sleeve-links Alma gave you? Never mind--there are
+plenty more. Not that? What then? Tell your own Mona--tell your own old
+Mona."
+
+Two more tears ran down Dot's cheeks.
+
+"It's--it's nearly the end of term," she said.
+
+Mona nodded.
+
+"And I'm going to leave school," she said.
+
+Again Mona nodded and waited.
+
+"I've to go home," said Dot, and she put her head down on Mona's
+shoulder heavily.
+
+"I've to go home too," said Mona, and she sighed, "right away to the
+Richmond river, where you girls never come."
+
+"My home," said Dot, "is like a little plain, hedged round with prickly
+pear, and put on the top of a mountain. No one ever comes in, and we
+never go out."
+
+"Poor little Thea," said Mona.
+
+"And we're very poor," went on Dorothea with strange recklessness; "we
+ought to be rich, but we're not, and the house is full of children, and
+there's never any peace from morning till night."
+
+Mona grew crimson. She wanted to say something very much, and she lacked
+the courage. Instead she asked how old were the children, as if she did
+not know!
+
+"There's Betty," said Dot, "she's to come here when I leave, and she
+won't enjoy it a bit--she's such a romp--and there's Cyril, they're both
+about twelve. And there's Nancy, she's six, and the baby."
+
+"I wish," said Mona, "I _wish_ they belonged to me."
+
+"How can I practise with them everywhere about. How can I read, how can
+I paint even, write my book, do anything, with them everywhere?" asked
+Dot dismally. "They just fill the house."
+
+Again Mona stumbled to what she wanted to say, and stopped. Dot would
+say she was "lecturing." It would never do.
+
+"You're rich," said pretty Dot pouting; "you can have everything you
+want, do anything, go anywhere."
+
+A few puckers got into Mona's high forehead.
+
+"Once," she said, "I had four sisters, all younger than myself, and they
+all died. I told you, didn't I?"
+
+"But it's long ago," said Dot. "Three years ago since the baby died. You
+must have forgotten."
+
+"I'd promised my mother, when she was dying, to be a mother to them.
+Father and aunt _made_ me go to school, and all the time I was counting
+on when I should leave, and be an elder sister."
+
+Dot opened her eyes very wide.
+
+"Why did you want to be an elder sister?" she asked.
+
+Mona still looked red and ashamed.
+
+"You should read _The Flower of the Family_," she said, and "_The Eldest
+of Seven, Holding in Trust_. You'd know then."
+
+Dorothea had read the last, and she began to see and understand.
+
+"You've got your mother and sisters," said Mona shyly.
+
+And then for the first time it occurred to Dorothea that she herself was
+an elder sister, that she was the eldest of five, and that infinite
+possibilities lay before her.
+
+"There's only my father and my aunt and brother when _I_ go home," said
+Mona. "And I've only twenty-nine days, too, and then, oh! Thea darling,
+I have to lose you."
+
+"We'll write twice a week always," whispered Dot, twining her arms round
+her friend's waist.
+
+"And always be each other's bosom friend," said Mona.
+
+Then the prayer-bell rang, and the four intimate friends scanned Thea
+closely, seeing that she had been crying, and feeling angry with "that"
+Mona Parbury for letting her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+RICHES OR RAGS
+
+
+Captain Carew and John Brown--big John Brown in Betty's parlance--sat at
+dinner together.
+
+Although not an elegant dinner table it was very far removed from being
+a poor one. The linen, silver and glass were all of the best, the very
+best; the man-servant was decorous and swift of eye, foot and hand, and
+the menu was beyond any that had entered into John Brown's knowledge,
+before he came to Dene Hall. Yet he was out of love with it all.
+
+Captain Carew had his glass of clear saffron-coloured wine at his right
+hand. His silver fork was making easy journeyings from a slice of cold
+turkey on his plate, to his mouth, and his eyes were now and again
+running over a long type-written letter that lay before him.
+
+He was well pleased, well fed, and interested, and he had no reason to
+suppose John Brown was in any other humour than himself.
+
+He had heard that the thoughts of youth were of vast length, and perhaps
+he believed it. But he did not think John's had reached quite as far as
+wishing to be a cobbler in a country village.
+
+And it must be confessed that few, seeing the appetite the boy brought
+to his plate of cold turkey and "snowed" potato, would have suspected
+him of longing for a "crust of bread and a drink of cold water."
+
+The truth was, he had been of late ransacking his grandfather's library
+and had found besides sea-stories and stories of wrecks, and foreign
+lands and pirates and deep sea treasure--what interested him more than
+all, a volume of biographies of self-made men.
+
+He had lingered longingly over their boyhoods; their brief school times
+(when such times were lacking altogether he liked both man and story
+better); their privations, struggles, self-reliance and success. The
+success interested him the least. That came, of course, he decided, to
+all who tried hard enough. But the privations! The struggle! The
+self-reliance! How his eyes shone and his heart beat at it!
+
+There was the story of Richard Arkwright, the great mechanician. _He_
+was never at school in his life--never forced to do ridiculous sums, to
+spell correctly, to parse, to drill, to sing! His biographer said that
+the only education he ever received he gave himself--that he was fifty
+years of age when he set to work to learn grammar and to improve his
+hand-writing. He did not waste the precious hours of his youth over such
+things. When he was a boy he was apprenticed to a barber, and when he
+set up in business for himself he occupied an underground cellar and put
+up his sign--"Come to the subterraneous barber; he shaves for a penny."
+This caused brisk competition, and a general reduction in barber's
+prices. Yet not to be beaten, Arkwright altered his sign to "A clean
+shave for a halfpenny." Then he turned his attention to wig-making, and
+from that to machine-making. And years and years passed. Years filled
+with patient labour, privations, obstacles, and at last _Success_!
+"Eighteen years after he had constructed his first machine he rose to
+such estimation in Derbyshire that he was appointed High Sheriff of the
+county, and shortly afterwards George III conferred upon him the honour
+of knighthood." So said the book.
+
+Shakespeare, he read, was the son of a butcher and grazier; Sir
+Cloudesley Shovel, the great admiral, a cobbler's son; Stephenson was an
+engine-fireman; Turner, the great painter, came from a barber's shop.
+
+Life after life he had turned over of men who had risen from the ranks
+and gotten for themselves fame and riches. So that at last he came to
+regard humble birth and poverty as the necessary foundations of ultimate
+success. He noticed that his heroes all worked hard and patiently; were
+all brave and sternly self-disciplined, plodding onwards past every
+obstacle and hardship. But he forgot to notice that they all made the
+_best of that sphere of life into which they were born_.
+
+He had quite decided to be a self-made man. That was simple enough. The
+question that troubled him was what sort of a self-made man to be! A
+Newton? A Shakespeare? A Stephenson? A Turner? An Arkwright?
+
+The wide choice worried and perplexed him. It was pitiful to his
+thinking that he could, try and strive as he might, only be _one_.
+
+He had put himself through several examinations. He had lain under a
+pear tree and watched the leaves fall; he felt another man had the
+monopoly of apple trees. And he had decided that the leaves fell because
+they had become unfastened from the branches, and that they did not fall
+straight because the wind blew them sideways. And there was an end of
+the leaves.
+
+He had studied kitchen furnishings and their ways, avoiding only the
+kettle, since some one else had risen on its steam.
+
+He had tried himself with a pencil and paper, but he had composed
+nothing even reminiscent of Shakespeare. In fact, he had composed
+nothing at all.
+
+And at last he became convinced it was the circumstances of his life
+that were at fault, not he himself. _If_ he had only been a cobbler's
+son, a tailor's, a barber's!
+
+But alas! he was well-dressed, well-fed, well-housed; sent to a good
+school. He had a pony of his own and a man to groom him; a bicycle; a
+watch; every equipment for cricket and football; a dog; pigeons and most
+of the possessions dear to the heart of a boy.
+
+He had almost finished his dinner to-day when he put a question to the
+Captain sitting there smiling over his letter.
+
+"Grandfather," he asked, "are you rich?"
+
+His grandfather sat straight immediately, which is to speak of his
+features as well as his figure.
+
+"Well, what do you think, lad?" he asked.
+
+John shook his head dolefully.
+
+"_I_ think you are," he said, "but _are_ you?"
+
+"That depends on how riches are counted," said the old man cautiously,
+"and who does the counting. King Solomon, now, might consider me but an
+old pauper."
+
+John went on with his dinner thoughtfully.
+
+"Are you wondering what I am going to do with my money?" asked the old
+man, watching him closely.
+
+John looked him straight in the face.
+
+"I expect you're going to leave it to me," he said.
+
+"Ah!" said his grandfather. "And who has been talking to you now? Who
+told you that?"
+
+"Oh, Johnson and Roberts and Mrs. Wilkins. Mrs. Wilkins says you'll give
+it me in a will," said John carelessly.
+
+"Who the dickens is Mrs. Wilkins?"
+
+John opened his eyes widely. Not to know Mrs. Wilkins was indeed to
+argue oneself unknown.
+
+"Why the lady at the store next our school," he said. "She sells
+pea-nuts and chewing gum and everything."
+
+"And she says I'll leave all my money to you, eh? Hum. Well, how'd you
+like it if I do?"
+
+"I don't want it," said John with blunt force. He went on sturdily with
+his blanc-mange, arranging his strawberry jam carefully, that he should
+have an excess of that for the last spoonful.
+
+Captain Carew stared surprisedly at him.
+
+"Eh? What's that?" he asked.
+
+"When you were as old as me," said John, lifting his carefully trimmed
+spoon to his mouth, "were you as rich as now?"
+
+The question stirred the old man immediately. His eyes brightened, he
+put down his letter, pushed his glasses up high on his forehead and
+struck the table with one hand.
+
+"I should think not," he said excitedly, "I should rather think not. As
+rich as now--God bless my life!"
+
+"I thought you weren't," said John calmly.
+
+"I can't remember my father and mother," said Captain Carew, speaking a
+little more quietly as his thoughts began to run backwards. "I lived
+with my uncle in London; he kept a ham and beef shop, and had thirteen
+or fourteen youngsters of his own to bring up. He was going to put me to
+the butchering, but I settled all that myself. I ran away."
+
+"You ran away?" asked John breathlessly, and regarding the old man with
+more interest than he had ever given him yet.
+
+"Ay! When I was no older than you. Half a crown I had in my pocket, I
+remember. It was all the start in life _I_ ever got."
+
+John put down his spoon and stared at his grandfather earnestly,
+eagerly, admiringly.
+
+"You're a self-made man!" he said. And old as the Captain was, and young
+as was his admirer, he warmed pleasantly at the words.
+
+"Ay!" he said exultingly, "I'm a self-made man right enough. Every bit
+of me! I started life as an errand boy in the London slums, and it
+seemed for a time as if I was going to die an errand boy in the London
+slums. At least, it might have seemed so to most people. _I'd_ made up
+my mind how it was to be, how it had got to be."
+
+"What did you do?" asked John eagerly.
+
+"Do--well, I had about a year at errand running and then I got a chance
+to go to sea, and I took it. I went first to China. By gad, how well I
+remember that trip!"
+
+And forthwith he launched into a sea-story more enthralling by far to
+the boy than any in that library so stocked with sea-stories.
+
+At dinner again, at night, the talk was the same. The usually silent
+ruminative old man was positively loquacious, and John gave him a rapt
+attention.
+
+When nine o'clock struck a dim remembrance come to the boy that he was
+still a pupil of Wygate School and had home tasks to prepare for the
+morrow.
+
+But he had slipped too far out of his groove to go back again that
+night.
+
+He began to wander in and out of the lower floor rooms; out of the front
+door, round the verandah, and in by the French windows to the
+dining-room.
+
+"I'll chuck school," he said. "Catch any of those self-made men going to
+school when they were thirteen. I'll have to struggle and screw and put
+myself to a night-school. That's what they did. A self-made man is good
+enough for me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE ARTIST BY THE WAYSIDE
+
+
+Elizabeth Bruce was "detained for inattention."
+
+No one else out of all the four and thirty scholars of Wygate School was
+kept in to-day. One after the other, hands folded behind them, they had
+marched to the door. Then delightful sounds--the scuffling of feet,
+stifled screams, gigglings and low buzzings of talk--had stolen over the
+partition that separated the cloak-room from the class-room, and
+Elizabeth, sitting on the high-backed form, with all the other empty
+forms in front of her, nibbled her pencil in melancholy loneliness.
+
+She wondered if Nellie Underwood and Cyril would wait for her. Only
+yesterday she had waited a dreary hour for them and had carried Cyril's
+bag home for him to ease his wounded spirit.
+
+Then she began her task. She seized a slate, arranged two slate-pencils
+to work together and expedite her task and wrote: "Elizabeth Bruce
+detained for inattention."
+
+When she had written the statement ten times the silence in the
+cloak-room struck chill upon her. All the rest had found their hats and
+bonnets then and gone outside.
+
+She sat on the floor under her desk and tried to see the playground
+through the open door. Two small pinkly-clad figures dashed past the
+door, chased by a maiden in blue--all screaming and laughing.
+
+"Nell Underwood!" ejaculated Betty gladly, and went back to her slate
+warmed and cheered.
+
+She made her pencils work harder than before, kneeling upon the form in
+an excess of industry.
+
+Even as she wrote the statement for the fortieth time, voices and
+laughter came from the playground--but a cold silence had come by the
+fiftieth.
+
+At the sixtieth her little moist hand was cramped, and she had to stay
+to work her fingers rapidly. At the seventieth the tears were trickling
+down her cheeks, for she was only Elizabeth Bruce "detained for
+inattention," the schoolroom was only a schoolroom, and the forms were
+only forms--and empty. And that was the master down at the desk there,
+exercise books and slates around him and a pen behind his ear. For a
+space the tears splashed down hard and fast upon her slate and the sight
+of the big drops aroused her self-pity. The larger the splashes the
+larger her self-sorrow.
+
+A sharp "Go on with your work, Elizabeth Bruce" waked her to the
+necessity of drying her eyes and slate and adjusting her pencils for
+again writing, "Elizabeth Bruce detained for inattention."
+
+But at the eightieth time of writing it, she was no longer Elizabeth
+Bruce, the daughter of a moneyless author. Her name was now Geraldine
+Montgomery, and she was the adopted daughter of a millionaire. Her
+mother, she had decided, was a gipsy, and was even now hovering near at
+hand to steal back her beautifully dressed child.
+
+By the time she had written the melancholy statement of Elizabeth
+Bruce's detention, her face had all its old smiling serenity again.
+
+She rose, sighing thankfully, and collecting her slates, walked down
+soberly to the busy master at his desk.
+
+"Let this be a lesson to you, Elizabeth," he said, running his eye down
+slate after slate. "Ten times each side, twenty times each slate, five
+slates--one hundred. More punishments are meted out to you than to any
+other child in the school. I shall find it necessary, if this state of
+things continues, to write to your father. Clean the slates and return
+them to their places--then go."
+
+Elizabeth found the cloak-room empty. She assured herself that every one
+had gone home--of course; but her eyes flashed round the press room, and
+to that corner between the press and the door, for a blue-frocked little
+girl with red hair. And, of course, as she was now Geraldine Montgomery,
+the disappointment of finding the corner empty was not so keen as it
+would have been merely to Elizabeth Bruce.
+
+"I think," said this foolish little girl aloud, "I'll wear my leghorn
+hat with the ostrich feathers in it to-day. Papa always likes that." And
+she took her old pink bonnet down from her peg and slipped it upon her
+head. Then she stuffed her books into her black school-bag and turned to
+the door.
+
+Elizabeth Bruce fancied Cyril would be away there under the saplings
+playing knucklebones impatiently, and her eyes eagerly scanned the
+deserted playground. No kneeling figures, no Nellie Underwood, no Cyril,
+no knucklebones. For a second the tears trembled in her eyes at the
+thought that no one had waited for her, but in a minute Elizabeth Bruce
+slipped away, and Geraldine Montgomery in her leghorn hat was treading
+the homeward way.
+
+Behind her, she told herself, an old gipsy woman was skulking--she had
+seen the ostrich feathers, the "rare lace upon the simple rich dress."
+
+It was just behind the store that the gipsy and Geraldine both
+disappeared.
+
+The store turned one blank wall upon Carlyle Road--which was the home
+road--and Elizabeth came round the corner sharply and then stood still.
+There, kneeling upon the red clayey earth, his face to the wall, was big
+John Brown.
+
+Elizabeth made out that he was writing or figuring with blue chalk upon
+the wall's blankness, and although her heart feared the big rough boy
+she had "fought," she drew nearer.
+
+"Hulloa!" said John Brown, flushing when he saw the small pinafored
+maiden he had an unpleasant recollection of beating so short a time ago,
+and whom he had carefully avoided ever since.
+
+"Hulloa!" said Betty, surprised into speaking to him.
+
+Brown made a seat of his boot-heels and surveyed her, being much too
+bashful to open up a conversation.
+
+But Betty was not bashful.
+
+"What are you doing?" she asked, and a very inquisitive face stared at
+him from the depths of the pink sun-bonnet.
+
+[Illustration: "'Is it a horse?' queried Betty."]
+
+"H'm!" said John, and made a few more strokes with his pencil.
+
+"Is it a horse?" queried Betty. "Yes it is--there are no horns, and it's
+too big for a dog or cat. Yes, it's a horse."
+
+"H'm!" said John again. Then he looked at his handiwork, drawing further
+off to see it from Betty's point of view.
+
+"Yes," he said, with badly concealed pride; "it's a horse right enough.
+It's a race-horse. I drew him from memory."
+
+"Why didn't you draw him on paper?" asked the small girl.
+
+"Won't be let. And no sooner do I see a bit of blank wall than I begin
+drawing something on it," said the reader of _Self-made Men_.
+
+Betty only heeded the first part of his sentence.
+
+"Who won't let you?" she asked, standing on one leg as she put the
+question.
+
+"My people," said John. "They don't want me to be an artist."
+
+Betty's eyes rounded themselves.
+
+"_Are_ you going to be an artist?" she asked. She was intensely
+interested. The boys who played in her kingdom had not arrived at the
+stage of thinking what they were going to be. What they were was
+all-sufficient unto them. Cyril had once declared his intention of
+keeping a sweets' shop, but that was quite a year ago now.
+
+Betty had read many stories about artists, and they were always set in
+romantic or tragic circumstances. The look she gave to the one before
+her warmed him into becoming confidential on the spot. He did not tell
+her all at once, not all even that first afternoon, although they took
+the homeward way together.
+
+But he gave her a rough outline of the lives of several artists who had
+sprung from the ranks, and of one in particular who lived in a cellar,
+and tasted of starvation as a boy; one who, denied paper, could not yet
+deny the genius within him, but drew in coloured chalks upon any vacant
+wall that came in his way. And he always drew animals--and usually
+horses and dogs.
+
+The little brown face under the sun-bonnet glowed with delight. Never
+in all her life had the imaginative small maiden come across a boy like
+this. Big John Brown, indeed! Bully, indeed! Gardener's boy, indeed! How
+could she and Cyril ever have said, ever have thought, such things?
+
+Presently, for the boy had never had such a listener in his life before,
+he told her of other men--Stephenson, Newton, Shakespeare--and Betty
+took off her bonnet as her earnestness increased, and tucked it under
+her arm after a way she had when agitated.
+
+"Oh, I wish I was a boy," she said. "What's the good of a girl? What can
+a girl do? Don't you know anything about self-made women?"
+
+John knew very little. In fact he too very much doubted the "good of a
+girl." He told her so quite bluntly, but added that she'd better make
+the best of it.
+
+"There _must_ be some self-made women," insisted Betty. "I'll ask father
+to-night."
+
+John thought deeply for a few minutes, seeing her distress. He really
+ransacked his mind, for besides sorrow for her sorrowing he could
+plainly see the admiration with which she regarded him, and he wanted to
+show her that he knew something about women too.
+
+"There's Joan of Arc," he said, "and--there's Grace Darling!"
+
+But Betty was indignant. "They're in the history book!" she said.
+
+John thought again, but could only shake his head.
+
+"All women can do," he said, "is wash up, and cook dinners, and mend
+clothes!"
+
+Betty's lips quivered.
+
+"I won't be a woman," she said, "I _won't_!"
+
+John owned to sharing her craving to be rich, but he wanted to _make_
+his wealth himself--which set Betty's imagination galloping down a new
+road. _She_ had only thought hitherto of her grandfather's riches, which
+had seemed to her and Cyril to be all the money there was in the world.
+
+But now John had slid back a door and let her peep into all the glories
+of a new world, and she had seen there wealth and fame to be had for the
+earning--by men and boys!
+
+"Try and find out about self-made women," she said, when he left her at
+the turn through the bush. "See if there were any women artists, or
+women inventors, or women pirates, or _anything_. Good-bye."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+BETTY IN THE LION'S DEN
+
+
+So that it was John who showed Betty the thing in all its beauty. It was
+he, who, so to speak, called her to the mountain top, and pointed out to
+her the cities of the world to be climbed above. And it seemed to little
+independent-hearted Betty to be the most glorious thing in the world to
+climb upon one's own feet, pulling oneself upwards with one's own hands.
+
+She wondered how she could have ever wanted such a very ordinary
+happening as for her grandfather to _adopt_ them and give them _his_
+money. Here was this wonderful John Brown actually longing to give up
+her grandfather--his grandfather. For he had soon convinced her that
+Captain Carew was his grandfather too, and while allowing that he might
+be hers, he showed her how very little in the eyes of the world _her_
+relationship counted for. He, he said, was the son of his grandfather's
+eldest son--that their names were different was solely owing to the fact
+that his father had changed his name for private reasons. She and Cyril
+and all the rest of them were merely the children of his grandfather's
+_daughter_. And, as he impressed upon Betty, women didn't count for much
+in the world's eyes.
+
+Yet Betty was very earnest in her intention to be something
+great--something self-made, and John was willing enough not to stand in
+her way. He himself was going to start at once; _he_ was not going to
+waste any more time over going to school and doing lessons. He pointed
+to his grandfather as a fine example of a man who had risen _because_ he
+had not wasted time in learning. He told Betty they could not begin
+their "career" too early.
+
+It was Betty who suggested waiting till the Christmas holidays, and it
+was John who said--
+
+"Perhaps you'd better wait till the next Christmas. I will have got a
+bit of a start by then and will be able to help you."
+
+But Betty was indignant at that.
+
+"I won't be helped!" she said. "I won't be helped by you, John Brown.
+Stay at home till Christmas yourself--I'm going _now_!"
+
+Her career had to be decided upon, and very little time remained in
+which to decide. John intended beginning life as an errand boy. In his
+spare time, he said, he would go on with his drawing, and if an
+opportunity occurred, he would work his passage out somewhere in some
+ship. He was rather vague about all but the errand running; that he saw
+to be the first step towards greatness.
+
+Betty was not long before she decided he was keeping some part of his
+design from her. And every afternoon when they had left school and each
+other, she was nervous lest he should have gone by morning--gone and
+left her to find her way into the world alone!
+
+And here was she unable to decide upon her career! She even asked
+questions about Joan of Arc and Grace Darling, and set herself to find
+out if there were any other women in the history book.
+
+"It isn't fair!" she said at last to the thoughtful John Brown. "You'd
+never have known about being an errand boy and an artist only for your
+books. You've got a lot of books to help you."
+
+But John told her how he had been decided upon his "career" all his
+life, ever since his father had left him alone on the station in the
+country which time was, as the reader will be aware, situated somewhere
+about his first birthday. But he magnanimously proposed to place his
+grandfather's library at her feet, or rather to place her feet within
+his grandfather's library.
+
+"You can come and take your pick," he said.
+
+At this period of her life Betty was not troubled with pride--the pride
+of the slighted and poor relation.
+
+She accepted his offer rapturously, only adding, "You'd better keep my
+grandfather out of the way when I come."
+
+"Come when he's having his afternoon sleep," said John.
+
+So Betty was smuggled into her grandfather's library.
+
+It was Saturday afternoon when she went to the great house. She had to
+slip away from Dot, who was making elaborate alterations to a pretty
+blue muslin frock (she was invited to spend the next Saturday and Sunday
+with Alma Montague, the doctor's daughter); her mother was calling
+"Betty, come here," in the front garden as she reached the track through
+the bush, and Cyril and Nancy had implored her to "come and play
+something."
+
+But Betty had a "career" to think of. She ran through the bush and
+arrived breathless at that part of her grandfather's fence which ran
+past their coral islands. At a certain hour every afternoon, John said,
+his grandfather went to sleep. It was during this sleep time that Betty
+was to search the shelves of his library for a book that should
+enlighten her as to the best way to become a "self-made woman."
+
+She slipped under the fence, and into the little belt of bush that
+bounded the emu run, and where she, as a ghost, had waited.
+
+John's signal came very soon, and Betty immediately took off her bonnet
+and rolled it up under her arm--the better to hear--and marched boldly
+across the gravel paths to the library window where John stood.
+
+"Where is he?" asked Betty.
+
+"Asleep on the little verandah," said John; "he always sleeps a long
+time after dinner."
+
+Betty stepped into the room and looked around her curiously.
+
+It was such a room as she had never seen yet, and it pleased her
+greatly. Two enormous bookcases full of books stood side by side against
+one wall. Another wall was book-lined for about eight feet of its height
+and ten of its length. The centre-table had a dark blue cloth upon it
+and bore magazines, books and newspapers and writing materials.
+
+Betty's feet rested pleasurably on the thick rich carpet and her eyes
+went from easy chair to easy chair.
+
+"My father ought to have this room," she said, "he writes the most
+beautiful books, and I know he'd write ever so many more if he lived
+here."
+
+"Here's the book I got myself from," said John, advancing to a
+bookcase.
+
+But Betty was oblivious of her errand. She lingered by the table,
+turning over the covers of the magazines, and picture after picture
+caught her eye.
+
+One in particular she lingered over. It represented a bric-a-brac strewn
+room.
+
+"The boudoir of Madam S----," it said.
+
+"Oh!" exclaimed Betty, and dropped her sun-bonnet into her grandfather's
+chair. "Oh, John, when I've made myself, I'll have a room like _this_!"
+
+She began to read and her eyes smiled. Then she sank down on the floor,
+carrying the book with her, and leaning her back against a table-leg she
+lost herself in an interview with Madam S----.
+
+Madam replied to several searching questions blithely. She told a little
+story about her large family of brothers and sisters, their extreme
+poverty and her own inordinate love of music. Then there was a pathetic
+touch when sickness, poverty and hunger darkened the poor little home,
+and she, a mite of eight, had stood at a street corner in a foreign
+city and sung a simple song. A crowd had soon collected, and a
+keen-eyed, bent-shouldered man had been passing by hurriedly, and had
+stopped, caught by a "something" in the little singer's voice, and face,
+and attitude. He had finally pushed his way through the crowd and stood
+beside the little girl in the tattered frock.
+
+_That_ song and _that_ interview had been the beginning of a great
+career. Hard work and small pay had intervened, but success had followed
+success, and now not one of her concerts to-day meant less to her than
+hundreds of pounds. Dukes threw flowers at her feet, Princes loaded her
+with diamond brooches, tiaras, necklaces, bangles; kings and queens and
+emperors "commanded her to sing before them," and gave her beautiful
+mementos.
+
+Betty was breathing quickly as she came to this stage of Madam S----'s
+career. She turned a leaf, and a face smiling under a coronet looked at
+her.
+
+"Madame S----, present day," the words below said.
+
+A neighbouring photograph showed a mite with a pinched face and a
+tattered frock.
+
+"Madame S----, at eight years old!" was the inscription.
+
+"And I'm twelve," said Betty. "Twelve and a bit."
+
+She turned her head, then raised it sharply. There standing beside her
+was her grandfather.
+
+The two looked at each other.
+
+What Betty saw at first--it must be confessed--was the keen-eyed,
+bent-shouldered individual who had appeared to the little street singer,
+and the silly little imaginative maiden waited for him to speak.
+
+What the grandfather saw was a small girl of "twelve and a bit," in a
+pink print frock; a small girl with a brown shining face, golden-brown
+hair and brown eyes, and parted red lips, a little person in every way
+different from the pale-faced ghost who had visited him awhile back--so
+different that he did not know her.
+
+He simply took her for a little school-girl and no more.
+
+Then Betty remembered who he was--who she was--where she was--and a few
+other matters of similar importance, and a red, red flush spread over
+her face and to the tips of her small pink ears.
+
+The sea-captain opened his mouth in a jocular roar.
+
+"Who's been sitting in my room?" he demanded. "Why, here she is!"
+
+Betty's lip quivered. She _was_ beginning to be afraid--or rather she
+was afraid.
+
+"I--I just wanted to see a book," she said.
+
+"And what book did you _just_ want to see?"
+
+He took the magazine from her and noticed two things--how her hand shook
+and how bravely her eyes met his.
+
+His glance wandered over the open page, and a wonderment came to him
+what there was here to interest such a child.
+
+The next second the fatal question was on his lips.
+
+"And what is your name?" he asked.
+
+Betty's lips moved, but no sound left them. She just sat dumbly there
+gazing into her grandsire's face.
+
+The old man sat down on the pink bonnet. He was not in the least
+anxious over her name. She was a schoolmate of John's, of course; he had
+often stumbled over these active eager little creatures in the back
+yard, in the near paddock, by the emus' run, near the pigeon-boxes, on
+the staircase. _Only_ hitherto they had been of John's own sex. This
+pretty little nervous girl interested him.
+
+He drew her magazine towards him.
+
+"We're waiting for the name--aren't we, Jack?" he said.
+
+Then Betty realized that her hour was indeed come. She rose to her feet
+and stood in front of him gulping down a few hard breaths.
+
+"I--I didn't come to get us adopted this time," she quavered.
+
+"Eh?" said Captain Carew. He spoke dully, yet the faintest glimmerings
+of light were beginning to break on him. Her attitude, something
+familiar in her voice, her height and shining curly head brought that
+evening to his mind, when she had owned to an intention of wishing to
+frighten him. A slow anger stirred him, anger against this child, her
+parents, and himself.
+
+"Your name!" he said harshly.
+
+And at the sound of his own voice his anger grew. His lip thrust itself
+out when he had spoken, and his whole face wore its hardest, most
+unlovely look.
+
+"Your name, girl?"
+
+And Betty hesitated no longer. Her only point of pride at this age lay
+in assuming bravery whether she had it or not. "We Bruces are afraid of
+no one," being her favourite speech, and as inspiriting to her as the
+sound of the war-drum to a warrior bold.
+
+She stood straight and her brown eyes looked straight into his brown
+eyes.
+
+"Elizabeth Bruce," she said.
+
+The old man's anger blazed fiercely.
+
+"Look here my girl," he said, "you can tell your father it's a bit late
+in the day for these games. Tell him I've got the only grandchild here
+that ever I want. Now--go."
+
+But Betty stood her ground.
+
+"My father didn't send me," she said, and her face went from red to
+white. "He didn't know I was coming at all--and--sure's death! he never
+knew anything about the ghosts. I came to get Cyril adopted because he's
+getting tired of cutting wood an' only getting a penny a week."
+
+The old man broke into a hoarse laugh.
+
+"And this time to get yourself adopted," he said.
+
+But Betty shook her head vigorously.
+
+"No, I only wanted to see what sort of woman to be," she said. She
+walked to the open window.
+
+"I'm not going to adopt you," said the old man, "so go--GO! Never let me
+see you inside my gates again--by day or by night. Go!"
+
+And once more Betty took a swift departure by way of the balcony door.
+And again she left a bonnet behind her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+"IF I WERE ONLY YOU!"
+
+
+The third Saturday and Sunday before the ending of term, Dorothea spent
+with her "intimate" friend, Alma Montague.
+
+Alma's home was a very beautiful one at Elizabeth Bay, and, as Dot told
+her mother, there were parlour-maid, housemaid, kitchen-maid and every
+other sort of maid there.
+
+Dot slept in one of the visitor's rooms, and had a bathroom and a
+sitting-room opening off her bedroom for her exclusive use. The
+sitting-room and bedroom were "treated" with the same colouring--a
+tender wonderful shade of blue. The wall paper was just suggestive of
+blue; the ceiling was delicately veined with blue; the curtains were,
+Dot felt certain, blue. The easy chairs and the lounge, the footstools
+and the cushions were dull blue.
+
+Such a beautiful room.
+
+Again, in the bedroom, there were delicate suggestions of blue among the
+whiteness.
+
+And the bathroom! How different in every way from the little wooden
+unlined room at home. There the ceiling-joists were gracefully festooned
+with cobwebs, the floor had many a great hole in it, caused by white ant
+and damp. No water was laid on--only a tap came from a tank outside,
+which in its turn was fed from an underground well. And whenever Dot
+wanted a bath she had to coax or bribe Cyril or Betty to work the pump.
+Dot herself hated working the pump--it blistered her little hands.
+
+Here the floor was leaded the walls tiled, the bath itself painted a
+delicate sea blue. There was a square of carpet just beyond the edge of
+the lead; a cushioned chair, two hospitable taps, one offering cold, one
+hot water. All sorts of toilet luxuries were at hand, pretty coloured
+soaps, loofahs, lavender-water, ammonia, violet powder, violet scent.
+
+No wonder poor Dot was in an ecstasy with her surroundings, and that she
+roamed round her rooms and sighed with happiness because she was here,
+and with sorrow because she was going away in two days.
+
+On Saturday morning she and Alma went shopping. They breakfasted alone
+at nine o'clock, Alma's father being in his consulting-room and her
+mother in bed (she had been at the theatre on Friday evening and Dot had
+not even seen her).
+
+So the two girls lingered over a very dainty breakfast table till nearly
+ten o'clock, when Alma suggested "shopping."
+
+Dot had only two frocks, besides her morning pink print with her. One
+was a blue muslin that had to last her for next week at school; the
+other was a white muslin and her best. She had taken them out of her
+dress-basket and hung them carefully in her pretty wardrobe, and now
+that Alma spoke of shopping she was in miserable doubt which to wear.
+
+"I'm going to wear a blue," said Alma, "you wear yours, too, Thea dear,
+and then people will think we are sisters. Sisters! Oh, don't I wish I
+had a sister!"
+
+Dot, who possessed three, shook her head as she handled her muslin
+dress.
+
+"I think it's very nice to be the only one," she said. "The only child!
+It's lovely!"
+
+"But I'm so lonely except when I'm at school," said Alma sadly.
+
+Dot opened her eyes. She was just slipping her blue frock carefully over
+her shining curly head, but she stopped with her head half through to
+wonder at Alma.
+
+"Lonely!" she said. "Here! In this house! And you've got your father and
+mother!"
+
+Alma shook her head dolefully.
+
+"Father is always busy," she said, "and mother is always out--or
+entertaining. Oh, Thea, I would love to have you for my very own sister.
+I would give everything I have if I could have you."
+
+Dorothea smiled kindly. Mona Parbury had told her the same--and Minnie
+Stevenson, and Nellie Harden. They all wanted her for their _very_ own
+sister. It was only such little madcaps as her own sisters, Betty and
+Nancy, who were indifferent.
+
+Alma was small and undeveloped. She was seventeen and looked hardly
+fifteen. Her large dark eyes looked pathetic in her thin sallow face.
+Her lips were thin and colourless, her hair straight and dull brown. No
+prettiness at all belonged to her. Only wistfulness and gentleness.
+
+So they went shopping together, the two little girls in blue. And they
+had no chaperon at all with them, no schoolmistress, or governess, or
+mother, or aunt--no one to direct their eyes where they should look, and
+their smiles when they should be given out and when withheld. No one to
+carry the purse.
+
+Dot had two shillings and sixpence halfpenny in her small worn purse.
+Her mother had slipped the money in. "I can't bear for you to be without
+money, Dot dear," she had said, "but try your best not to spend it."
+
+Alma's purse seemed full of half-crowns and shillings and sixpences!
+
+Dot bought herself a new hat-band and a pretty lace-trimmed
+handkerchief; and she tried to hide from Alma how very little both had
+cost.
+
+Alma made several peculiar mistakes in her purchases. For instance, she
+bought just twice as much gold liberty silk as she would need for a
+sash, and she had to beg Dot to accept the part that was too much, as
+she would be so tired of the thing if she had two _just_ alike. And she
+bought a pair of size two evening shoes, and remembered when they were
+going home that size two was a size too big for her. She wished she knew
+of any one who wore two's. Dot wore three's, didn't she? No?--two's! How
+lovely! Then Dot would take the shoes, wouldn't she, and save them from
+becoming mouldy! And she bought two pretty lace-trimmed collars, just
+alike--and she hated two of her things to be alike. So Dot would take
+one off her hands, wouldn't she?
+
+Only each time she said "Thea," or "Thea darling!" And she bought her a
+silver "wish" bangle as a keepsake, and a little scent bottle and fan
+for "remembrance."
+
+Before they went home they went into an arcade shop and had strawberries
+and cream, and a big ice cream and sponge cake each. And they met
+several straw-hatted youths to whom Alma bowed.
+
+She told Dot to count how many hats were taken off to her, and Dot
+counted, and behold, the number was ten.
+
+Dot herself felt rather envious. She only knew one grammar-school boy,
+who smiled from ear to ear and blushed with delight on seeing her.
+
+Then they went home.
+
+When they opened the dining-room door the table was set for luncheon,
+and a bald-headed gentleman was waiting at the head of it, a book
+propped up before him.
+
+When the girls came in he went on reading just as before, deaf to their
+chatter, blind to the pretty blue of their dresses.
+
+Alma ran down the room to him, and kissed the top of his head.
+
+"Home again, father!" she said.
+
+And then he looked up smiling, and stroked her little sallow face with
+one finger.
+
+"This is my _very_ dearest friend--Dorothea Bruce!" said Alma
+delightedly, and drawing Dot forward.
+
+The great doctor, who was small in stature, stood up then and took
+little Dot's hand in his, and a very kindly smile came to his eyes as he
+looked into her lovely childish face.
+
+"I'm very glad to see my daughter's dearest friend," he said, and he
+patted her soft pink cheeks also.
+
+The door opened again just as this introduction was over, and a new
+nervousness attacked Alma. Another tinge of yellowness crept into her
+skin, her eyes grew wistful, and she began to stammer.
+
+"My f-friend, mother--Thea--Dorothea Bruce," and Dot turned curiously
+and shyly round to the door. Entering there was a very beautiful woman
+in a tea gown. Her eyes were like Alma's, only far lovelier, her
+complexion was only a few years less fresh and perfect than Dorothea's
+own--and her hair was red-gold and beautiful.
+
+When her glance rested on Dorothea's face, a look of pleasure crept
+into them--just pleasure at seeing any one so flower-like and sweet as
+this little maid from school.
+
+"I am very pleased to see you, dear," she said graciously, and she
+stooped forward and kissed the girl's cheek.
+
+Then she looked at Alma--poor undersized Alma, with her yellow skin and
+bloodless lips--and she sighed. But she kissed her also, and asked how
+she had spent her morning and whether she had come from school this
+morning or yesterday afternoon.
+
+When luncheon became the order of the day conversation died out. Dr.
+Montague, indeed made two or three attempts at light talk--but Dot was
+shy and Alma was nervous and Mrs. Montague was apparently elsewhere in
+thought, so that presently silence fell.
+
+Dinner was at seven that night. It was a meal of many courses, several
+wines two servants, and finger glasses. And again Dot was perfectly if
+silently happy--although the finger glasses (of which she had seen none
+before) threw, her off her balance until she had stolen a glance at
+Alma to "see how she did," whereupon Dot performed the operation with
+infinitely more grace than Alma.
+
+Alma wore a white silk dress and gold sash, and Dorothea white muslin
+and gold sash, and the doctor's eyes went from one little whitely clad
+maid to the other, smilingly.
+
+The happy look on his small daughter's face pleased him greatly.
+
+His wife often said he neither saw nor heard what was going on around
+him, but he had very soon discovered his little girl's supreme
+contentment.
+
+He asked Dorothea if she were going away for Christmas and the holidays,
+and Dorothea shook her golden head and said, "No; she was going to stay
+at home."
+
+Whereupon he asked Alma if she wouldn't like to carry her "dearest
+friend" up the mountains with her, and Alma went quite pink with delight
+and said--
+
+"Oh, Father! Oh, Thea _dear_!"
+
+And Dot raised her pretty shy eyes and said--
+
+"Oh, Alma!" and then looked at Mrs. Montague as if to ask if such
+happiness was possible.
+
+Mrs. Montague laughed.
+
+"I will write and ask your mother," she said, "but we really can't take
+'no.'" And she said it so graciously that the tears came into Alma's
+eyes.
+
+"It would be _too_ lovely!" said Dot breathlessly.
+
+On Sunday afternoon, just as the evening shadows were stealing out and
+the daylight was growing grey, Alma ran into the little blue
+sitting-room, her great eyes luminous.
+
+"Oh, Thea _darling!_" she said, and then she stopped in surprise. Only a
+little while ago Dot had tripped upstairs, her hair in a golden plait
+down her back, her dress not so low as her boot-tops by quite three
+inches.
+
+And now! She was sitting in an easy chair, her dress skirt lowered till
+it reached the floor, her hair loosely done up on the top of her head,
+her blue, blue eyes staring through the windows to the darkening
+harbour waters, afar off.
+
+She blushed rosily red when Alma ran in.
+
+"I--I was just thinking," she said.
+
+"What were you thinking of, Thea?" asked Alma, "and what have you done
+your hair like this for? You _do_ look so pretty--I wish the girls could
+see you."
+
+Dot pulled her friend towards her and patted the arm of her chair for
+her to sit there. Then she leaned her head upon Alma's shoulder and held
+one of her hands between her own two.
+
+"I was _wishing_ I were grown-up, really grown-up," she said; "I did my
+hair up to see how I looked. I tried to do it like your mother does
+hers."
+
+Alma stroked her head gently.
+
+"My mother is in love with you," she said. "She has just been saying all
+sorts of _beautiful_ things about you. She says she wishes you were her
+daughter."
+
+"Oh!" said Dot. "Her daughter! How I _wish_ I were!"--and no disloyalty
+to her own mother was meant. "To live here always! To be rich! To----"
+
+She paused. "Oh, Alma," she added, "you _are_ a lucky girl."
+
+But Alma only sighed.
+
+Dot began to think again, comparing in her own mind this home of Alma's
+with her own little bush home.
+
+"Oh!" she said at last; "How happy you ought to be. How would you like
+to change places with me!"
+
+And to her surprise Alma burst into tears, covering her face with her
+little trembling hands.
+
+Gentle ways belonged to Dorothea.
+
+She stood up and put her friend into her chair and then she knelt beside
+her, and slipped her arm round her waist.
+
+"_Dearest_ Alma!" she whispered.
+
+"Oh," sobbed Alma, "if only you were my _very_ own sister Thea--I
+_couldn't_ love you more. I'm _so_ lonely. Father is always busy, and
+mother--mother is disappointed in me."
+
+Dot opened her eyes in surprise. She had never dreamed of a mother being
+_disappointed_ in her child.
+
+"I'm not pretty--or clever--or _any_thing," sobbed Alma. "She's always
+been disappointed in me--ever since I was a tiny baby--and I've always
+known it--and--and--she doesn't know I know. Oh dear!"
+
+Dot was shocked. "Darling Alma!" she said again.
+
+"It's dreadful to be the only child--and to be a disappointment," said
+Alma. "I think father is sorry for us both."
+
+Dot stroked the girl's straight hair.
+
+"You've got lovely eyes," she said, "and you're very clever at crotchet
+work."
+
+"What's that!" said Alma drearily. "Mother wouldn't mind if I never
+touched a needle. She says if a girl hasn't beauty she has only one
+other chance in the world--and that is to be brilliant. I _do_ try to be
+clever--but it's no good."
+
+Dot kissed her.
+
+"When you are grown up you'll look different," she said. "You'll wear
+long trailing dresses--and--do your hair like this--and----"
+
+But Alma sprang to her feet.
+
+"What a croaker I am," she said. "I _never_ told this to any one
+before. Thea--it is my very _biggest_ secret. You'll never tell any one,
+will you? Never! never! Father says if I'm good I'll be beautiful enough
+for _him_. But oh, I wish I were you!"
+
+"And _I've_ been wishing I were you," said Dot.
+
+"I suppose," said Alma, with one of her most wistful looks, "I suppose
+we're _meant_ to be ourselves for some reason. And we must make the best
+of ourselves just as we are!"
+
+And the two girls kissed each other tenderly.
+
+"I've to be an elder sister," said Dot, with a sudden thought towards
+Mona Parbury.
+
+"And I've to be an only child," said Alma, "and we've both to make the
+best of our state of life--eh?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+JOHN'S PLANS
+
+
+On Monday morning Betty took the road to school with running feet. A
+fear was at her heart that John Brown had set out upon his expedition
+into the world this day. Had gone--and left her behind! Had begun "life"
+and left her at school!
+
+And it must be confessed that she liked the thought of two waifs facing
+the world together, very much better than one.
+
+She was not at all disturbed (when it was over) about the interview with
+her grandfather. It had not, like its predecessor, sent her to bed
+weeping and ashamed and resolved upon the expediency of "turning over a
+new leaf."
+
+She had been vexed that her grandfather had had so short a sleep--and
+that John had not given her warning of his approach--as he had promised
+to do.
+
+And she was very much distressed to find she had left her pink bonnet
+behind her. Her mother had discovered its loss when giving out the
+week's clean one, and had insisted upon her searching every corner in
+the house for it.
+
+"It's was Dot's," said Mrs. Bruce. "Dot never lost a bonnet in her life.
+You will have done with bonnets soon, but yours will do for Nancy. I
+expect you left it at school, you tiresome child."
+
+It certainly would have electrified Mrs. Bruce if her small daughter had
+confessed to her bonnet's whereabouts. But Betty's scrapes were many and
+various at this period of her life, and it never entered into her head
+to tell them to her mother, who was absorbed in her garden and her
+books, nor to her father, who was supposed to be always "thinking
+stories."
+
+So Betty ran to school with her clean bonnet tucked under her arm, after
+promising that she would "try to bring the other one home with her."
+
+Her mind was now at rest upon her future "career." She had quite
+determined to be a second Madam S---- with this sole difference in their
+lives--Madam S---- faced the world at _her_ street corner at the age of
+eight, and Betty was not beginning till she was "twelve and a bit."
+
+Still, she had a few worries.
+
+She was worried over John--lest he should have gone and left her; and
+she was worried over the great question, "What song to sing?" as many
+singers have been before.
+
+She had thought of "God save the Queen," but the words did not fulfil
+all requirements, while "Please give me a penny, sir"--that song she had
+found among a heap of yellow old ones with her mother's name--maiden
+name, Dorothea Carew--upon them, seemed to have been written just for
+the occasion. The only pity was, that whereas Betty knew "God Save the
+Queen" perfectly, "Please give me a penny, sir" was almost a stranger to
+her.
+
+She had learnt a verse of it on Saturday night when she ought to have
+been doing her arithmetic; and on Sunday evening she had coaxed her
+mother to the piano, and begged her to sing "_just_ this one song,
+_please_." Her mother sang very prettily--like Dot--and she had thrown a
+good deal of pathos into the old song, so that Betty's ambition was
+fired, and she had _almost_ decided upon the song straightaway.
+
+This morning she arrived at school flushed and hot, before either Cyril
+or Nancy, and she began at once to explore the playground for John Brown
+the artist. Two little lines of boys and girls were playing a sober game
+of French and English away under the gum trees, and Betty ran her eyes
+along the lines--but no John Brown was there.
+
+Two boys were skirmishing just behind the cloak-room, but neither of
+them was John Brown. Five were playing "leap frog," but John Brown was
+not there. One sat on the doorstep learning a lesson, but that was only
+Artie Jones.
+
+Then a motley crowd of boys and girls came trailing in at the gate, and
+the bell began to ring.
+
+Betty drew into the shadow of the new wing, the "Babies' Wing," and
+scanned the new arrivals eagerly.
+
+Fat Nellie Underwood gave her a bunch of jonquils and fell into line to
+march into the schoolroom. Minute Hetty Ferguson begged to be allowed to
+do her hair in the dinner-hour. "_Please_, Betty dear," she urged. But
+Betty was looking for John and did not heed.
+
+Cyril was there and grumbling. He was pushing a boy who had pushed him,
+and pressing his lips together as he pushed, when, all at once, he saw
+Betty, and left the field to the other boy.
+
+"You're going to catch it, Betty Bruce!" he whispered. "You'll just see!
+I'm going to tell of you when I go home. Teach you to sneak off to
+school by yourself."
+
+But Betty's eyes were looking past Cyril, looking for a squarely built
+figure in grey.
+
+Cyril drew nearer. "You never washed up the porridge plates," he said.
+"I found them in the dresser cupboard. An' the knives an' forks. An'
+baby's basin. I'll tell of you."
+
+Then he fell into line and carried his fair pretty face into the
+schoolroom, where Miss Sharman patted his cheeks when he went to present
+a little bunch of Czar violets to her.
+
+Miss Sharman presided over Class A for grammar upon Mondays and
+Thursdays, and Cyril, who was but very weak on adverbs and prepositions,
+always gave her a sweet-smelling nosegay to begin the day with.
+
+And Miss Sharman had a very tender spot in her heart for pretty Cyril,
+where she had none for scapegrace Betty. She had doctored Cyril for
+bruises, had washed his face in her own room and brushed his wavy hair;
+had kissed him, and given him cakes, and acid drops, and bananas. And
+although these small sweet matters were just between Miss Sharman and
+Cyril--their influence might be felt upon grammar days.
+
+Nancy came into school crying--crying noisily. She was rubbing her eyes
+with one hand, a moist dirty hand, and leaving her face the worse for
+the contact.
+
+The master inquired sternly what was the matter, and called her to his
+side. And Nancy told him sobbingly that she "fort she was late, an' now
+she wasn't." And he patted her head so kindly that the little maid
+lowered her sobs at once and finally let them die away in an occasional
+hiccough of sorrow.
+
+Betty came in at last. She had run as far as the store and back again in
+search of John Brown--and had found him not. She felt quite certain now
+that he was away practising his genius upon some wall in the great
+world.
+
+When she came into the schoolroom her face was red with running and
+excitement, her hair was rough, and her bonnet under her arm still, so
+oblivious was she to the things of this very every-day and commonplace
+world.
+
+"Elizabeth Bruce, what is that you have under your arm," Miss Sharman
+inquired, as Betty walked to her place, which was somewhere in the
+second form.
+
+Betty looked in surprise--and there was her bonnet. She had to walk out
+and hang it up, while the class, and even the babies tittered at her
+blunder.
+
+But there in the cloak-room she found John Brown. He was in the act of
+hanging his hat upon his own particular peg--the highest one in the
+room.
+
+"Oh!" said Betty, "_here_ you are!"
+
+"You're a nice one," said John Brown.
+
+"What have I done?" asked the little girl eagerly.
+
+But John Brown simply looked his scorn, and it made his face very ugly
+indeed.
+
+"Oh, what _have_ I done?" begged Betty. "Do tell me."
+
+"Trust a girl to mull things up," said John.
+
+"Elizabeth Bruce, return to your class," said a stern voice from the
+schoolroom, and Betty shot herself back through the door in the
+twinkling of an eye.
+
+A lengthy space of valuable time was given over to moods and tenses,
+perfects, pluperfects, pasts, futures; and Betty, whose fortitude was
+much shaken by John Brown's remarks, sat listlessly five places above
+him, caring not the least about such mighty words as "cans" and
+"coulds" and "shalls" and "shoulds," although the air was full of them.
+
+She went down a place, through not being able to find a passive
+participle for the verb "to bid," Miss Sharman shaking an angry head at
+her eager "bidded." And she went down two for knowing nothing of the
+present tense of "slain."
+
+That brought her one place removed from John Brown, and all her
+eagerness now was to go one lower and learn at once wherein lay her
+offence.
+
+So, although she knew perfectly that the verb "to fall" had "fell" for
+its past participle, she uttered an eager "failed" and sat next to John
+Brown.
+
+"Disgraceful!" said Miss Sharman. "You could not have opened your book,
+Elizabeth (which was only too true). Your little sister Nancy, in the
+babies' class, could have told you that."
+
+But Elizabeth saved herself with the verb, "to sing," and sat uneasily
+in case John should blunder over "to fight." But he was quite correct
+and did not need his small neighbour's eager whisper.
+
+And then Miss Sharman passed on to other verbs and other pupils, and
+John and Betty were left in peace, side by side, outwardly two
+indifferently intelligent pupils, inwardly perplexed, distressed and
+elated by their new ambition.
+
+"What have I done?" whispered Betty.
+
+"Silly!" whispered John.
+
+"But--what _have_ I done?"
+
+"Girl!" whispered John in scorn.
+
+The trouble at Betty's heart stirred and hurt her. Was it not enough _to
+be_ a girl, without being _called_ one--and in such a whisper. She sat
+still, and, to save herself from tears, bit her lips and pressed them
+together, and pinched her left arm with her right hand, as she sat there
+with her arms folded behind her.
+
+And John thought she didn't care!
+
+He looked at her out of an eye-corner and added, "I'm done with you," as
+a final stab.
+
+Betty said, "Oh no, John," imploringly, and Miss Sharman caught her
+whisper and saw her lips move, and said--
+
+"Elizabeth Bruce--don't let me have to look at you again this morning.
+You are very troublesome. Why can you not take a leaf out of your
+brother's book, I wonder?"
+
+The morning wore on, and tenses and moods gave place to drill. Then they
+all went into the playground, and armed themselves with poles, and
+formed into lines.
+
+John, as the tallest and straightest-backed and sturdiest-limbed pupil
+in the school, was always at the head of one line. While Nellie
+Underwood and Betty Bruce, being of a height and age, headed a line
+alternately.
+
+It fell to Betty's lot to be head of a line to-day, and though she had
+to "right wheel and march," with John for a partner, down the middle and
+up again, and "left wheel and march" from John to meet again, and "right
+wheel and march," and all of it over and over and over again, John's
+eyes only ignored the little distressed face in the cotton bonnet, or
+told her contemptuously that she was a "girl."
+
+At eleven o'clock recess he was skirmishing with four smaller boys
+(using only one hand to their eight) and Betty walked up and down under
+the gum trees arm in arm with two other girls in sun-bonnets.
+
+At dinner-time John scampered home to roast fowl and bread sauce, and
+Betty and Cyril and Nancy carried their lunch bag to a shady corner and
+ate bread and jam sandwiches with relish, finishing up with a banana
+each.
+
+It was not until afternoon school was well over that Betty found John in
+any way approachable. He was skimming stones along the dusty road with
+practised skill, and Betty, alone and hurrying, caught him up.
+
+She artfully admired a stone that sped for a couple of hundred yards an
+inch or so above the earth, without, to all seeming, ever touching it.
+And John condescended to be pleased at her praise.
+
+When she had at his command tried her hand at throwing and been
+condemned by him, she put her question again.
+
+"Why aren't you speaking to me, John? What have I done?"
+
+"I'm speaking!" quoth John. "But I'm done with you."
+
+"But what have I done?"
+
+"Done! Only got me into a row with my grandfather. Only got me to bed at
+six o'clock without any tea for speaking to you. That's all."
+
+"And shan't you speak to me any more?" asked Betty.
+
+"Only just speak," said John.
+
+"And--and----" Betty's voice quavered with anxiety--"shan't you run away
+with me?"
+
+"Mightn't" said John. He sent another stone speeding down the road, and
+Betty watched it with misty eyes, as she trudged along behind him. She
+did not speak.
+
+"You should have cleared when I coughed," said John. "I told you I'd
+cough, but you sat there reading and wouldn't look up."
+
+Still Betty was silent.
+
+"You'd give the whole blessed show away," said John. "What's the good
+of running away and being brought back to school. That comes of being a
+girl."
+
+And then he looked at her and saw the tears were running down her cheeks
+and her lips quivering.
+
+"You're crying!" he said, turning round to her sharply.
+
+"Oh, I'm not," said Betty, and dragged her bonnet further over her face.
+"That horrid stone of yours made a d-dust, and its--it's got in my
+eyes."
+
+John laughed. "If you do run away," he said, "what shall you do?"
+
+Betty's ambition leapt to life, and her tears dried themselves on her
+cheeks and in her eyes.
+
+"I'm going to sing," she said. "I'm going to stand at a street corner
+and sing, and I'm going to wear a tattered old dress and no boots and
+stockings. And then an old gentleman will pass by and he'll hear me and
+stand still, and he'll take me away to make a singer of me; and even
+lords will come to hear me sing, and kings and queens."
+
+John was stirred.
+
+"I'm going without boots, too," he said, "and I shall be in tattered
+things. I shall get a place as errand boy first, and----"
+
+"When are you going?" asked Betty artfully.
+
+"To-morrow," said John.
+
+"Why, so am I," said Betty. "How funny."
+
+"If you like," said John, "I'll see you to some street corner. I'm going
+at five o'clock in the morning."
+
+"Why, so am I," said Betty. "Oh, yes; let's go together."
+
+"You can be down at the store by half-past five," said John. "That'll
+give us time to get a bit of breakfast. And we'll be in Sydney early,
+before they find out we've gone."
+
+[Illustration: "She went back to her bedroom, to place by Nancy's side
+her only remaining doll."]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+ON THE ROAD
+
+
+Needless to say Betty did not "waste" any time that night over
+home-lessons. How can the beginner of a great singer be expected to care
+whether the pronoun "that" in "I dare do all 'that' may become a man,"
+is relative or possessive? or whether Smyrna is the capital of Turkey or
+Japan? or even whether the Red Sea has to do with Africa or China.
+
+Betty did not even open her school satchel, or peep at the cover of her
+books. Instead, she copied out the words of her song and learnt them
+sitting there at the table with Cyril.
+
+Neither was Cyril doing home-lessons. He certainly had his books spread
+out before him, but the contents of his pockets were strewn upon his
+open books, and he was examining them and grumbling now and again at
+the rapacity of certain school-mates who had caused him to lose certain
+treasures, or accept less valuable ones, on the school system of "I'll
+give you this for that."
+
+He turned over three coloured marbles in disgust. For them he had
+bartered away a catapult, and now his heart was heavy over the exchange.
+
+"Artie Jones is a sneak," he grumbled. "He ought to have given me six
+marbles for that catapult. Eh? What do you say?"
+
+The question was directed to Betty, whose lips were moving.
+
+She shook her head, and sighed drearily, for she had entered into the
+very being of the little beggar girl who sang for a penny.
+
+"Nothing," she said. "Nothing you'd understand. Don't chatter."
+
+"Don't be so silly," said Cyril. "I'm as old as you, any way."
+
+"Mother says I'm an hour older than you," said Betty.
+
+"That's nothing," said Cyril.
+
+"You can learn a lot in an hour," quoth Betty, and bent her attention
+to her strip of paper.
+
+"I told mother about the dirty plates, so there," said the boy.
+"And----"
+
+"Bah!" said Betty, and pushed her fingers into her ears.
+
+Betty had several plans for waking early, amongst which may be
+named--putting marbles in her bed that in rolling unconsciously about
+for comfort she might be awakened by the discomfort. That had answered
+very well once or twice. Another was to place her pillow half-way down
+the bed, that she might be within reach of the foot of it--and then to
+rest her own foot on a lower rail and tie it there. Another was to prop
+herself into a sitting position and fold her hands across her chest,
+that by sleeping badly she might not sleep long.
+
+Many a night had her father and mother laughed at the attitude chosen by
+their second daughter, and arranged her that her sleep might be easier.
+
+"Betty wants to get up early," they would say and smile. But upon this
+night--the night before the battle--they did not go to her room at all.
+
+Mrs. Bruce was reading a new magazine, and saying now and again, as she
+turned a leaf or smiled at her husband, that she _had_ intended doing a
+bit of mending; and Mr. Bruce was polishing up a chapter in his book,
+and saying now and again as he paused for a choicer word, or smiled at
+his wife, that he _had_ intended doing that blessed article on Cats, for
+Flavelle. So they both went on being uncomfortably comfortable.
+
+Betty tried all her expedients for early rising, and yet peaceful was
+her sleep throughout the night. Her lashes lay still on her rounded
+cheeks, her rosy lips smiled and her brown curls strewed the pillow,
+just as effectively as though she were on a velvet couch, and a living
+illustration of a small princess, sleeping to be awakened by a kiss.
+
+She awoke just as the day was pinkly breaking and the night stealing
+greyly away, awoke under the impression that John Brown was cutting off
+her foot. It was a great comfort to find it there and merely cold and
+cramped from lack of covering and an unnatural position.
+
+She remembered everything immediately without even waiting to rub her
+eyes, and she sprang out of bed at once, even though her right foot
+refused to do its duty, and she had to stand for a valuable minute on
+her left.
+
+The clock hands (she had carried the kitchen clock into her bedroom to
+Mary's chagrin), pointed to a quarter to five, and Betty realized she
+had only an hour in which to dress eat her breakfast, bid good-bye to
+any home objects she held dear, and travel down the road to the store.
+
+She was vexed, for she had meant to get up at four.
+
+She got into her tattered Saturday's frock (her Cinderella costume) and
+she brushed and plaited her short curly hair, as well as it would allow
+itself to be plaited. Then she made a bundle of her boots and stockings
+and school-day frock and hid them away under the skirt of her draped
+dressing-table, and opened her money-box and extracted the contents
+(thirteen half-pennies). This was the fortune with which she purposed to
+face the world.
+
+And so real had this thing become to her now, that she crept to the far
+side of the double bed to kiss the sleeping Nancy, and down the passage
+to Cyril's room, to look at his face upon the pillows; and the tears
+were heavy in her eyes because she was quitting her "early" home.
+
+When she had reached the pantry she remembered something, and went back
+to her bed room, to place by Nancy's side her only remaining doll, a
+faded hairless beauty, Belinda, by name.
+
+And she pinned a note upon the pincushion (all her heroines who fled
+from their early homes, left notes upon the pincushion) addressed to
+"Father and Mother," and as she passed their door she stroked it
+lovingly. In the pantry she was guilty of several sobs, while she cut
+the bread, it seemed so pitiful to her to be going away from her home in
+the grey dawn to seek a livelihood for her family. In truth her small
+heart ached creditably as she ate her solitary breakfast, and it might
+have gone on aching only that she suddenly bethought herself of time.
+Half-past five, John had said, and she remembered all that she had done
+since half-past four.
+
+"It _must_ be half-past five now," she said. "I'll eat this as I go,"
+and she folded two pieces of bread and butter together.
+
+Then she found her bonnet and the strip of paper with the song upon it,
+and grasping her half-pennies set forth.
+
+She ran most of the way to the store, which, it may be remembered,
+occupied the corner, just before you come to Wygate School.
+
+As Betty came in sight of it she saw John standing still there, and she
+thought gratefully how good it was of him to wait for her.
+
+He wore a very old and very baggy suit, a dirty torn straw hat (of which
+it must be owned he had plenty), and neither boots nor stockings.
+
+The children eyed each other carefully, noting every detail, and both in
+their own heart admiring the other exceedingly.
+
+Betty's face had lost its traces of tears, but had not got back its
+happy look. Her mouth drooped sadly.
+
+"What's up?" asked John as they turned their faces towards the silent
+south.
+
+"It hurts me, leaving the little ones," said Betty, who was now in
+imagination Madam S----. "You have no brothers and sisters to provide
+for."
+
+John sighed. "No," he said, "I've no one but an old grandfather, and he
+grudges me every crust I eat. He's cut me off with a shilling."
+
+For a space Betty was envious. For a space she liked John's imagination
+better than her own. That "cutting off with a shilling" seemed to her
+very fine.
+
+He showed her his shilling. "I've _that_," he said, "to begin life on.
+Many a fellow would starve on it. _I'm_ going to make my fortune with
+it."
+
+They were the words one of his heroes had spoken, and sounded splendid
+to both.
+
+"I've sixpence-halfpenny," said Betty, and unclosed her little brown
+hand for a second. "That's all!"
+
+They walked on. In front of them and behind ran the dusty road, like a
+red line dividing a still bush world. Overhead was a tender sky, grey
+stealing shyly away to give place to a soft still blue. Already the
+daylight was wakening others than these foolish barefooted waifs. Here
+and there a frog uttered its protest against, mayhap, the water it had
+discovered, or been born to; the locusts lustily prophesied a hot day.
+Occasionally an industrious rabbit travelled at express speed from the
+world on one side of the red road to the world on the other. And above
+all this bustle and business and frivolity rang the brazen laugh of a
+company of kookaburras, who were answering each other from every corner
+of the bush.
+
+After some little travelling the fortune seekers came upon a cottage
+standing alone in a small bush-clearing on their right. Three cows stood
+chewing their cud, and waiting to be milked, a scattering of fowls was
+shaking off dull sleep, and making no little ado about it, and near the
+door a shock-headed youth was rubbing both eyes with both hands.
+
+Betty and John walked on. These signs of awakening life roused them to a
+livelier sense of being alive.
+
+Yet a little further and they came to what Betty always called a
+"calico" cottage, which is to say, a cottage made of scrim, and
+white-washed. Windows belonged to it, and a door, and a garden enclosed
+by a brushwood fence.
+
+"Let's peep in the gate," said Betty, "it's such a _sweet_ little
+house."
+
+"Wait till you see the house _I_ mean to have," quoth John.
+
+But Betty preferred to peep in then. She went close to the half-open
+gate and popped in her head.
+
+Inside the gate was a garden, and all its beds were defined by upended
+stout bottles--weedless, sweet-scented beds wherein grew such blooms as
+daisies, and violets, stocks, sweetpeas, sweet williams, lad's love and
+mignonette.
+
+"Oh!" said Betty. "Oh--just smell! just put your head in for a minute,
+John."
+
+But John was for "pushing on," and getting to Sydney to make his
+shilling two.
+
+While they were parleying, a man came round the corner of the "sweet
+little house," and his eyes fell on the bonneted maiden.
+
+"Hullo!" he exclaimed, "and who's this? Polly?"
+
+"No," said Betty.
+
+"Na-o. Then p'raps it's Lucy. Eh?"
+
+John tugged at Betty's dress and said "Come on," urgingly; but the man
+was already letting down two slip-rails a little way from the crazy
+gate, and his eyes rested on the second barefooted imp.
+
+"Hullo!" he exclaimed, "An' how's this any'ow?"
+
+John, who had a greater dread of capture than Betty, inquired innocently
+if there were any wild flowers up this way.
+
+The man drew his hand across his eyes to banish sleep inclinations. "Not
+many now, I reckon," he said. "There might be a few sprigs of 'eath an'
+the flannel flowers ain't all done yet. Goin' to town?"
+
+Betty nodded, and John said,--
+
+"Yes--we'll be gettin' back 'ome" in a fair imitation of his
+questioner's voice.
+
+"I'll be goin' as far as the markets," said the man "an' I don't mind
+givin' you a lift ef you like."
+
+John's eyes brightened, for he was longing for the centre of the city,
+and he had felt they were covering ground very slowly. And Betty's
+brightened because she thought she would soon coax the man into letting
+her drive.
+
+So the fortune seekers made their entry into town in a fruit cart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE NOTE ON THE PINCUSHION
+
+
+Every morning there was a skirmish between Betty and Cyril as to who
+should have the first bath, and Betty generally won, because as she
+pointed out, she had Nancy to bath, too, and to make her bed, and set
+the table, and cut the lunches, whereas Cyril only had to bring up two
+loads of wood.
+
+But this morning, to Cyril's delight, he was first and he got right into
+the room and fastened the door with the prop (a short thick stick which
+was wedged between the centre of the door and the bath, and was Mr.
+Bruce's patent to replace the handle that "lost itself"), and still
+Betty came not. And he loitered in the bathroom and played, and
+half-dressed, and then undressed, and got back into the bath, and out
+again, and dressed, and still no Betty banged at the door.
+
+"Can't make out where Miss Betty's got to," said Mary sulkily, "I'll
+tell your mother on her. She's not set the table, and she's not cut the
+lunches, and she's not done nothing."
+
+Cyril, who had brought up his wood and otherwise and in every way
+performed his morning's duties, waxed indignant at Betty and her
+negligence, and went down the passage to her room, muttering--
+
+"I'll tell mother of you, Betty Bruce, so there!"
+
+But no Betty Bruce was there. Only Nancy in her nightgown still, and
+playing with poor faded Belinda.
+
+Mary had to set the table, and Mary had to cut the lunches, and Nancy
+had to miss her bath, and go to Mary for the buttoning of her clothes.
+And all because Betty had gone out to make her fortune!
+
+Mrs. Bruce came out of her room late--which was a very usual thing for
+her to do--and she called:--
+
+"Nancy, come and take baby. Betty, find me a safety pin _quickly_. I
+think I saw one on the floor near the piano."
+
+And Mr. Bruce followed her in his slippers, and called--
+
+"Nancy--Betty--one of you go down to the gate and bring up the paper."
+
+Cyril ran to them breathless with his news--
+
+"Betty's never got up yet. Mary's had to do all her work an' she's not
+got breakfast ready yet. And Nancy's had to dress herself an' all."
+
+Mrs. Bruce opened her eyes--just like Dot did when she was very
+surprised, and said,--
+
+"Then go and _make_ Betty get up at once." But Cyril interrupted with--
+
+"She's not in bed at all. She's out playing somewhere; I daresay she's
+gone to school so's to be before me and Nancy. She's always doing that
+now."
+
+Mrs. Bruce had to hurry to make up for lost time--as she had perpetually
+to do--and she could not stay to lend an ear to Cyril's tale. So he was
+left grumbling on about Betty, and school, and a hundred and one things
+that were "not fair."
+
+Nancy had a bowl of porridge and milk in the kitchen, superintended in
+the eating of it by Mary, who was giving baby her morning portion of
+bread and milk.
+
+Cyril carried his porridge plate to the verandah that he might watch if
+Betty was lurking around in the hopes of breakfast.
+
+And Mr. Bruce read the paper and sipped a cup of abominably made coffee
+serenely.
+
+They were such a scattered family at breakfast time usually, that one
+away made little difference. No one but Cyril missed Betty at the table.
+Her services in the house were missed--so many duties had almost
+unnoticeably slipped upon her small shoulders, and now it was found
+there was no one to do them but slip-shod overworked Mary.
+
+Just as Cyril was setting off to school Mary ran after him with a
+newspaper parcel of clumsy bread and jam sandwiches.
+
+"I'm not sending Miss Betty's," she said--"it'll teach her not to clear
+out of the way again."
+
+Mrs. Bruce put her head out of the kitchen window--she had not had
+"time" for any breakfast yet beyond a cup of tea.
+
+"Send Betty home again," she said; "she _shan't_ go to school till her
+work's done."
+
+But even at eleven o'clock no Betty had arrived. Mary, who had done all
+the washing-up--and done some of it very badly--was sent by her mistress
+to strip Betty's bed and leave it to air. And she found the note on the
+pincushion, and after reading it through twice, carried it in open-eyed
+amazement to her mistress, who was eating a peach as she sat on the
+verandah edge, and merely said, "Very well, give it to your master."
+
+So Mr. Bruce took it, and opened it very leisurely, and then started and
+said: "Ye gods!" and read it through to himself first and then out
+aloud.
+
+
+    "DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER" (it said)--
+
+    "I am going away from my childhood's home to make a fortune for
+    all of you. My voice is my fortune. When I've made it I shall
+    come back to you. So good-bye to you all, and may you be very
+    happy always.
+
+          "Your loving daughter,
+                           "BETTY."
+
+Mrs. Bruce put down her peach and said: "Read it again, will you,
+dear," in a quiet steady way as though she were trying to understand.
+
+And Mr. Bruce read it again, and then passed it over to her to read for
+herself.
+
+"She's somewhere close at hand, of course!" he said. "Silly child!"
+
+"She _couldn't_ go very far, could she?" asked Mrs. Bruce, seeking
+comfort.
+
+Mr. Bruce shook his head.
+
+"One never quite knows _what_ Betty could do," he said. "She's gone to
+find her fortune, she says. I wonder now if that is her old crazy idea
+of hunting for a gold mine. No! 'My voice is my fortune,' she says. Good
+lord! Whom has she been talking to? What books has she been reading?"
+
+Mrs. Bruce sighed and smiled. As no immediate danger seemed to threaten
+Betty, there appeared no reason for instant action. They could still
+take life leisurely, as they had done all their married days. It was
+only madcap Betty who ever tried to hurry their pace or upset the calm
+of their domestic sky--Betty with her ways and plans and pranks.
+
+So Mrs. Bruce leaned back on the verandah post.
+
+"Where one has only _one_ child," she said, "life must be a simple
+matter. It is when there are several of several ages that the difficulty
+comes in. Now we, for instance, need to be--just a year old--and six
+years old--and twelve and seventeen--all in addition to our own weight
+of years."
+
+Her husband smiled. "You do very well," he said. "I saw you playing with
+Baby this morning, and I've heard you and Dot talk, and could have
+imagined she had a school-friend here."
+
+"Dot--yes! But Betty--no!"
+
+"Betty is at an awkward age," said Mr. Bruce. "I confess _I_ know very
+little of her. What is her _singing_ voice like? I think, dear, you'd
+better give me a list of the clothing she has on, and I'll go down the
+road and make a few inquiries."
+
+The only dress they could discover "missing," to Mrs. Bruce's horror,
+was the tattered Saturday frock. And Mary found the boots and stockings
+under the dressing-table, so the conviction that she had gone barefoot
+was forced upon them.
+
+At twelve o'clock Cyril was startled to see his father enter the
+schoolroom, and he observed that Mr. Sharman shook hands with him in a
+very affable manner, which was, of course, very condescending of Mr.
+Sharman. In fact, it led Cyril to hope for leniency from him in the
+looming arithmetic lesson.
+
+A low voiced conversation took place, and then Cyril was called down to
+the desk and questioned closely about his truant sister.
+
+But of course Cyril knew nothing.
+
+Then another very strange thing happened.
+
+While Mr. Bruce and Mr. Sharman and Cyril were standing in the middle of
+the floor--Cyril feeling covered with glory from his father's and Mr.
+Sharman's intimacy in the eyes of the whole school--another shadow
+darkened the doorway. And the other shadow belonged to no smaller a
+person than Captain Carew, of Dene Hall, Willoughby, N.S. Wales.
+
+Miss Sharman went out to meet him before the little trio knew he was
+there, and his hearty "Good morning, ma'am! I've come for news of that
+young scapegrace, my grandson, John Brown," filled the room.
+
+Whereat Mr. Bruce turned round, and he and the captain faced each other,
+and Cyril, in great fear, looked up to see if Arthur Smedley, the dread
+bully, had heard how the great captain of Dene Hall had absolutely, and
+in the hearing of the whole school acknowledged John Brown to be his
+grandson, and had not so much as glanced at Cyril, who stood there quite
+close to him.
+
+It was the first time for more than seventeen years that Captain Carew
+and Mr. Bruce had been so close together, despite the fact that the
+fences of their respective properties were within sight of each other.
+
+To-day Captain Carew grew a deep dark-red from his neck to the top of
+his forehead, and Mr. Bruce went quite white and held his head very
+high.
+
+And Mr. Sharman drew back nervously, for he, like most other people,
+knew all about the relationship of these two men to each other, and
+about their deadly feud.
+
+But the captain strode down the room, just as though he owned Mr. and
+Miss Sharman and every boy in the school, and he raised his voice
+somewhat as he repeated his statement about his grandson, "John Brown."
+
+"And if you'll kindly excuse Cyril, I'll take him with me," said Mr.
+Bruce quietly, continuing his sentence, just as if no interruption had
+occurred at all.
+
+In the playground Cyril received his commands, glad indeed to have them
+to execute instead of the arithmetic lesson and play-hour which the
+ordinary happenings of life would have brought about.
+
+"Go into the bush," said his father, "and search there for her. Look
+everywhere where you are accustomed to play. She may have fallen down
+somewhere and hurt herself."
+
+"Yes, father," said the boy obediently. "How'd it be to see if she's
+fallen in the creek?"
+
+His father gave him an angry look.
+
+"Afterwards go home," he said. "Let the creek alone, and don't talk such
+folly--Betty is more than five. Tell your mother I'm going to give it
+into the hands of the police."
+
+Cyril went into the bush--not very far--because the growth was thick,
+and he had a great dread of snakes.
+
+"S'pose I were bitten," he said, "and I just had to stay here by myself
+and die! Wonder where Betty is; it's very silly of her to go and lose
+herself like this. _I_ never lose myself at all."
+
+He came to a two-rail fence, and climbed up and sat on one of its posts,
+and then he looked around as far as the bush would let him see.
+
+"It's better to keep near a fence," he said. "Then if a bull comes,
+you're safe. If he jumped over I could roll under, and we could keep
+doing it, an' he couldn't catch me.... 'Tis silly of Betty to get lost.
+_I_ wouldn't get lost. You never know how many bulls and things there
+are about."
+
+He looked round again, and then he climbed down and ran back to the
+road.
+
+"I'll go home now," he said, "I can't find Betty anywhere. I've looked
+and looked. And school will be out soon, and how do I know Arthur
+Smedley took his lunch to-day; he might be coming home."
+
+Whereat this valiant youth looked over his shoulder, and saw the boys
+running out of the school gate. So he took to his heels and ran home as
+fast as ever he could.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+IN THE CITY
+
+
+The fortune seekers were set down at a street corner near the Quay at
+half-past six.
+
+When it had come to the matter of crossing the harbour, from the
+Northern Shore to the Quay, in the punt (they two sitting in the cart
+the while), they had found themselves called upon to pay a penny each
+for the passage over, which they had enjoyed amazingly. Betty paid both
+pennies, having the coppers, but she urged John to be quick and get his
+shilling changed to pay her back.
+
+At the street corner John suggested leaving her for awhile. "This would
+be as good a corner as any other for you, Betty," he said, and slapped
+the shutters of a chemist's shop as he spoke, "You stand here, and
+you'll catch everybody who goes by."
+
+"There's no one going by yet," said Betty. "What are you going to do?
+You're not going to leave me all alone?"
+
+"Well," said John, "we might stick together a bit longer, anyway. I'll
+come back for you. You sing your song, and I'll just go and see if any
+shops want a boy. I don't suppose the offices are opened yet. What I'd
+like is a good warehouse, and then I'd rise to be manager, and partner.
+That's the sort of thing. I don't think there's much in a shop after
+all, but I'll have to find out where the warehouses are. A tea warehouse
+is good, _I_ can tell you. You get sent out to India for the firm, and
+then come back and are made a partner."
+
+He started off, only to be stopped after he had gone a few steps, by
+Betty's voice calling, "Get your shilling changed, I want my penny"; to
+which he nodded.
+
+Betty had the corner all to herself then. Down the street, and up the
+street, and down the side street, whichever way she craned her neck she
+could see no one.
+
+It seemed to her a very good opportunity to try her powers. So she
+commenced. At first it must be confessed she made no more sound than
+she had done in talking to John. And the street was so used to voices
+that it did not open an eye.
+
+Therefore Betty grew bolder, and forgot in singing that she was
+not at the bend in the old home-road, where she had practised
+once or twice since she had decided upon her career. Her voice
+rose clearly--shrilly--and sometimes she remembered the tune
+quite fairly. When she forgot it, she filled in what would have
+otherwise been a pause with a little bit out of any other tune
+that came into her head.
+
+For those who would like to know the words of the song she was singing,
+and who may not have it among their mother's girlhood songs, as Betty
+had, it may be as well to copy them from the paper she held in her hand
+to refresh her memory from--
+
+    "Please give me a penny, sir; my mother dear is dead,
+     And, oh! I am so hungry, sir--a penny please for bread;
+     All day I have been asking, but no one heeds my cry,
+     Will you not give me something, or surely I must die?
+
+    "Please give me a penny, sir; you won't say 'no' to me,
+     Because I'm poor and ragged, sir, and oh! so cold you see;
+     We were not always begging--we once were rich like you,
+     But father died a drunkard, and mother she died too."
+
+    _Chorus_--
+
+    "Please give me a penny, sir; my mother dear is dead,
+     And, oh! I am so hungry, sir--a penny please for bread."
+
+At the end of the first verse she found it necessary to run her eye over
+the paper before beginning the second.
+
+Perhaps it was just as well for her serenity that she did not look up as
+she sang. For just as soon as her voice rose into anything approaching a
+tune--it was near the end of the first verse--a face looked down upon
+her from the corner window of the second story of the chemist's house.
+
+It was a young face, early old--white and drawn and marked by the
+unmistakable lines of suffering.
+
+Betty knew nothing about the trouble of the world in those days; nothing
+of suffering, nothing of sorrow. And the woman above her knew of all.
+She leaned over the window-sill and her eyes smiled pityingly as they
+rested on the small bared head.
+
+She had been praying her morning prayer near the open window, begging
+for strength to bear her sorrows, and for as many as might be to be
+taken from her, when Betty's voice quavered right up to her window.
+
+She looked down, and there was the small singer's curly brown head. She
+looked longer, and saw Betty clasp a bare foot in one hand and stand on
+one foot, drop the foot from her hand and reverse the action.
+
+It was merely a habit of Betty's, but the woman found in it a sign that
+the child was worn and weary--worn and weary before seven o'clock in the
+morning.
+
+She drew her dressing-gown around her, searched her dress pocket for her
+purse, and leaning out dropped sixpence upon the pavement close to the
+little singer.
+
+Betty stopped at once and looked around her, down the street and around
+the corner; at the shop shutters and door, but never once so high as the
+windows.
+
+The woman smiled to herself.
+
+"Poor little mite," she said. "I must remember even the little children
+have their griefs! It should make me grumble less."
+
+Betty ran along the street in the direction John had taken. She felt she
+_must_ tell some one. Then, as a thought struck her, she ran back to the
+house, looked up to the second story and saw a smiling face, and then
+set off again, running down the street for John.
+
+Not seeing him, she stopped at the next corner and examined her coin
+lovingly. Then she looked up at _that_ corner window and began to sing
+again.
+
+But this time her reward came from the street. Three bluejackets were
+walking down the street to the Quay, lurching over the pavement as they
+walked. The child's song touched and stirred that latent sentimentality
+of theirs.
+
+Her "or _surely_ I shall die," brought a silver threepence from one of
+them, and a copper from each of the others.
+
+Betty felt wealthy now, beyond the dreams of avarice. She had made a
+shilling in an hour!
+
+She looked at the post office clock high up in the air there above her
+head, and it informed her that it was only a quarter past seven. Not
+eight o'clock yet! And she had made a shilling! Twelve pennies! As much
+as she received in six months by staying at home!
+
+She sat down on the kerbstone to count her money, putting her feet in
+the dry gutter _a la maniere_ born. She made first of all a stack of her
+half-pennies, and then of her pennies. There were nine half-pennies,
+three pennies, a threepenny bit and a sixpence. The grand total she
+found was one and fourpence halfpenny. More than even John had started
+out with.
+
+While she was thus like a small miser counting her money, a hand swooped
+suddenly down upon the heap of coppers and swept them away. Betty looked
+up to scream, but it was only John. And he warned her solemnly how
+easily such a dreadful theft could be committed.
+
+"I wish to goodness the shops would open," he said discontentedly. "I'm
+beginning to want some breakfast, I can tell you."
+
+Betty unfolded her hands and displayed her wealth of coin. "A shilling
+in an hour," she said, and John's look of surprised unbelief delighted
+her.
+
+"You picked it up!" he said.
+
+"Oh, I didn't!" cried Betty. "People gave it to me just for singing! A
+shilling an hour! I forget how much Madam S---- makes in an hour. I
+think its more than a pound!"
+
+"Don't you want your breakfast?" asked John.
+
+"Let's count how many hours in a day," said Betty, twisting about to see
+a clock, the high post office clock they were walking under now, and
+found it. "I want to make my fortune quickly and go home and surprise
+them. How much money is in a fortune, John?"
+
+John considered deeply for a minute and then gave it as his idea that
+five hundred pounds was usually called a fortune.
+
+[Illustration: "The child's song touched and stirred that latent
+sentimentality of theirs."]
+
+"That'll take a good bit of making," said Betty.
+
+"Well, you didn't expect to make it in a day did you?" asked John
+roughly.
+
+"Oh, no," said Betty cheerfully, "I was only wondering how many hours
+there are in a day--at a shilling an hour."
+
+She began to count slowly on the fingers of one hand all the hours until
+seven o'clock at night, the first hour to be from eight till nine
+o'clock in the morning.
+
+"Eleven hours!" she said. "That's eleven shillings! Eleven shillings,
+John. Oh, and one hour gone, that's twelve! Twelve _shillings_ a day,
+just fancy, John! Oh, I'll soon be rich."
+
+"But you couldn't sing every hour in the day," said sensible John,
+although his eyes plainly expressed admiration for her brilliant career.
+"Why, you'd get hoarse!"
+
+"I only sang twice in this hour," said Betty; "the rest of the time I've
+just been counting my money and looking round me."
+
+"But you mightn't make a shilling every hour," said John.
+
+"_But_--some hours I may make more, so it's about equal."
+
+"I wish we could have some breakfast," said John, reverting to his
+trouble. "I'm jolly hungry, I can tell you."
+
+"So am I," said Betty. "Twelve shillings a day--six days in a week. Oh,
+can I sing on Sundays, John?"
+
+"Hymns," quoth the boy.
+
+"Um! I could sing 'Scatter seeds of kindness' and 'Yield not to
+temptation.' Um! I never thought of hymns. I think I'll sing hymns
+to-day as well, 'cause I'm not very sure of my song yet, and every now
+and then I have to stop to look at the words. Can I sing hymns on other
+days than Sundays, John?"
+
+"Better not," said the cautious John; "better keep the proper things for
+the proper days. Well, Betty Bruce, if you're going to stay here all
+day, I'm not. I'm getting awfully hungry."
+
+At last Betty's motherliness awoke.
+
+"My poor John!" she said, "of course you're hungry. We'll go to a shop
+and get a really good breakfast. I wasn't thinking. When a person begins
+to make a lot of money, they generally forget other things, don't they?"
+
+"Um!" said John, who had made nothing at all. "We'll go and get a good
+breakfast and then we'll be fit for anything, won't we. Come on."
+
+They turned round the corner into King Street, and there to their
+delight found the shops one by one opening their eyes--drapers, chemist,
+fruiterers, and then at last a shop with cakes in the window.
+
+The children stood at the door and peeped in. They saw myriads of white
+tables and a couple of sleepy looking girls. One girl held a broom and
+was leaning on its handle and surveying the stretch of floor to be
+swept. Her eyes at last went to the door, and Betty, seeing they had
+been observed walked slowly in, leaving John outside.
+
+"No," said the girl, shaking her head.
+
+"We want some breakfast," said Betty, and added "please," as her eyes
+fell on a trayful of pastry on the counter.
+
+Again the girl shook her head.
+
+"Can't give you any here," she said; "now run away."
+
+Then Betty's face flushed; for though one may sing to earn an honest
+livelihood and competency, it is quite another thing to be taken for a
+beggar.
+
+"We'll pay for it," she said, and then forgot her pride and urged, "Go
+on, we're so hungry! We've been walking about since five o'clock."
+
+Something in the child's face touched the girl's heart. She herself had
+been up at half-past five and knew a great deal about poverty and
+privation.
+
+"Well, come on then," she said. "Go and sit down at one of them tables
+and I'll fetch you something."
+
+Betty ran to the door and called "John," in an ecstatic tone, "come on."
+
+Then the two of them chose a table and sat down.
+
+"Not porridge, please," called Betty to the girl. "Just cakes and
+things, and lemonade instead of tea. _I'll_ pay the bill."
+
+But John brought out his shilling.
+
+"I'll pay for myself," he said grimly, "and I'll pay you back the penny
+I owe you, too."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+ALMA'S SHILLING
+
+
+By ten o'clock Betty had made another shilling, having caught the
+workers of the city as they were going to their day's toil.
+
+And it must be owned it was a mysterious "something" about the child
+herself that arrested what attention she drew. Perhaps it lay in the
+fresh rosiness of her face, in the clearness of her sweet eyes, in the
+brightness of her young hair; for her courage ebbed away so soon as two
+or three were gathered around her; her voice sank to a whisper, she
+drooped her head, trifled with one wristband or the other, stood first
+on one foot and then on the other, and displayed the various signs of
+nervousness Mr. Sharman's stern eye provoked her to.
+
+At eleven o'clock, John, who had made threepence by carrying a bag for
+a lady, looked Betty up at the appointed corner and proposed lemonade
+and currant buns, for which she was quite ready.
+
+Afterwards they stood for a valuable half-hour outside the waxworks and
+explored the markets, where Betty sang "Scatter seeds of kindness," in
+spite of John's solemnly given advice to keep it for Sunday. Here she
+only made a penny halfpenny by her song, but as she said to John--
+
+"Every one must expect some bad hours."
+
+Then, too, there was in her heart a feeling of certainty that a keen
+eyed, bent shouldered old gentleman would be passing soon, and carry her
+away straight to the very threshold of fame, as Madam S----'s old
+gentleman carried _her_.
+
+When they had become thoroughly acquainted with the markets, John
+suggested she should again "count up," with a view of deciding what sort
+of lodgings she could afford for the night.
+
+Betty had not thought of such a trivial thing, leaving it possibly for
+her old gentleman to settle. But she was more than willing to "count
+up" again.
+
+So they went into a corner behind a deserted fruit stall, sat down upon
+an empty case, and made little stacks of pennies and half-pennies and
+small silver coins.
+
+She had two shillings and a penny, she found in all, and John told her
+she could afford to go to one of the places he had seen this morning,
+where a bed and breakfast were to be had for sixpence.
+
+"I have seen some places where they charge a shilling," said John. "It
+seems an awful lot to pay for a bed and a bit of breakfast. But a
+sixpenny place will do for you, and as you're only twelve they might
+take you for threepence."
+
+"And where will you go?" asked Betty anxiously.
+
+"Oh, I'd be sixpence, you see, because I'm thirteen and a half," said
+John. "I can't afford to pay sixpence. It's always harder for a fellow
+to get on than for a girl. That's why you hear more about self-made men
+than self-made women--they're thought more of. No bed for me, I expect,
+for some time to come. I'll have to sleep in the Domain. I heard a
+fellow talking this morning, and he said he's been sleeping there for a
+week now. And, you know, Peterborough, the artist I told you
+about--well, he slept for a week in a _barrel_!"
+
+"How much money have you got?" asked Betty.
+
+"Eightpence!" said John. "No one seems to want an errand boy to-day."
+
+Betty began to feel very doleful at being one step above John in this
+the beginning of their career. But she dared not offer to lend to him,
+he had been so very insistent upon paying her back her penny, and paying
+for his own breakfast and lemonade and buns.
+
+He took her and showed her two houses which bore the words, "Bed and
+breakfast, 6_d._!" and then he led the way to the Domain, having been
+through it many times with his grandfather, while to stay-at-home Betty
+it was no more than a name. Macquarie Street lay asleep as they
+travelled through it and past Parliament House and the Hospital and the
+Public Library.
+
+It never for a moment occurred to Betty that Dot was domiciled in that
+street of big high houses and hushed sounds. She knew Dot's school
+address was "Westmead House, Macquarie Street," but she had not the
+remotest idea that she and John were travelling down Macquarie Street
+past Westmead House.
+
+Just inside the Domain gates they paused to admire Governor Burke's
+statue, and to count their money again in its shade.
+
+Then John pointed out to her the tree-shaded path that runs to
+Woollomooloo Bay and the great sweeping grass stretch that lay on one
+side of it.
+
+Many men were there already, full length upon the grass, their hats over
+their eyes, asleep or callous to waking.
+
+Betty at once signified her intention of spending her first night out
+here, also, and pointed to a seat under a Norfolk Island pine tree.
+
+"We could be quite cosy there," she said, "and you could lend me your
+coat."
+
+"But I'd want it myself," said John.
+
+"John in _Girls and Boys Abroad_ used always to give Virginia his coat,"
+said Betty.
+
+It was slightly to the right of Governor Burke's statue that Betty was
+inspired to sing "Yield not to temptation," standing with her back to
+the iron railing.
+
+And it was just as she was being carried out of herself and singing her
+shrillest in the second verse that Miss Arnott, the English governess in
+Westmead House, brought her line of pupils for their daily
+constitutional down the Domain.
+
+Pretty Dot, and the judge's daughter, Nellie Harden, were at the head of
+the line, and were conversing in an affable manner and low voices upon
+the newest trimmings for summer hats, when the little couple near the
+statue came into view.
+
+Betty's eyes were downcast that she might not be distracted by her
+audience, but John, who was clinging to the railing near her, saw the
+marching school, saw Dot, and knew that she had seen.
+
+    "Each victory will help you
+     Some other to win,"
+
+sang Betty shrilly.
+
+Dot's face went white, sheet white. She heard the judge's daughter speak
+of eau de nil chiffon, and a hat turned up at the side. She was at the
+head of thirty fashionable "young ladies," and a fashionable young
+governess was close by. She wore her best shoes (the ones with the
+toe-caps of Russian leather) and her best dress (white with the gold
+silk sash given by Alma Montague).
+
+And there was Betty--dreadful scapegrace Betty, barefooted, dirty faced,
+bare-headed (her bonnet was of course under her arm), singing songs for
+coppers!
+
+Dot coughed, went white, choked, and walked on. She simply had not the
+courage to step out from that line of fashionable demoiselles and claim
+her little sister.
+
+But Alma Montague, who carried her purse for the purchase of chocolate
+nougats should a favourable opportunity occur, had her tender little
+heart touched by Betty's face and song.
+
+    "Each victory will help you
+     Some other to win."
+
+spoke directly to her, and her longing for chocolate nougats. She only
+had a shilling in her purse, wonderful to relate, and she and her
+conscience had a sharp short battle. Chocolate nougats or--pitiful
+hunger! Her face flushed as conscience won the battle.
+
+The next second she had slipped out of line and run across to Betty.
+
+"Here; little girl!" she said, and thrust a shilling into Betty's hand.
+
+The little singer looked up, shy and startled, and her song died on her
+lips while her eyes plainly rejoiced over the shilling.
+
+Then the English governess awoke from a happy day-dream and sharply
+ordered Alma back to her place.
+
+"You should have asked permission," she said stiffly. "I cannot have
+such disorders. I will punish you when we return to school!"
+
+Just as if the lost chocolates were not punishment enough.
+
+The deed and the reprimand travelled along the line, whispered from
+mouth to mouth, till it came to Dot.
+
+"That silly Alma Montague," the whisper ran, "has just broken line to
+give her money to that little beggar girl. She gave a shilling. She was
+going to buy chocolate nougats. Miss Arnott's going to punish her."
+
+Dot's sensitive soul shuddered over the terrible Betty. If she had been
+looking up instead of down! If she had rushed forward and claimed her
+before the eyes of the wondering school! If Miss Arnott had known! If
+Alma Montague had known! If any one of all those thirty girls had even
+guessed!
+
+The very possibility was so dreadful that Dot found herself unable to
+discuss fashion for all the rest of that constitutional.
+
+But later on in the day, in the evening, when the lamps were alight, she
+had crept away by herself to wonder where madcap Betty was. She felt
+quite sure she would go home again quite safely, she was always doing
+terrible things without any harm coming to her.
+
+The tears that fell from Dot's eyes were not for Betty, but altogether
+for herself. She had disowned, by not owning, her sister! She had been
+afraid to step forward before those thirty pairs of eyes and say, "This
+is my sister!" And she felt as one guilty of a mean and dishonourable
+deed.
+
+"I will tell every girl in the school in the morning," she said; and
+then, as her repentance increased: "I will tell them to-night."
+
+And to her credit be it spoken, she descended to the schoolroom and
+weepingly told her story.
+
+Some of the girls laughed, most of them "longed to know Betty," and all
+of the "intimate" friends tried to comfort Dot.
+
+"You're _such_ a darling," said Mona. "You've made us all love you more
+than ever."
+
+She was very enthusiastic for she _felt_ that Dot had been afraid and
+had conquered fear.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+THE BENT-SHOULDERED OLD GENTLEMAN
+
+
+"Let's go somewhere and count my money," said Betty, when she had
+watched the last pupil of Westmead House disappear down the long avenue.
+"You see I _easily_ make a shilling an hour, don't I?"
+
+John admitted she had chosen a good paying profession; and that if
+"things" didn't improve with him very soon he should try singing in the
+frequent spare moments of his errands running.
+
+The day wore on, and although it must be recorded that Betty did not
+always make a shilling an hour, her "takings" were very fair,
+considering many things, notably her lack of voice and great shyness so
+soon as anything approaching an audience gathered around her.
+
+[Illustration: "Only a little barefooted girl asleep--fast asleep upon
+his lounge."]
+
+By six o'clock a great weariness had crept over her. Unused to city
+pavements, her limbs ached wofully, her feet were blistered and swollen,
+her head ached from the noises of the busy city, and her heart ached for
+her little white bed at home. For the day was growing old and it was
+almost bed-time.
+
+Presently the stars stole out and began to play at hide and seek, and
+Betty who had finished counting her money again, was still standing
+tiredly on one foot at the corner of Market and George Streets, waiting
+for John--John who had promised to be with her at six; and now it was
+after seven and he had not come.
+
+The tears were too near for her to attempt to wile away the minutes with
+another song--tears of weariness and disappointment. The disappointment
+was caused by the non-arrival of the keen-eyed, bent-shouldered old
+gentleman who was to raise her eventually to the pinnacle of fame--and
+by John's absence.
+
+It was just as this great matter was straining her heart almost to
+breaking point that a heavy hand fell upon her shoulders, and she looked
+up into the face of a roughly clad, ill-kempt looking man--a face that
+in some way seemed familiar to her.
+
+"I b'lieve you're the very little girl as I've been on the look-out for
+all day," he said. "Le's look at you! Yes, s'elp my Jimmy Johnson, you
+are! If you'll just come along with me, we'll talk about your name an' a
+few other things."
+
+He held out his hand and took hers.
+
+"Your name," he said, "as it ain't John Brown, may be Elizabeth Bruce.
+Ain't I right now?"
+
+Betty tremblingly admitted that he was, and listened as she walked the
+length of a street by his side to his jocularly spoken lecture and to
+all the dire happenings--gaols, reformatories, ships, etc.--that befell
+she or he who left the home nest before such glorious time as they were
+twenty-one.
+
+Finally Betty and her earnings were placed in a cab, and the man,
+holding her arm firmly, stepped in after her. He seemed to be afraid,
+all the time, that if he moved his hand from her she would be off and
+away. They rattled down the Sydney streets in the lamplight, which
+Betty had never seen before this night, to the harbour waters and across
+them in a punt, and the little girl thought tiredly of her journey in
+the greengrocer's cart not so very many hours ago.
+
+The remembrance brought with it a flash of light. This man by her side
+was the greengrocer!--their morning friend. She decided that she would
+soon ask him about John, ask him whether he had found John also.
+
+But before she could satisfactorily arrange her question a great
+heaviness settled down upon her, and her head nodded and her eyes
+blinked and blinked and fell too. And all thought of money-making and
+street-singing, and John Brown slipped away and left her in a merry land
+of dreams playing with Cyril and Nancy in the old home garden.
+
+"Poor little mite," said the man, and he slipped his roughly clad arm
+around her and drew her towards him so that her head might rest on his
+coat. "Poor little mite! She'd find the world but a rough place, I'm
+thinking!"
+
+And they sped onwards into the hill country where Betty's home was, and
+John's, and the little school-house and the white church and the
+wonderful corner shop. Only they stopped before they came to Betty's
+home, stopped at the great iron gates of her grandfather's dwelling,
+drove through them and up the dark gum tree shaded path.
+
+The man, carrying the sleeping child in his arms, walked straight into
+the hall, to the huge astonishment of the sober man-servant who had
+opened the door.
+
+"I'll wait here for yer master," he said.
+
+The hall was wide and square, and contained besides three deck-chairs, a
+cane lounge covered with cushions.
+
+Perhaps the man had some eye for dramatic effect, perhaps it was only
+accident, but he placed Betty carefully upon the cushions, and put a
+crimson-covered one under her dark curly head. Then he withdrew to the
+door.
+
+It was not likely that, having worked hard for his reward, he was about
+to forego it. But he told himself that "his room would be better than
+his company" while the rejoicings over her recovery were going on.
+
+The captain came through the door slowly. One hour ago a policeman had
+arrived in a cab with John--and had departed with a substantial reward
+in his pocket. During the last hour the captain had heard John's
+story--thrashed him with his own hands, and sent him to bed.
+
+Now he was "wanted in the hall by a man with a little girl."
+
+But there was no man visible in the hall, only a little barefooted girl
+asleep--fast asleep upon his lounge. He could hear her breathing, see
+her face, and he knew in a moment who she was.
+
+He looked sharply at her, back to the door which was closed, forward to
+the front door which was drawn to, and around the empty hall.
+
+Then slowly and as if fearful of being caught he went nearer to the
+sofa, and looked down at this little creature--blood of his blood--who
+had appeared before him again. Her lashes lay still on her rosy
+sun-tanned cheeks, her curly hair was in confusion upon the red cushion,
+her bare feet were upon another. Such a pretty tired child she looked
+although she was but a tattered and soiled representative of the small
+pink-bonneted maiden he had seen only the other day.
+
+He knew the story of her "career" now, and of her desire to be a
+self-made woman. John had told him about her in speaking of his own
+ambition. The captain's slow mind went back to the time when his own
+"career" had been forced upon him, when he had only too often "slept
+out." And as remembrance after remembrance awoke, his heart warmed
+strangely to this brown-haired girl who seemed to be always stumbling
+into his pathway.
+
+Dirty, ragged imp as she was, that strange inexplicable sense of kinship
+stirred within him. Stirred as it had never stirred towards alien John,
+who was after all only the son of his first love's son, with no blood of
+his at all in him; stirred as it had stirred towards no one living since
+his daughter had left him more than seventeen years ago.
+
+He put out one hand and touched her hair (she could not know, no one
+could know, of course)--his only daughter's little child!
+
+And Betty slept on. Had she but known it, a bent-shouldered old
+gentleman, who might have exerted a wonderful influence over her whole
+life, was at that moment looking at her with softened eyes. But great
+possibilities are frequently blighted by small importunities.
+
+The greengrocer chose this moment to open the front door and look into
+the hall, and the captain saw him, started, and lost his feeling of
+kinship for the sleeper.
+
+"Good evenin'," said the greengrocer blandly, "I found her about an hour
+ago, an' came straight 'ome with her."
+
+Captain Carew explained briefly that his boy had been returned to him
+about an hour ago, and that the promised reward had been given on his
+behalf to the policeman.
+
+The man looked crestfallen.
+
+"My wife told me," he said, "when I come back from the markets. She said
+somebody had lost a boy, and you had lost a girl. And your reward was
+the biggest, so I went for the girl."
+
+Captain Carew put his hand in his pocket, and shook his head. To pay
+for Betty seemed to him to be publicly claiming her. Yet he could not
+help being glad that she was found.
+
+"And she ain't nothin' to you?" said the man, most evidently
+disappointed.
+
+"Nothing!" said Captain Carew firmly; "but I hear that she ran away with
+my boy--to make her fortune. She lives, I believe, in a small
+weather-board cottage a few yards further on."
+
+He felt much stronger after he had spoken that sentence. Of course she
+was nothing to him. He walked to his library, and then looked over his
+shoulder, and saw the man just stooping over the little girl again. And
+then, for no reason at all, of course, he put his hand into his pocket
+again, drew out a sovereign and gave it to the man.
+
+"To make up for your mistake," he said.
+
+Then he went away and shut the library door, while the two went away.
+
+"Little baggage!" he said, "she's nothing to me. John's the only
+grandchild I ever want."
+
+But he had an uncomfortable feeling that he had owned her.
+
+An hour later, on his way through the hall to his bedroom; he found a
+soiled crumpled piece of paper on the cane lounge, and opening it,
+read--"Please give me a penny, sir!"
+
+"The little vagabond!" he muttered. But he put the paper into his
+pocket.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+THE DAY AFTER SCHOOL
+
+
+A great day had dawned for Dorothea Bruce, a day long dreamed of and
+alas, long dreaded!
+
+The first day after school life!
+
+She would joyfully have taken another two years of school-days, with
+their sober joys and sweet intimate friendships; their griefs and small
+quarrellings; their lessons and their play hours; their meetings and
+their breakings up.
+
+But yesterday she had "broken up" for ever. Yesterday she had mournfully
+given eight locks of her beautiful hair away as "keepsakes," although it
+must be owned to-day she had examined her hair carefully, looking over
+her shoulder to see how it bore the loss of its tendrils.
+
+Yesterday she had wept separately with each of her "intimate" friends,
+excepting only Alma Montague, at this dreadful parting that had come
+about.
+
+Alma was not to lose Dorothea at all, instead she was to have her all to
+herself at Katoomba for the holidays, and her queer little yellow face
+wore a superior smile as she saw the other girls' sorrow at parting from
+their "darling Thea."
+
+Many things were promised and vowed in this touching season. The little
+band of intimates were to write to each other every week; still to tell
+each other _every single_ secret; to think of each other every night; to
+be each other's bridesmaids as long as there were maids to go round, and
+to visit each other in their married homes.
+
+For of course they were all going to be married--every one of them.
+
+It was Nellie Harden who had first alluded to the time "When I am
+married," "When you are married," etc. She said she was rather curious
+to see who would be married first, and even plain little Alma felt
+cheerful in looking forward to the time when she would be engaged. They
+simply took it for granted that in the great beautiful world into which
+they were going there were lovers--lovers in plenty; lovers who vowed
+beautiful vows, and performed gallant deeds, and wore immaculate
+clothing, and still more immaculate moustaches.
+
+Dorothea had decided to be "elder sister" to the best of her ability.
+She intensely admired the beautiful elder sister in _The Mother of
+Eight_, a book Mona had just lent to her.
+
+The mother of eight was a girl of eighteen, who had promised her mother
+on her death-bed to be a mother to all the little ones. Lovers had come
+to her, imploring her to "make their lives," friends had put in their
+claims, pleasures had beckoned; but the mother of eight had shaken her
+beautiful head and stood there at her post until the eight were married
+and settled in homes of their own, when the "mother" had suddenly died
+of a broken heart.
+
+This book formed the basis of Dorothea's day-dreams. She, too, was going
+to be an "elder sister" and reform the home. In the flights of her
+imagination she saw herself making Betty and Nancy new frocks, mending
+Cyril's trousers, trimming her mother's hats, correcting her father's
+manuscripts.
+
+Wherever she looked she seemed to be wanted. A great place gaped in the
+household, and it was for the elder sister to step in and fill it. And
+Betty, wild madcap Betty, would want talking to, and training and
+putting into the way in which she should go. And, of course, lovers
+would come for Dot, but until Baby was well started in life she would
+have none of them. And when she married, "a few silver threads would be
+discernible in her golden hair, and there would be patient tired lines
+at the corners of her mouth."
+
+But it was only the first day after school now, and she had much to
+think of. She was not going to commence the new order of things by being
+an elder sister, although the home needed her sorely.
+
+As things had fallen out, it was necessary, she found, to set duty aside
+for a while.
+
+She was invited to spend the end of December and the whole of January
+with Alma Montague at Katoomba. They were to stay at the best hotel
+there--Mrs. Montague, her sister Mrs. Stacey, Alma and Dot. Rooms had
+already been engaged for the party (Alma's and Dot's adjoining each
+other's), and all sorts of intoxicating details been settled.
+
+Dot, indeed, spoke to her mother once about coming home to help,
+instead of going away, but even if she had meant it--which must
+be questioned--Mrs. Bruce was quite decided that she should go.
+
+"It will do you good," she said, "and we don't need you at home at all.
+Betty will be here--it will be holiday-time and she must help."
+
+For February Dot had an invitation to Tasmania. In her wildest
+imaginings she did not dream of accepting it, but Minnie Stevenson,
+whose school-days lay behind her too, was going down before Christmas
+and declared she could not be without Dot longer than the middle of
+February.
+
+And Mona--Mona, her nearest and dearest friend, said it was _very_ hot
+on the Richmond River till the end of March, but April was a perfect
+month there, and in April she would take _no_ refusal. She must have
+Thea in her own home all to herself then.
+
+Nellie Harden had her mother's consent to ask Dot to "come out" with
+her. The debut was to take place in June, at a big ball, and Nellie had
+"set her heart" on Thea and herself coming out at the _very_ same ball,
+on the _very_ same night as each other, "All in white, you know, Thea
+darling, and we _will_ look so nice."
+
+So it will be seen Dot's idea of being elder sister and home daughter
+had every chance of remaining an idea for the present. With such
+alluring pleasures, where was there room for duty?
+
+"I'll do my best _every_ time I am at home," said Dot to herself,
+weighing pleasure and duty in the balance and finding duty sadly
+wanting, "and I'll _write_ Betty good letters of advice, and take some
+mending away with me to do."
+
+But all that belonged to yesterday.
+
+To-day Dot was at home, and in the important position of being about to
+set out upon a journey. She was to start early in the morning and to go
+direct to the Redfern railway station.
+
+Mr. Bruce had gone to town to draw a five guinea cheque for his eldest
+daughter. He also had to do a little shopping on her account. All his
+instructions were written down in Dot's fair round hand-writing upon a
+piece of foreign notepaper and slipped into his waistcoat pocket.
+
+For those who are at all curious to know what the items were we will
+steal a look at the paper--
+
+    1. Pair of white canvas shoes, size 2.
+
+    2. One cake of blanco (for cleaning them with).
+
+    3. Two pairs of black silk _shoe_ laces--not boot laces--(all of
+    those things at the same shop).
+
+    4. 1-1/4 yds. of _white_ chiffon (_very_ thin--for a veil).
+
+    5. 1 bunch of scarlet poppies--just common ones (both of these
+    at same shop--draper's).
+
+    6. _At a chemist's_: sponge (6_d._), tooth-brush (9_d._),
+    Packet of violet powder (6_d._).
+
+Mrs. Bruce was letting down Dot's dresses, and altering a pretty blue
+silk evening blouse (bought ready made). Cyril had cleaned her shoes and
+the family portmanteau, an ugly black thing, and run half a dozen
+errands grumblingly--all for Dot!
+
+Betty was locked in her room in disgrace, for running away to seek her
+fortune. No one was allowed to speak to her, even Baby's "Bet, Bet," was
+sternly hushed; two slices of bread and a glass of water were placed
+outside her door three times a day; three times a day she was permitted
+to walk for five minutes, each time alone in the garden, then back again
+to her room.
+
+This state of things, which had commenced on Wednesday morning, was, if
+Betty showed proper penitence and meekness, to terminate on Saturday
+morning.
+
+Yet even prisoner Betty was employed on Dot's behalf. She had Dot's
+stockings to mend, and to add insignificant things like buttons and
+tapes and hooks and eyes to those of her garments which had an
+insufficiency of such trifles. And she was sewing away industriously
+as she brooded over her woes.
+
+Dot herself was unpacking and packing up. Unpacking all her exercise
+books, and notebooks, and stacks of neat examination papers; her lesson
+books and Czerney's 101 _Exercises for the Pianoforte_; her sewing
+samples and wool-work; her study of a head in crayon, and waratahs and
+flannel flowers in oils, and peep of Sydney Harbour in water colours.
+
+"When I come home again," she told herself gravely, "I will arrange
+life: I'll practise _at least_ two hours every morning; I'll do some
+solid good reading _every_ day--some one like Shakespeare or Milton or
+Bacon! I'll paint every afternoon. I really have a talent for
+landscapes. And I'll finish writing my novel. For some things I'm really
+glad I've finished learning."
+
+A keen observer, regarding Dot's new scheme for life, would detect very
+little time or thought for reforming the household, and training Betty
+and teaching the younger ones. But then, Dot's schemes varied, and a
+day seemed to her a very big piece of time to have to play with as she
+liked, all in her own hands. Hitherto it had been given out to her in
+hours by Miss Weir--this hour for French, that for English, this for a
+constitutional, that for sewing, this for the Scriptures, that for
+practice, and so on.
+
+What wonder that the felt she could crowd all the arts and sciences into
+a day when all the hours belonged to her for her very own.
+
+When she went to bed at night, by way of beginning the home reforms she
+looked at Betty very earnestly and shook her head, words being
+forbidden.
+
+And she removed her own particular text from above her bed to above
+Betty's, feeling very old and sedate the while, for it must be owned
+conscious virtue has a sobering effect.
+
+But the action threw Betty into a towering rage.
+
+"If you don't take down your old text I won't get into bed at all. I've
+only been trying to make you all rich."
+
+And Dot, who was always alarmed into placidity when she had provoked
+wrath, returned "Blessed are the pure in heart" to its own position on
+the wall.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+"GOOD-BYE, GOOD-BYE"
+
+
+All was ready very early in the morning, for Dot was to start upon her
+journey at ten o'clock.
+
+The little school trunk and the family portmanteau stood side by side in
+the hall, labelled and ready to go forth--neat clean labels, bearing the
+inscription in Dot's best hand-writing--
+
+    "MISS BRUCE,
+           Passenger to Katoomba,
+                 Blue Mountains."
+
+A strange excitement was upon Dot. She had never before in her life been
+upon a railway journey.
+
+The household generally, from her father down to little Nancy, treated
+her with gentle politeness as a newly arrived and just departing guest.
+
+At breakfast the bread was handed to her without her once asking for
+it; Nancy watched her plate eagerly, that she did not run out of butter;
+Mary ran in with a nicely poached egg just at the right moment; Mrs.
+Bruce kept her cup replenished without once asking if it was empty.
+
+"Don't do any view hunting or gully climbing alone," said Mr. Bruce.
+"It's the easiest thing in life to be lost in the bush. Besides, no girl
+should roam about alone."
+
+"Oh, don't be too venturesome, darling!" said Mrs. Bruce. "Just think if
+you fell down one of those valleys or gaps or falls!"
+
+Yet Dot had never been "too venturesome" in her life.
+
+"A little more bread?" inquired Cyril; "don't bother to eat that crusty
+bit; we can, and I'll give you some fresh."
+
+"More butter?" piped Nancy; then taking a leaf from Cyril's book--"Don't
+bover to eat it if it's nasty; _we_ will. Have some jam astead."
+
+And Betty, in the silence of her bedroom, was drinking cold water and
+eating dry bread, without any one asking solicitously "if she would
+have a little more, or leave that if she did not like it, and have
+something nicer."
+
+"Yet I was trying to earn money for them all," she said aloud. "I won't
+try any more. Dot only spends it, but they love her more than me."
+
+It was while these thoughts were busy in her mind that Dot ran down the
+passage and opened the door suddenly. Such a dainty pretty Dot, in her
+new blue muslin dress that _almost_ reached to the ground, and fitted
+closely to her slender little figure, and a new white straw hat with a
+new white gossamer floating out behind waiting to be tied when the
+kisses were all given and taken.
+
+The girl's face was like a tender blush rose; her eyes were shining with
+actual excitement (rare thing in placid Dot), and her hair hung down her
+back in a thick plait tied with blue ribbon.
+
+It was the plait which caught Betty's attention.
+
+"Oh!" she cried in disappointment, and then stopped, remembering the
+silence that had been imposed upon her.
+
+Dot ran to her and kissed her.
+
+"It's all right," she said. "You may talk to me. I asked mother, and she
+says _yes_ until I go."
+
+"I can't when you're gone," said Betty; but she brightened up very much.
+
+And she thought it very kind of Dot to have asked her mother to break
+the rule of silence, if it were only for an hour.
+
+"I thought you were going to wear your hair on the top of your head,"
+she said, surveying Dot's plait somewhat contemptuously.
+
+"Mother won't let me," said Dot; "she says sixteen's too young."
+
+"Why sixteen is _old_," said Betty, "and you've left school."
+
+"I know. And mother was married at sixteen. But she says she wants me to
+keep my girlhood a little longer than she kept hers."
+
+"Hem," said Betty.
+
+"_I_ don't want to," said Dot, and added virtuously, "but we can't do
+just as we like even with our own hair."
+
+"_I_ shall," said Betty, and gave her morsel of a plait a convincing
+pull. "Wasn't my hair as long as yours once; and didn't I cut it off
+because I wanted to?"
+
+Then Dot bethought her of the wisdom of sixteen, and the foolishness of
+twelve and a bit, and she slipped her arm as lovingly around her little
+sister as she was wont to do around any of her friends at Westmead
+House.
+
+"Dear little Betty," she said, "promise me, you poor little thing, to be
+good all the time I am away."
+
+But Betty, unused to caresses, slipped away.
+
+"You always are away," she said. "I'll be as good as I want to. I wonder
+how good you'd be if suddenly you had to stay at home and wash up and
+dust."
+
+The picture was quite unenticing to Dot. _Wash up and dust and stay at
+home!_ She moved slowly to the door, feeling very sorry for Betty.
+
+"I must go now," she said. "All this is just a finish up to my school
+time. Afterwards I shall have to stay at home and be eldest daughter
+while you have _your_ time. Mother says you may come to the gate and see
+me off if you like."
+
+But she was genuinely sorry for Betty all the way down the hall to the
+front door, and her heart gave her an unpleasant pang when Betty sprang
+after her and thrust a shilling into her hand.
+
+"It's my own," whispered Betty; "take it; it will buy something; I
+earned it. Don't be afraid; I'll earn plenty more some day," and she ran
+away down the path to the gate.
+
+"Dear little Betty," said Dot, and slipped the shilling into her purse.
+"I'll buy something for her with it."
+
+They all came down to the gate to see the little traveller off.
+
+Mr. Bruce wore his best suit--well brushed--because he was going to
+accompany his eldest daughter as far as Redfern station. As the others
+were saying good-bye to her, he occupied himself by counting his money,
+to make sure he had enough for a first-class return ticket for her, and
+the three half-sovereigns he had decided to slip into her purse before
+they reached the station.
+
+Mrs. Bruce, slight and small almost as Dot herself, put Baby down on the
+brown-green grass at the gate, while she put a few quite unnecessary
+finishing touches to her eldest daughter.
+
+"I went away from my home for a visit when I was sixteen," she said--"to
+Katoomba, too!" Then she took Dot into her arms and held her closely for
+a minute. "Come back to us the same little girl we are sending away,"
+she said as she let her go.
+
+Cyril was waiting on the bush track, with the home-made "go-cart" piled
+up with Dot's luggage. He had to push it to the corner of the road and
+help it on the coach.
+
+He was very anxious to get home again, for he had heard a few words
+whispered pleadingly by Dot, then a whispered consultation between Mr.
+and Mrs. Bruce. He knew what it was about. Even before his father patted
+Betty's head and told her to start afresh from that minute, and his
+mother kissed her and said, "Be a good madcap Betty, and we'll commence
+now instead of to-morrow morning."
+
+Whereat Cyril became anxious to get home again to discover his sister's
+plans for the day.
+
+Nancy was crying and clinging to Dot's skirt.
+
+"Be quick and come home again," she said. "You look so nice in that
+hat!"
+
+Betty climbed over the gate instead of going through it.
+
+"I'm going down to the road to wave my handkerchief to you," she said.
+"Oh, mother, will you lend me yours. Mine's gone."
+
+When she reached the road corner, a dog-cart flashed by, almost
+upsetting Cyril's equilibrium as he laboured along the road.
+
+In the dog-cart were Captain Carew and big John Brown. John looked
+steadily at the horse's head, fearing an explosion of wrath from his
+grandsire if he smiled at his fellow fortune-seeker. He, too, was going
+to the mountains for his holidays, preparation to commencing life at a
+Sydney Grammar School.
+
+But the Captain himself looked at Betty, and his grim face smiled. And
+there are not many who can translate a smile, so that we may take it
+that he was not altogether displeased with the little singer.
+
+Down the road went Dot, after her father and Cyril--a little maid fresh
+from school--dainty and fresh and crying gentle tears that would not
+hurt her eyes, and yet _must_ come because of all these partings.
+
+Perhaps we shall see her again some day when she comes back again to try
+to be an elder sister. Perhaps we shall see Betty, too, in her new
+position as one of the "young ladies" of Westmead House.
+
+But just now she has climbed an old tree-stump, and is standing there
+bare-headed and waving her handkerchief to cry--"Good-bye, good-bye."
+
+
+_Printed in Great Britain by_ Butler & Tanner, _Frome and London_
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of An Australian Lassie, by Lilian Turner
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN AUSTRALIAN LASSIE ***
+
+***** This file should be named 24443.txt or 24443.zip *****
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