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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -/* DIV */ -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } - -</style> -<title>THE WONDER-CHILD</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="The Wonder-Child" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Ethel Turner" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1901" /> -<meta name="MARCREL.ill" content="Gordon Browne" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="45683" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2014-05-25" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="The Wonder-Child" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="The Wonder-Child" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="wonder.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2014-05-25T17:15:03.118327+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45683" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="Ethel Turner" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="Gordon Browne" name="MARCREL.ill" /> -<meta content="2014-05-25" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.20 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="the-wonder-child"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">THE WONDER-CHILD</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>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 </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> -included with this eBook or online at -</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: The Wonder-Child -<br /> -<br />Author: Ethel Turner -<br /> -<br />Release Date: May 25, 2014 [EBook #45683] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE WONDER-CHILD</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container coverpage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 69%" id="figure-73"> -<span id="cover-art"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Cover art" src="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Cover art</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container frontispiece"> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 62%" id="figure-74"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="'HERMIE.' (*See page 134.*)" src="images/img-front.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">'HERMIE.' (See page </span><a class="italics reference internal" href="#id2">134</a><span class="italics">.)</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container titlepage"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="x-large">THE WONDER-CHILD</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">An Australian Story</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">BY</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">ETHEL TURNER</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">(MRS. H. R. CURLEWIS)</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">Author of 'Seven Little Australians,' 'The Camp -<br />at Wandinong,' 'The Story of a Baby,' 'Three -<br />Little Maids,' etc.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="center line"><span>'The common problem, yours, mine, every one's,</span></div> -<div class="center line"><span>Is, not to fancy what were fair in life,</span></div> -<div class="center line"><span>Provided it could be,—but finding first</span></div> -<div class="center line"><span>What may be, then find how to make it fair</span></div> -<div class="center line"><span>Up to our means,'—ROBERT BROWNING.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">With Illustrations by Gordon Browne</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics medium">FIFTH IMPRESSION</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">LONDON -<br />THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY -<br />4 Bouverie Street and 65 St. Paul's Churchyard E.C. -<br />1901</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CONTENTS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">CHAP.</span></p> -<ol class="upperroman simple"> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#two-worlds">TWO WORLDS</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#id1">THE WONDER-CHILD</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-second-lady-help">THE SECOND LADY-HELP</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-painting-of-the-ship">THE PAINTING OF THE SHIP</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#dunks-selection">DUNKS' SELECTION</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#thirty-thousand-a-year">THIRTY THOUSAND A YEAR</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#come-home-come-home">COME HOME! COME HOME</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#an-atheist">AN ATHEIST</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#mortimer-stevenson">MORTIMER STEVENSON</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#i-love-you">'I LOVE YOU'</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-squatter-patriot">A SQUATTER PATRIOT</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#r-m-s-utopia">R.M.S. UTOPIA</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-bush-contingent">THE BUSH CONTINGENT</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#home-to-the-harbour">HOME TO THE HARBOUR</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#heart-to-heart">HEART TO HEART</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-rosery">THE ROSERY</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#crossing-the-veldt">CROSSING THE VELDT</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-skirmish-by-the-way">A SKIRMISH BY THE WAY</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-mood-of-a-maid">THE MOOD OF A MAID</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#miss-browne">MISS BROWNE</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-morning-cables">THE MORNING CABLES</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#conclusion">CONCLUSION</a></p> -</li> -</ol> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="two-worlds"><span class="bold x-large">THE WONDER-CHILD</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">Two Worlds</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'Ah me! while thee the seas and sounding shores</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Hold far away.'</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>They were walking from the school -to the paddock where the children's -horses, thirty or forty nondescript animals, -grazed all day long.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Sh' think,' said Peter Small, son of the -butcher who fed Wilgandra,—'Sh' think you -could have afforded one sprat at least for -teacher's present!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Afforded!' quoth Bartie Cameron. 'I -could have afforded a thousand pounds!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then why d'ye 'ave 'oles in your stockings, -and bursted boots?' asked Peter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>''Cause it's much nicer than having darns -and patches,' returned Bartie, looking disparagingly -upon his companion's neater garments.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My old man's got a mortgage on your -sheep,' said Peter, baffled on the patches.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We like mortgages,' said Bartie airily; -'they make the sheep grow.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We've got a new red carpet comin' for our -livin'-room,' shouted Peter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bartie looked him over contemptuously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I've got a sister in London, and she makes -fifty pounds a night by her playing.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You're a lie!' said Peter, who was new to -the school, and did not know the Camerons.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Take this, then!' said Bartie, and put his -strong young fist in the face of his friend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A big girl, saddling her horse, came and -pulled them apart, after they had had a round -or two.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Haven't I got a sister who makes fifty -pounds a concert?' demanded Bartie breathlessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ain't he a lie?' demanded the son of -the slaughterer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The big girl arbitrated instantly. Certainly -Bartie had a sister who made hundreds and -hundreds—more shame to her. Peter had -better go home and read the papers, if he -did not believe it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Peter said he did read the papers; he had -never seen anything in them about no sisters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What papers?' said the girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'</span><em class="italics">P'lice Budget and War Cry</em><span>, of course,' -answered the boy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That's the sort of paper </span><em class="italics">your</em><span> sister would -be in,' Bartie said; 'mine is always in the -cables.' He turned off from both girl and -boy, and made his way to where a half-clipped -horse nibbled at the exhausted pasturage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A small girl of eight had, with incredible -exertion, put the huge saddle on its back; -Bartie had nothing to do but fasten the girths -in place and put on the bridle. He flung -himself up, and moved the animal close to -a stump; Floss, the small girl, climbed to a -place behind him, and a nine-year-old boy, -playing marbles near, rose up at the sight of -the moving horse, pocketed his marbles, swung -his bag of books round his neck, and clambered -up to the third place on the steed's broad neck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All the paddock was a-move. There was -a general race down to the sliprails, a gentle -thunder of horses' hoofs and boys' shouts, -broken by the shriller cries and 'Good-byes' -of the girls.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then up and down, left and right, away -along the branching roads rode the country -school children, tea and home before them, -behind, one more day of the quarter's tedium -dropped away for ever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Cameron horse jogged along; as a rule she -had only Roly and Floss to carry, Bartie having -a rough pony to journey on; but to-day the -pony had wandered too far to be caught before -school-time, so Tramby had an extra burden, -and walked sedately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Floss had a tiny red palm to show.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, that's three times this week you've -had the cane! You must be going it, -Floss,' said Roly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It was sewing,' sighed Floss; 'how would -you like to sew? I know you'd go and hide -behind the shed.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The front horseman turned his head. 'It's -time you did learn, Floss,' he said; 'look -at my stockings, I'm sick of having holes in -them. Look at my trousers.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I heard Miss Browne telling you to leave -them for her to mend,' said Floss.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, thanks,' said Bart; 'I know her -mending too jolly well. She'd patch it with -stuff that 'ud show a mile off.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, look at my elbows,' Roly said; and -though the positions forbade this, a mental -picture of the clumsy mending with stuff worlds -too new rose up before the eyes of his brother -and sister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Floss was dressed with curious inequality; -she wore heavy country shoes and stockings, -like the rest of the children at that public -school, and her bonnet was of calico and most -primitive manufacture, but her frock was -exquisite—a little Paris-made garment of fine -cashmere, beautifully embroidered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I wish some more of Challis's frocks would -come,' she sighed; 'this one's so hot. I wish -mamma would make her always wear thin -things.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, she'd be shivering,' said Roly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Think how cold it is in Paris and those places!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Think how hot it is here!' sighed Floss -and mopped at her streaming little face with -her disengaged hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I got the mail,' Bartie said, and pulled two -letters out of his pocket—a thick one from -his almost-forgotten mother, and a pale blue -with a fanciful C upon the flap from his -twin sister; they both bore the postmark of -Windsor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Suppose they're stopping with the Queen -again,' he added laconically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Wonder what they have for tea at her -house?' sighed Flossie, and her system revolted -against the corned beef and ill-made bread -that were in prospect for her own meal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tramby turned of her own accord at a -sudden gap in the gum-trees, and stood alongside -while Roly stretched and contorted himself -to lift out the sliprail—nothing ever induced -him to dismount for this task. Then she -stepped daintily over the lower rail, and again -waited while the passenger in the rear stretched -down and made things safe again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Their father's selection stretched before -them, eighty acres of miserable land, lying grey -and dreary under the canopy of a five o'clock -coppery sky, summer and drought time.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 61%" id="figure-75"> -<span id="home-from-school"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="HOME FROM SCHOOL." src="images/img-006.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">HOME FROM SCHOOL.</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patches of fertility showed some one laboured -at the place. There was a stretch of lucerne, -green as any in the district. But this was not -saying very much, for Wilgandra's vegetation -as a rule copied the neutral tint of the -gum-trees, rather than the vivid emerald so pleasant -to the eye in country wilds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a small patch under potatoes, -there were half a dozen orange-trees, yellow -with fruit. At the very door of the house a -cow grazed calmly, and everywhere browsed -the sheep, brown, ragged, dirty things, fifty or -sixty of them, far more than the acreage should -have carried, but still in good condition—it -seemed as if the mortgage was fattening. The -house was a poor weatherboard place, the paint -blistered off, the windows rickety, the roof of -cruel galvanised iron.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Inside there were chiefly pictures, great -canvases on which Thetis was rising from a -roughly tossing sea, her infant Achilles laughing -in her arms; on which the lofty mountain -Pindus towered, the Muses seated about in -negligent attitudes; on which delicious twists -and turns of the River Thames flowed; on -which wet, cool beaches glistened, and shallow -waves lapped idly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was also a piano with a mountain of -music. Also a few chairs and a table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bartie dragged off the saddle and harness, -flung them on the verandah, and turned -Tramby loose among the sheep. Then he -went into the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There rose up listlessly from the doorstep -and a book an exquisitely pretty girl of -seventeen, a girl with sea-blue eyes and a skin -that Wilgandra could in no wise account for, -so soft and fresh and pure it was. You saw -the same face again and again in the canvasses -about the room, sweetest as Isis, with the -tender, anxious look of motherhood in her -eyes, and Horus in her arms. This was -Hermie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Have you got the mail?' she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bartie nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Go and fetch father,' he said; 'he's down -with the roses, I saw his hat moving.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He flung himself on the ground, listless -with the heat; Floss dragged off her hot frock -and her shoes, and revelled in the pleasure of -her little petticoat and bare feet. Roly looked -plaintively at the table, on which was no cloth -as yet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Miss Browne,' he called, the very tears in -his voice, 'Miss Browne, isn't tea ready?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A faded spinster, lady-help to the family -for six years, came hurrying into the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Poor Roly!' she said. 'Yes, it is too -bad of me, dear; I was mending your best -jacket, and didn't notice the time. But I'll -soon have it ready now.' She ran hastily -about the room looking for the cloth, and at -last remembered she had put it under the -piano-lid, to be out of the dust. She put on -the vases of exquisite roses that Hermie had -arranged, and a wild collection of odd china -and crockery cups and enamelled ware.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she noticed the rent of extraordinary -dimensions in Bartie's coat, the same jagged -place that had made even Peter Small exclaim.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dear, dear,' she said, 'this will never do. -This really must not go a moment longer. -Where is my thimble? Where can I have -put my thimble? Give me that coat, Bartie, -this minute, if you please.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bartie took it off, but sat with jealous eye -upon it all the time it was in her hands. He -would have it mended his way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now, look here,' he said, 'please don't go -putting any fresh stuff in it. Just sew it over -and over, so the places come together. I'll -take to mending my own clothes. It's just -the way you go letting new pieces in that spoils -your mending, Miss Browne.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But, Bartie dear,' the gentle lady said, -'see, my love, when a place is torn right -away like this, we have to put fresh stuff -underneath. I'll just get a tiny bit from my -work-basket.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You just won't,' said Bartie stubbornly. -'You give it to me, and I'll mend it myself'—and -he actually took the needle and cotton -and cobbled it over till there certainly was -no hole left.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now, my love,' he said, and held it up -triumphantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But it will break away again to-morrow,' -said Miss Browne, in deep distress. 'If you -would just let me put a little patch, Bartie.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Bartie clung to his coat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roly had strayed out to look at his -kangaroo-rats, but now came back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The tears came to his voice again at the -sight of Miss Browne, sitting with her thimble -on, looking helplessly at Bartie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh dear,' he said, 'isn't there never going -to be any tea?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You poor little fellow!' she said. 'Just -one minute more, Roly dear. You can be -sitting down.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie had gone flying across the ground -to a place in the eighty acres where the ground -dipped into a little valley. It was all fenced -round with wire, to keep off the fowls and -sheep. Within there grew roses in such beauty -and profusion as to astonish one. She saw a -very old cabbage-tree hat bending over a bush, -and darted towards it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dad,' she said, 'dad darling, come along -in; the mail has come.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There rose up a man, grey as his own selection, -a man not more than five-and-forty. Eyes -blue as Hermie's own looked from under his -grey eyebrows, a grey beard covered his mouth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The mail, did you say, little woman?' he -said, and stopped to prune just one more -shoot here, and snip off just one more drooping -blossom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And tea, too, darling; at least I suppose -it will be ready some day. Come along, you -are very tired, daddie. Why did you start -ploughing a day like this?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man sighed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It had to be done, girlie; but see, I gave -myself a reward. I have been down here an -hour. Now let us go and read our letters.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they reached the living-room they found -Miss Browne dusting the piano and tidying -the music; the setting of the table was -advanced one stage further, that is, the knives -and forks were now on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roly came up again from another visit to -his rats.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Miss Browne,' he said, 'oh dear, oh -dear!'—and stalked off to the kitchen, to -demand of Lizzie, the young State girl who -scrubbed and washed for them, where was the -corned beef for tea, and wasn't there any butter?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the father was tearing open the letters. -Hermie and Bartie hung over his shoulder, -reading just as eagerly as he. Floss crouched -between his knees to catch the crumbs. Roly, -munching while he waited at a hunch of -ill-coloured bread, kept an eye and an ear for -any spoken news, and Miss Browne moved -continually about the room, straightening chairs, -altering the position of the table vases, -rearranging the knives and forks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Cameron looked up, and drew forward -a chair next to his own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Do sit down, Miss Browne,' he said; 'I -am sure you are very tired. Sit down, and -let us enjoy this all together.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Miss Browne, too, joined the circle, Roly -watching her with a brooding eye.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>'WINDSOR CASTLE.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>'OH, MY DEAR ONES, MY DEAR ONES' -ran the white letter,—'Is the earth shaking -beneath me, have my hands ague, that my pen -trembles like this? We are coming home, -home, home. No false reports this time, no -heart-sickening disappointment; the papers are -actually signed for a long season, and we leave -by the Utopia in six weeks. The news came -an hour ago. I saw an equerry coming in -with the letters, saw the letter that meant so -much carried up to my room by a house -steward, and had to pass along the corridor -and leave it. Challis was going down to play -to the Queen in her private sitting-room. But -after it all was over how we went to our rooms -again! There was only a chambermaid in -sight, and for the last twenty yards of corridor -we ran. Home, home, home, to your arms, -my husband, my dear one, my patient old -sweetheart! Home to my little girls, my boys, -my little boys! Darlings, my eyes are -streaming. Oh, to hold you all again, to feel -you, to touch my Hermie's hair—is it all -sunlight yet?—to be crushed with Bartie's -hug, to hold again the poor little babies I -left, my Roly, my little Floss. Ah, dear ones, -dear ones, now it is all over, now we are -coming, coming to you, I can let you know. -Oh, these weary, weary years, these great cities -where we have no home, no corner of a home. -I have broken my heart for you all every night -since I came away. Six years, my dear ones, -six years of nights to break my heart. Be -sorry for mother, and love her, darlings. Have -you forgotten her, Hermie? Bart, Bart, have -you kept a little love warm for her? Ah, dear -God, my babies will not know me, little Floss -will turn away her head. My sweetheart, my -sweetheart, if the time has been as long for -you, and pleasures as tasteless, and all things -as void, then my heart sickens afresh, for I -know what your life has been.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What has kept me up all this weary time -I cannot even think. Whatever it was, it has -snapped now, and I am limp, useless, broken -up into little bits, like nothing so much as a -little child stretching out its arms and crying -to its mother. Can you not see my arms -stretching, stretching to you? Does not my -cry come to your little town? It is Challis -who is the woman now; she sees my work -is done. She had begun to show me the -bracelet the Queen gave her, and to tell me -what every one had said, but I had torn open -Warner's letter, and found the home orders -had come. She is packing various little things -now, and has rung, and given orders with the -dearest little air of self-possession. "Sit down -and write, and tell daddie," she said; "I will -see to everything now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The carriage is to come for us in an hour. -We have been here three days, and every one -has been as kind and as enthusiastic as they -are always. We go to Sandringham on -Friday; the Princess asked for Challis to play -for her guests that night; the Dowager -Empress is to be there, and others.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then at Manchester an immense farewell -concert on Monday; Mr. Warner says two -thousand seats are already booked to hear the -"Wonder-Child"; another at Plymouth on -Friday; a rush up to Edinburgh, just for her -to appear at the Philharmonic. They are -only giving her forty pounds for the night, -but Mr. Warner is unwilling for her to lose -the Scotch connection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then peace, perfect peace, and home. I -sit and try to fancy the changes the six years -have made in the home. I am glad you have -had two new bedrooms built; that will allow -you to have a study again, sweetheart, and -Hermie a drawing-room—sixteen is sure to be -hankering for one. The furniture is looking -a little shabby, I know; but of course that can -be easily remedied, and I have always had my -boxes stuffed with art vases and bits of brass -and bronze, ready for when the good time -came. You have probably laid down new -carpets long ere this in all the rooms, but I -shall bring some rugs and Eastern squares, for -I doubt if your back-block towns have supplied -what would satisfy my now cultured taste.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I suppose people wonder at you still being -stuck to the Civil Service at a wretched two -hundred and fifty pounds a year. Isn't the -prevailing idea that we are rolling in money? -There is surprisingly little for all the -enthusiasm there has been—I think Mr. Warner -said he had banked three thousand pounds -for her—all the rest goes in expenses, which -are enormous. We are obliged to be at the -best hotels, and to be dressed up-to-date; that -runs away with big sums. And the advertising -that Mr. Warner says is so necessary swallows -gigantic amounts. This has been the first -year with much profit. Sometimes when I -dress my little girlie in her Paris frocks I -think of Hermie, making last season's do -again, perhaps. Did the last box of Challis's -frocks do for Flossie? The lady-help, I -am sure, will have been able to cut them down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Do not let us think of the future, sweetheart, -I cannot bear it yet. I cannot leave you -any more, you must not be left; Challis has -had her meed of her mother now, and it is the -turn for the others. Yet Mr. Warner says -it must be kept up, this life of hers, this -Wandering Jew life. It is the price great -artists pay. But the child is brave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'"You shall not have it any more, mamma," -she said when I read this out; "you shall go -home to daddie for always now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But when I looked at her face it was pale, -and there was that wan look in it that comes -sometimes. To think of the little tender thing -bearing all this alone!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But we must not think of the future, -sweetheart; we must not think of it for an instant. -You will come to Sydney to meet us? -Perhaps only you. And we will come straight -home to Wilgandra with you. If she ruins -her chances for ever, she shall have one month's -quiet home before the Sydney season begins. -Mr. Warner will try to prevent this, but I -shall be very firm. Then you must get leave, -and children and all, we will go to Sydney -together, and you shall hear the darling play. -To think you have none of you ever seen -great audiences carried away by her little -fingers!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ask the lady-help not to do up my -bedroom for me. I want to see the faded pink -and white hangings, and the sofa with the -green roses on it, and the knitted counterpane -that grandma made—just as they were when I -left them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, my little home, not beautiful, not even -very comfortable, stuck away in that hot little -town hundreds of miles from Sydney—my -heart is breaking for you!'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Nobody spoke when the letter was finished—nobody, -indeed, had spoken all the way through. -Tired little Floss, finding no news -forthcoming, had fallen asleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roly had sat down to the table, and was -sawing an end off the corned beef. Miss -Browne, since nothing was read aloud, had -gently risen up and was dusting the piano, to -be less in the way. But from time to time -she glanced at the letter, alarm in her eyes. -Could it be the little golden girl was ill?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The father put down the letter, and his hand -shook.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Coming home,' he said, and rose up, -looking dazed; 'we—we must stop her at -once, of course. Children, how can we stop -her?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bart's chest was heaving. For a second he -had heard the crying come to the little town, -and seen the stretching of the arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But out of the window lay the grey selection -that she had never seen; closer at hand were -the rents in his clothes, the broken places on -his boots. He pulled himself together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'll go down to the post and cable to her -not to come,' he said; 'you be writing it -down, dad.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Hermie's girl-heart was breaking. -The letter had shaken the very centre of -her being, and wakened in her a passion of -love and longing for this tender woman. Oh, -to be held by her, kissed, caressed—to feel -that hand on the hair she could not help but -know was pretty!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But looking up she saw her father's anguished -gaze around him—Bart's manly mastery of -himself. She brushed her tears aside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'll get the pen and ink,' she said; 'it—it's -late—the cable ought to go to-night.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Browne sat down, quivering with the -suspense.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Which,' she whispered, 'which of them is -dead, your mother or little Challis?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bartie it was who laughed—a hoarse apology -for a laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dead!' he said; 'they're coming home, -Miss Browne!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Miss Browne's turn to look anguished. -She rose up and moved uncertainly about the -room, she began to tidy the music in feverish -haste, she dusted the piano yet again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she turned to Mr. Cameron with one -hand fluttering out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I—I—must ask you to let me have a -s—shilling,' she quavered; 'the—the boys -really must have their hair cut before she sees -them.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id1"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">The Wonder-Child</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'Yet now my heart leaps, O beloved! God's child with His dew</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On thy gracious gold hair, and those lilies still living and blue,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Just broken to twine round thy harp-strings.'</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Up to the last eight years Mr. Cameron's -friends and relatives had always had -their hands full with finding positions for -him that would enable him to support his -wife and family.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once or twice he was in receipt of five -hundred a year, but much more frequently -he would be in a bank or an insurance company, -starting with a modest salary of a hundred -and twenty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Every one liked him cordially—they could -not help it. But every one was unfeignedly -glad when one of the relatives made a great -effort, and, by dint of interviewing Members -of Parliament and getting a little influence -to bear here and a little there, worked him -into the Civil Service, the appointment being -that of Crown Land Agent at Wilgandra, -the salary two hundred and forty pounds, -less ten pounds for the Superannuation Fund.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Wilgandra was so far away—three hundred -and seventy-three miles back, back, away in -the heart of the country—the very farthest -town to which the Government sent its Land -Agents. Surely the bad penny could never -turn up again to vex their peace!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even Mrs. Cameron's anxious soul was -set at rest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The climate was intolerable in the summer, -there was little or no society, the only house -they could have was not over comfortable. -But the work seemed smooth and easy, and -after so many ups and downs the quiet security -of the small hot township seemed delicious -to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not that Mr. Cameron drank or -gambled, or possessed indeed any highly -coloured sin. He was simply one of the -impracticables, the dreamers, that the century -has no room for.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had written verses that the weekly -papers had accepted; indeed, a few daintily -delicate things had found their way into the -best English magazines.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had painted pictures—a score of them, -perhaps; the art societies had accepted three -of them, refused nine, and never been even -offered the remainder; no one had ever -bought one of them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had composed some melodies that a -musical light passing through Sydney professed -to be captivated with, had promised to have -published in London, and had forgotten -entirely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they were unpacking their much-ravelled -chattels the first night in Wilgandra, -James Cameron came to his great paint-box -that the late family vicissitudes had prevented -him touching for so long.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah,' he said, and a light of great pleasure -came into his grey eyes as he lifted it from -the packing-case and rubbed the dust off it -with his good cuff—'mine old familiar friend. -Why, Molly darling, I shan't know myself -with a brush in my hand again. With all the -spare time there will be here, I ought to do -some good work at last.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then his wife laid down the stack of little -torn pinafores and patched jackets and frocks -she was lifting from another box, and crossed -the room and knelt down by her husband's -side, just where he was kneeling beside the -rough packing-case that had held his treasure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dear one,' she said, 'dear one, Jim, Jim,'—one -hand went round his neck, her head, -with its warm brown hair that the grey was -threading years too soon, pressed against his -shoulder, her face, old, young, sad, smiling, -looked into his, her brave brown eyes held -tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, little woman,' he said, 'what is it—what -is troubling you? Smiling time has come -again, Molly, the worries are all left behind -with Sydney.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Jim,' she said, and her hand tightened on -the paint-box he held, 'Jim, do you know we -have five children, five of them, five?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, girlie,' he said, and got up and sat -down on the edge of the box and drew her -beside him, 'haven't we an income of two -hundred and thirty pounds for them, a princely -sum, when we are in a place where there is -nothing to tempt us to buy? And we hardly -left any debts behind us this time.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But, dearest, dearest,' she urged, 'if you -get hold of this, we shall not have it a year; -you will get up in cloudland and forget to -furnish your returns or some such thing, and -then you will be dismissed again.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah, Molly,' he said, his face falling, 'always -the gloomy side. Couldn't you have given -me a night of happiness?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A stinging tear fell from the woman's eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I couldn't, I couldn't,' she said; 'the -danger made my heart grow sick again. See, -for I must be brutal, the time has come for it. -</span><em class="italics">I</em><span> love your ways, your dreams; no canvas you -have touched, no song, no verses but I have -loved. But what have they done for us, what -</span><em class="italics">have</em><span> they done?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man's eyes, startled, followed her tragic -finger that swept a circle. Outside he saw the -sun-baked, weary little town that must see -their days and years, inside the cramped room -full of boxes that were disgorging a pitiful -array of shabby clothes and broken furniture; -just at hand his wife, the woman he had taken -to him, fresh and beautiful, to crown his -tenderest dream and turned into this thin, -careworn, anxious-eyed creature.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His face whitened. 'It is worse than -drink!' he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She acquiesced sadly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nothing else would make me take it from -you,' she said, her wet eyes falling again to the -paint-box; 'and if it were you and I only -against the world, you should have it all your -days. But five children to get ready for the -world! Jim, my heart fails me!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was trembling too. It was the first -time he had felt a sense of genuine responsibility -for his tribe since the time Hermie was put -into his arms, a babe three hours old. Then -he had rushed away to insure his life for five -hundred pounds. He forgot, of course, to keep -up the policy after the second month. Now his -heart felt the weight of the whole five, Hermie, -Bartie and Challis, Roly and little Floss.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gave his wife a passionate kiss.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You are right,' he said, 'take it; I give -it all up for ever, and begin from now to -be a man.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Time went past, and the criss-cross lines -on the mother's brow were fading, and the -anxious outlook of the eyes seemed gone. -She called up a home around her where before -had only been a house; the children were -taught; she even, by dint of hard economy, -made it possible to send to Sydney for the -piano they had left as security for a debt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The friends in Sydney, two years gone by, -began indeed to congratulate themselves that -Wilgandra had swallowed up for all time that -troublesome yet well-liked fellow Cameron, -and his terrible family.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the name began to crop up in the -country news of the daily papers. Another -wonder-child for Australia had been discovered, -it seemed—a certain Challis Cameron, a mite of -eight years who was creating much excitement -in the township of Wilgandra.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently from the larger towns near the -paragraphs also were sent. A concert had -been given in aid of the Church Fund, and -a pleasing programme had been submitted. -Among the contributors was a tiny child, -Challis Cameron, whose wonderful playing -fairly astonished the big audience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before Mr. and Mrs. Cameron had quite -waked up to the situation, an enthusiastic -committee had been formed, a subscription -list started and filled, and a sum of sixty -pounds thrust into their astonished hands, for -the child to be taken to Sydney for lessons.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nowhere on the earth's surface is there a -a land where the people are so eager to -recognise musical talent, so generous to help -it, as in Australia.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. and Mrs. Cameron looked at each -other when they were left alone, a little -dismay mingled with their natural pride. And -from each other they looked to the paddock -beside their house where all the children were -playing. This especial child was unconcernedly -filling up her doll's tea-cups with a particularly -delightful kind of red mud, and then turning -out the little shapes and calling Bartie to -come and look at her 'jellies.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Talent they had always known she had, -but hardly thought it was anything much above -that of any child very fond of music. As -a baby she had cried at discords; at three -years old she used to stand at the end of the -piano and make quite pretty little tunes with -one hand in the treble, while Bartie thumped -sticky discords in the bass. At four she used -to stand beside Hermie, whom her mother -was teaching regularly, and in five minutes -understood what it took her sister an hour -to learn imperfectly. At four, too, her head -hidden in the sofa-cushion, she could call -out the names of not only single notes but -chords also, as Hermie struck them. So her -mother undertook her tuition too, and in -two years these paragraphs were appearing -in the papers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But to go away with her and stay in Sydney -while masters there heard her and taught -her! What was to become of the other -four, and the husband who needed his wife -so much?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am afraid we must send her to a boarding-school -there,' she faltered. 'How can I leave -the home?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But later the child came and stood at her -knee; a tall, thin, little child she was, with -fair fine hair that fell curlless down her -back, and in her eyes that touch of grey that -makes hazel eyes wonderful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The face was delicately cut, the skin clear -and pale; only when the pink ran into it -was she pretty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I made another song, mamma,' she whispered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The dying light of the long still day was -in the room, very far away in some one's -fig-trees the locusts hummed, a sprinkle of -sweet rain had fallen, the first for months, -and the delicate scent of it came through the -window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What is it, darling?' whispered the mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The child's eyes grew larger, she swayed her -tiny body to and fro.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, the roses, the roses and the shivery -grass! Oh, the sea! Oh, the little waves -running on the sand! Oh, the wind, blowing -the little roses till they die! Oh, the pink -roses crying, crying! Oh, the sea! Oh, the -waves of the crying sea!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The mother's arm went round the little -body, down into the depths of those eyes she -looked, those eyes with their serious brown -and grey lights mingling, and for one clear -moment there looked back at her the strange -little child-soul that dwelt there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Out at the door there was a clamour, Roly -demanding bread-and-jam. From the paddock -came a sudden gust of quarrelling, the -next-door children, with Hermie, shrill-voiced, -arbitrating. Probably down in the street -Bartie was fighting any or all of the boys -who passed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dear heart!' ran the woman's thoughts. -'My days are too crowded to tend this little -soul. Better that she too asked bread-and-jam -of me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Play it for me, mother,' said the child, -and plucked at her hand. 'I can't; I have -tried and tried, and the sea won't cry, only -the roses.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nonsense, nonsense!' said the troubled -mother; 'run and play till bedtime. Play -chasings with Roly and Floss, or be Bartie's -horse. Have you forgotten the reins I made -him?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The child seemed to shrink into her shell -instantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will get the reins,' she said nervously, -obediently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Into the midnight they talked, the father -and mother; and all they could say was, this -was no child to hand over to a boarding school -or strangers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Wilgandra and the towns around grew -clamorous. They grudged every moment that -the child was not being taught, and having -contributed solid coin of the realm for her -education, they were vexed at the -shilly-shallying in using it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So to Sydney the mother went, half fearfully, -Challis and a modest trunk beside her in a -second-class carriage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We shall be back in a month at most,' -she called out for the twentieth time reassuringly -to her family seeing the train off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Sydney seemed in league with Wilgandra. -Without a doubt, it said, the most -wonderful child performer ever heard. It -wiped its eyes at her concerts, when the -manager had to get thick music-books to make -her seat high enough; it stood up and raved -with excitement, when she stepped off the stool -at the end of her performances and rushed -off the stage, to bury her excited little face on -her mother's breast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Without a doubt, it said, with its peculiar -distrust for the things of its own, here was no -child to be confined to Sydney teachers; it -insisted she must have the best to be had in -the world, and thrust its hands recklessly into -its pockets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Cameron at the end of six months -went back to Wilgandra, the anxious outlook -in her eyes again, and five hundred pounds in -her pocket, the result of concerts and -subscriptions given for the purpose of sending the -child to Germany.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now what to do?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The small house at Wilgandra seemed going -along very steadily; Mr. Cameron had not -once failed to furnish the reports due from -him to the Government. The lady-help -selected by the mother had the house and the -children and the father in a state of -immaculate order. She was a magnificently capable, -managing woman; every one, Mr. Cameron -especially, stood much in awe of her, and -unquestioningly obeyed her smallest mandate; -even Roly, unbidden, performed magnificent -ablutions before he presented himself for a -meal, and Hermie was often to be seen -surreptitiously trying to mend her own -pinafores in the paddock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Cameron could not but confess her -place was not crying out for her to the extent -she had imagined; indeed, the wonderful -lady-help, Miss Macintosh, seemed to have -brought the home into a far better state of -order and discipline than even she, the mother, -had been able to do. Little Floss was a -healthy and most independent babe of two; -Roly, three years old, was a sturdy mannikin -who stared at her stolidly when, her heart full -of tears, she stooped over him and asked, did -he want her to go away again?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mamma mustn't go away in a big ship, -must she, sweetheart? You can't do without -her again, can you?' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Roly was a sea-serpent swimming on -the dining-room floor, and the interruption -irritated him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes,' he assented, with swift cheerfulness, -'mamma go in big ship. Good-bye, -good-bye!'—and he waved an impatient hand to -get rid of her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie and Bartie had just started to a -good private school near at hand, and the -teaching—all honour to the mistress!—was of -so skilful and delightful a nature that the -two could hardly summon patience to wait -for breakfast ere they set out for the happy -place. So Challis's claims tugged hard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But you—what of you, my husband?' -she said. 'You cannot spare me; it is -absurd for you to even think of it!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he was excited and greatly moved at -the thought of his child's genius. Deep -down, in his heart was the knowledge that -had he himself been given a chance he could -have made a name for himself in this world. -But there was always uncongenial work for -him, always something else to be done, 'never -the time and the place and the loved one all -together.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Let us give her her chance,' he said. -'It is early morning with her. Don't let -ours be the hands to block her, so that when -evening comes she can only stand wistful.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So they sailed away, the mother and the -wonder-child; behind them the plain little -home, before, the Palaces of Music.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-second-lady-help"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">The Second Lady-Help</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'The droop, the low cares of the mouth,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>The trouble uncouth</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>'Twixt the brows, all that air one is fain</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>To put out of its pain.'</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>And for actually six months that home -survived! After that the crumbling -was to be expected, for some discerning man -came along, and married the marvellous -lady-help out of hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Cameron spent five pounds in the -purchase of a pair of </span><em class="italics">entrée</em><span> dishes for a -wedding-present, and was unhappy that he -could so very inadequately reward her great -services. But there was a curious air of -buoyancy and relaxation observable in him the -first day the house was free of her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At tea he got </span><em class="italics">The Master of Ballantrae</em><span> out, -and read boldly all through the meal, a thing -he had not ventured to do for eighteen months. -And out in the frozen shrubbery at midnight, -with the Master and Mr. Henry thrusting at -each other, he spilled the tea that Hermie -passed him. When he saw the wide brown -stain he had made on the table's whiteness—although -the ridiculous fancy pursued him that -it was the Master's life-blood smirching the -snow—he looked up startled, full of apologies. -But there was only Hermie's childish face in -front of him; and though she said, 'Oh, -papa!' as became a president of the tea-tray, -she looked away the next second to laugh at -Roly, who had spread his bread with jam on -both sides, and did not know how best to hold -it. And Cameron felt so much a man and -master of his fate once more, that he stretched -right across the table to help himself to butter, -instead of politely requesting the passing of it. -For three months the household ran a merry -course. Hermie, a bright little woman of -eleven, begged her father to let her 'keep -house' and give the orders to Lizzie, the very -young general servant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The father bent his thoughts five minutes to -the problem; Miss Macintosh had been away -now a fortnight, and everything seemed going -along really delightfully. What need to break -the sweet harmony of the days by getting in -some person whose principles counted reading -at table and spilling tea among the cardinal -vices?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Lizzie, the State girl, was at his elbow -with a shining face. She was fifteen, she -said—fifteen was real old! Now why should the -master go getting in any more of them -lady-helps, who did nothing but scold from -morning to night? She, Lizzie, would undertake -all there was to do in this place 'on her head.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron smiled at the eager girls, and, -while hardly daring to consent, put off for a -further day the engagement of a successor to -Miss Macintosh. And the three months ran -gaily along, and still Hermie sat importantly -at the head of the table, and still her father -read, and still Roly spread his bread upon both -sides.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was always a good table—far better -than either the mother or lady-help had kept.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For the family grocer had an alluring way -of suggesting delicacies, when he came for his -orders that certainly no mistress of eleven or -handmaid of fifteen could withstand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Almonds?' he would say. 'Very fine -almonds this week, Miss Cameron—three -pounds did you say—yes? And what about -jam? I have it as low as fivepence a tin, but -there is no knowing what cheap fruit these -makers use.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh,' Hermie would say, 'I must have very -good jam, of course, or it might make my -little sister ill! How much is good jam?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There's strawberry conserve, a shilling a -tin,' the man would say—'pure fruit and pure -sugar, boiled in silver saucepans.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Silver saucepans! That couldn't hurt -Flossie! We will have six tins of that, please,' -the small house-woman would answer. Then -there were biscuits; Miss Macintosh, frugal -soul, only gave Wilgandra, when it came -calling, coffee-biscuits at sevenpence a pound -with its afternoon tea. Hermie regaled it -upon macaroons at half a crown. Then Lizzie -would have her say. What was the use of -cooking meat and vegetables on washing-day, -ironing-day, and Saturdays, she would say, -when you could get them tinned from a grocer? -So tins of tongue, and whitebait, and pressed -meats, French peas, asparagus, and such, were -added weekly to the order, the grocer sending -to Sydney for the unusual things. 'We are -saving a lady-help's wages,' Hermie would -say, 'and it saves the butcher's bills, so it is -not extravagant a bit.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not until the third month that the -day of reckoning came. Then the grocer, -grown a trifle anxious over his unusual bill, -which no one was settling, ventured to accost -Mr. Cameron one day on his verandah and -present it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No haste, of course,' he said politely, 'only -as your good lady and Miss Macintosh always -paid monthly, I thought you might not like -it going on much longer.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he had bowed himself out, Mr. Cameron -rubbed his suddenly troubled brow -a moment. Money, bills! The thought had -actually never crossed his mind all these three -months! His wife first and then Miss -Macintosh had always managed the finances -of the family. Indeed, one of Mrs. Cameron's -injunctions to the lady-help had been, 'When -Mr. Cameron's cheque for his quarter's salary -comes, please be sure to remind him to pay it -into the bank.' And Miss Macintosh had -never failed to do so, nor to apply for the -twelve pounds monthly for payment of the -household bills.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went into the dining-room and began -to rummage helplessly about his writing-table. -To save his life he could not recollect what -had become of his last cheque, for there was -a conviction on his mind that he had never -paid it into his account.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie was at the table, Mrs. Beeton's -cookery-book spread open before her; over -her shoulders peeped the heads of Bartie and -Roly, absorbed in the contemplation of the -coloured plate picturing glorified blancmanges -and jellies. For was not to-morrow Roly's -fifth birthday, for which great preparation must -be made by the young mother of the house?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Children,' said the father at last -entreatingly, 'come and help me; I have lost -a very important envelope.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For over an hour did that family search -from one end of the house to the other. It -was Lizzie's happy thought that discovered it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A long blue envelope, with no stamp on -it and just printing instead—why, there was -one like that in the kitchen drawer with the -dinners on it,' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She rushed for it, and met her anxious -master with it held triumphantly out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The back of the envelope bore dinners for -the week in Hermie's round careful hand.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">Mon.</em><span>—Roast fowl, mashed potatoes, -collyflower, pink jellie and gem cakes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Tues.</em><span>—Tong, blommange and strawberry -jam, rainbow cake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Wed.</em><span>—Sardenes, current buns, yelow jelly -and merangs.</span></p> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Mr. Cameron thrust a trembling hand into -the depths of it, and, to his exquisite relief, -was able to draw out the cheque for his -quarterly sixty pounds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In danger of the kitchen fire, in danger -of the dust-box, in danger of Roly's passion -for paper-tearing, in danger of all the -wind-storms that had sprung up and torn raging -through the place, in danger of all these for -three months, and still safe!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The relief took the man back into the dining-room, -responsibility for his family to the front -for the third time in his life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He ran through the bills with a sinking -heart. Instead of twelve pounds a month -that Miss Macintosh's carefulness had made -suffice, little Hermie had brought up the totals -to twenty-eight—eighty-four pounds for the -quarter, to be deducted from the sixty pounds -that must also pay rent and clothes and many -other things.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The child cried bitterly when he showed her -what she had done. It had been delicious -pleasure to her, this time of ordering and -helping with the dinners. Delicious pleasure -to see her father appreciating the changed meals -as much as the boys—Cameron had quite a -boyish appetite for good things, and Hermie's -brilliant menus had been delightful to him -after a long course of Miss Macintosh's boiled -rhubarb puddings, treacle roly-polies, and -milk sagos.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A first-rate little manager,' he always called -her, when he passed up his plate for more of -the jelly, or more whitebait, or asparagus, and -he recked even less than Bartie that the things -were intrinsically more expensive than rhubarb -or rice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, daddie, oh, daddie dear, I am so sorry!' -she said, awake at last to the sad truth that -luxury must be paid for, cash down, and was -a dear commodity. And her eyes streamed, -and her little chest heaved to such an extent -that he had to put the bills aside and comfort -her affliction, and explain to her that he was -scolding himself, not her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But I am eleven,' she kept repeating sadly, -'eleven, papa. I ought to have known.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There rang at the door a few minutes later -the master of the boys' school to which Bartie -had just been sent. Hermie, her mother's -conscientiousness strong in her, had always -gone off to her school each day, though, in -truth, so absorbed was she by her housekeeping -delights that she was a very ill scholar -nowadays.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Bartie, plain unalloyed boy, had wearied -suddenly of tuition, and found a pleasant -fishing-ground in a secluded creek. There -was no one to tell him to go to school, it was -against nature that he should betake himself -to servitude every day of his own accord, so, -towards the end of the quarter, it fell out that -he fished two days of the week and studied -three, even at times reversing that order of -things. In restitution he took canings, his -hands were horny, the touch of the master not -over heavy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But now the matter was before his father, -and the master was returning home, the -consciousness of duty done lifting his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The father's blue eye flashed with strange -fire as he looked at the boy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Is my son a thief,' he said, 'that he should -treat me so? Or is it he despises me because -I leave him unwatched and free?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With that he strode out of the room, out of -the house; Bart, his conscience quick once -more and in agony, watched him walking, -house-coat on and no hat, down the main -street of the township and up, up, never -resting, to the top of the great hill the other -side they call the Jib.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No further word of the matter was ever -said till the next Christmas, when the boy -marched in with the year's prize for punctuality -under his arm. Then Cameron shook hands -with him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I like a man of honour,' he said. -But the two events together, the grocer's -bill and the master's call, decided the father he -must enter into submission and have another -lady-help, for the children's sake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How to obtain one? He made inquiries -about Wilgandra, but the class of people from -whom he sought to take one were of the mind -that prevails in many of the country towns and -bush settlements. They would rather starve -than serve—at all events where they were -known. Now and again a self-respecting -intelligent girl broke away from her life and went -off with her trunk to find service in Sydney.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But, for the most part, the daughters of -a house up to the number of seven, or even -ten, stayed under the cramped roof-tree of their -fathers, and led an unoccupied, sheepish -existence, till marriage or death bore them off -to other homes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So in despair Cameron wrote off to a Sydney -registry office, and asked the manageress to -send him a lady. Just before he closed the -letter the happy freedom of the last three -months led him to add a postscript, 'I should -like the lady you select to be of not too -managing a disposition—gentle and pleasant.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The registry office keeper rubbed her hands; -here surely at last was a chance to dispose of -Miss Browne—Miss Browne, who was ever -on the books, who was sent off to a situation -one week, and came back with red eyes -and a hopeless expression the next, dismissed -incontinently as incapable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The registry office keeper turned up the -town Wilgandra in her railway time-table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Three hundred and seventy-three miles -away! Surely at such a distance, especially as -the employer was paying the expensive fare, -Miss Browne might be regarded as settled for -a space of three months!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Cameron had no complaint to make of -his new lady-help on the score of being of a -managing disposition. She was gentleness -itself—that kind of deprecating gentleness that -makes the world feel uncomfortable. She tried -pitifully hard to be pleasant—pleasant and -cheerful. She worked from earliest morning -to late at night, and accomplished about as -much as Hermie could in two hours. It took -her nerveless fingers nearly a quarter of an -hour to sew on a waistcoat button, and in little -more than a quarter of an hour the button -would have tumbled off again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lizzie seldom trusted her to cook anything; -when she did so the poor lady invariably -emerged from the kitchen with her hands -burnt in several places, sparks in her eyes, the -front width of her dress scorched, her hair -singed, and her poor frail body so utterly -exhausted, the family would insist upon her -instant retirement to bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nobody knew what the woman's life had -been, where had gone the vigour, the energy, -the graces that should still have been hers, -for her years were barely thirty-five.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A crushing sorrow, disappointment on the -heel of disappointment, loneliness, or perhaps -only a grey life full of petty cares passed in -a scorching, withering climate—one or all of -these things had dried the sap out of her, and -left of what might have been a gracious -creature, radiating pleasure and comfort, only -the rags and bones of womanhood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Camerons suffered her patiently for -three long months; then the father gathered -his courage up in both hands, closed his ears -to the pity that clamoured at his heart, and -told her gently enough that she must go.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She threw up her fluttering hands and sank -on the sofa—in her eyes the piteous look of -amaze and grief that your fireside dog would -wear if you took a sudden knife to him. So -kind had the family been, so patient, the poor -creature had told herself exultingly that they -were satisfied, even pleased with her, and had -hugged the novel, delicious thought to sleep -with her for the last two months.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She asked shakingly what she had done.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nothing, nothing at all,' Cameron reassured -her eagerly; 'it is merely, merely I can see -you are not strong enough for such a hard -place as mine.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A hard place!' she cried, and looked -at him dazed. 'Why, there are only five -of you, and Lizzie to do all the rough -work! I've been where there were ten, and -done the washing and everything. I've been -where there were nine, and had to chop the -wood and draw the water myself. I've been -mother's help and had to carry twin babies -miles in the sun. I've been where the children -pinched and scratched me. I've been at places -where I rose at half-past four, and found my -way to bed at eleven. And in none have I -ever given notice myself. A hard place! -Dear heart!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My dear Miss Browne,' Cameron said, -and such was the fluent nature of the man that -his eyes were filled, and he had no idea that -he lied, 'it was solely for the sake of your -health I spoke. You look so delicate. If -you think the duties are not too heavy, why, -I shall be most heartily obliged to you if -you will stay with us indefinitely.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he went away to seek his children, -to tell them her story, and beg their tenderest -patience.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-painting-of-the-ship"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">The Painting of The Ship</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'Never a bird within my sad heart sings,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But heaven a flaming stone of thunder flings.'</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Yet his coward pen never plucked courage -to itself to write across seas of this -family incubus.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The earlier letters had spoken variously -of 'Miss Macintosh,' or 'the lady-help'; now -there was never a name given, the references -being merely to 'the lady-help.' Even the -children scrupulously followed this up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the Marvellous One had gone off -with her </span><em class="italics">entrée</em><span> dishes to her new home, the -father had said, 'Children, we will not tell -mother just yet that Miss Macintosh has left, -it would only worry her. We will wait till -we can write and say we have another one -as good.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So the tale of Hermie's housekeeping and -the mislaid cheque never crossed the sea, and -the mother in her far German boarding-house -continued to comfort herself with the thought -of Miss Macintosh's perfections.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Miss Browne's shortcomings made -themselves glaringly patent, the pens again -shallied in telling the story.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is so close to Challis's concert, we -mustn't worry them with our little troubles, -children,' the father said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Bartie and Hermie continued to write -guarded letters; and if the boy's hand at -times ran on to tell how Miss Browne had -put ugly patches on his clothes, or the girl's -heart began to pour itself out on the thin -paper and speak of the discomfort of the -new reign, recollection would come flooding, -the letters would be cast aside and new -ones written, short, studied, and never saying -more in reference to the vexed question than -'the lady-help had taken Floss out for a walk.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I hope Miss Macintosh sees you have -your little pleasures,' the mother would write. -'You do not tell me about birthday parties or -picnics. Don't forget mother loves to hear -of it all.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Hermie would write back sadly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The lady-help is very busy just now, but -when she has more time she is going to let -us have a party.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I tremble each mail,' the mother wrote -once, 'lest your letter should bring me news -that Miss Macintosh is engaged and about to -be married. It is strange such a woman has -not been snapped up long before this.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Cameron answered:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I do not think you need worry, my -darling, about the lady-help marrying. She -has given me to understand she has had a -disappointment, and will never marry.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the very guarding of the letters, the -reading of them over, to be sure nothing had -been let slip, made them seem poor and lifeless -to the anxiously devouring eyes the other side -of the world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She wrote at last:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Sweetheart, from what you don't say, more -than from what you do, I learn of your -loneliness. You are so dull, my poor boy, -and the days rise up and sink to rest all grey -like one another. Yet a little more patience, -and surely there will be plenty of money to -make life all sunshine for you. But just for -a little brightness, darling, reach down that -box of paints we put away on the cupboard -top, get out your brushes, and let them help -the hours to fly. While the Conservatorium -has been closed for vacation Challis and I have -been four days in Rome. And she found me -crying one morning in a picture gallery, in -front of some great picture, a Raphael, or an -Andrea del Sarto—some one, at all events, who -painted with hands of fire. And yet it was -not the subject of the picture that moved me, -unless it was that the magic canvas wrought -me to the mood that is yours so often. All -I thought of was the cold harsh woman, the -Martha with blind eyes, who, that first day in -Wilgandra, took away by force and at the -same time the paint-box and the glow from -your life. My boy, my sweetheart, let me -give it back. Ah, would that I could stand -on the chair and reach it down from the -cupboard and put it into your hands myself! -But do it now, my darling, this moment. I -know you will be careful and not risk your -position by forgetfulness. And when you are -loneliest, when you miss me most, let the -brushes take my place.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron had been reading his letter at the -tea-table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Children,' he said, and rose up, his face -working, his eyes shining strangely, 'children, -mother wants me to paint pictures again. I—she -says I am to get the box down.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The table had no comprehension of the -greatness of the matter, but rose up at once, -at seeing the father so moved. Roly brought -his mug of sweetened milk along with him, -Floss continued to bite at her crust of -bread-and-jam, Miss Browne fluttered about, Hermie -and Bart pressed at their father's elbow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bring a chair, Bartie,' Cameron said, 'here -at the cupboard in the hall.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mine cubbub,' interjected Floss; 'me's hat -in dere. Go 'way, daddie.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'll climb up,' said eager Bart. 'What is -it up there, dad?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Give me the chair—let me reach it down -myself,' Cameron said, and stepped up and -stretched his long arm to the top.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A dusty mustard-box! The children's eyes -brightened with swift thoughts of treasure, -then dulled when the lid was flung back and -displayed nothing but a chaos of dirty oil-tubes -and brushes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But when they saw their father's glistening -eyes, saw him fingering the same tubes with -a tender, lingering touch, looking at the -brushes' points, they did not tell him they -were disappointed in the treasure. Instead, -Bart led off with a cheer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hurrah for daddie the artist!' he shouted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hurrah!' cried Hermie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>''Rah!' shrilled Roly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Floss claimed a kiss.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Me dive daddie dat,' she said in her kindest -way, 'out mine cubbub.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And thus was the painting of the ship begun.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Can you see what I mean, Bart?' Cameron -said two months later, when the picture was -almost finished, so desperately had he worked -at it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You mean it for a ship, don't you?' Bart -said. 'If I'd been you, though, dad, I'd have -painted a steamship with two funnels. People -don't think much of sailing-boats now.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Can you see what I mean, Hermie?' -Cameron said, and wistfulness had crept into -his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie's blue-flower eyes were regarding -the great canvas dubiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Couldn't you have made the water blue, -papa?' she said; 'the sea is blue, you know. -P'raps, though, you hadn't enough blue paint. -But I like it to be a sailing-boat; steamships -aren't so clean.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man's heart clamoured for his wife, -who had never been at a loss to find what he -meant. For a moment it seemed intolerable -to him that she was not there at his elbow, to -share the exaltation of the moment with him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Run away, run away,' he said irritably to -Hermie and Bart; 'you shake my elbow, you -worry me; run away.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Browne made a hysterical noise in her -throat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is so sad,' she said; 'what is it you have -done to it? It is only a ship and a man, and -yet—do you know I can hardly keep the -sobs back when I look at it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To her amaze her employer turned eagerly -round, shook her hand again and again in -warmest gratitude, and fell to painting once -more with feverish haste.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The canvas showed a livid stretch of coast -and ocean, and a spectre ship with a spectre -captain at the helm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The ship had an indescribably sad effect. -You saw her straining through the strong, -repellent waves, you heard her cordage -creaking, you saw her battling stem struggling to -push a way. She was a living thing, breaking -her heart over the black hopelessness of her -task. The captain's face burnt flame-white -out from the canvas; his desperate eyes stared -straight ahead; his long hand held the helm -in a frightful grip. You knew he was aware -he would never round his cape; you knew -he would fight to do so through all eternity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Camerons celebrated the day of the -finishing of the picture as a high holiday. -The children had ten shillings tossed to them -to spend as they liked. They bought a -marvellous motley of edible things, and dragged -their father and Miss Browne up the Jib to -partake of them. It were sheer madness to -suppose a whole half-crown's worth of Brazil -nuts; to say nothing of chocolates, tarts and -other extreme dainties, could be discussed -within the cramped walls of a house in a street. -The whole width of the heavens was needed, -and a thousand gum-trees, and the smell of -earth and grass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron walked about on the heights as -if on air. He had not painted that canvas -that stood, still wet, down below in the -straggling town. He had entertained a spirit, -something stronger, fiercer, more triumphantly -capable than himself. He could have flung -up his arms and run shouting up and down, -shouting thanks to the winds, the trees, the -sailing skies, that the spirit had taken its -dwelling in him. Magnificent fancies came -bursting upon him; now and again he held -his head, so rich were the conceptions, so -strong felt his hand to bring them into instant -being.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An urgent craving for his wife took hold -of him—he strode away from the children's -shouts, away from Miss Browne, who sat -wretched because she had forgotten the -tin-opener, and the tea, and the sugar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He found himself down near the creek, -with the gums waving eighty feet above his -head, gums with snow patches of blossoms -on them, stern gums, smiling gums, red, silver, -blue. And he called, 'Molly,' and the trees -encouraged him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And again, 'Molly,' 'Molly,' and there -burst up to his lips from his heart all the words -he had had to stifle away since the sailing of -her ship. All that he would have poured out -to her these last two years, all that had lain -quiet and kept his being stagnant since that -last agonised clinging of her arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I thought I could bear it,' the man said -to the trees, 'but I can't—it is too much! -Are you listening to me, Molly? I must have -you again to talk to. She has had you long -enough—Challis has had her share of you; -now I must have you again. These children -take us from each other, Molly. We are very -fond of them, but we should have more time -to love each other without them, to love -like we did twelve years ago. I want you, -to tell you about the picture, Molly, Molly. -Can you hear, darling, can you hear?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And sometimes she seemed near to him, -seemed a part of the air, the trees, the earth, -and he raved to her and talked joyously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And sometimes he lost her, the delicate -spirit webs broken by the world's machinery, -and he dropped his head on his arms and wept.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But when the thread snapped finally, and -nothing could bring her to him again, he -groped his way upwards, for now the loneliness, -after the speaking, was a thing he dared not -bear. The children welcomed him eagerly. -They had wanted him so badly, they said, -for dinner, and here he came only just in -time for tea. Would he please open that tin -of jam—there was no opener, but perhaps -he could do it with a bit of broken bottle? -And there were no matches; would he please -use his and light the fire? The tea was -forgotten, but hot milk and water would be -nice, perhaps, but there was only a little -milk remaining, and the sugar had been left -behind. He fell to laughing, and was thereby -restored to more normal mind. He lighted -the fire, and water and milk circulated round -the little party, and refreshed it. He attended -to the wounded—Bart had gashed his hand -attempting the opening of that tin of jam, -Hermie had a tick in her arm, Roly had -stirred up a nest of bull-dog ants, and had -met with his due reward, Floss had eaten too -many chocolates, and Miss Browne had been -stuck in the mud, attempting to get water -from a pot-hole; her large shabby shoes -looked pathetically ridiculous.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So by the time he had helped all his lame -dogs over their stiles, and got them ready -for marching home, his mood was quite a -happy one again. He went down the -mountain-side, Floss in his arms, Bart and -Hermie on either side, Miss Browne and -Roly close at hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And with a flushed face and happy eyes -and a fluent tongue he told them all manner -of wonderful things; in very truth he could -keep them to himself no longer. How the -world was going to be very pleased indeed -with his picture, and hang it in so famous a -place that Challis would not be the only one -making the name of Cameron celebrated. -And how a whole mint of gold was going -to be given to him for it—Hermie and Miss -Browne would be able to order all they liked -and more from the family grocer. And how -he was going to send for mamma to come -at once to stay with them again, so that they -could all live happily to the end of their -days.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Through the little town they wound with -eyes shining at the thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie's order-loving soul was soothed at -the vision of domestic peace once more. Bart -resolved to keep his best knickerbockers for -the mother-fingers to mend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Can she make puddings?' said Roly, who -despised the culinary skill of Miss Browne. -And 'Mam-mam,' murmured little sleepy -Floss, not because her mind held recollection -of using the name, but because a baby next-door -spoke it incessantly, and it seemed pleasant. -Only Miss Browne looked wistful-eyed; a -mother such as this seemed would never deem -her capable enough; Christmas would see her -back in Sydney, weariedly waiting occupation -in the registry office.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They turned the key of the door—Lizzie -had had holiday also. And on the threshold, -pushed beneath the door by the post-boy, -lay another long blue envelope with no stamp -upon it, and only printed letters instead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron picked it up, quite without -suspicion—his cheque for the quarter, he -supposed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the reading told him he was dismissed -the service for his carelessness and the culpable -neglect of his duties during the past four -months.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="dunks-selection"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER V</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">Dunks' Selection</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'Well, it is earth with me; Silence resumes her reign,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I will be patient and proud, and soberly acquiesce.'</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>'I shouldn't think it can be very -much farther, dad,' said Bart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I believe we have passed it,' Hermie -sighed; 'I am sure we have come much more -than nine miles,' and she mopped her hot -cheeks that the sun, burn as he would, had -never freckled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron, the reins slack in his hand, looked -doubtfully from side to side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It ought to be somewhere here,' he said; -'isn't that a fence at the top of the hill? -Yes, I'm sure it is.' He touched the horse -lightly with the switch that Floss held, and -on they went again. They were in a borrowed -broken-springed buggy, the five of them and -Miss Browne, come out to see the home their -father was buying—none of them, not even -the father, had seen it yet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a couple of months after his dismissal -Cameron had lingered on in the house in -Wilgandra, too bewildered and helpless to -know what to do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not the first time a similar crisis had -happened, but before his wife had always taken -matters in hand, looked up situations for him -in the papers, interviewed influential people, -brushed his clothes and sent him out with little -to do but present himself to his employer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But now he was completely at sea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He wrote a few letters to Sydney friends, -vaguely asking if they knew of 'a billet.' But -seven years' silence makes strangers of ones -best friends; some were scattered, and dead -letters were the only reply; others wrote to -say Sydney had never been in such a state of -hopeless depression, and strongly advised him -not to come to add to the frightful army of -the unemployed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why not go on the land?' said one or -two of them. 'A man like you with a growing -family should do well there, and you would -at least be your own master and free from -"a month's notice."'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron first asked the children what they -thought of 'going on the land.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they heard this meant moving to a -new place, and having sheep and growing all -their own things, and each one helping, they -were enchanted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron was too shy and reserved to have -made many friends in the township, but he -put on a clean cool coat and filled his pipe -and wandered forth, with the vague idea of -asking some one's advice on the matter. But -there was a race-meeting in a neighbouring -township, and the streets were almost deserted, -the tradespeople and the land-and-estate agent -being the only men at their posts. The latter, -however, struck Cameron as the very man -to ask. And Cameron struck the agent as -the very man for whom he had been waiting. -There was a selection, he said, a few miles -away—eighty acres of fine land that its drunken -owner, Dunks, had hardly stirred since he had -taken it up. There was a five-roomed cottage -on it, there were fifty head of sheep, poultry, -a couple of horses, a cart, and all tools. Dunks, -anxious to get to Sydney, was willing to let -all go for two hundred and fifty pounds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Cameron went home hopeless, he could -as easily raise two thousand pounds as two -hundred and fifty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie met him with a registered letter -from which a cheque for a hundred fluttered. -Challis's professors, it seemed, had allowed -her to give a few concerts in the midst of her -course of lessons, and five hundred pounds had -been the result.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The child insists that I shall send a -hundred,' ran the letter, 'for you all to buy -presents with, and though I don't know what -you can buy—but sheep—in Wilgandra, I send -it. More I do not enclose, my dear one, for -well do I know how shockingly you would -lose and give it away. But all have some fun -with this hundred, and now every penny that -comes I shall jealously bank for the future -and for the child's own use, as is but fair and -right.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron and Bartie and Hermie went -eagerly off to the agent's again. Cameron -held up his cheque, and asked if it would do -if they paid that amount down and the rest -on terms. And the agent, after a little demur, -was agreeable—had he not that morning been -visited by Dunks, who said he would take -as low as a hundred and fifty to be rid of -the place?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron almost handed the cheque over -there and then, but then some of the prudence -learned from his wife came to him, and he -pocketed it instead, and said they would go -and look at the place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thereupon, the following Saturday, the -agent lent his buggy, gave directions for -finding, and this was the journeying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes,' Cameron said, 'this must be it, but -there doesn't seem to be a gate. I suppose -we had better go through these sliprails. Get -down and lift them out, Bart.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The early summer, in her eagerness and -passion for growth and beauty, had been -tender even to Dunks' selection. The appearance -of the place appalled none of the buggy-load.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Wattle in bloom made a glory of the -uncleared spaces, the young gums were very -green, the older ones wore masses of soft -white upon their soberness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Farther away there browsed brown sheep, -but this was the season for lambs, and a dozen -little soft snowballs of things had come close -to the cottage and gambolled with the children. -There was a bleating calf with a child's pink -sash tied round its neck, fluff balls of chickens -ran under the feet, downy ducklings were -picking everywhere.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And all this young life was so beautiful a -sight that the children were wild with rapture, -and Cameron's dreamy beauty-loving soul told -him here was the home for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The cottage shocked him somewhat, it was -so very tumbledown, the roof was so low, the -windows so broken.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He began to consider whether he had not -better take up a selection for himself near at -hand and run up his own cottage, these walls -were hardly worth the pulling down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Mrs. Dunks began to talk to him, and -her apron was at her eyes nearly all the time. -He learned that Dunks was the best of men, -and only weak. If once they could get from -this neighbourhood and his bad companions -to Forbes, where her own people were, he -would surely reform. He learned that -Mrs. Dunks had nine children, all under fourteen; -that she was in a consumption, and only the -air of Forbes could cure her. It seemed to -him that he could not turn round to this -fragile, heavily burdened creature, look into -her fever-bright, anxious eyes, and tell her he -would not give her this chance to end her -days among her own people.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So he looked at all the young life again, -and the sheer sun, bursting out of the wattles, -and was glad to be persuaded that a little -paint and a bit of timber would make the -house quite new again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Do you think,' he said, and turned round -to the woman, 'that you could give me -possession of the place in a month?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the woman burst into thankful tears, -and told him they would be gone to-morrow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I've packed up for going eighteen times -this year,' she said through her tears. 'I've -got my hand well in.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dunks was away in the township, the -youngest baby was lying in her arms looking -up at her with pure eyes, and the pale wraith -death, whom she ever felt beside her, had kept -her conscience tender.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Did—did you say the agent told you two -hundred and fifty?' she faltered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron thought of his children and braced -himself up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He did,' he said firmly, 'and I cannot -possibly give you a penny-piece more. I -consider it is a very fair price.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But—but——' the woman began again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is no use, I can go no further,' Cameron -said, 'so please do not waste your breath'—and -he unhobbled his horse and prepared for -the journey home, his face set away from her, -lest he should be softened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How could he dream she wanted to tell -him that a hundred and fifty was all they had -asked, and more than the place was worth, -so ill in repair was everything? Then the -thought of this man's famous child came to -her—Challis, with fingers of gold. What -were a hundred pounds to the father of such -a child?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked away from the eyes of her babe, -she forgot that she and death were met, and -replied:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Very well, we will take two hundred and -fifty, Mr. Cameron.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Going homewards in the jolting buggy the -talk was of the happiest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Miss Browne and I will look after the -fowls, daddie,' Hermie said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'An' me,' said Floss.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You and I must get the crops in,' Bart and -his father told each other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But how this would be done, and what the -crops should be, they had but the remotest -notion; still, it was a phrase heard often in -Wilgandra, and sounded well.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Will it take you long to learn to shear the -sheep?' asked Miss Browne timidly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron looked a trifle disturbed. Sheep -seemed very right and proper things to own -when one was 'going on the land,' but it -had not yet occurred to him to think to what -use he was going to put them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bart's observation of his neighbours had -been a little keener than this, however.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We sha'n't get any wool to mention from -that handful,' he said. 'I suppose they are for -killing. Mrs. Dunks says they use a sheep a -week. Her husband kills one every Saturday.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who—who—oh, surely you will not have -to kill them, Mr. Cameron!' said Miss Browne, -shuddering with horror. 'Surely you will not -be expected to kill them for yourself.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The thought of it turned Cameron sick; it -seemed to him he had never quite got over -chopping off a fowl's head once for his wife, -though it was nine years ago.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roly gloated over the thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'll shoot them with my bow and arrow,' -he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron wiped his brow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I suppose one could use a gun to them, eh, -Bart?' he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Bart looked doubtful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nearing home Cameron gave the reins to -Bartie, and leaped out and walked the last -mile or two, wrestling with the problem how -he might turn himself from a dreamer of -dreams into a practicable, hard-working man -of business. It had to be done, some way, -somehow, or what to do with these children, -and how to face his wife?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then suddenly he found his thoughts had -wandered to the sunset fire that blazed before -him in the sky; he was putting it in a picture, -massing up the purple banks, touching the -edges with a streak of scarlet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he convicted himself of the wandering -he groaned aloud.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There is only one way,' he said, and walked -into his house with lifted head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The children were stretching their limbs -after their cramping drive, Roly and Bart -panting on the floor, a cup of water beside -them so warm and flat and tasteless that even -thirst would not bring them to it. Bart -was talking of Nansen, picturing stupendous -icebergs, revelling in the exquisite frigidity -of the water in which Nansen had washed -luxuriously every day. The exercise actually -cooled the little party down one degree. Then -in to them came their father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I want a bonfire made in the yard,' he said; -'a very big one, I have something to burn.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boys were upright in a moment and on -their way; even Floss tossed down the -newspaper with which she was fanning herself (the -</span><em class="italics">Wilgandra Times</em><span>, with which was incorporated -the </span><em class="italics">Moondi Mercury</em><span>), and rushed to partake -of the fun, and Hermie and Miss Browne -found themselves impelled to go and see what -was happening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Such a blaze! Bart raked up a lot of -garden rubbish and added tree branches. -Roly, feeling quite authorised since the bonfire -had been commanded by his father and was -no illicit one of his own, made journeys to -and from the wood-heap and piled on the -better part of a quarter of a ton of wood -just paid for.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then down came the father, his blue eyes -a little wild, his mouth not quite under his -own control. He had his mustard-box under -his arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, daddie!' Hermie cried and sprang at -him. 'Oh no, no, no!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he pushed her aside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Don't speak to me—none of you speak -one word,' he said, and he stooped and dropped -the box where the flames leapt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, no, no!' Hermie screamed, and rushed -at it, and put a hand right through the flame -and touched the box, then drew back, -helpless, crying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Get away!' Bart said, and pushed her -back from danger and took the work himself, -a rake for aid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He dragged the charred box out, Miss -Browne fluttered round him and caught at -the lid and burnt her hands, and fell over -the rake and singed her hair and eyebrows. -Roly and Floss, carried off their feet by the -excitement, rushed to help, and the box lay -safely on the grass again, two minutes from -the time it had been in the flames.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Let it alone, no one dare to touch it!' -commanded the father, and the voice was one -the children had never heard before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He picked the box up, hot and blackened -as it was, and flung it on the fire again; -the lid fell off, there came a rain of tubes -and paint-brushes, a splutter or two from the -turpentine, the smell of burnt paint, then the -fire burnt steadily again, and there was silence -that only Hermie's bitter crying broke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The father had gone back to the house; -he came down to them once again and this -time The Ship was in his arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Surely an ill-starred ship! There had been -no money to send it to Sydney for the -artists there to appraise; Cameron, absolutely -frightened when he found how the debts were -growing, exhibited it in Wilgandra and a -neighbouring town or two, and marked it ten -pounds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But who in the back-blocks was going to -give that sum for a picture without a frame? -The coloured supplements, with elaborate plush -surrounds, satisfied the artistic yearnings of -most of the community, and The Ship came back -to sad anchorage in the Cameron dining-room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But to burn it!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie gave a fresh despairing cry. Floss, -Bart, and Roly stood absolutely still, the instinct -of obedience strong at such a crisis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron's arm was again raised, but Miss -Browne flung herself right upon him and -clung to the canvas, her weak hands suddenly -filled with strength and tenacity.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 61%" id="figure-76"> -<span id="not-this-not-this-she-cried-anything-but-this"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="'NOT THIS, NOT THIS,' SHE CRIED, 'ANYTHING BUT THIS.'" src="images/img-078.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">'NOT THIS, NOT THIS,' SHE CRIED, 'ANYTHING BUT THIS.'</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not this, not this!' she cried. 'Anything -but this! Give it to me—I will keep it from -your sight—I will hide it away—it shall -never meet your eyes. My ship, my ship, -you shall not burn it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She held it in her arms, actually torn from -his grasp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron glanced around—the leaping flames, -the startled children, Hermie's hysterical -sobbing, Miss Browne's wild attitude of daring -and defiance—he told himself he had taken -a theatrical vengeance on himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, do as you like,' he said irritably, -and turned back to the house. 'Bart, put -a bucket of water on that fire.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One month from the night of the sacrifice -the Camerons were in possession of the -selection, and Mrs. Dunks was lying in peace -among those of her own people who rested -from the sun's heat in the Forbes graveyard.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="thirty-thousand-a-year"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">Thirty Thousand a Year</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'Ah, for a man to arise in me,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That the man I am may cease to be.'</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>'I should think we might get the bag -of corn now, eh, Bart?' Cameron -wiped his brow, and stopped to survey the -patch of ground that looked so smooth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bart looked at it critically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I think we'd better give it another turn, -dad,' he said, and hitched the string-mended -harness a little more securely to the jaded -horse. 'It's such a lunatic plough, it misses -twice for every time it hits.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron looked at the wide space of ground -to be gone over yet again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'm very anxious to get the corn in,' he -said. 'You see, we're a month late as it is, -and it will be a big saving in feed when we -have it to cut.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes; but it is no good unless the ground -is ready,' Bart said. 'We have no manure -or anything like the </span><em class="italics">Journal</em><span> says. We'd -better give it an extra turn.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You're quite right, quite right, my boy,' -Cameron said, and led his horse on again, up -and down, up and down the furrows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I don't like such a lot of stumps being left -in,' Bart said, the seventh time in an hour -that the plough had gnashed on one. 'In -the </span><em class="italics">Journal</em><span> there's a picture of a stump -eradicator—a grand little machine. We'll have -to save up and get it, dad.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, ay,' said the father; 'still, I don't -think the stumps will interfere very much. -The corn can easily come up between them.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It would be easier ploughing,' sighed Bart, -following the horse about in a waved line.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You're tired out, lad; knock off for a -spell,' Cameron said. 'I keep forgetting how -young you are. We have been working here -since eight—five hours.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Bart would work till he dropped rather -than leave off a minute before his father. He -took a long drink at the oatmeal water Miss -Browne had made, and went on stooping, -picking out the stones, digging spots the -unfaithful plough had left untouched, following -the horse while his father dug.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron was thin as a rail. Ever since -they had come here he had worked like a -man possessed, for the spectacle that came to -haunt his nights was of his children in actual -need of bread. He had left debts behind -him in the township—a hundred pounds' worth -of them; there was a hundred and fifty yet -to pay on the selection; and the patching-up -of the house, rough as it had been, had taken -money. There was seed to buy, there were -tools to mend or replace, interest to pay on -the money he had borrowed on the place—a -thousand other things.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And not one word of all the changes did -the letters carry across the secret seas.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There is no need to worry mamma -unnecessarily,' Cameron said to the children. -'When we have made a great success of the -place and paid everything off, then we will -tell her.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Across the acres came the insistent sound -of the dinner-bell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I don't think I'll stop,' Cameron said, -'I'm not hungry. Off you go, Bart, and don't -come back for an hour.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Bart was learning the art of managing -his father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The poor old nag wants a rest,' he said. -'We must take her up and give her a drink -and some oats. And I'd come in to dinner, -dad, if I were you. Hermie will be -disappointed if you don't.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So they went up to the little patchwork -house together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not to a very tempting repast the -bell had summoned them. Hermie, no longer -able to order macaroons and whitebait and -tinned oysters to make delicacies with, had, -childlike, lost interest in the culinary -department of the house. And Miss Browne was -no artist; to her a leg of mutton represented -nothing but a leg of mutton, and fricassees -and such tempting departures seemed but tales -in the cookery book never to be put to -practical use.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To-day there were chops—fried. Years -back, when Lizzie came fresh from the State -to Mrs. Cameron's tutelage, she had been -instantly instructed in the fine art of grilling. -But now that there was no one to insist upon -these delicate distinctions, and the frying-pan -was so much easier labour, Cameron was -slowly forgetting the taste of grilled meat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were potatoes too; the family took -it for granted that these were necessarily nasty -things, either watery or burnt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bread and jam—no longer silver-pan conserve, -but cheap raspberry, in which the chief -element was tomato—finishing the pleasing -repast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Browne sat at the head of the table, -exhausted and dishevelled, for she had swept -the room, had sewn on four buttons, and dressed -Floss, and set the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron, before removing to the selection, -had dismissed her again, gently enough; he -knew it would be impossible to continue to -pay her ten shillings a week for being a -nuisance to them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And again she had wept and wrung her -hands and entreated to remain. The tears -streaming down her cheeks, she told him the -time she had been in his family was the -happiest in her life. She would not dream -of taking money now, she said; but she -implored him to let her work for her home. -So here she was, still at the head of the table, -faithfully apportioning the dish of chops and -keeping the smallest and worst-cooked one -quietly for herself, and pouring out tea, which -all the family drank with each and every meal, -so slowly and confusedly that her own was -always cold before she touched it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not a chop?' she said to Cameron. 'Oh, -but you really must. Think of the severe -physical labour you are continually doing. -Just a small one! You touched no meat -yesterday, nor the day before.' She looked on -the verge of tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Don't trouble, I don't care for any,' -Cameron said. 'I'll have some—some,'—his -eyes wandered round the table in search -of something nicer than the potatoes—'some -bread and butter.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Lizzie's prentice hand at bread! And -store butter three weeks old! He reached -himself </span><em class="italics">Pendennis</em><span>, and, helped by the pleasant -gossiping of the mayor, managed to swallow -a few mouthfuls.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All through the meal Miss Browne lamented -over his appetite, but he heeded her voice -just as much as he did the flies that buzzed -round his tea-cup—both were integral parts of -life, and to be endured.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'May I put you a chop aside, and warm it -up for your tea?' she persisted anxiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He put his finger on the place in the book -and looked up for one second.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am going to try vegetarianism,' he said. -'I have come to the conclusion that meat -does not agree with me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And it did not. Every second Saturday -now with his own hands he was obliged to kill -a sheep for the sake of his family; he found -a man would charge ten shillings each time -to come the distance. The physical nausea -for the task was such that from the time he -first took the knife into his shuddering hand -to the day they buried him, no morsel of -animal food passed his lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The children were still—a month after they -had come—full of magnificent enthusiasms. -Hermie and Miss Browne were going to restore -the fallen fortunes of the family by raising -poultry. Hermie worked intoxicating sums -on paper, and even Miss Browne, distrustful -of the child's arithmetic, on checking the -figures could find so little wrong that she -began to be a-tremble with delight at the -prospect herself. Bart himself, the only one -of the family touched with caution, found -they had left sufficient margin for losses, and -assented that a fortune might assuredly be -made.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For who could dispute the fact that the -grocer charged from one to two shillings a -dozen for his eggs, according to season? Let -them reckon on the basis of one shilling. And -Small, the butcher, charged three and sixpence -to four and sixpence a pair for table fowls. -Let them be very safe, and say two and sixpence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were starting with the twelve fowls the -Dunks had left on the estate. Now if one -hen in one year brought up three clutches -of chickens, how many would that make? -Hermie, with shining eyes, cried thirty-nine; -but Bart, who had seen mortality among -chickens, refused to put down more than -twenty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Very well,' said Hermie, 'count twenty, -if you like, only I know it will be thirty-nine, -I shall be so careful of them. Twelve hens -with twenty chickens each—that will be—that -will be—what are twelve twenties, Miss -Browne?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Two hundred and forty,' replied the lady, -amazed herself that it could be so much, 'two -hundred and forty! Why, I have never seen -so many together in my life.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bart wrote down the figures two hundred -and forty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Fowls grow up in six months,' Hermie -said. 'Lizzie says so, and her mother used -to keep fowls. The </span><em class="italics">Journal</em><span> says—I read -it this morning—that fowls generally lay two -hundred eggs a year.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Say one hundred and fifty,' Bart said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Very well,' said Hermie. 'Please, Miss -Browne, what are two hundred and forty times -one hundred and fifty?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My dear,' gasped Miss Browne, 'I—I -really need a pencil for that.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bart offered his stump, and Miss Browne -was five minutes working the sum, so sure -was she she must have made an astounding -mistake somewhere.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It—it certainly comes to thirty-six thousand,' -she said at last.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Would you please multiply it by a shilling -a dozen, and say what it comes to,' was -Hermie's further request.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Browne again took a surprising time -to do the simple sum.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A hundred and fifty pounds,' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That is for the first year,' Hermie said; -'but now would you please work it out on -this big piece of paper, and see what we should -get the second year. Two hundred and forty -fowls——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And the twelve you began with, too,' said Roly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie was quite willing to be cautious.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We won't count them, we'll allow for them -dying, too,' she said. 'Two hundred and -forty fowls with, say, twenty chickens each in -the year. What's that?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Browne's pencil worked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Four thousand eight hundred,' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And they lay one hundred and fifty eggs -a year.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Browne looked quite shaken at the -result her arithmetic produced—seven hundred -and twenty thousand eggs! Three thousand -pounds!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The excitement made her work out the -results of the third year, and she was weeping -when the sun came out—sixty thousand -pounds. She was weeping for her grey spoiled -life. Exquisite dresses, travel, health, even -marriage, and little children of her own, would -have been all possible, had she worked these -sums years and years ago, and set to work with -twelve fowls.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bart still had misgivings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'More might die than that,' he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie was quite pale with excitement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We have counted that half that come out -die,' she said, 'and Lizzie says her mother -always reared ten out of every thirteen. We -have only counted six. But count three, if you -like; still, that is thirty thousand pounds. And -we have not counted selling any.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even Bart saw the moderation that only -counted three chickens to each hatching, and -his doubts died away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Visions of all this wealth intoxicated the -children; they tore their father from his book; -Hermie told him, with eyes ashine with tears -and little heaving breast, that he was never to -do any more of that dreadful ploughing, that -in three years they would be making thirty -thousand a year, at least, by no harder work -than just feeding the fowls and packing up eggs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He smiled at them very gently; he could -not bear to damp their ardour. In very truth -he could not exactly find out why these figures -should not be as they seemed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Of course you would have a huge feed-bill -and want a big run of land,' he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bart gave a comprehensive sweep of his -young arm towards the scrubby bush-land that -lay around them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'As much as we like for a shilling an acre -a year,' he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But the feed-bill?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Five thousand a year would buy enough -at all events, and still we'd have twenty-five -thousand left,' Hermie said jubilantly. 'You -will give up the ploughing, won't you, -daddie?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron temporised, and said he would just -do a little while the chickens grew.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That night a violent wind came up with -drenching rain. Cameron lay listening to it, -wondering what skies were over the head of -his beloved whom the seas held from him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he heard doors opening and shutting, -whispered words, and finally a series of very -angry cackles. He threw on some clothes, -and went to find out the meaning. In the -living-room an oil lamp was flaring in the -draught, a Plymouth rock was roosting on -the piano top, a white Leghorn was regarding -the sofa suspiciously. On the floor sat -Hermie, rubbing a wrathful fowl dry with a -Turkish bath-towel, and presently in staggered -Bartie and Miss Browne, the former with five -fowls by the legs, the latter nervously holding -one at arm's length.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron fell into a convulsion of silent -laughter, so earnest were the children, so -absorbed. And Miss Browne, poor Miss -Browne, how ludicrous she looked with her -scanty hair flying ragged round her shoulders, -her figure clad in an ancient mackintosh, her -mouth frightened, her eyes heroic with the -endeavour not to let go the fowl, which twisted -itself madly to peck at her trembling hand!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I don't know what you are laughing for, -papa,' Hermie said, a trifle offended. 'The -fowl-house leaks dreadfully.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But it has rained half a dozen nights since -we came; you never brought the things in -here before, my child,' he urged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie received Miss Browne's contribution -on her knee, and fell to drying its dejected -feathers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We didn't know before that each of them -was worth two thousand five hundred pounds,' -she said. 'Please, papa, will you hold Bartie's -fowls, so that he can light the fire. We are -going to give them something hot to drink.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="come-home-come-home"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">Come Home! Come Home</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'Oh, that 'twere possible,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>After long grief and pain,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>To find the arms of my true love</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Around me once again!'</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Five years dragged on. Sometimes word -came that the travellers were at last -coming home, and Cameron's heart grew -warm, only to grow cold again, as he realised -he dare not let them come to this. Then, -while the agony of dread still was crushing -him, the next mail would bring the bitter -relief that the time was not yet—the agent -or the music masters or some one else had -found another year was necessary, or the great -career would be spoiled. Not one word all -this time of the selection, else had the 'career' -been in instant danger of the ruin predicted, -the mother would have journeyed at the -greatest possible number of knots an hour -back to them. Her dreamer of dreams -depending on a selection, her children depending -on her dreamer, become his own master!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet surely the man had had his lesson, and -toiled now marvellously, piteously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Five years, and not one idle day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Five years of bewildered struggling with -unknown enemies—drought, hurricanes of wind, -bush fires, devastating rains, a soil that the -farmer born and bred could hardly have made -pay. Never a complaining word. Hermie, -growing to womanhood, broke her heart over -his life at times.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was even a day when she fell down -on her knees at a chair, and covered paper -wildly with a pen that commanded her mother -to come home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron working obstinately on one -frightful day, the thermometer one hundred and -seventeen degrees, had a 'touch of the sun,' -and even after the doctor had left him quieted, -his head in cool cloths, his temperature -falling, he still moaned for his wife, cried to -her like a child, stretched out his arms, raved, -besought her to hold his hand. It was then -that Hermie broke her promise, down on -her knees, just hidden by the bed-curtain, -writing wildly with the pen she had brought -for the doctor to write his prescription.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'By the next boat,' she wrote; 'if you wait -for the one after, it will be wicked of you. -How can you stay like this? Challis, Challis—all -our lives spoiled for her to have a chance! -We have no chance; father's life is worse -than any dog's. Challis—I think I hate Challis! -Going along quietly and happily, are we? -Miss Macintosh taking your place? We are -starving, worse than starving; the food we -have to eat is worse than none at all. He -needs delicate things, ice and invalid dishes, -properly cooked. I have just been to the -safe to look what I could get, and the mutton -has gone bad—it goes bad nearly every day -in summer here; there is no milk, for the -cows have no feed, there is some nasty mouldy -bread and bad butter, and golden syrup with -flies in it, and sugar alive with ants. You! -You and Challis are eating the best things -that can be bought with money. I hate -Challis! The doctor says we are to keep his -head cool with water, and to stand vessels -full of water about the room to cool the air. -The well is nearly dry, the sun has turned the -tank water bad, or else a wombat or a bird -has fallen in, and it is poisonous. Bartie has -gone a mile with the cart to beg some from -the Dalys.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Miss Macintosh taking care of us all so -nicely! We have no one in the world but -Miss Browne. Oh yes, we have told you lies -and lies, but you ought not to have believed -them. You should have come to see for -yourself that he was happy and well. Oh, if -you could hear him crying, just to hold your -hand, he says, and to hear you talk! Ah, -mother, mother, mother, how cruel you are!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the spirit of the man, just learning to -be indomitable, kept him back from long -illness. In four days he was up again, easily -turned sick and faint, but able to lie on the -sofa, and even take an interest in the delicacies -that Hermie set before him. She had ridden -Tramby into Wilgandra herself, gone to the -grocer, and implored him for nice things—calf's -foot jellies, and whitebait, and Canadian -tinned fruit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My sister, Challis Cameron, the pianist -will be back soon. I have written for them -to come, so you will be sure to be paid.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the grocer, a kindly spot in his heart -still for the youngest housekeeper he had ever -taken orders from, made up a big basket of -tinned goods, and said he would wait for -Challis to pay him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hermie,' Cameron said from the sofa on -the fifth day, 'my head is still confused, but -I seem to remember when I was very bad that -you kept telling me mamma was coming. -There has been no letter, has there?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie grew a little pale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, there has been no letter, papa,' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hermie,' he cried, after spending a minute -trying to find the reason for her curiously -averted head, 'you did not write for mamma, -Hermie?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned to him then, her blue young -eyes on fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I did,' she said; 'it is time, more than -time she came. If she does not come soon, -you—we—we shall all be dead!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Child, child!' he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had risen from his sofa and gone to the -window, to look once more with aching eyes -at his wretched lands. If this had been the -green isle in the sea he had dreamed of making -it, he would have sent long ago himself. But -these desolate acres!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Child,' he groaned, 'I couldn't let her come -to this. I am only half a man—half a man. -God left the manliness out of me when He -made me, and gave me womanish ways instead. -And I have never fought them down, as it must -have been meant I should do. But I will -begin again, I will work harder—things must -take a turn, and then I can meet her, and she -will not despise me. Child, God has no more -awful punishment than when He lets those we -love despise us. Send another letter, tell her -not to come yet—not just yet. Let me have -one more chance.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie was sobbing at his side, pulling at -his arm, trying to urge him back to the sofa. -She knew he was not talking to her, knew -he was hardly aware she was there, but her -sensitive spirit, leaping at his troubles with -him, was bowed down with the knowledge and -weight of them. How she loved this man—this -grey-haired, blue-eyed man at her side! -Hardly the love of daughter for father; her -feelings for him had in them something of the -passionate, protecting tenderness of a mother -for a crippled child.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Lie down,' she said, 'there—let me move -these pillows; that is better. She must -come—she should have come long ago. And I -told her to be sure to come by the next boat. -Now lie still; I am going to get your lunch.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The exertion and emotion had tried him -exceedingly. He lay still, still, his face to the -wall; and now his mood brought a tear from -under his eyelid. It was too late! She would -have started! Ah, well, praise God for that! -God who took these things out of our hands. -She was coming—he might give up for a little -time, and lie with his head on her breast; she -who had always forgiven him would forgive -him still and clasp him to her, and call him, -'Dear One.' Then all he would ask would -be the happiness of dying before the world -began again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The happy tears rolled down his cheeks. -Hermie, tip-toeing back with her tray, saw -them, and was filled with dismay. What had -she done by this interference?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Darling,' she said, dropping beside him, -'don't mind, don't mind. The letter is not -posted yet—Bartie was going to take it in -this afternoon. It is not mail day till -to-morrow. We will not send it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not posted! Not posted! She was not -coming—she might not know of his extremity, -his need for her! The chill wind passed over -him and dried his tears, dried his heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Here is the letter,' the poor child cried; -'don't look like that, darling. I would not -vex you for the world. Shall I tear it up?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked at it piteously. Oh, that Bartie -had it, riding with it through the bush, -summoning her, summoning her!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Shall I burn it?' said the poor little girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes,' he said, 'burn it.' His voice was -lifeless, his eyes stared dully at the wall.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="an-atheist"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">An Atheist</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>'Thou hast made them equal unto us, which have borne -the burden and heat of the day.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Hermie put her letter and all hopes of -rescue together into the kitchen fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Life was an endless drab again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She went listlessly out, and stood on the -doorstep to look at it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her father did not want her, he had pushed -his lunch aside, and bidden her, irritably—he -who was so gentle—to leave him to himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bart, poor grave little Bart, a man at fourteen, -was working about the place. Neither he nor -the young ones had gone to school while the -father had been ill. He and Roly had been -all the morning beating monotonously at a -bush fire just across the road. There was -no excitement about it, there seemed little -danger; the fire burned quietly, steadily—it -had been burning for two days—but this -morning it had crept to the fences; the boys -had been obliged to cut boughs and beat at it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roly sat on the fence most of the time, and -sleepily kept back the cunning yellow tongues -from the patch Bart had entrusted to him. -Bart walked up and down, mechanically threshing -out the little licking flames that longed -to curl round the fence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sometimes he left Roly on guard, and went -to do necessary work, feed the two calves, -shed a burning tear over the dying sheep, give -Tramby a few drops of water.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie went down to him wearily, a -sun-bonnet on her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There's no danger about the fire?' She -looked at it a little apathetically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh no; if there were three of us, we could -put it all out. Roly's not much use, of -course.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bart, what are we going to do?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'For water? Oh, Daly's going to let me -have a big cask to-night. You've got half -a bucketful still, haven't you? I didn't want -to take Tramby out till it was cooler. Reminds -me, I must mend the cart—that old shaft's -smashed again.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And when that cask's gone?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, I'll go and get some from old Perry. -His well's not half dry, and there's only -himself. But don't you go and be wasteful, -Herm—no washing clothes and that sort of -waste.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I want a bath—I want to turn on a tap, -and not have to use just a dipper or two. -All Challis has to do is turn on a -tap.' Hermie spoke with a strange bitterness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bart smiled good-humouredly. 'Yes, she's -a lucky little beggar,' he said. 'My word, -if I could have the bath-water she wastes, -I'd make this poor old place look up a bit.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked round on the desolate acres, -looked at them with yearning affection. He -was a quiet-natured boy; he did not call -himself unhappy; he would have felt he had -nothing left to ask for, had he but a plentiful -water supply for the stock and crops, and -better tools to work with, and a little more -strength in that young arm of his. Like -his mother, he had the knack of doing the -thing at hand with all his power, and already -he was a far more proficient farmer than his -father would ever be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What are you going to do now?' the girl -asked, as he hurried away. 'I'll come with -you if you like.' Such a hot, patient young -face his was, it smote her that she seldom -heeded him. He looked pleased at her faint -show of interest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He showed her the corn, coming up bravely, -the wheat patch, not drooping quite as much -as it might have done. He pointed to the -trees in the little orchard. 'In another month -or two those apricots and peaches will be -about ripe,' he said; 'make a nice change, -won't they?' His eyes dwelt lovingly on the -green small fruit. 'When the drought -breaks——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Pshaw!' said the girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh,' the lad said cheerfully, 'it will, one -of these days; then we'll go along grand.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had caught the spirit of patience, of -acceptance of ills, from the settlers about.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But the sheep, nothing will give them life -again!' The girl's eyes burned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boy had no fortitude against this; he -gave a sudden wet glance towards the far end -of the selection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Let's go and see how they're getting on,' -he said in a low tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl rebelled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No—why?' she said. 'It only makes us -miserable, and we can't help.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'All right, you go back,' Bart said. 'I'll -have to go. I might have to light another -fire.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie followed him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sheep crept away from the house to -die, once they found no water was to be had -there. They chose to lie down and cease to -be at the spot where once had been a dam. -Patches of ashes showed where Bart had piled -wood over the poor carcases and burnt them -up, in his wise young knowledge that the air -must be kept pure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>None were dead to-day, though fifty seemed -dying. Half a dozen brown ragged little lambs -filled the air with piteous outcry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie's heart swelled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Can't you do anything?' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No,' he said, 'they'll have to go. I've had -to give them up, dear. If I can get water for -the house for the next week, I'll be glad. Daly -is running very short himself.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were footsteps in the bush just near, -a panting of breath, a curious dragging sound.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Floss,' said Hermie, and remembered for -the first time she had not seen her little sister -for hours. 'Where can she have been?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The child was dragging a bucket. Her face -was almost purple with the heat; she had kept -her eyes half closed, to shut out the almost -unendurable glare, and did not know she was -so close to home till she stumbled almost into -Bart's arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When she saw Hermie there too, she clung -to the handle jealously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It's not for the house,' she said, 'so don't -you think it. Let it alone, Bart! Bart, if -you take it, I'll scratch.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Such a fierce little face it was!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'm only going to carry it for you, Chucks,' -Bart said. 'You shall do what you like -with it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'True'n honour?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'True and honour.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little girl relinquished her hold, but kept -a guarding eye on the precious fluid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Where did you get it, old girl?' Bart said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Don't tell father?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why ever not?' said Hermie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Floss turned on her vehemently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I took it,' she said. 'Don't care, I'm glad. -They've got a whole cask, the greedies, and -lots of money, so they can get as much as -they like. They get casks from the Bore, and -they're sent down in the train, and they've -got a cart to fetch it. They drink it all -themselves—pigs! They don't care about the -sheep.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not the Scotts, Floss—you've not been -stealing the poor Scotts' water?' cried Hermie, -aghast. The Scotts lived in a miserable hut on -the adjoining selection, and were the nearest -neighbours.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Flossie's eyes blazed indignantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Them!' she said. 'They've got less than -us! I got it from those mean measuring men.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie looked puzzled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She must mean that camp of surveyors -down the road,' Bart said. 'It's a mile away -at least. Why, you poor old Flossie, have -you been right down to that camp for this -little drop of water?' He put his disengaged -arm over her bony little shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Floss caught her breath, and looked -unhappily into the half-full bucket.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The first one was fuller,' she said, 'but -the s-sheep nearly knocked me down to g-get -it, and they s-s-spilled it on the g-ground.' Her -voice shook with sorrow for the waste.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Twice,' muttered Bart, 'she's been twice, Hermie.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were back among the sheep now, and -Bart hardly knew what to do with such a -drop among so many.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'This one,' said Floss; 'look at its poor -eyes—and that one lying down, and the little -lambs, Bartie.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bart put the bucket to the noses of the -ones she touched, but had to drag it away -before the poor things had half what they -wanted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A piteous bleat went up from the others.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I—I think I'll just get one more,' Floss -said, and almost staggered to the bucket. 'It's -quite easy to steal it now; the camp's left -all by itself. Oh, I must get one more—look -at that one's eyes.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Bart picked her up in his arms, and -started back to the house with her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You'll just come and lie down quietly,' he -said. 'I never saw anything like your face. -You'll be ill like father. Poor little -Floss! poor little old Floss!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There—there would have been half a bucket -more,' said Floss, 'only I nearly fell once, -and it s-s-spilled.' She was sobbing on his -shoulder, sobbing heart-brokenly, hard little -Floss who never cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie took the child from her brother at -the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'll undress her and sponge her,' she said; -'that will cool her a little, but I quite expect -she will be ill like father. Well, it is all -Challis's fault.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In an hour Floss lay asleep, the fierce heat -of her cheeks a little faded, and Hermie's -hands were idle again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Browne was helping Lizzie to fold -the poor rags of clothes from the wash; the -father still begged to be left alone; outside -Bart and Roly still threshed monotonously -at the fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie went into the tiny bedroom that -had been run up for her because the house -was too small—the bedroom that the mother -had been so pleased to hear was built. She -found herself looking in the glass at herself, -looking sadly, listlessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She saw a girl, thin, undeveloped, with a -delicately cut face, and shadows lying like -ink-smears beneath her eyes. Her womanhood -was coming, and she had no strength to meet -it; at her age she should have had rounded -limbs and pleasing curves. She seemed to -recognise this, as she gazed unhappily at her -angles. Her hair pleased her, for the sun -was making a glory of it; there was a nameless -beauty about her face that she recognised -vaguely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I shall never marry,' she sobbed. 'No one -ever comes here but that heavy, stupid Morty. -I shall be like Miss Browne in a few more -years. I'm getting untidy now—no one can -be tidy in clothes like these; I never care -how I do my hair—what is the use, when there -is no one to see it? I've not been to a party -or a proper picnic, like the girls in the book, -in all my life. I shouldn't know what to do, -if I did go to one. No; I shall grow just -like Miss Browne, and it is all Challis's -fault.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A portrait of the sweet-faced girl-player -hung on the wall. Hermie tore it down from -its place and broke it into fragments.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'm just tired to death of seeing you smile!' -she muttered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Browne came in—Miss Browne, with -perspiration on her face and a strand or two -of her colourless hair loose. She carried an -armful of Hermie's clothes from the wash. -'They are a very bad colour,' she said, 'but -we cannot blame Lizzie, when there was next -to no water. My dear, what is the matter?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie did not even wipe the tears from -her face; she was sitting still, her hands on -her knees, and letting the salt drops trickle -drearily down her cheeks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Browne took a step towards her, then -paused timidly. There had never been much -intimacy or confidence between them. Hermie, -with her innate love of daintiness and beauty -and the hardness of youth, despised while she -pitied the poor woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Is it—anything I can help—your -father—Floss—you are anxious—worried?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh no,' said Hermie, 'I wasn't thinking -of any one but myself.' She leaned her head -back, and had a sense of pleasure in her rolling -tears. 'I suppose I'm not much more -miserable than usual; but then I expect you are -miserable—every one is, I think.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But not in the middle of the day, love,' -the lady-help said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why not?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh'—vaguely—'there isn't time, as a rule. -One is so busy. It is a different thing when -you go to bed.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What do you do then,' said Hermie, 'when -you are miserable in bed?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Browne thought a second. 'I think -I say my prayers,' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And if that does not cure you?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I say them again.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And if you are still miserable?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I—I think I go to sleep then; one is -generally tired.' She spoke apologetically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie leaned her head still farther back. -'Saying prayers would not help me much,' she -said. 'I am an atheist.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What?' screamed Miss Browne.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'An atheist,' said Hermie. 'It is very -comfortable to be one. You have only to -think about eating and sleeping. Oh dear!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She arose languidly and administered water -to Miss Browne, who was gasping alarmingly. -'This room is hot,' she said. 'Go and lie -down in your own. You shouldn't have made -me talk, if you didn't want to hear things. -Mind that bit of loose wood at the door.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Browne, thus dismissed, went away -like a chidden child, but her eyes were full -of terror, and her very knees trembled. She -groped her way to the sitting-room and poured -out the frightful story into Mr. Cameron's ears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He made his own way presently to the hot, -cramped bedroom. Hermie had let her hair -down, and was sitting on the edge of the bed -surveying her poor little prettinesses tragically -in the looking-glass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her father sat down on the bed beside her, -and disclaimed fatigue and headache and -everything else she urged upon him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What is this Miss Browne tells me, little -one?' he said, and almost indulgently, so -young, slight, and absurd she looked, to be -questioning eternity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie twisted her wavy hair up into a -hard plain knot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I only said I was an atheist,' she said, -and her young lips quivered and her eyes -grew wild.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He put his arm round her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How long have you been feeling like this, -childie?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She burst into a passion of frightened tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Since yesterday morning,' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Tell me about it,' he whispered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She swallowed a few sobs. 'I'm tired of -saying prayers, nothing gets better—nothing -comes. It—it's easy enough to believe in -God, if you live in Sydney and have water -laid on—and cool days and money and a -mother. But out here—oh, He can't expect -us to believe in Him!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I think a few of us do,' he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Us!' she repeated. 'You don't believe -anything, do you, father? I've never heard -you say a word. I have thought for long -enough you were an atheist too.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took his arm away and moved to the -little window; it was almost ten minutes -before he turned round and came back -to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Child,' he said, 'sometimes I think my -mistakes are too many for me. I have nothing -to say to you. I dare not even say, Forgive -me. Poor little child, to have come to such -rocks! I should have helped you long ago. -Only, you see, I had got in the habit of -leaving these things to mother.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mother did not often go to church,' said -Hermie discontentedly. 'I don't remember -her talking religion much.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She breathed it instead,' he said; 'she is -the best woman in the world, never forget -that, Hermie. When we were first married -I was full of the young university man's -talk—brain at war with established doctrines. -She never came over weakly to me, as some -women might have done, she never kept -spotlessly aloof, indeed, she conceded me freely -many of my points. But she managed to -make it plain to me that all these questions -mattered very little—Christ, and prayer, and -love, and doing our best—those were her -rocks, and waves of dogma washing for ever -on them could not move them.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Did she ever read any of those books of -yours—those on the top shelf?' whispered -Hermie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah,' said Cameron, 'you have been -reading those, have you? Oh yes, she was -never afraid to read anything that was written, -but she distinguished between faith and creed. -She said she did not try to explain or -understand God, only to believe in Him. She is -quite right. It is the hard names, the popular -orthodoxies, the iron creeds, that take the -soul and heart and warmth out of religion. -When you were little, she did nothing more -than show you God as your Father, and Christ -as your Saviour, to be tenderly loved and -obeyed, and gone to for refuge and comfort.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No,' said Hermie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No; it was her way. She wanted the love -of God to be a living thing to you all—a -glad, warm, spontaneous thing, like the love -you bore us, only deeper. She would have -no lines and rules and analyses of it while -you were small. It was not a thing she -actually spoke about very often, but white -hours, find room for themselves at times—on -plain Mondays and Saturdays as often as -on quiet Sundays, and she had a way of -making the influence of them run, clear, fresh, -pleasant streams through the mud-flats of life. -Can you realise in any degree what it is to -me to find her daughter with such thoughts, -Hermie?' His voice was very low. Hermie -pulled the pin from the plain tight knob, and -let all her hair hide her flushed face again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'If—if only I had known you thought like -this!' she muttered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes,' he said; 'it is a thing I shall never -be able to put away from my mind again, -that I did not let you know. A man gets -in the way of keeping quiet things like these -to himself, but I should not have forgotten -I had children. I knew Miss Browne was -a good woman, whatever her faults, and I -felt that I might leave you to her. Don't -think I am excusing myself.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It was not your fault, darling, darling,' -Hermie said, and clung to him; 'but think -how miserable we are—all of us, even poor -little Floss! How can He forget us like this?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron's blue eyes looked out at the blue sky.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not to understand, only to believe. He -does not lead us always through green pastures. -The severe and daily discipline makes us -shrink, no doubt. But we have to go on.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, darling, I do love you, I do love you!' -wept the girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Tie up your hair, childie, and we will -go down and sit among the roses, if any are -still alive. I am quite strong enough to walk.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He opened the door, and they went out -together, and neither looked at the sky. But -here had gathered a brave cloud host, and -there another contingent came, determined, -black-browed, strenuously fighting the -long-victorious sun, desperately clinging together. -And over the fainting earth flashed its lights, -and through the heavens tore the sudden -thunder of its guns.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the battle was to it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Down came the sweet torrents of the rain, -and the cracked, piteous earth lay breathlessly -glad and still beneath it. You heard the -calves call to their mothers, the surprised -whinny of the horses seeking shelter. You -saw the sheep struggling to their feet and -lapping the wet grass with swollen tongues.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You heard the birds making all sorts of new -little cries and noises, as they flew wildly for -shelter—birds many of them that had been -born and grown to make nests for themselves, -and never known the strange phenomenon -of rain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You heard the hisses and splutters of the -bush fires, as the evil spirit went out of them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You saw a lad come up from them, his -beating bough still in his hand, the lines of -his young grave face all broken up, and the -glad tears bursting out, to meet the deluge of -rain that beat in his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You saw a small girl rushing out half dressed -and heedless of the torrent, for the exquisite -pleasure of seeing the sheep drink.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You saw a woman with thin, blown hair and -a drab complexion saying her prayers in her -bedroom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Down where the roses were just recalled to -life, Hermie was clinging to her father, both -wet through with the sweet blinding rain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, you didn't believe me, did you?' she -cried. 'As if I could—as if I could! It was -just that the dust had got into my heart and -choked me. Oh, darling, I never really meant -that dreadful thing! Dearest, you don't think -I meant it, do you?' Her tears were gushing -out in streams.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I never believed it for one moment,' he -said, and kissed her, and led her back to the -house.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="mortimer-stevenson"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">Mortimer Stevenson</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He was a man, take him for all and all.'</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Morty came up to the selection the -next Sunday—Mortimer Stevenson.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Glad to see you, Morty,' Cameron said. -'What's the news of the war? It is a week -since we have seen the paper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mortimer fastened his horses' reins to the -verandah-post, then drew half a dozen papers -out of his saddle-bag—a daily or two, a couple -of weeklies, one or two English special war -numbers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'd rather you read for yourself,' he said, -handing them to the older man; 'it's not -pretty enough to talk about much. Those -Boers take a lot of beating. Of course, it -will be all right as soon as Lord Roberts -takes charge.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The crisp papers were in Cameron's hands; -a few yards away an old canvas chair stretched -itself out invitingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hermie, my dear—Miss Browne—here is -Mr. Stevenson,' he called down the passage -of the little house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Don't mind me, I'll just sit down here -and have a smoke while you read,' Stevenson -said; 'don't disturb any one, perhaps they -are busy.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sat down on the verandah step, and -began to fill his pipe, and Cameron, relieved, -opened his papers, and was in the Transvaal -for the rest of the afternoon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To look at, Stevenson was a typical young -bushman. He had added inches to his stature -so rapidly, and breadth to his shoulders, that -he was ill at ease anywhere but in the saddle. -His complexion was burnt to a deep copper. -Grey, good eyes looked squarely at you.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Used to cities, you would not like his dress. -A serviceable tweed suit, country-cut, one of the -brilliant ties, which, so the storekeepers persuade -the bush, are worn in Sydney, a soft brown -hat with its dangling, string-coloured fly-veil.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His father was a vigorous old man of -seventy; his type occurs again and again -on the out back stations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had gathered great wealth during all -those laborious years, and he spent it, if not -frugally, at least with full respect for its difficult -garnering. He had been a member of the -Upper House, and his wife, during her -lifetime, had much enjoyed the dignity of seeing -his letters addressed, 'The Hon. Matthew -Stevenson, M.L.C.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had had but a rudimentary education, -yet his plain common-sense and clear intellect -had made the loss only a slight one to him. -To his sons—six of them he had—he offered -education, or at all events its equivalent—the -money for it—liberally, and three of them had -taken advantage of it, and gone finally into -various professions in Sydney.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The others—the duller three—had assimilated -just as much of the tonic waters as does -the ordinary youth of eighteen; then they shook -the dust of Sydney off their feet, and returned -thankfully to the station where their hearts had -always been. Mortimer was youngest of this -latter three, and the only one now unmarried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bart came down the passage, and his eyes -brightened at the sight of the figure smoking -on the verandah step.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hallo!' he said, 'just the fellow I wanted. -Look here, Daly gave me a whole lot of new -seed—Sheep Burnett I think he called it. -Will it hurt to sow it on that place where -the sorghum was?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, any place will do, old chap; but you -needn't waste your best ground; it's great -stuff, you know—it would grow in the Sahara. -Just sow it along with your grass or clover -seeds.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It comes up quickly, doesn't it?' Bart said -anxiously. 'Do you think it would make all -down there look smooth and green and nice -in a month?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mortimer laughed. 'Are you taking to -landscape gardening, Bart?' he said. 'I -never knew before you had an eye for effect.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bart sat down on the step. 'It's no joking -matter, Morty,' he said. 'My mother and -Challis will be home in a month; we've got -to make the place look up a bit before they -come. The governor's been making bonfires -of all the rubbish since breakfast—it does -look tidier, doesn't it?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mortimer looked round. 'It's not the same -place,' he said heartily, and added for -encouragement, 'And after all, perhaps they -won't come, old fellow; you know you've -had a lot of false alarms.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, but this time it's certain,' Bart said, -and not without unhappiness; 'they've actually -started by this.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Floss came clattering out in her rough boots. -She sat down on the other side of the family -friend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I knewed it was you when I heard Pup -bark,' she said; 'you came last Sunday, too, -and the Sunday before that.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Did I, Flossie?' he said. 'That sounds -as if it were a Sunday too many.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh no, no one minds you,' she answered; -'if it were your father, now, or the Revering -Mr. Smith, it might be a nuisance; we'd have -to put a clean tablecloth on for them.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And that sounds as if I am going to be -asked to stay to tea, Floss?' Mortimer said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Of course you are,' was Flossie's reply. -'Miss Browne says it's the least we can do, -considering all the papers and things you give -us. Only she says she doesn't know how she's -going to make the butter spin out. We don't -get it from the store again till Thursday.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There, hold your tongue, Floss,' said Bart, -'you'll make Morty afraid to take any.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh no, he needn't be,' Floss said. 'Me -and Roly's going to say we don't like it under -our jam.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roly came stealthily from behind some trees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Where is she?' he whispered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It's all right,' Floss said; 'she's got to -change her dress, and her hair was pretty -awful, so she'll have to do it again.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus reassured, Roly ventured to the step, -and took up a position at Mortimer's shoulder. -He was attired in an orange and blue-striped -football jersey, and the most respectable pair -of knickerbockers he possessed. Mortimer -had given him the jersey on his last birthday, -and it was the boy's dearest possession.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why,' said Mortimer, 'what have you -been after? Is Miss Browne laying wait for -you for stealing her jam?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh no,' said Roly. 'It's only this,' and -he pointed to his jersey; 'she doesn't think -it's religious to wear football things on Sunday.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well,' said Floss, in the virtuous tone a -clean pinafore made justifiable, 'I don't think -it is, either. Look at me. I learnt a collect -this morning.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A what?' said Roly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A collect,' said Floss. 'Collect for the -thirteenth Sunday after Trinity. Hermie -wasn't sure if this was the right Sunday, only -it was a nice short one to begin with.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Does Miss Hermie teach you your -collects?' asked Mortimer, his head turned -away a little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She wants to,' said Floss, 'but I don't -know if she'll always be able to find me. She -was looking for Roly, too, this morning, only -he was playing Boers somewhere, so he got off.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Wasn't playing Boers,' said Roly. 'I was -putting a new name on our gate.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What a story you are!' cried Floss. 'I -saw you creeping along with father's guns.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Wasn't!' said Roly. 'Hadn't I got this -jersey on?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That's nothing; you sleep in it—truly he -does, Morty. As soon as Hermie or Miss -Browne go out of the room, he puts on the -jersey over his pyjamas. Why he hates school -is 'cause he can't go in it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What name were you writing on the gate, -old fellow?' asked Mortimer, to save the -situation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Transvaal Vale,' said Roly; 'come on down -and see—it looks great. I rubbed Hermie's -silly name off.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Mortimer did not move. Dunks' -Selection the place had always been, and always -would be called; but Hermie in piteous -rebellion had written years ago in violet ink -on the sliprails, The Rosery. Mortimer -would not go and look at the poor little name -defaced.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Browne came out, Miss Browne with -her face shiny with recent washing, her hair -almost tidy, the better of her two colourless -gowns on her back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Very glad indeed to see you—very sorry -to keep you waiting so long—hope you, your -father is quite well—Bart, my dear, a chair—what -are you thinking of, to let Mr. Stevenson -sit on the step?—very sad about the -war—Flossie, don't tease Mr. Stevenson, my -dear—quite a cool day—providential thing the -drought has broken—hope you will stay to tea.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These and sundry other remarks she delivered -breathlessly, and at the end put her -hand to her side and gasped gently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I shall be most pleased to stay, Miss Browne, -if it will be putting you to no inconvenience,' -Mortimer said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Most pleased—most happy—an honour—who -is so kind, so thoughtful—those English -magazines—and she had never thanked him -yet, and those delicious chocolates—too good -of him; most glad if he would stay—uncomfortable -house—unavoidable—bush, no -comfort—he would understand——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He knows he's not to take more than two -helpings of butter,' said Bart, with a twinkle -in his eye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bart, my dear—oh, my love—your mother—what -would she say?—Mr. Stevenson—what -can he think?—my dear—oh, my love,' and -the poor lady withdrew in hot haste, to hide -the embarrassment Bart had plunged her into, -and to laboriously prepare tea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I see your father's come down generously,' -said Mr. Cameron, glancing up a moment from -his papers. 'Matthew Stevenson—that is your -father, of course—five thousand pounds, and -more if wanted, to the fund for the Bushmen's -Contingent.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, that's the governor,' Mortimer said. -'He's red-hot on the war. I believe if he were -five years younger, wild horses wouldn't keep -him back from volunteering himself. You -must come up to Coolooli and have a chat -with him over it, Mr. Cameron.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Cameron was deep again in the war -correspondent's letter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bart went off to feed the calves—Roly -had vanished at the sound of Miss Browne's -footstep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Did you know our mother and Challis was -coming home, Morty?' said Floss.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bart just told me—yes, that will be very -nice for you, Flossie. All will be well, now, -won't it?' said Mortimer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, you're like the rest, are you?' Floss -said. 'Every one going to live happy ever -after, eh? No, thank you, not me; I'm -always going to hate them. They don't get -over me. No, thank you. I know them—bring -me a doll, won't they? and "There you -are, Flossie darling, sweetest, come and kiss -us." Not me. See my finger wet, see it dry, -cut my throat sure's ever I die, if I have -anything to do with them. Stuck-ups, that's -what they are!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mortimer gazed on the child, a little -uncomfortable horror mixed with his amusement; -his bringing-up had been orthodox, and -reverence for parents was entwined with all his -life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, girlie,' he said, 'this is shocking! -Your own mother!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Challis's mother,' corrected Floss. 'Didn't -she go off and leave me? Lot she cared! I -was only two, Lizzie says, and I might have -picked up anything, and eaten it and died. -Even Mrs. Bickle minds her baby, although -she does get drunk at times. S'pose I'd had -measles? or Roly? We'd have died, or at -least got dropsy, Lizzie says, having no mother -to nurse us. No, thank you—no getting -round me with a doll. As for that Challis, -I'll give her a time of it—just you see.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But—but—but,' cried Mortimer, greatly at -a loss, 'your mother is as fond of you as -anything, of course. I expect it is very hard -for her to go so long without seeing you. -She doesn't do it on purpose, old woman. -You see, Challis was so clever they had to -give her a chance.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How do they know I'm not clever?' -demanded Floss. 'I believe I am. You should -have seen the man I drew on my slate this -morning. Or how do they know I couldn't -play before the Queen? I'm up to "What -are the Wild Waves Saying?" and it's got -two flats.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mortimer had no answer for this; he could -only gaze at her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext" id="id2"><span>There was another step in the doorway, and -Hermie came out, a very slender-looking -Hermie in the let-down white frock that had -made a woman of her in a day. Floss leaned -back and giggled as her sister shook hands -with the visitor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He! he! he! She's put her long dress -on,' she said. 'Morty, look! it's as long as -Miss Browne's. You'd think she never had -short ones, wouldn't you? She's 'tending she's -growed up.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Flossie,' said Mortimer, 'wouldn't you like -to look at my watch? you haven't seen the -works for a long time.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Me holding it then,' stipulated Flossie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'All right,' said Mortimer, and gave up -his valuable timekeeper into the bony little -outstretched hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You spoil that child shockingly,' Hermie said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Floss looked up from the entrancing little -wheels.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He spoils you worser,' she said. 'Look -at the books and flowers and chocolates he -brings over and gives you, no matter how -bad-tempered you may be.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie looked vaguely disturbed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Spoil me—do you spoil me? Surely I'm -too big,' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man's heart leapt to his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Wish I'd the chance,' he muttered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What did you say?' said Hermie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nothing,' said Mortimer, and began to -smoke furiously again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Morty,' said Floss, 'Morty, how many -times does the littlest wheel turn while the -big wheel turns once?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thirteen,' Mortimer said recklessly.—'I -hear your mother is coming home, Miss -Cameron?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes,' sighed Hermie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'This is surely very good news?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie gave a troubled glance around.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Y-yes,' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, what a story you are, Morty!' said -Floss. 'It doesn't turn thirteen times.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I mean thirty,' said Morty. 'Miss -Cameron, I have three men loafing around at -the sheds, and can't find work for them to do. -It would be doing me a real kindness if you'd -let them put in their time straightening up -this place.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thank you,' Hermie said, 'but we should -not like to employ men we were not paying.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not when they're eating their heads off in -idleness?' implored Morty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, thank you,' Hermie said stiffly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I beg your pardon,' Mortimer said dejectedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I should think you do,' cried Floss; 'it -doesn't turn anything like thirty times. I -wouldn't have a watch I didn't understand. -Here, take it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He pocketed it humbly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'd like to see the ground Bart spoke of -sowing Burnett on,' he said, plunging away -from his mistake. 'Will you walk down with -me, Miss Cameron? It is quite cool and -pleasant now.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie rose to her feet, then remembered -her shabby little shoes that she had all this -time been successfully hiding beneath her long -dress.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh,' she said, 'it's too far. Floss will go -with you, won't you, Floss? I will go in and -help Miss Browne with tea.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="i-love-you"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER X</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">'I Love You'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'The bird of life is singing on the bough</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>His two eternal notes of "I and Thou."'</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was after tea, and the long shadows of -the dusk had fallen so gently, so tenderly, -that even Dunks' selection had a beauty of its -own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mortimer sat on the verandah and talked -war to Mr. Cameron till his very soul loathed -the Transvaal. Then he was captured by -Bart, and forced into the dining-room to -explain something in the </span><em class="italics">Town and Country -Journal</em><span>, and give his opinion on the merits -of Johnson's Grass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And when he went outside again, Roly and -Floss hung upon his arms and begged and -begged him to 'come with us a bit.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At eight o'clock he broke away from them, -and stumbled through the dark passage to the -kitchen regions to seek Miss Browne.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But here only an oil-lamp flickered in the -breeze; even Lizzie was away from her post, -having gone before tea to walk to Wilgandra, -in the urgent need of a little pleasant human -intercourse, ere she began another grey week.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a door open near by, and glancing -in Morty saw Miss Browne, seated at her cleared -dressing-table so busily writing and so -surrounded by little papers and letters he came -to a vague conclusion that she was 'literary.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Miss Browne,' he called imploringly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laid down her pen and hastened to the -door to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He seized both her hands, he pressed them, -he wrung them as he stood, labouring with -his excitement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Miss Browne,' he said, 'will you help me? -You must help—oh, do not refuse—she has -gone down the garden alone—I think she is -leaning on the gate. I must go to her. I -must go to her. Will you keep them back—all -the others—could you get them in a room -and turn the key—how can I tell her if they -follow me like this?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Tell her—who—what—why?' said the -astonished Miss Browne.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I love her,' said the man; 'I love her with -all my soul—I must tell her; you will help me?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His face looked quite white; there was a -moisture on his forehead, his eager voice -shook.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Browne was crying; she had taken one -of his big hands and was stroking it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, my dear, my dear!' she said. 'How -beautiful, how very beautiful! Oh, my love, -how sweet—oh, how sweet, my love!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You will help?' he said. 'You will keep -those little beggars away?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Leave it to me,' she said; 'you go to -her, down in the garden, and the dusk is -here, and the moon beginning to rise! How -sweet, how beautiful! And she has on a white -dress! Don't trouble about anything, my -love—just go out to her.' The happy tears -were gushing from her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What a good sort you are!' he said, and -wrung her hand, and patted her shoulder, then -went plunging out into the sweet darkness to -tell his love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He found her where the wattles grew -thickest, leaning on the fence, her flower-face -turned to the young rising moon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How did you know I was here?' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I knew,' he answered, and a long silence -fell. 'What are you thinking of?' he -whispered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I don't—know,' she said, and a strange -little sob shook in her throat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His arm sprang round her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh,' he said, 'I love you—I do love you! -Dearest, dearest, I love you! Do love me, -darling—I love you, I love you so!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie was trembling like the little leaves -around them—too surprised, too stricken with -the newness of the situation even to slip out -of his arms. The pleased young moon smiled -down at them, the leaves whispered the news -all along the bush, an exquisite perfume of -flowers and trees and freshening grass rose -up to them. How sweet something was—the -clasp about her waist, the kisses that had -rained upon her cheeks, the eager, beautiful -words that still were beating in her ears!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, I don't understand, I don't understand,' -said the excited girl, and burst into strange -tears, and tried to move from his arms, and -put a startled hand to her cheeks, to feel what -difference those kisses had made.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Did I frighten you—did I frighten you, -my darling, my little girl?' he said. 'See -there, don't tremble, I will take my arm away. -It is too big and rough, isn't it? There, -there, I won't even kiss you; let me hold -your hand, there. You have only to understand -that I love you, that I have always loved -you—ever since you were a tiny thing of -twelve, and I used to ride this way just for -the pleasure of watching you. You were like -no other child here, so slender and sweet and -white and pink, and all that shining hair -hanging round you. I think I wanted you -always. I wanted to pick you up and put -you on the saddle in front of me and ride -away with you—away and away right out of -the world. You will let me, darling? You -will try to love me a little? You will be -my own little wife?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Wife! One of the Daly girls had just been -married to a boundary rider near. Hermie -had seen the lonely place where they were -to live together with no one else to break -the monotony.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Wife! All those dull, uninteresting women -who came to call in Wilgandra were wives, all -those dull, horrid men in Wilgandra were -their husbands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Be married; she, Hermie Cameron, like the -girls in Miss Browne's books! Perhaps it -might not be so very bad—they all seemed to -look forward to it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But to Mortimer Stevenson! Oh no, none -of them ever married any one like that, the -men there were all officers, penniless young -artists and authors, or at least earls. Most -of them had proud black eyes and cynical -smiles, and spoke darkly of their youth. Or -else they were debonair young men with -laughing blue eyes and Saxon curly hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mortimer! She had actually forgotten it -was only Mortimer speaking all this time, -Mortimer Stevenson, who wore red and blue -painful ties, and grew red if she spoke to him, -and knocked chairs over in his clumsiness, and -had never been anywhere farther than Sydney, -and thought Wilgandra and his father's station -the nicest places in the world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A cloud came over the happy moon, the -leaves hung sad and still; from somewhere -far away came the piteous wail of the curlew.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie freed her hand and found her voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'This is really ridiculous,' she said petulantly. -'I suppose you are in fun.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'In fun!' he echoed dully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, you can't really be serious. Think -what a fearfully long time we have known -each other! I'd as soon think of being married -to Bart, or Bill Daly.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He winced at Daly—big, coarse, uneducated -bushman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'If I waited a long time, couldn't you grow -to love me?' he said. 'I could stop doing -anything you don't like; I—I would go -through the University like James and Walter -did, if you liked.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The exceeding pain in his voice touched the -girl's awakening heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Forgive me, Morty,' she said, 'it must -seem very horrid of me. I didn't understand -myself at first——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Perhaps—perhaps——' he began hopefully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, I am sure, quite, quite sure I could -never love you,' she said decidedly. 'I shall -never marry, I have quite made up my mind. -There is no one I could ever care for enough.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Have you anything particularly against -me?' persisted Mortimer. 'I'd alter -anything; you don't know how I would try.' His -voice choked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She could not instance his ties, his clumsy -length of limb, his habit of furious blushing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You make it very hard for me,' she said. -'I—I wish you would go home; I want to -go to bed.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Forgive me,' he said humbly. 'Forgive -me; you have been very good and patient -with me. I will go at once.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie looked for him to move. He took -a step away from her—a step back—a step -away. The sad moon came out and showed -her his blurred miserable eyes, his working -mouth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, I am sorry—sorry!' she cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'May I kiss you—just once?' he whispered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stood still, her head drooped down, till -he lifted it, very gently, very tenderly, and -bent his head and put his quivering lips on hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her hand went gently round his neck a minute.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Poor Morty, dear Morty!' she said. Her -breath came warm on his cheek one second, -and a feather kiss, a sweet little sorry kiss that -made his heart like bursting, was laid there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next second she had slipped away into -the darkness, and he was stumbling to find his -horse and carry his misery as far as he might.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie went a circuitous route round the -back of the cottage, so anxious was she to -reach her bedroom without having her hot -cheeks challenged by the sharp eyes of Floss -or Roly. And there on the back verandah, -where they never went, the two little figures -were sitting, one at either end with their backs -against a post.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It's time you were in bed,' were the natural -words that sprang to her lips, when she found -she might not elude them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two laughs bubbled up. 'We're not going -to bed for hours,' they said; 'we're having a -'speriment.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A what?' said Hermie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'See this,' said Floss, standing up, 'we're -both tied to the posts with the clothes-line. -Such larks! Brownie said she wanted to try -a 'speriment on us, and see if we could sit still -for two hours. If we do, she's going to give -me her little gold brooch, and Roly the green -heart out of her work-box.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We can swop them at school for usefuller -things,' interpolated Roly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The best is,' giggled Floss, 'we like sitting -still, we'd been running about all day. And -she forgot to tell us not to speak to each -other, and she didn't put us too far to -play knuckle-bones. I've wonned Roly three -times.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Hermie had gone in, an impatient doubt -as to Miss Browne's sanity crossing her mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She found Bart climbing out of the -dining-room window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Did you go doing that?' he demanded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What?' said Hermie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Lock the door while I was reading.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Of course I didn't,' Hermie said impatiently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It's that young beggar Roly,' Bart said; -'I'll have to take it out of him for this. He'd -even jammed the window, and I'd no end or -work to get it open. I want to go and help -father.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Where is he?' Hermie said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He's washing the paint-brushes in the -cowshed,' said Bart. 'Isn't it lucky? Morty -says there are about three dozen tins of red -paint at his place, no earthly good to any one, -and he's going to send them down in the -morning, and dad and I are going to give all -the place a coat of paint before mother comes.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie went to her bedroom, shut the door, -and sat down by the window, glad of the -sheltering darkness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But two or three feet away, at the next -window, sat Miss Browne, also in the dark, -Miss Browne, now crying happily into her wet -handkerchief, now looking at the moon and -whispering, 'Love, love, how beautiful, how -beautiful!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sound of footsteps, however, in the -adjoining room brought her swiftly outside -Hermie's window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hermie!' she cried in a breathless tone -at the sight of the girl sitting there in her -white dress. 'That cannot be you?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, it is,' said Hermie; 'why shouldn't -it be?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, my love, my love! It is hardly half -an hour. I thought two hours, at the least. -My dear, my love, no one disturbed you? -Oh, my love, don't tell me Roly and Floss got -loose?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I don't know what you mean,' Hermie -said shortly, 'but I can't help thinking it is -rather ridiculous to keep those children sitting -there. They ought to be in bed. I am going -to bed.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'To bed—my love—my dear!' gasped -Miss Browne. 'Where is he?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Where is who?' asked Hermie impatiently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'M-M-Mr. M-Mortimer Stevenson,' said -Miss Browne in a whisper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie had her secret to hide.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What should I know about Mr. Stevenson?' -she said coldly. 'I presume he has gone home.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gone home! All could not have gone well -and happily in half an hour! Miss Browne -grew quite pale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Such a sweet half-hour it had been for her! -For twenty minutes of it she had thought of -nothing but the white light of love that was -going to flood Hermie's life. But during the -last ten minutes there had come to her a -thought of the material advantages that would -accrue to the girl—Stevenson would have four -or five thousand a year at his father's death. -It had been very sweet to sit and think of dear -little flower-faced Hermie lifted for ever above -the sordid cares of wretched housekeeping.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My love—my dear,' she faltered, 'I—I am -old enough to be your mother. Could you -trust me—won't you——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Hermie, with the blind young eyes of -a girl, saw nothing outside her window but -tiresome Miss Browne, crying a little into her -handkerchief (she often cried), stammering out -sentences that seemed to have no beginning -or end (her sentences seldom had), twisting -her fingers about (she never kept them still).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This, when the girl's excited heart wanted -to be away from all voices, all eyes, and go -over the strange sensations, with the moon -alone for witness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Miss Browne,' she said, making a strong -effort not to speak unkindly, 'I have a -headache to-night, and want to be alone. -Would you be so kind as to keep what you -have to say till morning, and tell me then?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nothing could have been swifter than the -way Miss Browne melted away into the -darkness.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-squatter-patriot"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A Squatter Patriot</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was eleven o'clock before Mortimer -reached home, not that Coolooli lay two -hours and a half distant from the selection, -but that he was trying to ride and ride till -the raw edges of his wound had closed together -somewhat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Finally he remembered his father would be -waiting up for him—one of the old man's -fixed customs was to be the last one up in -his house—and he turned his mare's head in -the direction of the sleeping station. He rode -up through the moonlit paddocks and the belts -of bush, and wondered a little, as he looked -at his home, that the sadness of the place had -never struck him before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The house rose on the crest of a hill, -convict-built, most of it, in the very early -days of the colony, and with a wing or two -added here and there. Large, thoroughly -comfortable, yet it stood there with a certain -air of sternness, as if it knew what unhappy -hands had laid its strong foundations, what -human misery built up its plain thick walls.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No creepers clung to it and wooed it with -their grace; no fluttering muslins, fashioned by -women's hands, blew about its plain windows. -In the wide garden that encircled it trees grew, -and handsome shrubs, but the flowers seemed -to know themselves for strangers there, and -came not. Mortimer's eyes went to the twin -hill, half a mile away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How often had he raised a house on that! -Not a grim, plain one, like this his home, -but a large sunny cottage, with wide verandahs -and large bright windows, and a garden -where all the sweet flowers in the world ran mad.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Near enough the big house for the old -man, left to himself, not to feel lonely; far -enough away for Hermie to be unquestioned -queen, and free as the winds that blew.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Oh, the happy hours he had wandered on -that farther hill, raising that happy home to -receive his love! There had even been a -moonlight night or two when he had furnished -it—furnished it with deep chairs and wide -sofas and delicious hammocks, all for the little -light-haired girl who worked so hard on that -wretched selection to nestle into and rest. He -had begun to work harder and give deeper -thought than was his wont to the management -of the station; there would be plenty of -money for an income, he knew, but he wanted -even more than plenty; he wanted the little -hands that had always been so afraid to -spend sixpence, to revel in the joy of flinging -sovereigns broadcast. He had been waiting—waiting -to tell her, it seemed for years—waiting -till she was just a little older and a -little older.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the long frock to-day had told him -she was a woman, and he had rushed to know -his fate; and now all was over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He put his saddle in the harness-room, and -turned the horse out into the moonlit paddock. -He went in through the side door, down the -wide hall where the lamps still burned for -him, and into the dining-room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His father was sitting at the big table -drinking very temperately at whiskey and water, -and reading a paper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'm sorry to have kept you up, dad,' -Mortimer said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That's all right,' said his father, 'it's not -often you do it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No,' said Mortimer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man pushed the spirit-casket across -the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You look as if you've got a chill,' he said; -'take a nip.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The son poured himself a finger's depth, -and drank it off, his father watching him from -under his shaggy eyebrows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Did Luke or Jack come up this afternoon?' -asked Mortimer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Jack and his wife,' said the old man. -'Luke went to Sydney yesterday, Jack says, -to watch the sales himself.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Take Bertha with him?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I rather think the young woman took him. -Don't believe she's the wife for any squatter; -Macquarie Street's the only run she'll ever -settle on, with the theatres and dancing halls -within cooey.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, well,' sighed Mortimer, 'Luke can -afford it, and he seems happy enough. -Anything fresh about the war? You seem to have -all the papers there.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man's eyes gleamed, his hand -trembled as he reached for an evening paper, -and opened it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'See here,' he said, 'Buller's made a fatal -mistake, a fatal mistake. He's advancing on -Ladysmith by this route, wheeling here and -doubling there, and having a brush or two on -the way. Now, what he ought to have done -is plainly to have gone along by night marches -up here, and taken up a strong position here. -See, I've marked the way he ought to have -gone with those red dots. You don't look -as if you agree.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh,' said Mortimer, 'I don't know anything -about it. But I should say those Johnnies -at the head of things know what they're about -better than we can out here.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not a bit, not a bit,' said the old man -excitedly; 'it's always the looker-on who sees -the most. He's just rushing on to his doom, -and those brave chaps shut up in that -death-trap'll never get as much relief from this -attempt as they would if I sent old Rover -out. You mark my words and see. This -range of hills is the key of the position, and -until those thick-headed generals can be brought -to see it, there'll be defeat after defeat. Did -I tell you Blake and Lewis and Walsh and -Simons came to me, and asked to volunteer?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Whew!' said Mortimer. 'I don't see how -we'll get along without Blake. Did you give -your consent?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Consent!' cried the old man. 'If the -place went to ruin, d'ye think I'd keep the -fellow back? I gave him a cheque, and I -promised to look after his wife and brats if -he fell; that's what I did.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But it's unlucky Walsh wants to go too,' -said Mortimer; 'he'd have been the very -fellow to take Blake's place. We could have -better spared Doherty.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That mean-spirited dog! A lot of volunteering -there is in him. He'll take good care to -keep his cowardly carcase out of bullet range.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mortimer looked thoughtful, and poured -a little more whiskey into his tumbler.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I suppose we must get fresh men on in -their places straight away,' he said; 'we don't -want the place to suffer.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hang the place!' shouted the old man; -'let it go to ruin if it likes. Every man that -has the pluck to come and tell me he'll go -and shoot at them scoundrels out there, hang -me, it's a cheque I'll give 'im, and be a father -to his brats if he's got any, and keep his place -open till he comes back. And a horse to -each—the best I've got on the place—hang -me, two horses.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It's very generous of you, father,' -Mortimer said, a little unsteadily. 'I see, -too, by yesterday's paper, you are giving five -thousand pounds to the fund. I—hardly knew -you felt as strongly about it as this.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man sprang up, and began to -thunder about the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Feel strongly about it—strongly! If I was -only ten years younger, I'd do more than feel -strongly! Me very bed's like stones the -nights the cables show no victories; the food -in me mouth turns to dust. Feel strongly!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mortimer left the table, and stood at the -window looking out at the moonlight that -made snow of the twin hill. He did not -know he drummed on the window pane until -his excited father roared to him to stop. -Then he turned and went across the room -to where his father was sitting again at the -table, gazing with furious eyes at the cables -that told of Buller's line of march.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Father,' he said, and put his hand on the -old man's shoulder, 'will you give me a couple -of horses? I don't know that I want the -cheque.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Old Stevenson trembled. 'You're fooling -me,' he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I wouldn't fool when you're so much in -earnest,' Mortimer said. 'I'm afraid I'm a -slow-witted chap. It never occurred to me -before to-night to volunteer. Now it seems -the one thing I'd care to do in all the world.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man breathed hard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'm not as young as I was, Morty,' he -said quaveringly; 'I—can't take disappointments -easy. You're not just saying this -lightly? You'll abide by it?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The only thing that could stand in my -way,' said Mortimer, 'would be your objection. -That is removed, since it never existed; so it -only remains to find out the date of the sailing -of the Bush contingent. Thanks to your -subscription, there'll be no difficulty in getting -me in, for I know my riding and shooting will -pass muster.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Morty,' the old man was clinging to the -young one's arm, 'Morty, I'd given up the -hope of ever seeing this day. Six sons I -had—six, and not a puny, poor one among them. -That's what held me up when the war got -into me veins first, and I had to face it that -seventy was too old to fight. It took some -facing, lad. After that I just waited and -waited. And none of you spoke. I kep' -reading the Sydney news, to find that my sons -there was going. None of their names was -in. Dick, I could ha' forgave him—p'r'aps—as -he's six childers and a wife; but James, a -doctor, no end of chances to get in. And -Walter, the best shot and best horseman ever -come from out back. Never a word that -Walter had blood in his veins. I thought it -might be funds stoppin' 'em—they might be -feared to leave their businesses, thinking they'd -suffer. No need of that, I thinks, and sends -them a cheque a-piece—a solid thousand each. -Does that fetch 'em? Not it. They writes -back, very useful, come in nicely. Jack here, -married to a wife, wouldn't mind going—see -some life; but wife cries and clings, and he -gives in. Luke! No son of mine. Oh, I'll -not cut him out my will, or do anything dirty -by him, but don't never let him give me his -hand no more. Cries down his own people, -upholds the dirty scoundrelly Boers, and hopes -they'll win their fight; dead against the Britain -that his own father comed from. My only -lad left at home——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, that laggard at least is off to shoot -his best,' said Mortimer lightly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Morty,' said the old man, and pressed his -hand, 'you'll ha' to forgive me. I've had -hard thoughts of you, Morty.' His faded -eyes were suffused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Don't let's think of that, dad,' said -Mortimer. 'What horses do you think I'd -better take?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'In the morning, in the morning,' said -Stevenson. 'I only want to sit still to-night, -and thank God I've got one son that's a man.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mortimer looked at the creased, illumined -face, the wet eyes, the old, working mouth. -His heart swelled towards him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dad, old fellow,' he said, 'I'm hard hit. -I love a girl, and she won't have me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His father gripped his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Poor chap, poor chap!' he said. 'I know, -I've been through it. I loved a girl before I -married your mother, and I met her daughter -the other day, and it was the same as if it had -been yesterday.' He looked at his big son -with new eyes. 'The girl's got hanged bad -taste,' he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You'd have liked her, dad,' Morty said. -'Not like the girls round here, big, strapping -women; very slender and sweet-looking, her -skin's as pink and soft as that baby of Jack's.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Happen I know her?' said his father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Her name is Hermie Cameron,' Mortimer said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That thriftless beggar's daughter!' was on -the old man's lips, but the look on his son's -face checked him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes—a pretty child,' was what he said -instead, and thanked Heaven that her taste -had been so bad.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'See here, dad,' Mortimer said awkwardly, -'of course it's not in the least likely I shall -get hit—-but of course war's war, and there's -a chance that one may get knocked over.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I don't need telling that,' said the old man -quickly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mortimer pressed his shoulder. 'It's this, -dad,' he said. 'I want to ask you a favour -The Camerons—they're so hard up, it—it -makes me fairly miserable.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A cheque, lad,' said the father eagerly, -'of course, of course. Would a thousand -pounds do? You shall have it to-night—this -minute.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was moving to get his cheque-book, but -Morty detained him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, no, dad,' he said, 'you don't know -poor Cameron; he's the most unfortunate -fellow in the world, but he's the last man -who would take a present of money.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I could offer it as a loan,' suggested the -old man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, he wouldn't have even that, I'm -positive,' Mortimer said. 'I've tried a time -or two myself, but he's choked me off jolly -quickly.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then what can I do, boy?' the father -said helplessly. 'Believe me, I'm willing -enough.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I know, I know, dad. All I want to ask -you is to keep an eye on them, and if you -can do them a turn, do it. The mother's -coming from England in a month or so, and -I'd give my head to be able to make the place -look up a bit. Cameron and his boy are -fairly killing themselves to do their best, but -you can guess what their best is when there's -only labour and not a sixpence to spend.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You leave it to me, leave it to me,' said -Stevenson.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And one other thing,' said Morty. 'Of -course I won't, dad, but if I should come a -cropper, will you let some of my share go to -the little girl I wanted?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She shall have every penny of it,' cried the -old man; 'hang me, it's the least I can do.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They gripped hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Good-night, boy!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Good-night, dad!'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="r-m-s-utopia"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">R.M.S. Utopia</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>'There,' said Challis, 'that is exactly the -middle of the sheet, mother. Just as -many again, and we're all kissing each other -and going mad.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She held a piece of note-paper in her hand, -and had just carefully marked out with a red -pencil one more of the thirty-three days of -their voyaging.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That leaves just sixteen,' said Mrs. Cameron.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And a half,' said Challis, 'and Mr. Brooks -told me the captain says we may be two whole -days late, so we'll count seventeen, darling, and -not disappoint ourselves.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There is the captain now, talking to -Mrs. Macgregor and Lady Millbourne,' said -Mrs. Cameron. 'Run and ask him, dear, if it is -true. I can't bear the thought.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, mother,' said the little girl, and hung -back, looking with nervous eyes at the group.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Girlie, you must get over this silly -shyness,' said Mrs. Cameron. 'I think you get -worse every day, instead of better. Run along -at once.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl rose and walked slowly down the -long deck. Some children rushed to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Come and play, come and play,' they said. -'It's rounders, and we want another on our -side.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Don't ask her,' said a boy, 'she's a -stuck-up—never plays with any one.' The voice -reached Challis, and coloured her cheeks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You will be on our side, won't you?' a -little girl said. 'We don't know what to -do for another.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I—I don't know how to play. I'm very -sorry—if I could I would,' Challis said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, but you can't help knowing,' urged -the small girl. 'All you've to do is hit -the ball and run. Mamma's deck-chair there -is one rounder, and the barometer thing's -another, and that life-buoy's the third, and -here's home. Of course you mustn't hit the -ball overboard.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, please,' said Challis, 'won't you get -some one else? I should spoil the game. Oh, -I couldn't play—please,' and she broke away -from the hand, and heard 'stuck-up' again -from the boy as she moved away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Used to the fire of a thousand eyes, the -girl shrank nervously from disporting herself -before half a dozen idle watchers. She liked -the quiet corners on the deck where no one -could see her; she had a habit of lying on -some cushions by her mother's side, and -pretending to be asleep, just to escape being -talked to.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A group of ladies drew her amongst themselves -before she could pass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The sweet little thing!' said one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Have you been dreaming a Wave Nocturne -up in your corner?' said another.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Don't tease the child,' said a third. -'Darling, we're getting up a concert for -to-morrow evening, and we're going to give the -money to the Patriotic Fund when we get -to Sydney. You will play some of your -lovely pieces for us, won't you? You know -we couldn't have a concert without the aid -of the famous Miss Cameron.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am afraid mother will not allow me to -again,' Challis said. 'She said yesterday was -to be the last time.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The last time! Oh, why—why?' chorused -the ladies.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She said something about wanting me to -rest now,' said poor Challis, flushing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, but just two or three little pieces,' -persisted the promoter of the concert, 'for -the wives of the brave boys going to the -war! Oh, I know you won't refuse us, will -you? That pretty little thing you played -for the funds of the Sailors' Home on -Monday—what was that?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The Funeral March from Chopin's Second -Sonata,' said Challis shyly. 'I will ask -mother. I am sure, as it is for the soldiers, -she will allow me,' and she edged out of the -group.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A lady lying on a lounge beckoned to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How are you, my dear, to-day?' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Quite well, thank you,' was Challis's answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You are looking pale, I think. Your -mother should give you quinine. Don't you -ever take anything before you play to your -big audiences?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No,' said Challis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Your mother should see you have a -quinine powder before you begin, and just -before going home a dessert-spoonful of malt -extract. It would fortify the system immensely.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Would it?' said Challis, a little wearily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Is that little Miss Cameron?' said another -lady, coming up. 'Now I think Mrs. Goodenough -might really introduce us. Ah, now -we know each other, and I am very proud—very -proud indeed to shake hands with -Australia's celebrated player. I heard you in -the Albert Hall two nights before we left -London, my dear. You play magnificently—magnificently.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Challis stood with gravely downcast eyes, -and never said a word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I wonder could you spare me a photograph, -my dear,' continued the lady, 'one of those -in a white frock that are all over London? -And I should like you to write your name -across it. Will you?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We have not any left—we gave the last -away,' said Challis, and with a little good-bye -bending her head—something like the grave -quiet bend she gave her audiences—she moved -along on her errand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So that's your player,' the flouted lady -said. 'Well, I don't think much of her. -Not a word to say for herself. I suppose -she is greatly overrated; it is mostly -advertisements, you know—wonderful nowadays -what can be done by advertisements.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Challis reached the captain at last. Lady -Melbourne had a pleasant word for her, and -asked nothing but how she was enjoying -</span><em class="italics">Treasure Island</em><span>, which was in her hand. -Mrs. Macgregor merely inquired after her -mother's headache.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Captain,' Challis said, 'are we really going -to be two days late? Mother is very anxious.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, we are all hoping it will be more -than that,' said Lady Millbourne. 'A perfect -voyage like this should last for ever. I want -to persuade the captain to break the shaft -of his propeller, like the Perthshire did, and -let us drift for forty days.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then mother and I would steal the -captain's gig and row home by ourselves,' -Challis said with a little shy roguery that -dimpled her mouth, and made you think she -was pretty after all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I never loved a dear gazelle,' said the -captain, 'but I had to land it days before I -should have had to, if it had only been a -tiresome elephant. My dear little fairy-fingers, -I have to give you up two days before the -time. This will be the quickest run I've -made this year.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The glad colour leapt all over the girl's face. -'Oh-h-h!' she cried, and broke away from -them, and went bounding back along the deck -to her mother, just as any of the children -might have gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The delightful news necessitated giving all -the rest of the morning up to happy chat. -They drew their chairs close up together, -sheltered from over-much observation by the -angle of the deck-house. Mrs. Cameron had -no more headache, </span><em class="italics">Treasure Island</em><span> fell flat -and forgotten on the deck.'</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 59%" id="figure-77"> -<span id="now-let-s-just-go-over-it-all-again-said-challis"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="'NOW LET'S JUST GO OVER IT ALL AGAIN,' SAID CHALLIS." src="images/img-170.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">'NOW LET'S JUST GO OVER IT ALL AGAIN,' SAID CHALLIS.</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now let's just go over it all again,' said -Challis. 'Father'll come first. I don't want -to kiss any one till I have kissed him. Well, -what's he like? No, don't you say, I'll say. -He'll have a moustache—no, I think he'll have -a beard—yes, a beard. Not a long one, just a -short one, and rather curly. And his eyes have -a nice laughing look in them, just the nice -look like M'sieu de Briot's, who said there -was nothing in the world worth worrying about. -You said, didn't you? that daddy hated worrying -over things. I can't help thinking he'll have -a brown velveteen jacket when he comes to -meet us, like Mr. Menel's, at Fontainebleau, -and paint all over it. But of course he won't. -Let's see, he'll have a grey suit and a shiny hat, -like Mr. Warner. No, he mustn't have that—that's -not like daddie at all. No, I'll tell you; -it's very hot at Wilgandra, so he'll have a nice -white linen suit and a white helmet, and he -might—he might be holding up a big white -umbrella lined with green—you know, mamma, -like that nice man who came on board at Malta.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Cameron was leaning back, her eyes -shining, a fond smile on her lips as she listened -to the girl's prattle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then there'll be Hermie, and I know she's -lovely. Don't you think she will be? You -said you always thought she would grow up -very beautiful. Oh, isn't it dreadful that we've -never had a photo of them? Such lots of -mine sent to them, and never any of theirs! -It's like drawing their faces with your eyes -shut. I think Hermie will have her hair in a -thick plait. I suppose she goes to picnics and -dances and everything, and always knows what -to say to people. Mother, I don't think I shall -ever get to know what to say. I'm fourteen, -and nothing will come into my head to answer -people. A lady said to me this morning, "You -play magnificently." Now what can you answer -to that? I really felt I'd like to say, "Yes, -don't I?" just to see how she would look. Only -I was afraid it would be rude. If I'd said, "Oh -no, I don't, you're mistaken," she would have -thought I was mock modest, wouldn't she? -But Hermie, yes, she'll always know what to say. -I can sleep in her room, can't I? You said -there wouldn't be any other. It will be like -Ellen and Edie Fowler we met on the trip to -Dover; they always had their arms round each -other, and used to tell each other everything -and everything. Hermie and I will; we'll -whisper and whisper all night, just like they did.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The steward came up with eleven-o'clock tea -and the glass of milk that Challis always drank. -Mrs. Cameron left her cup to grow cold, -Challis set her tumbler in an insecure place, -and a lurch of the ship sent it flying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Never mind, I couldn't have drunk it,' she -said, then as the man came back, 'I am so -sorry to give you that trouble, steward. If -you like to bring a cloth, I'll wipe it up -myself.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, about Bart,' said the mother, 'what -will Bart be like?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, Bart,' said Challis, 'I just feel as if -we'll rush straight together, and never come -undone again. That's the sort of feeling you -have when you're twins. I feel I'd like to -give him everything and sew his buttons on -and let him bully me. You notice the -Griffithses here. They're twins, and she does -everything he tells her, and he gets everything -for her. It's lovely. I hope Bart hasn't -forgotten we're twins.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And Roly?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Roly? I'm not sure of Roly. I can -hardly see him at all. I think, p'r'aps, he's -like that little boy at our table who wears -Eton suits and tries to walk like the -boatswain. All I can remember about Roly is -one day we were eating water-melon in the -paddock, and Roly ate his slice away and away, -till there was just a green circle round his head.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And Flossie—my little baby Floss?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Darling little Flossie, I almost love her -best of all. She's got very goldy hair and a -teeny little face, and she's as little as Lady -Millbourne's little girl. And she likes being -carried about, and she can't dress herself, and -I shall dress her, and fasten all the dear little -buttons, and tie her sashes. And I shall put -her to bed myself, nobody else must, and I'll -tell her stories and stories. And every day -there'll be something new for her out of my -box. There are fifteen things for her, mother, -not counting what she's to go halves with -Roly in. Isn't it a darling little tea-set? I -never saw such sweet little cups. And won't -she like the little dolls from the Crystal -Palace? I'd really like to play with them -myself. And the big doll we got in the Rue -de Crenelle. I must get on with its frock -to-morrow, mother, or it never will be done.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On, on went the ship through the secret -waters. New stars came out on the great -night skies, new breezes played in the rigging. -On, on, and the long days dropped away, -somewhere, somewhere, beyond the edge of -the sea. On, on, and the happy eyes saw -at last the dear frown of the Australian -coast-line.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-bush-contingent"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">The Bush Contingent</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>'Armed year—year of the struggle!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>No dainty rhymes or sentimental love verses for you, terrible year.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Year that suddenly sang by the mouths of the round-lipped cannon—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I repeat you, hurrying, crashing, sad, distracted year.'</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Cameron was in Sydney again—the -first time for seven long years. -He had come down almost a month before -the date upon which the Utopia was advertised -as due, with the desperate hope of getting -something to do that might yield him enough -money to buy a new suit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Up on the selection he wore soft shirts and -old tweed trousers almost all the time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When it came to a question of finding him -starched shirts and a decent suit and hat in -which to face his wife, Hermie and Miss -Browne were nonplussed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Finally they discovered one suit that had -not been taken, piecemeal, to work in; but -the moths had also discovered it. Sponge and -press and darn as Hermie might, it still looked -disreputable; the shirts were ragged, there -was no hat that was not hopelessly spoiled -with the sun and dust and rain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It forced itself upon Cameron that there -was but one thing to do—he must borrow a -few pounds from some one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And there was but one man he knew who -would lend it to him—Mortimer Stevenson. -Hermie had never told her secret. He -groomed Tramby up a little, and put on a -linen coat and hat, and set out in the direction -of Coolooli. He hoped he might not meet -the father; he was quite conscious of the fact -that the business-like, successful old man looked -upon him as a shiftless beggar. They knew -each other slightly; Stevenson had ridden in -two or three times when passing the selection, -and stayed for an hour or two talking stock -and crops and the war. Once or twice -Cameron had been for dinner to Coolooli while -shearing was on, and there were chances to -learn successful methods. But he shrank with -all his soul from encountering the old man -this morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two or three aboriginal women were coming -back from a journey to the house, cloths -full of stores and broken food slung over -their shoulder. Stevenson forty years ago had -had to break up a big camp of them on the -land he had just taken up, and drive them -farther west. Ever since he had not felt -justified in refusing food to any of their -colour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron stopped the women, to ask if they -had seen Mortimer riding away that morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I say, Mary,' he said, 'you been see that -one Mr. Mortimer?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ba' al mine see 'im that one young pfeller -Stevenson walk about,' said the most ancient -of the women. 'Old pfeller Stevenson 'im -up there. You gib it tik-a-pen, you gib it -plenty pfeller 'bacca.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron threw her a bit of precious tobacco, -which she proceeded at once to cut up and -cram into her unsavoury-looking pipe. Then -he rode on; Mortimer might by chance have -gone out somewhere on the run before the -women had reached the station. Half a mile -nearer to the house a sundowner had been put -on to mending a fence. At present he was -smoking and looking at it occasionally.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Going up to volunteer, mate?' he said, -as Cameron rode through a gate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron disclaimed the honour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Take a tip and do it,' the fellow said. -'The old chap is off his nut just now, and is -jolly well flinging his money round—him as -was too close to give a fellow tucker without -turning him on to axe-sharpening first. You'll -get your fare to Sydney and a moke and -pocket of tin handed over to you afore you've -finished of telling him you want to join.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron inquired good-humouredly why -under such exceptional circumstances he himself -did not volunteer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He grinned. 'Guv'nor's knowed me on -and off for twenty year,' he said, and fell to -looking at the work before him again. 'Seems -to think I've had too much bush experience. -Had a try on, of course, but Mister Mortimer -he put the stopper on me. I'm cursing my -luck for not waiting till he'd gone.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Gone!' said Cameron; 'why, where's he going?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He went larst Monday—you must be a -just-come not to know,' the man said; 'he's -goin' off to glory along o' the Swaggies -Army.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron turned his horse's head and rode -slowly back to the selection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took a picture or two, and tried to sell -them in Wilgandra, but they were still frameless, -and he only raised a pound by the sale -of both.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was his neighbour Daly who helped him -most; he saved him his fifty shilling railway -ticket by sending him to Sydney in charge of a -dozen trucks of sheep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Landed there after the almost intolerable -journey, he tried desperately for work—even -beat up an old friend or two, who looked -askance at his shabby appearance. One offered -him a pound which he could ill spare, having -fallen on hard times himself, the other wrote -him half a dozen useless recommendations to -various business men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron hung around the quay in a sort -of fascination; no pilot boat went out but he -did not tremble, no great ship came round -Bradley's Head but he felt it bore his wife on -board. The transports sent from the Cape -for the Bush Contingent—The Atlantian and -the Maplemore—were already anchored out -in the stream, the great numbers painted -on their sides adding an unusual note to the -shipping on the smiling harbour. Launches -and heavily weighed boats bearing timber for -the horse-boxes were continually putting off -from the quay to cross the intermediate stretch -of water to where they lay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bustle and movement woke Cameron -to life again, and the knowledge that he must -do something, if it were only to take a header -into the plentiful water; not here at the quay -where a thousand eyes would see, but from -one of the quiet bays or headlands the harbour -has so many of.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he pulled himself together again, -recognised it was want of food that had begot -such cowardice in him, and spent his last -shilling on a good meal. After that he -tramped out to Randwick to the camp, and -asked for Private Mortimer Stevenson.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sentry jerked his head in a certain -direction, and Cameron made his way to where -some ten thousand perhaps of Sydney's citizens, -women and children, had crowded, as they -crowded almost every afternoon, for the novelty -of seeing the bushmen drill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was an odd, unmilitary spectacle. -Uniforms were not yet served out, and there -seemed no regularity as to height. Here a -sunburnt fellow from 'out back' drilled in -a tattered flannel shirt and a pair of ancient -moleskins that had seen several hard shearing -seasons. Next to him was some wealthy -squatter's son in a well-cut light grey suit, -then a rough fellow with a beard half a foot -long, moleskins again, and an old red -handkerchief tied round his throat, then a lad, a -fine well-grown fellow in the white flannels -he played tennis in on his far-off station. -None of the pomp, the </span><em class="italics">éclat</em><span> of militarism -was there—not even the discipline; the men -gossiped cheerfully with each other even while -they stood in their ranks, they laughed at the -girls in the crowd—even threw kisses to them. -They were a fine, independent-looking lot, -and you knew at a glance at them that they -would think no more of carrying their lives -in their hands than most people think of -carrying umbrellas. But you marvelled how -they were to assume in so few weeks' time -the well-groomed, spick-and-span, automatic -appearance you had hitherto associated with -the word soldiers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron watched the different squads for -a little time, and felt proud of Mortimer when -he found girls and men were pointing him out -and saying. 'That one, look! the fourth from -the end; he's a splendid-looking fellow, isn't -he?' 'See that fourth chap, that's the sort -of man we want to represent us.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the drilling and the hoarse cries of the -hardworked sergeants seemed endless, and -Cameron wandered on and watched the riding -and shooting tests which separated the genuine -bushmen from the counterfeits, who swarmed -here, as easily as the winnow separates the grain -from the chaff. At last the squads broke up, -and the men mixed with the crowd or went -off, mopping their steaming faces, to their -tents or the canteen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mortimer broke loose from the men around -him, and went instantly to Cameron, whom he -had quickly seen while drilling. He carried -him off direct to his tent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'm awfully sorry to have kept you waiting -so long,' he said. 'Here, try this deck-chair, -it's more comfortable than that bench. And -what will you have to drink? Oh, I know, you -like lemon squash.' He turned to a -rough-looking fellow at the door. 'Go down to the -canteen, Brady, like a good fellow, and get a -jug of lemon squash. Here's the money.' He -turned back to Cameron. 'I'd have given -anything to get away when I saw you, but -you can guess what it is out there.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, yes,' said Cameron, 'it doesn't matter; -it was all interesting. I have been looking -about.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mortimer gave him a sharp look.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Is all well up there?' he said. 'It isn't -often you come down.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nothing's wrong,' said Cameron, 'I came -down to meet my wife, that's all.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Of course, of course,' said Mortimer; -'stupid of me. I was reading about it only -this morning in the paper—about the big -welcome the citizens intend to give your little -girl. There is to be a launch—the Government -launch, isn't it?—and the mayor and no end -of people are going up the harbour to meet her.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Are they?' said Cameron.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You've been consulted about it, surely?' -said Mortimer warmly. 'They're not doing -all this without referring to you?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron straightened himself a little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I've had no fixed address since I came -down,' he said. 'They've overlooked me, I -suppose, because they don't know I exist; I -hardly do, you know.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Are any of the others down with you?' -asked Mortimer—'Bart or Roly or any of them?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh no,' said Cameron. 'Some one has -to mind the landed property against my return.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And are they all well?' pursued Mortimer. -'Roly—wasn't Roly looking a little thin before -I left?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh no,' Cameron said, 'he's right enough. -The girls feel the life more than he and Bart. -My eldest girl seemed very off colour when -I left?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not typhoid?' burst out Mortimer. 'I -saw in the paper it had broken out in -Wilgandra——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh no, we're too far for that. Nothing -but the heat. Was that Timon I saw among -the horses?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, I brought him and the governor's -favourite roan down—he made me have him.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mortimer—I'm compelled to ask—I -cannot do without—my wife—Challis—suit—make -them ashamed——' Cameron's voice -choked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Confound that Brady!' said Mortimer, -springing up and upsetting his chair; 'takes -as long to get a lemon squash as if I'd sent -him to town for it. If it had been a bottle -of whiskey, now, no delay then; might come -in for a spare glass himself. You r'mber -Brady, rouseabout up at Coolooli, gives a -home-touch to see him about. He volunteered -the same time as I. I say, I'm off duty now -for the rest of the day—may as well come -back to town and have a bit of spree. Brooks, -I say Brooks, go and see if there's a spare -cab, there's a good fellow.' Another coin -went into another rough fellow's hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron found himself driving back to -town by Stevenson's side before he had -collected his thoughts—or even had his lemon -squash.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Half the way Mortimer rattled on about -the day's work in camp, the transports, -provisions for the comfort of the horses, the -prospect of the contingent's success.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'By the way,' he said all at once, 'I want -you to do me a favour. The governor's been -too free with his cash for me—not safe to -have too much about, you know—tempt some -poor devil. D'ye mind taking some of it -and looking after it for me—just for a year -or two till I get back? Use it, you know; -you might use it now instead of drawing -any out of your own account, then when I -come home you can pay me back. Awfully -obliged it you will; had a couple of pounds -stolen out of my tent yesterday, and have -been going about with fifty pounds on me -since. I'll get you to look after thirty of it; -the governor's cabled no end of money to a -bank in Durban for me, for fear I'll run short.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Half a dozen crisp notes were thrust into -Cameron's hands, and Mortimer, hot and red -in the face, was rattling on again about the -horse-boxes for the voyage, and how they -should have been made this way, and not that -way, and about the wisdom of telling the -men to bring their own saddles, and about -that egregious ass the public, who seemed to -think the Bushmen were so thin-skinned that -they could not bear a word of command, -unless it was put in the form of a polite request.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Isn't it tommy-rot?' said Mortimer. -'We're not a pack of sensitive girls. We -enjoy the discipline, and recognise we have to -be licked into some sort of order, unless we -want to remain a mob.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron was very quiet, but he gripped -Mortimer's hand on parting, and cleared his -throat to try to say something.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the young volunteer found he must be -off in violent haste.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'By George,' he said, 'haven't another -minute; promised the colonel I'd go out and -kick up a row about the horse-boxes,' and his -big loose figure plunged back to the waiting -cab. 'You'll come and see me off, all right, -so long'; and the cab woke to life and moved -smartly off, to lose itself in the stream of -vehicles going towards the quay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron, a lump in his throat, turned towards -the General Post Office, to see if there were -further news from the little contingent at home. -The last letters from Bart had been disquieting; -Small, the butcher, it seemed, had transferred -the mortgage he held on the selection to old -Mr. Stevenson. 'And Daly says,' Bart had -written, 'it's about the worst thing that could -have happened, Stevenson's so close-handed. -Small often used to give you time, but he -says Stevenson never will.' A second letter -followed. Stevenson had foreclosed, but was -willing for a year or two, until a tenant he -had in view was ready to occupy, that Cameron -should remain on the place. In the meantime, -however, he, Stevenson, must be at liberty to -make any alteration or improvement he saw -fit to the property.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The present letter was excited in tone. -'After all, dad,' the boy wrote, 'I believe it's -the best thing that could have happened. The -place is looking up no end, there are quite ten -men at work on it, so the chances are the -mater and Challis won't quite die of the -shock of seeing it. And what do you think? -You know that calf we gave Hermie two -years ago? Well, I never knew there was -good blood in it, did you? It's the last -thing you'd think to look at it. But that -Stevenson knows a thing or two. He comes -down here and pokes about pretty often, and -he saw it, and what did you think? Offered -me ten pounds down for it! I couldn't believe -my ears. Don't you remember I tried to sell -it when you were ill, and Small offered two for -it? But I wasn't going to let on I was so -green as not to know it was a good sort, and -I said straight that we could not let it go under -fifteen. He looked at me in that queer, sharp -way of his, and he poked at the calf a bit, and -then said, "Say twelve ten." But I'd got my -mettle up by that. I knew if a close-handed, -hard chap like that offered twelve ten, it must -be worth quite twenty-five. I just turned -round and went on digging up the potatoes for -dinner and said, "Fifteen pounds," for all the -world like Small does at the sales. He went -round to Dimple and began poking at her again, -and examining her like anything, and then he -said, "Fourteen pounds, sonny." I'd got enough -potatoes out for Miss Browne by then, so I -put them in the basket and just said, "Good -morning, sir," and pretended to be going.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then he began laughing fit to kill himself, -and in between the laughs he said, "Fifteen," -and I said, just like Small, "She's yours, and -you've got a bargain." And he laughed again, -and said, "I have." I hope you're not vexed, -dad, at me doing this on my own. I've been -feeling very anxious ever since, for she must -have been a really valuable little thing—he's -not the man to be deceived; they say he's the -best judge of stock in the country. I told -Daly about it, and he wanted to know if -Stevenson was drunk at the time. He doesn't -drink at all, does he? But I thought you'd -agree that the fifteen would be more use to us -now than twenty-five later, and that's why I -closed with him. I'm sending five down in -this, thinking it will come in usefully for you. -And Hermie and Miss Browne have gone off -to Wilgandra to get new dresses and cups and -sheets and whips of other things with the rest. -You should have seen their list. The mater -and Challis'll think we're no end of swells -after all.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="home-to-the-harbour"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">Home to the Harbour</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>'City of ships!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>City of the world! (for all races are here,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>All the lands of the earth make contributions here;)</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Proud and passionate city—mettlesome, mad, extravagant city!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Spring up, O city—not for peace alone, but be indeed yourself, warlike!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>War, red war is my song through your streets, O city!'</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Down through the excited waters of the -harbour came the great ship Utopia, -the fussy little tug running on ahead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Away near the Heads the stretching blue -had danced almost as unfurrowed by the lines -of boats as outside, where the ocean's ways -lay wild.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But as the ship came down, down closer to -the city, a stately untroubled belle on the -arm of her hot, nervous, fidgety little partner, -many of the passengers felt with astonishment -they had never seen so many watercraft in -all their lives before. Rowing boats—scores -and scores of them! They looked like flies -on an agitated surface of translucent honey. -Sailing boats! Surely not one stitch of canvas -owned by the city was out of use. Poised, -waiting, up and down, everywhere, you felt -there was going to be a storm and these were -the white gulls come in flocks to flutter and -dip and rise till it began. The ferry-boats! -They went their hurried journeys to and -from—across to North Shore, to Mosman's, -and Neutral Bay, to Manly, and you could -fancy they were looking over their shoulders -all the way and longing to come back. The -ocean-going boats, leaning at the Woolloomooloo -wharves or anchored out in the stream, they -were black with eager people, and waved from -every point long strings of brilliant -flags—the flags of half the world. America was -there, shaking out her Stars and Stripes from -a mail steamer, a San Francisco timber-boat -passing along to a berth in Darling Harbour, -and a transport come to take stores for the -army in the Philippines.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From one of the men-of-war in Farm -Cove floated Japan's white flag with its red -chrysanthemum; France had her war-ship, -with its red, white, and blue ensign, also in -the cove. All the others, half a dozen of -them, floated the white ensign of England.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Up at the quay lay the mammoth Friedrich -der Grosse, Germany's black, red, and white -ensign flying in the wind amid her gay -strings of bunting, and round the corner, in -Darling Harbour, among the boats that had -come down heavily laden from the rivers, the -boats from all the other colonies and Fiji -and Noumea. Russia and Norway both were -represented.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the city—had the City of Blue Waves -gone mad?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the Utopia made her slow progress up -the harbour, those on board were able to -catch a breath of the excitement from the -land.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The wharves at Woolloomooloo seemed a -black mass of humanity; the windows of the -warehouses were lined with faces, men and -small boys had taken up vantage-points on -scaffolding, cranes, the very roofs of the wharf -buildings. On the green park-like slopes of -the Domain thousands were patiently waiting, -white and gay coloured parasols and dresses -enlivening the sombre garments of the men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Challis stood at the side of the boat with -trembling knees and rounded eyes. Mrs. Cameron -was beside her, very pale, struggling -hard for composure, putting her hand to her -throat secretly now and again, to smooth the -lumps that seemed to be rising there. A warm -reception she had had no doubt her child -would have; indeed, the Melbourne papers she -had seen had said big preparations were to be -made for her reception, for was not this the -city of her birth, the eager, open-handed city -that had made it possible for the world to -judge of her genius? But the mother's wildest -thoughts had never dreamed of anything like -this; royalty itself had never on any of its -journeyings been welcomed in more magnificent -fashion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She paled and paled—she slid down her -hand, and caught and held tightly in it one of -the small thin hands of her gifted child.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet, great as the honour undoubtedly -seemed, had the power to change things -been hers, she would have swept the wharves -clear of all that strange-faced crowd, and have -had, standing there alone, looking up at her, -the husband her heart was throbbing for, the -children she yearned for, and yet would hardly -know.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lady who had begged the photograph -pressed her way up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What does it all mean? Did ever you -see such excitement? Is it really as -Mrs. Graham says—the welcome for Miss Cameron? -I never saw anything to equal it in my -life. My dear, my dear, you are the most -fortunate girl in the world. I am proud to -have shaken hands with you, honoured to -have sat at the same table. See, here is my -travelling ink-pot and a pen, write me your -autograph, darling.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Goodenough bustled up and caught -at the mother's arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Such excitement is enough to kill her; -give her two of these quinine tablets, and keep -these in your pocket, to give if you notice a -sign of flagging. It will be a most exhausting -day for her. And you are pale—here, I have -my flask of tonic—you must, you must indeed -take some. You will never bear up through -all the congratulations, if you do not. Well, -well, I must say I have never seen anything -like this in my life.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Challis stood as white as if carved in marble; -sometimes her little soft underlip quivered, -sometimes she gave an almost piteous glance -round, as if seeking an impossible escape. She -had had warm welcomes and even cheers and -a little bunting in many towns, but what was -this she had fallen upon?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gangways were hardly down before -there hurried on board from the wharf a -gentleman in a tall hat, and two others with -the ungroomed, long-haired appearance of the -musician the world over. One of them bore -a moderate-sized bouquet of white flowers, and -another a small harp of roses that looked a -little dashed with the sun and dust.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Miss Cameron, Miss Cameron!' was the -call echoed all along the deck. The captain -himself came up and took the little girl and her -mother down to the men. They were warmly -shaken hands with, their healths and the voyage -asked after, and the flowers presented. Then -one of the musicians began to read an address -couched in the most flattering terms, but -half-way through the tall-hatted gentleman -tapped his arm and whispered and looked at -his watch. And the musician nodded and -turned over the leaves of the address, and -shook his head doubtfully and looked hastily -also at his watch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My dear Miss Cameron,' he said, and -rolled the big paper up, 'I shall really have to -keep this for a more opportune time. We -had thought the Utopia would not have been -here until four this afternoon, when all our -arrangements would have gone well. But now -the mayor and the Euterpe Society, and all -the musical bodies in the town are of course -engaged in seeing the Bush Contingent off. -We expect the procession any minute—indeed, -it must be nearly in Pitt Street by this.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Cameron said a few graceful words, in -which she begged them not to waste time -now; she was assured by all their kind speeches -of the welcome her daughter had in this her -native city, and she expressed her sense of the -good fortune that had awaited them, inasmuch -as the Utopia had arrived in time to see an -event of such national importance as the -departure of the Bush Contingent. No one -could have guessed at the dear fatuous notion -she had been nursing in that sensible head -of hers until a moment back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As for Challis—Challis put her head over -her fast-fading harp and laughed, laughed -uncontrollably a minute or two. Then she -stretched out her hand and touched one of the -musician's sleeves. 'Couldn't we get off and -see the procession?' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The musician looked at her eagerly, admiringly. -'Just what I was going to suggest,' he -cried. 'Come on, come on—we've got a carriage -out here for you, and if we've any luck we'll -just get up into Macquarie Street in time.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He and his friends swept the two voyagers -off their feet, and carried them with the -pushing throng to the gangway. None of the -passengers had any time to look at them; -all were a little off balance at the time, rushing -about with faces broken up into tears and -laughter, kissing and throwing arms round -those they had been long parted from, wildly -imploring stewards for gladstones and -handbags from their cabins.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the crush Challis whispered to her mother, -'Oh, aren't I glad it's not for me!' in a tone -of fervent thankfulness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they were down on the wharf, the -rapturous meetings on all sides sent their eyes -hungrily searching the crowd again for their -own home welcomers. But there seemed no -one, no one, look as they would, and they -went slowly down the company's wharf with -the welcomers the city had sent to the hired -open carriage outside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Challis and her mother sat facing the horses, -the tall-hatted gentleman and one musician -sat opposite to them, the other went on the -box. It had been the committee's intention -to bid the coachman wear white favours, in -honour of the visitor's youth. But the item -had been forgotten, and the man wore instead -three of the Contingent medals boys were -selling in the streets. The carriage made a -snail's progress along the quay crowded with -the emptyings of the ferry-boats, and slowly, -slowly climbed up to Bridge Street, which was -on the line of march. The multitude looked -at the vehicle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who's the kid?' shouted a youth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And a bright young Australian yelled:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The colonel's kid—going to meet her pa -and say good-bye.' On which the human sea -lifted up its lungs and hurrahed wildly, till -something new came along to attract its -interest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Challis had her cheers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But in Macquarie Street all traffic was -suspended, and a hoarse, red-faced man in some -sort of a uniform charged at the open carriage, -and ordered it to go back, as if it were no -more important than a broken-springed buggy -with one horse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Have to take yer up Castlereagh Street, -ladies,' said the driver regretfully. 'If yer'd -been 'arf an hour sooner, we'd have just got -up to the 'ospital, and yer'd 'ave seen it all -fine.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh,' said Challis eagerly to the musicians, -'see! see that lovely heap of wood—look—over -there—those women are getting off—there -would be lots of room for us. Oh, do let's -get out!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In three minutes the little party was sitting, -clinging, or standing on a pile of timber -outside a half-built house, and the carriage had -backed, backed away to take a clear course up -deserted Castlereagh Street.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sudden roll of a drum sent its electric -vibration through the tense multitude. The -cry of, 'Here they come!' raised falsely a -dozen times during the last two hours, now -had the positive ring in it that carried entire -conviction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, look, mother! See here come the -horses! Doesn't it remind you of the Jubilee -crowd in London?' said Challis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Mrs. Cameron pushed roughly at her -shoulder. 'Come here,' she said hoarsely; -'change places with me. Don't fall—there, -hold fast. Let me get lower down.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A man was fighting his way through the -throng—a grey-bearded man in a well-cut -light grey suit and a white helmet; and such -was his determination that five minutes after -Mrs. Cameron had seen him he had worked -his way through twenty yards of solid crowd -and was standing just below her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Cameron turned to the musician who -had been at much pains to secure a little -room for himself on the timber.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mr. Jardine,' she said, 'will you please -get down and give up your place to my -husband? I—I have not seen him for six -years.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jardine climbed down cheerfully—but also -of necessity. Cameron pulled himself into the -vacant place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were side by side at last, and neither -could speak; they just looked at each other -with white faces—looked, looked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Finally their hands went together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A choked little voice came from above -after a minute or two.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Me too, daddie—speak to me too.' And -it was then he remembered his child as well -as his wife was come back to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He reached up and squeezed the eager hand, -he put his other hand round her little shoe and -squeezed that too. Challis leaned down and -kissed the top of his helmet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I said you'd have a helmet on,' she said, -with a hysterical little laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His hand went back to his wife's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Is there no way of getting out of this -rabble?' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You might be crushed to death. There's -nothing for it now, but to sit still till it is -over.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why—why weren't you on the wharf?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I was—of course I was—I saw you both -plainly just as they put the gangway down. -But there was an accident: a little child near -me was knocked down by a luggage truck, -badly hurt, at the moment: there seemed no -one else to give the mother a hand. By the -time I'd got him up and into a cab and found -a fellow willing to go with her to a doctor's, -you had gone. They told me the carriage had -come up Bridge Street. I have been fighting -my way and looking for you ever since.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The children?' said the mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'All well, quite well; I couldn't bring them.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No. Oh, to get out of this hateful crowd!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Here they come,' Challis said; 'no, they -are only policemen.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fine horses and men of the mounted -police rode by, then a small body of Lancers; -after these marched some two hundred sailors -of the Royal Navy, and perhaps half that -number of Royal Marines.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the Bushies.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now the crowd took the reins off itself, -and gave head to its madness. It hurrahed -itself hoarse; it waved its arms, and its -handkerchief, and its hat, and its head; it flung -flowers, and flags, and coloured paper; it hung -recklessly from roofs, and walls, doors, chimneys, -fences, lamp-posts, balconies, verandah-posts, -and it yelled, 'There's Jack,' 'Good-bye, Joe,' -'Come back, Wilson,' 'Shoot 'em down, Tom,' -'Hurrah, Cooper!' 'Luck to you, Fogarty,' -'There's Storey,' 'Hurrah, Watt!' It handed -up drinks to the thirsty horsemen, it pressed -handkerchiefs, cigars, and sweets indiscriminately -upon them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In return the sunburnt Bushies waved their -helmets and little toy flags; one held up a -small fox-terrier, another an opossum by the -tail; they rode along with one arm free for -handshaking all along the route, threw kisses -to the excited women, even at times leaned -down and kissed some tip-toe eager girl in -a white dress and a wonderful hat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They looked as military as one could wish -now; Cameron was amazed to think this was -the same material he had seen drilling. A -finer body of men had never passed down the -streets of any city. They sat their magnificent -horses magnificently; you knew there was -nothing they could not do with the splendid -beasts. The khaki uniform and khaki helmet, -and the sunburnt ruddy faces made a healthful, -workmanlike study in brown.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That's the dog Bushie,' said Cameron to -Challis. 'Every one in the colony is interested -in him; the men say he will be very useful.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The crowd yelled, 'Bushie, Bushie—hurrah! good -old doggie,' as the intelligent sheep-dog -came into sight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Here's Stevenson—see, the man on the left, -Molly,' Cameron said; 'our best friend. Good-bye, -Mortimer, good luck! Good-bye, old -fellow, good-bye.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mortimer waved his helmet gaily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What a fine fellow!' said Mrs. Cameron, -and what a good face! Who is the old man?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, it's old Stevenson. Yes, just like him -to do that,' Cameron answered. The old -squatter had ridden alongside the Bushmen the -whole of the line of march. His face was -working with excitement; every time a cheer went -up from the crowd he cheered too, standing -up from time to time in his saddle and waving -his soft felt hat. He kept beside his son as -much as he could; he was almost bursting -with the pride of his position.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Challis's eyes were full of tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh,' she said, 'what a very dreadful thing -if that nice man should be killed!' She was -quite captivated by the sunny smile Mortimer -had given their group.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There's not a better fellow in the world,' -Cameron said warmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The khaki died away in the distance, the -prancing horses were gone, the sound of the -band grew fainter and fainter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet a little time, and the transports would -be plunging through the Heads with them, -carrying them forward as fast as might be to -dye the veldt red with their own blood or -that of the Boers.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="heart-to-heart"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">Heart to Heart</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'We will not speak of years to-night;</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>For what have years to bring,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>But larger floods of love and light,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>And sweeter songs to sing?'</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>They were in a quiet room at the hotel -at last. They had lost sight of the -tall-hatted gentleman and one musician -entirely; the other had said thoughtfully that -he would not intrude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'This is not the way we meant to welcome -your daughter, Mrs. Cameron,' he said, -laughing, as he clung by one hand to the timber, -'but, as you see, we're all mad together to-day. -By to-morrow we shall have calmed down -a little, and there will be a deputation and -everything in order. You'll be at the -Australia, of course?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, I have rooms waiting for them,' -Cameron said quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So the pleasant, long-haired fellow drifted -away, and Cameron, at the first chance, steered -his little family out of the thinning crowd, and -found a cab to take them to the peace of the -hotel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They took their hats off. Waiters seemed -to think eating was a necessity, and brought -in a meal, and stood, two of them, to help -serve.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Cameron turned her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We would rather wait on ourselves,' she -said. 'We have everything that we shall -need, thank you, so you may go.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron drew a relieved breath, though he -would as soon have thought of dismissing the -men himself as of calmly ordering one of those -magnificent colonels out of his way during the -afternoon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now we can be cosy,' Challis said, and sat -down on her father's knee, instead of using -the chair the waiter had placed for her. -'Are we like what you thought?' she asked. -'Someway I can't think now how I could have -fancied you would be any different. Oh, I'm -sure you're just like what I thought, only——' She -paused then, and a little sensitive flush ran -up into her cheeks. She had almost said, -'Only your beard is grey.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But her eyes had gone to its greyness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes,' he said a little sadly, 'I didn't wait -for you, Molly, did I? We always said we -would grow old together, but I have left you -far behind.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He hardly knew his wife. Time seemed to -have turned back for her. There was not a -wrinkle on her skin, the sharp winters had -given a bloom like girlhood's to her cheeks, -and the varied life and rest from domestic -worries had brought the spring back into -her blood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The wife who had gone away had been -shrinking, careworn; she had worn shabby -bonnets of her own trimming, dresses she had -turned and turned about again. This one -had the quiet, assured manner of a woman -accustomed to travel. She wore a tailor-made -fawn coat and skirt, whose very severity -accentuated their style. There was the hall-mark of -Paris on her bonnet of violets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron sent a fleeting thought of gratitude -to Mortimer, who had made it possible for -his own clothes not to blush beside such -garments. They were a quiet little party, -and Challis did most of the talking. Cameron -looked at his wife when she was occupied with -the tea-cups; her searching eyes fastened on -him when he turned to speak to his little -daughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once, when he passed a plate to Challis, -she noticed his hands against the snow of the -tablecloth—hands she did not know at all, so -rough and weather-marked and deeply brown -they were. But she asked no question; -instinctively she felt there was something to be -told to her, and she hung back from the -knowledge, knowing the telling would be pain -to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh dear,' said Challis, 'if only you had -brought Bart down, too, daddie, and he was -sitting just here on this chair next to me!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I thought it was Hermie you wanted most,' -the mother said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah, Hermie! I want Hermie to sleep -with. No, not to sleep with, for we sha'n't -shut our eyes at all, but just to lie in the -dark and talk and talk.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Roly wanted to come,' Cameron said. 'He's -war mad, of course. He's painted the name -Transvaal Vale on the sliprails.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'On the what?' said Mrs. Cameron.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron went darkly red.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The—gate,' he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What else does he do? I want to know -about Roly,' Challis said eagerly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He wears a football jersey most of the -time,' said the father, 'and is to be met at -any hour of the day hung all over with the -table-knives and the tin-opener and the cork-screw -and the sharpening-steel. Also, he carries -round his neck a string of what I think he -calls double bungers. These are his -cartridges. And he came possessed of an old -tent in some way—the railway navvies gave -it to him, I believe—and he has pitched it -just outside the back door, and sleeps in it -all night.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh dear, oh dear! The night air; he -will catch a dreadful chill!' cried the mother, -used now to English nights.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not he! He's a hardy little chap,' said -Cameron.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'More, more,' said Challis. 'He's great -fun, I think. Tell some more about him, -daddie.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A neighbour, young Stevenson—you -remember the Stevensons of Coolooli, Molly?—gave -him half a crown the other day, and of -course he went off to Wilgandra and laid in -a stock of crackers. He made a rather -ingenious fortification that he called Spion Kop, -and invited us all out to see it. You don't -know Darkie, the cattle dog, of course—we've -only had him four years; Darkie naturally -came too. He's rather a curiosity in his way, -old Darkie; seems to have a natural love for -fire, and goes off his head with excitement -whenever a cracker is let off or the boys -make a bonfire. Well, he made enough noise -barking and yelping over Roly's display to -satisfy even that young man. Presently Roly -Put a whole packet of his double bungers on -the top of his fort, and—what he did not tell -me till afterwards—a quantity of blasting powder -he had purloined from the navvies. Then he -put a lighted match near a long piece of -string, and cut down to us as hard as he could. -Just at the critical moment, when we were -getting our ears ready for the big explosion, -Darkie gave a frantic bark of delight, bounded -to the fort and seized the whole packet in -his mouth. There wasn't time even to shout -at him; there came a tremendous explosion, -and the air seemed full of stones and earth -and Darkie. The old fellow must have -been blown six feet up in the air. I think -we all shut our eyes, not liking the thought -of seeing the poor old dog descend in a -thousand pieces. But when we opened them -he was down on the ground barking and -yelping with more furious delight than ever, -and except for a badly singed coat and -a burnt tongue, not a bit the worse for his -elevation.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Cameron was looking disturbed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He seems to do very dangerous things,' -she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That's what Miss Browne says,' he -answered; 'but he always turns up safe and -sound.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Miss Browne?' repeated Mrs. Cameron.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron's eyes dropped to his plate, and -he drank deeply at his tea, to put off the -moment of his answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who is Miss Browne?' his wife asked again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron moved his eyes to a button on -her coat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I was obliged to change lady-helps,' he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Cameron's face expressed absolute alarm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Miss Macintosh—is not Miss Macintosh -still with you? You did not tell me. Why -did she go? How long has she been gone?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron looked white. 'Some—little time,' -he said; 'she—went to be married.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And is this other—is Miss Browne -as good? Oh, it would almost be -impossible. Have you had to change much?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron reassured her on that point. Miss -Browne had been with them ever since Miss -Macintosh left.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But how long is that? You don't tell -me,' she cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron looked at a lower button.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Some—time,' he repeated faintly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Jim,' she cried, and almost sharply, 'have -you been keeping things from me? How long -has Miss Macintosh been gone?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He lifted his eyes and looked at her. The -day of reckoning had come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She left six months after you went,' he -answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The news held Mrs. Cameron speechless for -three minutes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'This other person—Miss Browne—is she -as good?' she asked at length.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron breathed hard, and cut a slice of -bread.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She does her best,' he said, 'but she is -not—very capable.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Jim,' said Mrs. Cameron, 'is there -anything else? Have you lost your -position?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He bent his head a little. He merely -nodded, and she might have thought it a -careless nod, only her eyes suddenly saw the -trembling of his work-marked hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Challis,' she said, 'go away—leave us alone.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The child put down her spoon and fork, -and vanished.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron stood up, looking fixedly at the -carpet, waiting with bowed head for her -questions.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 63%" id="figure-78"> -<span id="have-you-hidden-anything-else-said-mrs-cameron"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="'HAVE YOU HIDDEN ANYTHING ELSE?' SAID MRS. CAMERON." src="images/img-216.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">'HAVE YOU HIDDEN ANYTHING ELSE?' SAID MRS. CAMERON.</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Have you hidden anything else?' she said, -'Are any of the children dead?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'None of them are dead,' he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Are any of them deformed or hurt in any way?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'None of them are hurt—they are in good -health,' he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Have you ceased to love me?'—her voice -was losing the note of fear that made it hard -and unnatural.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked at her, and his eyes swam.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her arms were round him, she was kissing -him, kissing his wet eyes, his trembling lips, -stroking his cheeks, crying over him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You are afraid to tell me—me, your own -little wife—something that does not matter -at all. What can anything matter? We are -all alive, and we love each other as we have -done always. Darling, darling, don't look -like that! Put down your head here, here on -my breast—my husband, my darling! This -is Molly, who went all through the ups and -downs with you; you never used to be afraid -to tell her anything.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He tried to speak, but sobs shook him -instead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hush!' she said. 'There, don't talk, -don't try to tell me. I know, darling. You -lost the position, and you couldn't get -another, and you're all as poor as poor -can be. Pooh! what does that matter? -You have none of you starved, since -you are all alive, and the end has come. -Poor hands, poor hands,'—her kisses and -tears covered them,—'have they been -breaking stones that the children might have -bread?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Molly,' he said, anguished, 'your worst -thought cannot picture what I have brought -them to.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She trembled a little—Hermie, little Floss, -the boys!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'They are alive—they are together, and not -in the Benevolent Asylum. My darling, I -don't mind in the very least.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Molly,' he cried, 'you cannot dream how -bad it is! It is Dunks' selection; we have -been there four years!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She trembled again, for she had seen Dunks' -selection, and the memory of it was yet in -her mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But again she laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It will have made them all hardy,' she -said; 'I can see it has done so, or Roly -wouldn't be sleeping out of doors.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My wife,' he said, 'my wife, my wife!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They clung together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The past is gone,' she whispered. 'I will -never leave you again.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My wife, my wife!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Together now till death; nothing else -shall part us, nothing else.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My wife!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her tears rained down, mingled with his, -and fell away into the greyness of his -beard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They clung together, and the room and the -world faded. They clung together, and there -was no one in all space but themselves and -God—God who had given them into each -other's arm once more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Challis came to the door—she had knocked -twice, to tell them that the luggage had come -from the ship—then she turned the handle, -for she thought they had gone out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But those faces! Those faces of the -father and mother, wet, uplifted, almost -divine!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Very softly she closed the door again, and -stole away.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-rosery"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">The Rosery</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>They cling in the moonlight, they kiss each other.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Child, my child!" and "Mother, mother!"'</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Bart was on Wilgandra Station to meet -them—Bart, healthy-looking and sinewy, -if thin; he wore white flannel trousers, a white -linen coat, and a new straw hat with a new -fly-veil attached. Mrs. Cameron had looked -when her husband cried, 'There's Bart,' with -eyes that expected to see an out-at-elbow lad, -possibly barefoot, probably ill-developed. But -there was nothing she would have changed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Of course they all wanted to come to meet -you,' the boy said, when the first glad greetings -were over, and the great panting, shrieking -train had become just a quiet black thread -climbing the side of the next rise. 'But I -didn't want to crowd the buggy.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The buggy!' his father said. 'I was just -going into the hotel to get one. I'm glad -you thought to order it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It's Mr. Stevenson's,' Bart said. 'He sent -it down this morning for me to meet you in,' -and he led them with much satisfaction to the -handsome roomy sociable he had in waiting. -Their own solitary equipage, the shabby cart -drawn by Tramby and driven by young Daly, -was in readiness for the many boxes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once, in carrying the luggage to the cart, -Bart and his father found themselves alone -on the station for a moment. Bart gave a -laughing glance from his father's to his own -apparel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Isn't it a lark?' he said. 'I feel quite -shy of myself, don't you?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Do the girls look nice?' Cameron said -anxiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Spiffin,' said Bart, 'and Miss Browne's -got a new dress, and even curled her hair. -I say, have you told mother about Miss -Browne?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, she is quite prepared.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And she knows about the selection?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She knows about the selection.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We've—we've been tidying up a bit, dad. -I think you'll find it's a bit—er—tidier.' There -was a flush on the boy's cheek, a look -of suppressed excitement in his eyes. 'Let's -get on now; the horse doesn't like to stand, -and everything's in.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They drove up the road that wound out of -civilised Wilgandra away to parts where the -bush took on its wild character again, and -rolled either side of them in unbroken severity -and loneliness for miles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was early winter now, and the -thankful land lay smiling and happy-eyed -beneath a cooler sky. Even the newest -clearings flaunted rich carpets of grass, green as -grass only springs where a bush fire has purged -the ground for it. The air was fragrant with -the bush scents that rise after rain. A cool, -quiet breeze swayed the boughs of the ocean-waste -of trees, here and there it lifted the long -string of warm-coloured bark—autumn's royal -rags—that hung from the silvered trunks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron was driving, and mechanically -turned the horse's head at the place where he -had always turned for the sliprails of his -selection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And there were no sliprails!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned an astonished glance at Bart, but -the boy's eyes only danced.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'll get down and open the gate,' he said -demurely, and jumped down while his father -stared at the neat white gate with The -Rosery painted on in black letters. Could -this be Dunks' selection that stretched before -the head of the horse that bore them slowly -along? This the grey, dreary place that had -cast its colour over the souls of those who -looked at it. A drive ran up from the gate -to the house, not a smooth, red gravelled -drive by any means, but it was cleared and -stumped now all its length and width, and -went with pleasant windings between the trees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A low white two-rail fence divided the bush -and sheep ground from the land about the -house; the small orchard showed freshly -ploughed up and trenched between the trees; -a vegetable garden was laid out, and the peas -and beans were above the ground already. -The flower-beds near the house were dug and -weeded, as if they had been beds in the -Botanical Gardens; and dahlias, little -sunflowers, and cosmea of all shades made a gay -mass of colour. The pixies' hands had even -attacked the cottage; Cameron himself had -given it a coat of red paint that had much -altered its forlorn aspect; these new hands had -carried the coat of paint even over the dreary -galvanised iron roof, had 'picked out' the -chimneys, and windows, and verandah-posts -with white, added a seven-foot verandah all -round, and knocked a French window into the -walls here and there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why,' cried Challis, 'it's the sweetest, -darlingest little place I ever saw! Oh, I never -want to go away from it again!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Cameron was looking with eyes full -of pleased surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, Jim,' she said, 'why, dearest, it is -really very nice, very nice indeed, so -peaceful-looking. You did not prepare me for -anything like this.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron swallowed a lump in his throat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I didn't prepare myself,' he began; but his -wife's hand was fluttering to the fastening of -the sociable door, and her ears were no longer -for him, for Hermie and Roly were running -out to meet her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Such a rushing into arms, such kissings, -such a choking of laughter and tears! -Mrs. Cameron held Hermie to her and from her, -and to her again, and marvelled to find her -almost a woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My pretty girl, my pretty girl!' she -said, the fond tears starting, and Hermie -blushed herself into even lovelier colour than -before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Challis kissed her sister and clung to her a -moment, then stood away shy and pink, -almost crying. Hermie's hair was done 'on -top,' her dress was long, so long; she was -very pretty and sweet-looking; but oh, there -would never be any whispering and whispering -in bed—she was far too grown up for that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roly came up to the sister and submitted -the edge of his left ear to her kiss. He looked -at her critically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Did the Queen cry when you came away?' -he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I didn't notice,' said Challis. 'She was in -the garden when I went to say good-bye, and -she waved her handkerchief when I got back -to the house—perhaps she had been crying -into it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Floss, Floss! I want my baby,' the mother's -voice was saying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie looked about her distressed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Will you take no notice just yet, darling?' -she said. 'She is very—shy, but she won't -be able to stay away long; she's hiding somewhere.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, look here,' Roly said, 'I suppose -she'll be wanting to come out here and see -you——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who?' said Challis, who also was looking -longingly for the little girl she was going to -put to bed at night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That Queen-woman, of course,' said Roly. -'Look here, you can tell her straight before -she comes I'm not going to take my tent down -for her. You can let her have Miss Browne's -bedroom, and you can't see it from that window. -Miss Browne's got a cheek. Wanted me to -take it down just for you and mother, cos she -says it's untidy.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, we're dying to see the tent, aren't -we, mother?' Challis said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Cameron's arm went round her boy's -shoulder, and her lips down to his round, -closely cropped head. He dodged skilfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Come and see the tent,' he said. Then a -gush of gentler feeling came up in his little -boy-heart, and he moved up to her again and -rubbed his head on her arm. 'If you like,' he -said, 'I'll let you sleep out in it to-night, but -not her,' and he pointed a finger at Challis; -'she'd get messing about and trying to tidy up.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He dragged them round to the back of the -cottage, where the tent stood, a most dilapidated -spread of ragged canvas.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Look here,' the owner said, nearly bursting -with pride, 'up there, that's the fly, keeps it -cool. I can sit in it on the hottest day.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No one else could,' laughed Bart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roly took no heed of the depreciation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'See that? That's my water-bag; hang it -in a draught, and it's as cool as you like.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No,' said Bart again, 'only as </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> like.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'See this? Keep my meat in it, flies can't -get in, hang it up out of the way. Here's my -gridiron—here's my frying-pan.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why,' cried Hermie, 'Miss Browne's been -looking for the frying-pan all the morning!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Let her cook her things in the oven,' said -Roly. 'See this? It's my bunk, made it -myself—just legs of trees, and you stretch -canvas on it. No sheets for me, only this blue -blanket——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The blanket moved convulsively, a little -brown bare foot was sticking out of one end -of it, a strand of straight light hair showed -at the other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Flossie!' the mother cried, and made a -rush at the bunk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The small girl sat up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Go away!' she said. 'Go away! I won't -be kissed. I'm not your girl. Keep your -old dolls for yourself.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Flossie,' cried the mother, 'Flossie!' and -tried to gather her up as if she had been -two instead of seven, and tried to kiss her; but -Floss covered her face tightly with her bony -little hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Floss,' said Cameron, 'don't be ridiculous. -Kiss your mother, and why are you not -dressed?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie was looking ready to cry. Had she -not herself put the child a clean white frock on, -and tried to curl her hair and seen her into -shoes and stockings? And here was the -naughty little thing barefoot, and in a ragged -print frock!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Kiss your mother,' Cameron said sternly, -the surprised pain on his wife's face angering -him against the child.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Floss turned a sullen little face to her -mother, but her lips did not move.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now kiss Challis,' the father said; for the -mother, stooping over the child, had hidden -it from him that he had only been half obeyed. -Challis came forward to put a loving arm round -the ragged shoulder. But Floss struggled to -the ground, dived under the bunk, dragged -at one of the tent-pegs, and was out and -flying off to the bush like a wild rabbit before -any one could stop her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Go and fetch her back, Bart,' Cameron -said, extreme annoyance in his tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It was to be expected,' Mrs. Cameron -said, but she looked a little white. 'We -mustn't force her; you must let me lay siege -to the fortress my own way.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They went into the cottage, and Miss -Browne showed herself—Miss Browne, with -her usual strands of hair in little tight curls -round her forehead, and a ready-made blouse -and skirt of white pique vainly endeavouring -to accommodate itself to her figure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh dear!' she said, 'most ashamed, most -grieved, Floss, peculiar disposition, soon come -round, hope a pleasant journey, hot, dusty, -must be hungry, Roly, ashamed, grieved, most -untidy tent, unwilling to take it down, like -to wash and take hats off, bedroom, show -the way, dinner, hoped they would like it, -not what they were accustomed to, holes in -curtains, had not had time to mend them, -must excuse table, afraid not a good manager, -ignorant many things.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Everything is very nice,' Mrs. Cameron -said. 'I am quite sure you have always -done your best. Mr. Cameron has told -me how hard you have worked, and you -must let me thank you for it. There, there, -I am afraid you have overtired yourself -preparing for us. Don't trouble any more, -we are going to shake down into place at -once, Challis and I, and forget we have ever -been away.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, my love,' said Miss Browne, 'my -dear, oh, my love!' and went away into the -kitchen, and wept happily all the time she -helped Lizzie to dish up the dinner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Be quick,' said Roly, as the travellers went -to a bedroom to take off their hats, 'there's -fowls for dinner. It's Bluey, and Speckle, -and Whitey. Whitey'll be the fattest, he -was mine.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh dear,' said Hermie, as she shut the -bedroom door, 'I wish he hadn't said that. -Now father won't eat any. He never eats -meat at all, but he likes poultry unless any one -says anything like that. He says he likes to -think of dinner just as dinner, and hates to -remember the things have once been walking -about. Now it won't be roast fowl at all -to him, but just Whitey.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I don't think he heard,' said Challis; 'he -was looking at the roses on the dinner-table, -and saying, "I hope they didn't break my -Souvenir de Terese Levet when they plucked -these."'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dear old dad!' she said. 'Mother, I -don't know how he could have done so -long without you if it had not been for his -roses.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I must go down and see them,' the mother -said, and tossed her bonnet off hastily. 'See, -he is already going out to them. Is there -time before dinner, darling? Plainly he can't -wait any longer.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She went through the long window on to -the verandah, and caught him up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Challis was taking off her hat, brushing her -hair, removing the signs of travel with a -dainty deftness born of so frequent journeys. -Hermie's eyes followed her everywhere. They -saw a girl not tall for her fourteen years, -slender, not over strong-looking. Soft light -hair fell away down her back, curlless, waveless. -The greyish, hazel eyes were full of quiet -shining, the face was thin, yet soft and childish, -the mouth sensitive, a little sad.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh,' she said, 'the smell of the soap, -Hermie! I can see the other bedroom so -well—the Wilgandra one, and your bed was near -the fireplace, and mine had white tassels on, -and there was a pink vase on the washstand -for our tooth-brushes.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie looked in slight bewilderment at -the pieces of common household soap that her -sister held; she did not realise that the girl -had seen and smelt nothing but scented since -she went away, and that this plain yellow piece -was pungent with the old days.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Where am I going to sleep, Hermie?' said -the little girl, and her heart throbbed with the -hope that Hermie would cry, 'With me, of course.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bart is going to sleep out in the tent with -Roly,' Hermie said, hanging up the well-cut -little travelling-coat with a sigh for its style. -'You'll have his room.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Where do you sleep?' Challis ventured.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dad and Bart built me a little room across -there,' said Hermie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And Floss?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Her cot is in Miss Browne's room.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Challis was glad bed-time was still some -hours off; she had never yet slept in a -room all to herself, but did not like to tell -Hermie so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roly banged at the door. 'There you -go,' he said, 'grabbing everything, Hermie. -She wants to come out and finish looking at -the tent.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Finish looking at your grandmother!' -laughed Hermie, then blushed vexedly. That -was such a favourite phrase of Bart's she -unconsciously fell into it herself; but what would -Challis think of such slang, Challis, who was -used to the conversation of cultured, travelled -people? Challis, who looked such a little lady -in her well-cut English-looking clothes, and -spoke with the clipped, clear pronunciation her -mother had insisted upon all these years?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Challis, of course, would think her a boor, -an uneducated, unrefined Australian back-blocks -girl. Well, whose fault was it if she was?' She -turned to her sister coldly. 'If you have -finished we may as well go.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Challis followed her meekly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Flossie,' said the mother, going into a -bedroom when it was eight o'clock at night, and -the rebel had come in and put herself to bed, -'I've just been unpacking my box and found -this for Hermie. Do you think it is pretty?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She held up the daintiest of hats.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Flossie looked at it, then squeezed her eyes -up tight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Don't want to see it,' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We are unpacking the boxes,' the mother -said; 'I thought you might like to put your -dressing-gown on and come and watch.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Don't want to watch,' said Floss; 'haven't -got any dressing-gown.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Cameron was standing in the bedroom -doorway. She held out a box of fascinating -doll's tea-things.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Those are rather pretty, aren't they?' she -said. 'We almost decided on a blue set, but -then these little pink flowers seemed so -fresh-looking we took it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Flossie sent a devouring gaze to the beautiful -boxful through the bars of her cot. Then she -squeezed her eyes up tightly again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Wouldn't look at them,' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The mother went away, and the darkness -deepened in the room, and Floss lay gazing -with hard eyes at a patch of light thrown from -the living-room lamp upon the ceiling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her heart swelled more and more; she -pictured miserable scenes in which, while the -rest of the family flaunted about in silk, she, -Floss, was attired in rags and had crusts only -to eat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Only,' she muttered to herself, 'I won't -eat them, and then I'll die, and p'r'aps she'll -be sorry.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a movement in the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I think I'll lie down quietly on your bed -for an hour, Miss Browne,' the mother's voice -was saying; 'it will do my head good. Yes, -thank you, I have the bottle of lavender water -here; I never travel without getting a bad -head.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Browne shook up the pillows and left -her; this idea of making capital out of the -headache was her own. 'Flossie never can -bear any one to suffer,' she said. 'I always -remember when I first came here, and she -was only about three, some one cut a snake in -half along the road. And what must the child -do but rush from us and pick up one half—by -the mercy of God, the tail half! You -remember, Hermie? Bart, my love, you can't -have forgotten that shocking day? She came -running back to us crying dreadfully, and with -that horrible thing in her hands. "Mend it, -mend it!" she sobbed "oh, poor sing, poor -sing, mend it twick!"'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Mrs. Cameron went to lie on the bed -far from Floss, and to sigh occasionally, -once or twice to moan, as indeed she -could, for her headache was severe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the sighs there were restless movements -in the cot; at the first moan the little figure -climbed over the rail.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I don't mind bathing your head,' she said, -her voice a little unsteady. 'Is it hurting you -much?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes,' sighed the mother, 'it is very bad.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Floss dipped her handkerchief in the -water-jug, and kept laying it softly on the aching -forehead. For ten minutes Mrs. Cameron -allowed herself to be thus ministered to, and -presently the child sat down on the bed, almost -within the arm that yearned to circle her. -'Would you like me to fan it?' she whispered. -'Fanning is good.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I would rather you laid your little hand -on it,' said the mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little hand lay there instantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I think a kiss on it would do it more good -than anything else,' whispered the mother, 'just -a little one, sweetheart, sweetheart.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I couldn't,' quavered Floss. 'I promised -faithfly and somenley.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Promised who?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What do you mean?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'When you say, "See my finger wet, see -it dry, cut my throat suresever I die," you've -got to keep to it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And you promised yourself like that that -you wouldn't kiss me—me—mamma, who has -been away for years and years breaking her -heart for her little baby.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh,' gasped Floss, the fortress nearly down, -'but we might have got dropsy, truly, dropsy -and deafness, me and Roly; May Daly's -mother says so; you gen'ally get them after -measles.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But you didn't, you didn't, Tiny. I prayed -and prayed over the seas to God to take care -of you all for me, and I knew He would. -See how well and strong you all are! But -ah, I never thought Tiny would break my -heart like this.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her voice quivered—fell away; Floss, putting -up an uncertain hand through the darkness, -found the cheek above her quite wet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mother!' she cried, and was face -downward in a minute sobbing relievedly on her -mother's breast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they had lain together happy and -quiet for a little time, the mother stirred to -go, for Miss Browne must come to bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Floss gave her a final hug. 'I do love you,' -she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My baby,' murmured the mother. Floss -shook back her straight hair and climbed off -the bed and got into her own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But I'm not going to let that Challis off,' -she said. 'I'll just have to take it out of her.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="crossing-the-veldt"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">Crossing the Veldt</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'Why criest them for thy hurt? Thy pain is incurable.'</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'Truly this is my grief, and I must bear it.'</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'Thus saith the Lord, Such as are for death, to death</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>and such as are for the sword, to the sword.'</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><em class="italics">Jeremiah</em><span>.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>His good horse under him, a -thunder-clouded sky above, a strange country -astretch on every side, Mortimer was off, -despatches in his pocket from his own colonel -to the colonel of an Imperial regiment stationed -some hundred and thirty miles away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The day hung heavy from the sky, the land -lay sad hearted and patient-eyed beneath it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet now for the first time in all the weeks -he had been on African soil Mortimer felt at -home with his surroundings, even happy in -them. The tumultuous days that lay behind -him—he felt that some other, not he, had been -living them. The frantic excitement of the -send-off, the days at sea, the storm or two, -the troubles with the horses, the uneventful -landing on the unfamiliar shores, the hurried -packing off up country by train, the feverish -days and nights in camp at the bewildered -little village that saw the armies of the greatest -nation on earth swarming about its quiet fields, -his first patrol and the fierce whizz and rattle -of marvellously harmless bullets from a deserted-looking -kopje, his first battle, with its horrid -nightmare of flashing lights and thundering -guns, its pools of blood, its contorted human -faces, its agonised horses writhing in the -dust—these were all nothing to him now, but the -coloured bits of glass one shakes about in -a kaleidoscope.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The smell of tents and of spent gunpowder -was no longer in his nostrils; the brown earth -alone sent up its homely odour, and he drew -the breath of it in with thankfulness. Such -a quiet country; silent little farms asleep in -the afternoon's sunshine, their crops long since -ready, but gathered only by the birds. The -cottages, some of them empty of all signs of -habitation, some of them with their doors -carefully locked on all a woman's treasure of -furniture and homely things.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here and there the sheep had not been -driven off, but cropped placidly at the plentiful -pasturage. Mortimer's heart went out to the -brown soft things.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On and on he rode, finding his way with -a bushman's instinct for the right path.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sky grew grey and more grey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Up from the west rolled a great woollen -cloud that drooped lower and lower till it -burst with a sudden fury over the land, as if -shrapnel shells charged with hail had exploded -in mid-air. Mortimer put up his collar, and -ducked his head to the heavy ice-drops that -struck him on every side. He looked in vain -for shelter; the veldt rolled smooth and gently -undulating in all directions, and no tree was -anywhere. To the left a kopje loomed in the -darkness ahead, to the right he had seen when -on the last rise the white gleaming palings and -lights of a farm. He pulled his watch out, -and just made out in the rapidly falling -darkness that it was eight o'clock. His colonel -had advised him to camp for the night -somewhere, lest he should lose his way in the -darkness, and start off again at earliest dawn. -He rapidly resolved to make the farm his -halting-place, should, as was most likely, it -prove to be unoccupied. The rumour that -two lines of defence would join across this part -of the country had swiftly cleared the sparsely -occupied place. The thought of camping -among the rocks of the kopje he did not -entertain, having by this the same firmly rooted -distrust of that kind of geological formation -that the British soldier will carry henceforth -in all ages. He forced his plunging horse -along; the terrified beast was trembling in -every limb with fright at the blinding lightning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sound of voices on the road made him -push forward harder than ever, his hand going -swiftly to the pocket that held his revolver; -then he found it was women's voices he -heard, a woman's cry of anguish came after -him. He wheeled his horse round, and went -back slowly, almost feeling his way in the -darkness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A flash of lightning showed him a cart with -a fallen horse, an old man, and three girls.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What's wrong?' he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man began to explain rapidly in -Dutch, but a girl who was stooping over the -horse rose up and came to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Our horse has been struck,' she said in -perfectly good English; 'one wheel was struck -too, and blazed for a minute, but the rain has -put it out.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Are none of you hurt?' said Mortimer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'None; it is wonderful!' said the girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then run along all of you as hard as you -can,' said Mortimer. 'There's a farm and -shelter I think quite close. I'll take the old -man up on my horse.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We can't leave the cart,' said the girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, confound the cart!' said Mortimer, -struggling with his plunging horse. 'You -can get it after the storm is over.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We have some one in it,' said the -unemotionable voice of the girl. 'He is dead.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again the anguished cry of one of the other -girls rose through the rain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mortimer rode round the cart twice before -he could think what to do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Whose farm is it? Is any one living on -it?' he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is ours,' said the girl; 'we were almost -home.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who is at the farm—how many?' -Mortimer said, having no inclination to run -the risk of being made a prisoner before his -despatches were safe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My mother, we girls, our grandfather here, -and some children.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I think I had better put up my horse in -the shafts,' said Mortimer, 'though I much -doubt if he'll go.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is no use, the wheel is broken,' said the -girl. 'We were just going to carry him home, -only they will not do anything but cry. Anna, -Emma, for shame! What use are tears? -Come, we are strong; let us carry him out of -this rain.' The girls still moaned and wept, -however, and she spoke sharply again to them, -this time in Dutch, the language in which their -lamentations had been.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'See here,' said Mortimer, 'I will take him -up on my saddle.' He dismounted and went -to the cart and felt about nervously. The -English-speaking girl lifted up a rug, and there -on pillows on the cart lay a dead young Boer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Are you sure he's dead?' Mortimer said. -The hands, though wet with rain, were hardly -stiff, the body had some faint warmth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl was helping him to lift.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He is quite dead,' she said. 'He was -wounded and going down by train to a -Hospital. But as he passed this place, his -home, he made them put him out on the -station, and send for us to take him home. -We brought the cart and pillows, but he had -died in the waiting-shed before we got there. -We are taking him home to bury.' The -other girls shrilled loudly again. 'Anna, -Emma,' she said, with more sharp words in -Dutch. Then, excusingly, to Stevenson, and -with pity in her voice, 'He was to have -married one of them, the other is his sister.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mortimer got the dead man up before him, -held him with one arm and rode slowly, the -girls and the old man hurrying by his side. -The farm lay about a quarter of a mile -away. The English-speaking girl opened the -gate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There is a ditch all the way up; don't -stumble in it,' she said. 'I must go on and -warn his mother.' She ran forward in the -darkness. A turn in the path, and the -lamplight from the farmhouse sent out its rays -into the night. Some children, small boys -chiefly, clustered at the door; in front of -them stood the girl and another woman, fifty -or sixty years old.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mortimer with their aid lifted his burden -down, and laid it on a bed in an inner room. -He gave a fearful glance at the elder woman, -the man's mother. She was a big woman, -not fat, like the Boer women generally are, -but of angular outline, and with sharp high -cheek-bones, and brown piercing eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was of English parentage, married in -early girlhood to a Boer farmer, and become -mother of one daughter and six sons. Her -husband had fallen with the handful at -Jameson's Raid; two sons had with their -life-blood helped on the British reverse at -Modder River, one lay buried on the field at -Elandslaagte, one at Magersfontein, one had -been flung in the river at Jacobsdal, here was -the sixth come home to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned from the bed a moment to her -niece, the English-speaking girl, who had -been a teacher in Johannesburg, but had come -to her aunt for refuge at the beginning of -the war, and remained as mainstay of the farm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Take those shrieking girls out of my -hearing, Linda!' she said. 'Let no one come -in to me.' She closed the door of the -bedroom in their faces.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Linda turned away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I must get some hot drinks,' she said. -'Grandfather and the girls will take cold. -Where are you going?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, I'll get along now,' said Mortimer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nonsense!' said the girl; 'you must dry -yourself and eat and drink.' She moved -towards the kitchen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh,' said Mortimer, 'I'd better go. Just -think, I might have been one of the lot who -knocked that poor chap over.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We cannot stay to think of that,' the girl -answered. 'You helped us; you must stay -till the storm is over.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But,' urged Mortimer again, 'how will -</span><em class="italics">she</em><span> feel?' and he glanced at the closed -bedroom door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, she understands,' said Linda; 'her -feeling is not against individuals. Your soldiers -have eaten and rested here three or four times, -for we are almost the only people left. We -stay because we have nowhere to go, and we -none of us care what happens.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mortimer went to the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I must see to my poor horse,' he said -presently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl summoned the stolid-faced little -boys—sons they were of the sons who were -slain. She gave them a lantern, and bade -them show the strange guest the stables. Then -she ran to the kitchen herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mortimer was twenty minutes drying down -his horse, feeding it, making it comfortable, -for the fate of his despatches rested -on its welfare. Then he went back to the -kitchen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The mother was there. She had left her -dead after a few minutes, to busy herself with -the task of getting all the wet figures into dry -garments. She was mixing drinks, hot, strong -drinks that made the girls blink and choke -even while it restored them. She had the -grandfather wrapped in rugs, sitting closest of -all to the fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Mortimer stood in the doorway, -dripping helmet, dripping khaki suit, she -moved towards him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Drink this,' she said, and gave him a deep -mug of hot liquid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He swallowed it gratefully, for the cold -seemed in his very bones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Here are some clothes,' she said, and picked -up a rough farming-suit that she had laid in -readiness on a chair—'here is a room.' She -stepped across the passage. 'Change at once, -and hand me your wet things to dry.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mortimer obeyed her, and, after doing so, -sat down on the bed to await the call to eat -of the food the girl Linda was preparing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then outraged nature took her revenge. -He had not slept for fifty-six hours; he had -been in the saddle eighteen hours of yesterday, -and twelve of to-day. It was three hours before -he knew anything more, and then it was only -his cramped position on the bed that woke -him; except for that he would have slept the -clock round.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sat up numbed, his heart beating -suffocatingly. Where were his despatches? -What clothes were these he wore? He fell -to his feet, a groan of horror bursting from -him. What was this he had done—raw, -careless, culpable soldier that he was? He had -never taken the envelopes from the clothes he -had handed the woman—the woman whose -sons' and husband's deaths lay at his country's -door, still unavenged! Two strides took him -down the hall to the kitchen, his face was like -ashes. All the little house lay still as the tall, -thin young farmer who, in the front room, was -taking his rest for ever from the ploughing -of fields, the sowing and reaping of crops, -the blind and strenuous guarding of his land -and liberty at the command of those in the -high places.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fire still burnt brightly in the grate. -Linda sat before it so plunged in mournful -thought she did not hear the young bushman's -footfall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Across one side of the fire a clothes-horse -stood holding the draggled skirts of the girls, -the grandfather's moleskin clothes, the familiar -khaki of the uniform he had disgraced.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His hand clutched the coat convulsively; -beads of sheer terror stood on his forehead. -Then he sat down suddenly, the passion of -relief bringing the tears of relief to his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The papers were there untouched; the -long envelopes with the red army seal upon -them stuck up out of his breast-pocket in -full view! That woman, the mother whose -sons were dead, that clear-headed young girl, -they must both have known the importance -of the papers, yet neither had laid a finger -upon them, since he was their guest, their -helper!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Linda smiled at him in a pale way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You have come to say you are hungry,' she -said. 'I went to your room twice, but you -slept so soundly I thought the food might -wait.' She put a dish before him, meat and -vegetables mixed up together. 'This is hot, -at least, and nourishing,' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He thanked her, his voice still thick from -agitation, then ate while she went back to -her morbid gazing at the glowing fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Do you know it is twelve o'clock?' he -said presently. 'Won't you go to bed? I -am afraid you have sat up to keep this fire -alight for the food.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She pushed back the thick hair from her -forehead. No one could call her pretty, but -the clear eyes and the patience and strength -of the young mouth struck one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I think I was trying to see the end of the -war,' she said, sighing; 'but it takes better -sight than mine.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You?' he said pityingly. 'Have you -lost any one very near—nearer than these -cousins?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She blenched a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'One of them,' she said. 'I had been -married to one of them—a week. We will -not speak of that.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He begged her pardon, his throat thick -again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She fought her lip quiet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh,' she said, 'it is the same everywhere; -our lovers, our husbands, our sons—all gone -from us! Some will come back, of course, -but crushed and mutilated. A little time, and -your army will only have a handful of women -to contend against.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We, too,' he said, 'we have lost our -brothers, our fathers, our sons. Everywhere -we have women mourning.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes,' she said, 'I suppose so.' She sat -silent a little time. 'But then it was you -who came,' she urged again. 'We used to -be quiet and happy in our own way, even -if we were unprogressive and unintelligent. -It seems, to a woman, we might have been -left alone.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah, but,' he said, 'there were bigger issues -than that at stake. You have read—I can see -that you have read—you must know why we -are fighting.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Somewhere at the top,' she said, with a wan -smile, 'there may be a few—a very few—on -both sides who know. But our men don't -know. They have been told they will lose -their liberty and homes if they don't fight; -that is all any of my cousins knew, and they -went off to death, not cheerfully, but because -there was nothing else to be done. Your men, -of course they come because they are sent, and -they fight their best because they are brave -and obey orders. We have been insolent—isn't -that what you say of us?—and we must -be crushed. But some of you must know the -rights of it all. Think how much wiser you -are than we. You read while we plough. -Those of you who know should stay behind.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No,' he smiled; 'that is not our way either. -We are no different from you. We pay a few -great men to do the thinking for us, and if -they say it's got to be fighting, then, whatever -it seems to us individually, collectively we -just shoot.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fire burnt lower and lower; it was the -only light in the room, for the oil-lamp, -exhausted, had died out. Outside the rain still -fell in straight soaking sheets over the thatched -roof of the little house. A wind moaned -restlessly over the empty country; you fancied it -was lost and full of woe, because it had no trees -to wander through. Once or twice a horse -whinnied, once or twice there came through -the night the inexpressibly mournful sound -of the bleat of a sheep. You felt the rain -was like no other rain at all; it seemed -as if the land, swollen-eyed, was weeping -in the quiet of midnight for its unutterable woes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl's head drooped back against the -wall. Sleep had claimed her; but, by the -anguish of the mouth and the pitiful stirring -of the breast, you knew it was but to -show her the body of her young husband, cast -with a score of others in a trench, all wet -with red.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stevenson sat, a cold sweat upon his brow; -he felt he was the only soul awake on all the -frightful continent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then through the silence of the house came -a woman's voice reading the Bible—the mother -seated a foot away from her quiet son. The -thin wood offered no resistance to the sound -of her voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'"Gather up thy wares out of the land, -O thou that abidest in the siege. For thus -saith the Lord, Behold, I will sling out the -inhabitants of the land at this time, and will -distress them, that they may feel it. Woe is -me for my hurt! My wound is grievous: -but I said, Truly this is my grief, and I must -bear it."'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sound of the voice pierced into Linda's -wretched slumbers. She opened dilated eyes, -and stared wildly at Mortimer. And the voice -went on again:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'"My tent is spoiled, and all my cords -are broken: my children are gone forth of -me, and they are not: there is none to stretch -forth my tent any more, and to set up my -curtains. For the shepherds are become -brutish, and have not inquired of the Lord: -therefore they have not prospered, and all their -flocks are scattered. The voice of a rumour, -behold it cometh, and a great commotion -out of the north country, to make the cities -of Judah a desolation, a dwelling-place of -jackals."'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh,' said the girl with a sobbing breath, -'it is only aunt, of course; she often reads -aloud like that. But, oh, I have had such -dreams—such frightful dreams!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The voice went on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'"O Lord, I know that the way of man is -not in himself: it is not in man that walketh -to direct his steps. O Lord, correct me"'—the -tone of the voice fell a little—'"but with -judgment; not in Thine anger, lest Thou -bring me—to nothing."'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I dreamt—I dreamt,' said the girl, pressing -both hands on her throbbing heart—'ah, I -could never tell you what I dreamt!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hush,' said Mortimer, 'don't try, don't -try! Won't you go to your room, and try -to sleep in comfort?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at him with distended eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I daren't,' she said. 'O God, I never shall -dare to sleep again!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The voice rose; the horrible exultant thrill -in it made the flesh creep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'"Pour out Thy fury upon the heathen -that know Thee not, and upon the families -that call not on Thy name: for they have -devoured Jacob, yea, they have devoured him -and consumed him, and have laid waste his -habitation."'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl staggered to her feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will go and sit with her,' she said; 'she -should not be alone.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-skirmish-by-the-way"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A Skirmish by the Way</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>At earliest dawn Mortimer was up and -away again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Linda had risen up and prepared breakfast -for him; quiet, capable, busied with frying-pan, -fire, the setting of a place at table; he looked -at her as she moved about the kitchen, and -wondered had not the sight of her face of -agony last night been a dream? She even -rallied him a little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You must eat well,' she said, as she put -fried eggs and bacon before him—the pleasantest -meal he had eaten since he had left Sydney; -'you don't want to be out another night with -those despatches of yours loose.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I want shooting,' he said, his forehead -burning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh no,' she said, 'you are young yet to it -all; you will have plenty of time to learn -carefulness before the war is over.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I hope so,' he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am afraid so,' she assented.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Something struck him. That soldier-farmer -in the quiet front room—who was to bury -him? who dig his grave?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'If I had thought,' he said, 'I would have -done it myself the—the grave, you know—instead -of having breakfast. You girls cannot -do it. Is the old man strong enough? I -would do it now, but my time is not my -own.' He looked at his watch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I have sent the three little boys to Du -Toit's farm,' she said, 'five miles away, to ask -them to send two of their Kaffir boys down. -All of ours have gone off.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He shook hands with her when he was -going, thanked her for all she had done.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is nothing,' she said; 'we have to thank -you, yet we don't, you notice. It is war-time. -Good-bye.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The grey air freshened as the sun climbed -foot by foot up over the great kop to the -east. The night's storm had left the veldt -fragrant as our own bush after rain. The -deserted farms looked at him, a mist of sleep -and forgetfulness in their eyes. Those every-day -fences, those gates made for farmers to -pass through, farmers' daughters to lean on -watching for their lovers, farmers' children to -swing on—was it possible half a dozen regiments -had gone crashing through and over them, -hastening to headquarters only a week before?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mortimer looked at the healthy land with -a bushman's appreciative eyes. He wondered -now many sheep the farms held. A Boer -prisoner at the camp had told him the country -carried a sheep to six acres, an ostrich to -twelve, and a horse to twenty. He speculated -loosely on the chances there would be for an -army of drought-ruined Australian settlers to -come here after the war with modern -implements and knowledge, and astonish these -pastoralists, who were a century at least behind -Europe in the way of agriculture.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Even Cameron's ahead of them,' Mortimer -thought, his mind reverting sadly to the poor -little selection at Wilgandra that bounded -Hermie's life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A heavy waggon went past drawn by a span -of mules, and driven by a Kaffir, who cracked -a whip of such length that the ordinary -stockwhip was nowhere beside it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A bent old man, with a cart of vegetables -and a horse too decrepit for the war, crept by. -Smoke in a place or two went up from the -chimneys of the scattered farmhouses. The -continent was awake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Riding yesterday, Mortimer had never -known when he might run into a Boer picket, -but the farther he went now the danger -lessened—in another dozen miles he ought to -be somewhere about the beginning of the line -the British had made to defend a railway. -And after that his ride would lie through -country dotted over by the British army.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He pushed on; his horse was fresh and -ready again after the night's rest and a couple -of good feeds; his own spirits, chiefly owing -to his excellent breakfast, began to rise again -and push his carelessness from the chief place -in his mind; he grew aflame for a chance to -prove his courage, and respect himself once -more. Before he left the camp it had been -held that a big engagement was certain in a -very few days; his mind leapt forward to it -now with a keenly sharpened appetite, and he -beheld himself making famous his country's -name by impossible feats of strength.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Crack! To the left of him a firearm went -off; the bullet passed clear over his head, and -rattled on some loose stones as it fell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He glanced round less in fear than astonishment. -At the spot the veldt was singularly -clear, and the nearest kopje was far beyond -rifle-range. Whir! A second shot struck his -helmet, a third grazed his shoulder! His -horse plunged and reared; he spun it round -and faced a clump of karoo bushes twenty -yards to his left, the only place from which -the shots could have come, and even these -seemed absurd, for no shrub was more than -two or three feet high. He raised his -revolver; his finger was at the trigger. Then -he saw three small faces over the edge of one -of the bushes—three that he knew; they were -the stolid, secret-looking little boys who had -lighted him to the stable last night.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 58%" id="figure-79"> -<span id="his-horse-plunged-and-reared"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="HIS HORSE PLUNGED AND REARED." src="images/img-264.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">HIS HORSE PLUNGED AND REARED.</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The little sweeps!' he muttered, but moved -his finger from the trigger, even though he -kept the revolver cocked at them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Do you want me to blow the brains of all -three of you out?' he called. 'Lay down those -guns this minute, or I will.' He was close up -to them, and a sharp glance among the sparse -bushes showed him that beyond these small -youths he had no other attackers. At the -sight of British might in the concrete form of -a mounted soldier standing right over them, -two of the lads instantly laid down their -ponderous old style weapons. The third -essayed another shot, but his rifle kicked and -the bullet went wild.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You young beggar!' said Stevenson; 'put -it down this instant.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lad obeyed sullenly; he was the eldest -of the three, and yet not more than twelve; a -thickset boy with a heavy, brooding face and -fine eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And what's the meaning of this little -performance?' said Mortimer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two of the boys had very little knowledge -of English, but the eldest had been quick to -pick it up from his grandmother and Linda, -who had just become his aunt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You killed our fathers,' he said doggedly. -'They've taken all the good guns with them, -or we wouldn't have missed like this.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mortimer had no doubt of it; as it was, the -shots had landed so near to the mark that it -was plain what was the Boer boys' pastime at -present. There was something about the three -small lads that reminded Mortimer irresistibly -of Roly—Roly, hung all over with the kitchen -cutlery, or prowling about the bush with a -broken-barrelled gun, Roly lying face -downward behind a great ant-bed and picking off -his foes at a lightning rate. He found it -hard not to smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hand me up those guns,' he said to the -eldest boy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boy gave him a stubborn glance, and -it needed the discharge of a cartridge over his -head to bring him to obedience. Then he -handed the poor old musket up sullenly to the -conqueror.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'See here,' Mortimer said, 'you'll make fine -soldiers by-and-by. Don't go and get -yourselves into trouble while you're young, and -so ruin your chances. If it had happened to -be some one less in a hurry than I am, he'd -have marched you over and seen you among -the prisoners, just to keep you out of mischief.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He'd have to catch us first,' said the boy, -with a defiant smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There is such a thing as putting a bullet -into the legs,' said Mortimer gravely. 'But -now cut along and fetch those Kaffirs for -your aunt.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boys turned round and struck off -dejectedly in a new direction; they had come -three miles off the road their aunt had sent -them by to execute this plot, secretly formed -by the eldest boy, for killing off one at least -of the enemy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Mortimer looked round again, they -were mere specks on the veldt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Poor little beggars!' he said, smiling as he -thought over the adventure again. He flung -two of the rifles into the river; the third he -carried with him as far as the British camp, and -gave it to some one of the ambulance there, -promising a five-pound note if it were kept -safely till the end of the war.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Roly'll go off his head at such a trophy,' -he thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He handed in his despatches not many hours -later, with no further adventures.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-mood-of-a-maid"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">The Mood of a Maid</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>'Do you know what it is to seek oceans, and to find -puddles, to long for whirlwinds, and have to do the best -you can with the bellows? That's my case.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Bartie had gone up to Coolooli for -the afternoon. Old Mr. Stevenson had -taken a great fancy to the boy, and prophesied -that he had the making of a fine squatter -in him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stevenson had ridden in to the selection on -his way from Wilgandra. It was not often -he passed the neat new gate in these days -without turning in. He always felt a pleasant -glow of conscious virtue, as his eyes marked -all the improvements that had so suddenly -sprung up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Me boy's pleasing me,' he would mutter. -'It wasn't much to ask.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He told the surprised Cameron that it was -his fad to leave none of his property -unimproved, and that he was merely making -the trial on this particular selection, to see -what might be done with a small holding. -Cameron was rather relieved than otherwise -that he no longer owned the place; the money -he had borrowed on it at different times was -almost equal to the sum he had paid for it -at first. With such a landlord it was a much -less responsible thing to be merely a tenant, -especially as Stevenson, since he had foreclosed, -would accept no rent, professing that he was -getting the place ready for some one who -could not take possession for a year or two, -and that it was a convenience to him for -Cameron to stay on the place and keep it in -order. The long-established character of the -man as hard and close kept any suspicion -from Cameron that he was being helped out -of kindness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man had come in this afternoon -to carry Bartie up to Coolooli with him, to -show him the new invention he was about to -try for the destruction of rabbits. Bart rushed -off to get his horse ready while Stevenson -stayed talking of the war and his son to -Mrs. Cameron. It was quite a surprise to her when -she learned much later that the old man had -five other sons. This one at the front was -the only one he ever spoke about.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He liked talking to this practical, sensible -mother of the family. He felt amazed that -such a shiftless fellow as Cameron should -own such a treasure, and he felt, as he looked -at her, that the salvation of the family would -have been assured after her arrival, even if he -himself had not lent a hand. With Hermie his -manner was unconsciously somewhat aggressive, -and she shrank from the rugged-faced old man -who looked at her so sharply from under his -bushy eyebrows. He saw her one day as he -passed her in the verandah, reading a book -fresh from London. Mrs. Cameron saw to -it that the poor girl had time now for such -rest and recreation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Can you make soap and candles?' he said, -stopping suddenly in front of her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not likely such arts had been learned -on Dunks' selection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No,' said Hermie. 'At least, we did try -once with the fat to make soap, but it went -wrong.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How would you instruct your men to -corn beef or make mutton hams?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie looked at him distressed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I have never done any,' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Humph!' he growled, and went to untie -his horse, muttering, 'A pretty wife, a pretty -wife!' to himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This particular afternoon Bart went off in -high spirits, Challis watching him wistfully -from the verandah.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie was—oh, who knew where Hermie -was? Wandering up and down among the -roses perhaps, her eyes soft with tears—Challis -had found her like that two or three times—or -reading poetry in some quiet corner in the -paddocks, or writing it in the secret solitude -of her bedroom, or on Tramby's back riding, -riding with dreamy eyes down the road to the -sunset. Wherever she was, she did not want -Challis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Cameron was with her husband. Up -and down the path they walked, his arm round -her waist, her hand in his, talking, talking a -little of the future, not at all of the quivering -past, mostly of the tender all-sufficing present. -Challis, who had had such sweet monopoly -of her mother for so long, missed it exceedingly -now, while readily acquiescing that the turn -for the others had come. She looked from -the verandah with yearning eyes. It seemed -months instead of weeks since she had poured -all her hopes and imaginings and longings and -queer little fancies into that ever-ready ear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roly? Roly was killing his Boers down -in the paddock, or wheeling heavy loads of -earth to make kopjes in the bush. He would -tell her to 'clear out of the way of lyddite -shells,' if she sought him out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Floss? Floss, who hated a needle, was -sitting on the grass making, with incredible -labour, a pincushion for the mother she had -begun to love with an almost fierce affection. -Challis would have liked to go and help her, -but the child, if she pricked her fingers till -they were empty of blood, would have no -stitch set in it that was not her own. -Furthermore, all the dreams on the Utopia were -dispersed. Challis had never buttoned one of -the little girl's garments, never tied a sash, -never brushed out a curl. The small woman -had dressed herself independently ever since she -was three, and indignantly scorned all help; -she hated sashes—her straight light hair she -raked herself. And though she accepted in -an offhand fashion the toys Challis had chosen -with such love and interest, she kept up an -inexplicably warlike attitude towards her, and -deprecated her on every possible occasion. -Her hands—'Pooh! Well, I would be -ashamed to have hands that colour! S'pose -you never take your gloves off?' 'Frightened -to walk in the bush 'cause of snakes! Well, -some girls are ninnies!' 'Never been-on a -horse—'fraid to get on Tramby! Why, -she—Floss—had galloped all over on Tramby -without a saddle when she was only four!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Challis, sensitively aware of her own want -of courage to explore and grow familiar with -these bush things, got into the habit of -shrinking away when Floss came on the scene.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There seemed no niche left for her in this -home she had looked forward to; that was -what it was. The place, rightly hers, had -filled up entirely during her long absence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No one understood her, or tried to. They -took it for granted that her genius and her life -abroad had lifted her to a higher plane than the -one on which they themselves lived. It might -be very cultivated and beautiful up there, but -they were not familiar with it, and therefore -did not take any interest in it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl tried hard to get on to their plane, -and be interested in their things; but they knew -she was trying hard, and it merely irritated -them. Let her stay where she belonged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was so lonely, too—so very lonely. Used -to the pleasant uproar and friendliness and -excitement of cities, this little clearing in the -great silent bush oppressed her intolerably after -a week or two.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had been a little ill before leaving Sydney. -The doctors had said her nervous system was -completely run down—a shocking thing in a -child! They advised complete rest for several -months, and expressed their opinion that the -quiet bush life at Wilgandra and roughing it -with children, who would take her out of -herself, would be the best possible thing for her, -and the triumphal career could be resumed -later on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So there were to be no concerts yet, no happy -strivings to interpret Chopin's varying moods to -a breathless audience, to reach up with -Mendelssohn to his pleasant sunlit heights, to go -down with Wagner to strange depths that stirred -her soul. She was to practise very little, to -appear in public not at all. The papers -expressed their regret at her illness, and said a -kind thing or two. After that her name had -no mention in them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One paragraph she had read had touched her -to the quick. Some interviewer who had been -to see her in Sydney wrote in his paper, 'Thank -Heaven, she is not pretty! Her chances are -hereby much greater.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poor little Fifteen! Her pillow was wet -that night. She felt she had much rather he -had said, 'She has no genius, but she is very -pretty.' She longed for Hermie's shining wavy -hair, for the sweet blue of her eyes, the pink -that pulsed about her cheeks. Who cared if you -could interpret the waves and storms of Lizst's -rhapsodies, and let the keen little rifts of melody -in between the thunder until the almost -intolerable sweetness made the heart ache? Who -cared that Leschetizky himself had taught you -and had tears in his eyes once, when you had -played to him the wind in the trees just as he -himself heard it? What did all these things -matter? Every one went home from your -concerts and forgot all about you. Oh, surely -it were better to be so exquisitely pretty that -all who saw you loved you on the spot!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at herself again and again in the -glass that night. Until that wounding -paragraph, she had never given one thought to her -looks; the sensitive small face, the grey eyes -drenched with this new tragedy, the fair -straight hair falling over her shoulders—not -pretty, not pretty, and all the world knew it now!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She drifted in from the verandah to the -living-room, where the piano stood open as -Hermie had left it, when, imagining Challis -out of hearing an hour or two ago, she had sat -down to it for a few minutes. But the cheap -tinkling stuff that comprised poor Hermie's -</span><em class="italics">repertoire</em><span>—the jingling waltzes, the -pretty-pretty compositions of Gustave Lange and -Brindley Richards, 'Edelweiss' and 'Longing,' -'Warblings at Eve,' and such—they set her -ear horribly on edge, though she would rather -have died than have said so. It were less -torture to hear Flossie thumping conscientiously -away at 'The Blue Bells of Scotland' and -'We're a' Noddin'.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The very piano was a heartache; it was -seven years since it had been tuned, and despite -the careful dusting of Miss Browne, the silverfish -led a gay existence in its interior, and -ate all the softness and depth from the notes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But this afternoon the girl, with that vague -misery tugging at her heart, was driven to -it; nothing else could ease her. She put her -foot down on the soft pedal, to keep the -discordant jangle away, and avoiding as much -as she could the B that was flat, and the -D that was dumb, and the F sharp that -Roly had torn off bodily, she worked off -the gloom that oppressed her with Beethoven -and Bach.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roly came in. He was arming himself for -a new attack on Ladysmith; he had the -kitchen poker and the stove-brush, the -tin-opener, a knife from a broken plough, a -genuine boomerang, the corkscrew, the gravy-strainer, -and the carving-knife, disposed about -his person, and he came into the living-room, -his eye roving about in search of fresh -implements of warfare. Nothing seemed to -appeal to him, however, and he was going -out again discontentedly when he noticed his -new sister had dropped her hands from the -keyboard, and was resting her forehead there -instead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He approached her with some awe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Can you play with your head too?' he -asked; then he noticed there were tears -running down her cheeks. 'Don't cry,' he said; -'I'll run out and ask mother to let you off. -Did she say you'd got to practise an hour? -Oh, I'll soon get her to let you off!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Challis smiled faintly through her tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It's all right,' she said; 'don't disturb -mother. No one told me to practise.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, you </span><em class="italics">are</em><span> a muggins!' said the -uncouth bushikin. 'Catch </span><em class="italics">me</em><span> setting myself a -copy or a sum! Why don't you go out -and play?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Challis let a new tear fall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I don't know how to play at anything,' -she said. 'I never had any one to play with.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roly's breast swelled with magnanimity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Look here,' he said, 'you can be Cronje -if you like. Here, you can have these two -for your weapons.' He handed her the -stove-brush and the corkscrew. 'Come on down -here, I'll soon show you how to do it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Challis shook her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No,' she said, 'I'm fifteen; it's too late -to learn now. I'll just have to go on playing -and playing at concerts. And who cares -when you're playing your very best, and -have practised one composition six hours a -day? Who cares?' She looked at him -miserably.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Look here, Chall,' he said, a most brotherly, -kindly tone in his voice, 'it's only because -you play such fat-headed things, that's why -they don't care. I can't listen to them myself. -Often when I've been digging my garden -outside the window, and you've started to -play, I've just had to go away. If you'd -learn some nice-sounding pieces now, instead -of things like Flossie's scales, only worse! -There's Peter Small's sister, down in W'gandra, -you ought to hear </span><em class="italics">her</em><span> play; she can play -"Soldiers of the Queen," and "Sons of the -Empire," and "Absent-Minded Beggar," and -"Girl He Left Behind Him," and all those -things, and she jumps her hands about, and -runs up and down, and crosses them just as -much as you do. If you like, I'll ask Peter -to get her to lend you them; I'm friends -with Peter just now.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Challis smiled and dried her tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I mightn't be able to play them, Roly,' she -said; 'so I don't think I'll trouble you to ask.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh,' said Roly encouragingly, 'you'd soon -pick them up. You could watch her a few -times, and notice how she does them. But -I'll have to be going now, Challis, if you don't -want me. I'll be down in the bush at the -back, if you want to come and have a try -to play. Don't let on to Brownie that I've -collared this.' He pointed to the gravy-strainer -that adorned his breast. I'll bring it back -all right.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Left alone once more, Challis wandered -about the little house. Miss Browne's door -was half open, to let in the evening breeze. -Miss Browne herself, her day's work finished, -was sitting at the table writing a multitude of -letters with a happy flush on her cheeks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Challis looked on wistfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Would you mind if I came in and sat with -you?' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Browne dropped her pen and jumped -up to welcome her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My dear, my love, why, you know you -may; most pleased, most delighted, whenever -you like—honoured, most delighted.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Challis stepped into the little room.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="miss-browne"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">Miss Browne</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>'I shall have no man's love</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>For ever, and no face of children born</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Or tender lips upon me.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Far off from flowers or any love of man</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Shall my life be for ever.'</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>What was it that broke the barriers -down? The wet eyelashes of the -little music-maker? The droop of her soft -mouth? Or came there across that poor room -one of those divine waves of sympathy and -understanding that wash at times from a richly -endowed soul to a lonely stunted one?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Browne found herself telling anything -and everything that had happened in her life, -and even the things that might have happened. -Not that the whole of them made a sum -of any account, if you condensed them; but, -told ramblingly and with pauses for tears, they -fell pathetically on the young listening ears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thirty-eight grey years! Life in this -country town and that country town, in this -crowded suburb or on that out-back station -or selection—a hireling always. The first -twenty-five had dragged by under English -skies that even in summer had no sun for a -motherless, fatherless girl, pupil-teacher from -the age of fourteen. She bore twelve years of -it patiently enough, and indeed would have -borne another score, but two friends, stronger, -more restless souls than she, though chained -to the same life, told her they were going to -break through it all, strike out of the stagnant -waters of suburban England into the fresh, -glittering sea the other side of the world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were saving their salaries to pay their -passage to Australia. Governesses were royally -paid out there, they had heard, and more than -that—they whispered this a little -ashamed—husbands grew on every bush.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Browne scraped and saved for a year, -cheerfully shivering without a winter jacket, -happily heedless of the rain that came through -the holes of her umbrella. If it had been a -question of economising in her diet, she would -have brought herself down to a crust a day, -in her eagerness to make a plunge into a -different life, but fortunately governesses are -'all found.' The three women cheerfully -cramped their bodies third-class for the voyage, -letting their souls soar boundlessly in the -pleasant evenings on deck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They came to their new land, saw it, and -after a few years were conquered. Almost -the same conditions of life, the same sickening -struggle of a multitude of educated women for -one poor place, the same grey outlook. One -found a husband; he took her to some -heaven-forgotten corner of North Queensland, where -she had for neighbours Japanese and Chinese -and Javanese, and he drank, as the men all -do in those forgotten corners, where alligators -are to be found on the river-banks, and -coloured labour crowds out the white man's -efforts. She bore him six children in eight -years, and then died thankfully. The second -woman went into a hospital and became a -nurse; for the last five years she had been -in Western Australia, kept busy with the -typhoid in Perth. Once in a while she wrote -to Miss Browne; once or twice she had -eagerly said she was 'all but engaged,' but -later letters never confirmed the hope, and -now a dull commonplace had settled down -over the correspondence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Browne drifted from place to place, -place to place; there was nothing she was -capable of doing really well, and no land has -a hospitable welcome for such.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is a funny thing,' she said to Challis, -'but, however hard I try, I never seem able to -do things like other people can.' Her eyes -stared in front of her. 'If it had been your -mother now in my place, she could have -managed; she is made of the stuff that never -goes under. But you would have thought -any one like I am would have been sheltered -and—cared for—as so many women are -cared for.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Challis stroked her restlessly moving hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Sometimes,' she continued—her voice -dropped, her eyes stared straight out before -her—'sometimes I can't help feeling as if -Providence has pushed me out to the front, -and quite forgotten to give me anything to -fight with.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she pulled herself together reprovingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Of course, that attitude is very wrong of -me,' she said. 'It is only very seldom I think -that, my love.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Challis squeezed her hand sympathetically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It will all come right some day,' she said, -with the large vague hopefulness of the very -young.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That's what I have always told myself,' said -Miss Browne; 'but you must see, my love, -if—if it does not come right very soon, it will -be too late. I am thirty-eight—there, there -is no need to mention it to Hermie or the -rest of the family, my love.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But thirty-eight is not old,' said Challis, -so eager to comfort, she left truth to take care -of itself. 'Think what lots of people are -fifty, and they don't think themselves a bit old.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But who will marry you after you are -thirty-eight?' said poor Miss Browne, unable -to keep any ache back to-night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh,' said Challis, 'lots of people don't get -married, and they are as happy as anything.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Browne's lip quivered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'If I had been asked,' she said, 'then I -should not mind so much. But I am—thirty-eight, -and no one has—ever asked me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Challis put her arm round the poor woman's -neck; she stroked her cheek, patted her -shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Of course,' Miss Browne said at last, sitting -up with tremulous, red-eyed dignity, 'there is -no need to tell Hermie that, my love.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But you must have lots of friends,' said -Challis, looking at the number of envelopes -lying on the dressing-table. The colour -ran up into Miss Browne's face. She half -put her hand over the letters, then drew it back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'If I told you about these, you would think -me so foolish, my dear,' she faltered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh no, I wouldn't!' said Challis. 'Now -I know you so well, I seem to understand -everything.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Browne got some little papers out of -a drawer, English penny weeklies devoted to -'ladies' interests.' She turned to the Answers -to Correspondents pages, 'Advice on Courtship -and Marriage.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Those marked with a little cross are -the answers to me,' whispered Miss Browne. -And Challis read these three marked paragraphs:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>'</span><em class="italics">Fair Australienne</em><span> writes: "I am the only -daughter of a very wealthy squatter, and have -two lovers. One is a squatter on an adjoining -station, the other an English baronet travelling -in Australia. If I marry the baronet, I must -leave my father, who loves me dearly; but I -care for him more than I do for the squatter. -What would you advise me to do?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>And the 'Aunt Lucy' who conducted the -page had replied:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>'Marry where your heart dictates. Could -you not induce your father to live in England -with you?'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>'</span><em class="italics">Sweet Rock Lily</em><span>.—"I am eighteen, and, -my friends tell me, very, very beautiful. I am -governess in a wealthy family, and the son -is deeply in love with me. If he marries -me, he will be disinherited. What should I do? -I love him very much. And will you tell -me a remedy for thin hair?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>'The editor's answer is: "Try to overcome -the prejudice of the family, </span><em class="italics">Rock Lily</em><span>, -and all will go well. Bay rum and bitter -apples is an excellent tonic."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>'</span><em class="italics">Little Wattle Blossom</em><span>.—"I am seventeen, -and only just out of the schoolroom. I am -passionately in love with a young handsome -man, who loves me in return; but my parents -are trying to force me into a marriage with -an old foreign nobleman. They have even -fixed the wedding day, and I am kept a -prisoner. What would you advise me to do?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>'The editor's answer is: "You cannot be -forced into a marriage in these days. Refuse -firmly. In four years you will be of age. -In answer to your second question, your friend -had better try massage for the crow's feet and -thin neck."'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Challis read in extreme puzzlement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I hardly understand,' she said. 'How do -you mean—these are to you?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is only my foolishness, my love,' said -Miss Browne, gathering them up again; 'but -I get a great deal of pleasure out of it. The -days the mail comes and I get the papers, I -am so excited I don't know what to do. You -get into the way of feeling it really is yourself.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But this phase of Miss Browne was beyond -Challis's comprehension, and she only looked -doubtfully at the papers, so Miss Browne was -swift to change the subject.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'These letters,' she said, 'are to the -Melbourne and Adelaide art societies. I -should like to tell you about this, my love. -Your father, about four years ago, painted a -picture, and something happened that made -him try to burn it. Well, we managed to -prevent that, and I got hold of it and hid -it away. He has forgotten all about it now, -imagines I sold it, but I haven't, and it -occurred to me lately to write to several artists -and describe the picture to them, and see if they -would buy it. I did not mention your father's -name; just said it was by a friend of mine—you -will forgive me for the liberty, my love?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But didn't you send the picture?' said -Challis. 'They could hardly tell from a -description.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I had no money,' said Miss Browne, sighing -'I made inquiries at Wilgandra, but it would -cost so much to have it packed and sent to -Sydney. And there is the risk of losing it. -I was </span><em class="italics">very</em><span> careful over the description; it -took me five long evenings to write—I left -no detail out.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And what happened?' said Challis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Browne flushed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Courtesy seems dying out,' she said. 'Not -one of them answered. It might have been -any lady writing—they could not know it -was only I.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Challis asked more questions about the -picture. She asked to be shown it, and waited -patiently while Miss Browne disinterred it from -under the bed, and took off the old counterpane -with which it was wrapped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I have never seen any great picture-galleries,' -said Miss Browne, 'but I know there is -something about this that must be good. It could -not work up the feelings in me that it does, -if it were just an ordinary picture. Look at -the man's eyes, my love—isn't the hopelessness -frightful?—and yet look at him well. You -just know he'll keep on trying and trying -till he gets there.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Challis gazed at it for a long time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes,' she said slowly; 'that is how it makes -me feel. I feel I want to beg him to stop -trying, and lie down and go to sleep. But it -wouldn't be any use. You feel the storm -will last for ever, and the captain will go on -trying for ever to get to wherever he has -made up his mind to get to.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Your father intends it to represent the -Flying Dutchman,' said Miss Browne.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh yes!' Challis said. 'Of course. I -ought to have known. But it is just like -this picture—just as sad. And I play it too. -Wagner, you know,—Der fliegende Hollander,—it -makes you want to cry.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My love,' cried Miss Browne, 'you say -you know an artist in Paris. Why, surely -that would be the very thing! I believe they -are all jealous of him in Sydney. Write to -your friend. He would take notice of a letter -from you. Write to him, and send the picture -too. You can afford to, and it is not likely -to go astray, since you know the exact address. -Suppose we start to do it now?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Challis sprang up with shining eyes. It -seemed the loveliest plan in the world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It shall be our secret, you dear, dear -thing!' she cried. 'We won't tell a single -soul in the world—not even mother. Let's -write it down that we promise.' She pushed -pen and ink to Miss Browne. 'Write on -this paper,' she said, '"I promise Challis -Cameron faithfully I won't tell any one in -the world."'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Browne wrote the compact down, smiling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Challis seized the pen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I promise Miss Brown faithfully I won't -tell,' she wrote.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, my dear, my love!' said Miss Browne -distressed. 'My love, how careless of you! -I spell my name with an "e." I never thought -you would forget, my love. No, don't add it -on there; it looks as if it were an afterthought. -Please write it again. We have always spelt -our name with an "e," my love.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-morning-cables"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">The Morning Cables</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'With rending of cheek and of hair,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Lament ye, mourn for him, weep.'</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Bart came clattering at a great pace up -the path with the mail. It was the -midday dinner-time; and such pleasant -appetising foods were the order of the day -now, boylike he did not care to be a moment late.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took the saddle off, laid it down on -the verandah, drove the horse down to the -first paddock, and hastened in to the dining-room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His father was just unfolding the daily -paper he had brought, and opening it to find -the war cables.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Read them out, Jim,' said Mrs. Cameron, -looking up from her task of apportioning the -peas and cauliflower and potatoes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cameron read out the headings:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>'"DESPERATE FIGHTING AT KRUG'S SPRUIT."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>"GALLANT ATTEMPTS TO RESCUE GUNS."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>"OFFICERS SERVING THE ARTILLERY."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>"FIFTEEN THOUSAND BOERS IN ACTION."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>"BRITISH UNDER A GALLING CROSS-FIRE."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>"BRITISH CASUALTIES."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>"CONSPICUOUS GALLANTRY BY A NEW SOUTH WALES PRIVATE."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>"LOSSES OF AUSTRALIAN TROOPS."'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The last two headings sent Cameron's eyes -hurrying down the long column to seek details.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh,' he said, 'poor lad, poor lad! Oh, -I'm sorry for this—sorry for this!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not old Morty,' said Bart—'not poor old -Morty, dad?' Yet even as he spoke he -knew it must be, for who else of all the -contingent had they a personal interest in? He -pushed his chair back and went to his father's -shoulder. His eyes read the meagre paragraph, -and burnt with swift tears for his friend.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>'CONSPICUOUS GALLANTRY BY A NEW SOUTH WALES TROOPER'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>was the heading of the cable. Below it said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'During the engagement, Trooper Stevenson, -of the N.S.W. Bush Contingent, made a most -gallant rescue. He galloped to the assistance -of General Strong, whose horse had fallen, -and bore him under a scathing fire to a place -of safety. General Strong escaped unhurt, -and obtained another horse, but while galloping -after his troop through the dusk, Stevenson -was hit by a bullet, and killed instantaneously.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Just the sort of thing old Morty would -do,' Bart said, his throat thick.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am thinking of the poor old man,' said -Mrs. Cameron. 'It will kill him. Jim, you -had better go up; you might be able to -do something. None of the other sons are -at home.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'll go, certainly,' Cameron said; 'but it -won't kill him. His pride in the lad's courage -will keep him up.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I say,' said Bart, 'he won't have got the -paper yet. That fellow Barnes was waiting for -the mail while I was, and he had been drinking -frightfully. It'll be hours before he gets -back. I saw him turn in to the Golden Fleece -as I came along.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A strange stifled cry came from the end of -the table. It was no use; Miss Browne had -fought desperately to keep her self-control, but -nature was too strong for her, and she was -struggling with a piteous fit of hysterics.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Cameron went round to her, got her -to the sofa, opened the neck of her dress, -administered cold water, spoke firmly and -decidedly to her. There was nothing in the -poor woman's cries for a long time, and she -only pushed at Mrs. Cameron, as if trying to -force her away. Finally a word came from -her choking throat:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hermie!' she cried, and pointed to the -open door. 'Go—to—Hermie.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Where was Hermie? Mrs. Cameron looked -round in surprise. It seemed only two minutes -since she had been cutting the bread, and -laughing at Roly because he had arranged his plate -as a battle-field, with the peas for the army, the -cauliflower as a kopje, the mashed potatoes in -dots for the tents, while a slice of beef made -the enemy's laager, and a gravy river flowed -between the troops. Why had she left the -table like this?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Go—to—Hermie!' gasped the shivering, -sobbing woman on the sofa. 'I—am—all -right—quick, quick!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Where had the girl gone? No one but -Miss Browne had even noticed her chair was -empty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Cameron armed himself with another -tumbler of cold water, and came across to the -sofa.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will look after Miss Browne,' he said. -'You go to Hermie; perhaps she was a little -faint.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Down—the—path,' gasped Miss Browne, -'near the wattles, most likely.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Cameron made her way down the path, -looking from left to right, a puzzled expression -on her face. The girl was nowhere to be -seen. She looked among the roses, in the -various shady corners, beneath the trees. -Finally she came to the thick-growing wattles -near the fence, and a gleam of blue cambric -showed through the leaves. The mother went -in among the bushes, and found the girl face -downward on the ground, sobbing in so bitter -and heartbroken a way that she was quite -alarmed for a moment. Then a wondering -comprehension came; her girl was almost a -woman. Was it possible she had cared for -this friend of the family in a different way -from Bart and Floss and Roly?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My poor little girl!' she said, and sat down -on the ground beside her, and lifted the bright -head that had been Morty's perpetual delight -on to her knee.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Hermie pulled herself away, and rose -wildly to her feet, and ran this way among the -bushes with her broken heart, and then that way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh,' she sobbed, 'go away, go away—I -want to be alone! Oh, it is my fault!—I want -to be alone—oh, mother, mother!'—and she -came back to her mother's side, and fell down -beside her again, clinging to her piteously. -The mother said nothing at all—just stroked -her hair and let her weep as she would, and -soon a little calmness came back to the girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh,' she said, 'if you knew how I loved -him, mother!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Did you, my darling?' said the tender -mother, and never showed the ache that was at -her heart because her child had kept so great -a thing as this from her confidence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ever since he went I have been loving him,' -Hermie said, 'and yet when he told me, I sent -him away, and he was so miserable. I am sure -that is why he went to the war.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And you thought you did not care for him, -then?' said Mrs. Cameron. 'Well, darling, -that was not your fault.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, it was—it was!' said Hermie. 'You -don't understand, of course. You never could. -But I shall be miserable now all my life!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You found you had made a mistake, and -you cared for him after all?' said Mrs. Cameron.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I didn't know quite how much till to-day!' -sobbed Hermie. 'I have kept thinking of -him and thinking of him ever since he went; -out now—oh, now it is too late! I know I -shall love him till I die.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The mother's heart ached, as all mothers' -must do when their children have to stand -alone in a grief, and there can no longer be -any kissing of the place to make it well.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It seems as if I have been blind,' went on -the girl, sometimes wiping the tears away and -hiding her swollen eyes, sometimes letting them -trickle unchecked down her cheeks. 'I can't -tell you how silly and small I have -been—thinking men ought to be just like men in -books, and never looking at what they really -are. Oh, he was so good, such a brave fellow; -ever since he has gone, people are always telling -different brave or kind things he has been -doing ever since he was a boy. And, just -because he wore clothes and ties I didn't like, -and sometimes knocked things over, I——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her voice choked, and she fell to sobbing -again heart-brokenly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Cameron was silent again for a space; -but when as the time went on the girl seemed to -abandon herself more and more to her grief, -she rose to her feet and drew the sobbing -figure up also.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There is a hard task before you, dear one,' -she said, 'but I know you will do it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie gazed at her helplessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'His poor old father does not know yet, for -Bart tells me his man Barnes is still drinking -in Wilgandra. I want you to go up to -Coolooli and break it to him.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Me?' gasped Hermie. 'Me?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, you, my dear. You cared for his son; -it will establish a bond between you, and make -it a little easier for him.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, I couldn't!' cried the girl, shrinking -back, actual alarm on her face. 'Oh, it is -cruel of you to even ask me, mother! Why -should I do such a thing? Surely it is hard -enough already for me!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Because you are a woman, my dear, and -must always think of yourself last,' the mother -said quietly. 'How soon can you be ready -to start?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One glance the girl gave at her mother's face -that was so quietly expectant that she would -do the right thing. Her head lifted a little, -and her mouth tried to compose itself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I have only my skirt to put on,' she -said; 'I can do it while Bart saddles Tramby -for me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Up to the cottage she walked again, and -put on the neat blue riding-skirt her mother -had lately made her. She bathed her red eyes; -she drank two tumblers of cold water, to take -the choking from her throat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Father will go with you,' the mother said, -coming to the door; 'but when you get to -Coolooli you can ride on ahead.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Through the pleasant winter sunshine they -rode, up hill, down dale, across bush stretches -where Mortimer's horse had worn a path for -them. Coolooli faced them at last, secret -stern-looking, with its curtainless windows, its -garden barren of sweet flowers. It was the -first time the girl had been so near her -lover's home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was among the trees now that lined -the drive leading up to the house; her father -had dropped behind, and was to follow on -in half an hour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her heart seemed fluttering in her throat; -a deadly sickness possessed her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man was standing at a table on -the verandah; he had a great map of the -Transvaal spread open before him, and, with -small flags stuck in it here and there, was -following his son's footsteps.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned at the sound of the horse's -hoofs. When he saw the rider he went -down instantly on to the path, to help her -to dismount.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, little missie,' he said, 'it's not often -you ride this way.' He looked at her -colourless cheeks keenly. 'What is the -matter—can't you jump down?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She absolutely could not, and he had almost -to lift her off her saddle. He tied the horse's -reins loosely round the verandah-post, and -looked at her again from beneath his shaggy -eyebrows. He told himself he knew what -was the matter. The family was in difficulties -again, and had sent this particular member of -it as an emissary to borrow money. Well, -this freak of his son's was going to cost him -dear. Still, the little thing was trembling -dreadfully, and evidently did not like her -task. He put his hand on her shoulder -reassuringly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Out with it, lassie,' he said; 'how much -do you want?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie clung to his arm—her very lips -were white.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mortimer has been very brave,' she said; -'he has done something magnificent.' Her -voice fell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My lad!' he cried, in a changed tone. -'Where? show me—I haven't seen the paper yet.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She clung to it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You will be very proud of him,' she said -'All Australia is talking of him to-day.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He pulled vigorously at the paper; his creased -old face had a strangely illumined look; his -hands were trembling with eagerness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I knowed it,' he said; 'he always had grit. -I've kep' expectin' this. Well, I'll lie quiet in -me grave now, whenever the Lord up there likes.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes,' the girl continued, and gave him the -paper. 'All the world is proud of him to-day, -so that must help you. He gave his life to -save the general's.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man drew a curious breath, and sat -down on his chair; he opened the paper and -read the paragraph. Then he read it again, -and again, and again, until his eyes had carried -the news to his brain twenty times at least.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It was a fine thing to do,' he said at last.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes,' said Hermie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No other Australian's been mentioned like that.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No,' said poor Hermie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It was a fine thing to do,' he repeated. He -got little further than that all the time the girl -stayed; even when Cameron came up, all -a-quiver with deep sympathy, he still only said, -'It was a fine thing to do.' After an hour or -so, he looked at them expectantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I suppose you'll have to be getting back?' -he said; and Cameron and Hermie rose at once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He saw them down the steps, and even -helped Hermie on her horse again. Cameron -rode on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Good-bye, missie,' he said. Then he shot -an almost aggressive look at her. 'You ought -to be fine and set up that a fellow like that -loved you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am,' said Hermie bravely. 'I shall be -proud of it just as long as I live, Mr. Stevenson.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He softened a little, then looked suddenly -old and very tired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I want to be alone now,' he said. 'But I -don't mind if you come up again to-morrow.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With that he went back to the house, the -paper still in his hand. But the next day, -when she went, she found him pacing the -place like a wounded tiger. The servants -told her he had been very quiet all the morning -and the previous evening, and had told them -all several times about the fine thing his son -had done. But Barnes had brought in the -day's papers an hour ago, and he had been -raging like this ever since. The girl found -him with bloodshot eyes and clenched hands, -walking the big verandahs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Go away!' he shouted when he saw her. -She turned and went into the house at once, -to wait the passing of the mood. She stood -at the window of one of the handsome rooms, -and looked with dreary eyes out to the twin -hill that lay bathed in the clear sunshine half -a mile away, and never knew how often -Mortimer had sat at that same window, -smoking his after-dinner pipe, and building -his sunny cottage for her on the bright hill-top.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently the old man came in to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Take the paper from me,' he said quaveringly, -and held it out to her. 'If I read it -any more, I'll lose me reason!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl looked startled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I didn't know there was anything new -to-day,' she said. 'Bart told me he had lost -our paper on the way.' Her eyes, large with -fear and grief, tore through the cables they -had kept back from her at the selection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Private Stevenson,' said a paragraph, 'did -not die instantaneously. He was shot through -the jaw and through one lung, and dragged -himself to a rock, leaving a long trail of blood -behind. He must have lingered in frightful -agony all night, for when his body was picked -up by the ambulance, it was found that he -had written the word "Cold" on the ground -with his finger.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dear God, how can they do this?' Mrs. Cameron -had cried, when she saw the paragraph. -'Have they no sense of pity or decency, that -they print these frightful details? This is more -terrible a thousandfold for those who loved -him than the plain news that he was dead.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The poor little girl, who had gone up so -resolved to be calm and brave, screamed out -uncontrollably at the cruel news, then buried -her head in her hands to keep the moans back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man brought her a glass of water -from the sideboard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Let's tear it up,' he said, and rent the -horrid news in pieces. 'Let's only remember -the boy did the right thing, and died like a -man.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He found himself comforting the girl who -had come to comfort him. She found herself -telling him with streaming eyes how she had -loved his boy and thought of him, even though -at the time he asked her she had said, 'No.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'If only he could have known!' she sobbed. -'Perhaps, perhaps he was thinking of me part -of that night when he—was cold.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next day there was another cable about -the affair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The trooper who saved General Strong's life -at Krug's Spruit was Private Mark Stevenson, -of the Queensland Contingent, not Mortimer -Stevenson of the New South Wales, as reported -yesterday.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie tore along the road to Coolooli -to rejoice with the old man, since before she -had gone to grieve with him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was sitting on the verandah looking very -shaken and bewildered, and reading the third -cable as often as he had read the first.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I—hardly understand,' he said feebly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie had seized his two hands, and was -shaking them joyously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He is alive—alive!' she cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked at her piteously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Didn't he do that fine thing at all?' he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No,' she cried. 'Some other man did it, -thank God! He is alive, alive—Mortimer—he -is not dead!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He drew his hands out of her eager ones a -little pettishly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'They should be more careful with these -cables,' he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh,' she cried happily, 'we will forgive -them anything! He is alive—alive!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But he never did that fine thing,' he -repeated sadly.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="conclusion"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">Conclusion</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>'Let one more attest</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>I have lived, seen God's hand through a lifetime, and</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>all was for best.'</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Life, so long a hopeless tangle, smoothed -itself out at last for the little family. -Challis was well again, and had gone off -to give a series of concerts in the respective -capitals of each colony; gone off in high -spirits, touched with sweet responsibility, -inasmuch as she was the bread-winner for the -family. Mr. Cameron went with her this -time, and her mother stayed thankfully at -home on the selection. And Australia, despite -the fact that she neither recited 'The -Absent-Minded Beggar,' nor yet had 'Sons of the -Empire' in her </span><em class="italics">repertoire</em><span>, gave her so warm a -welcome everywhere that in three months she -was back again at The Rosery with a fresh -thousand pounds put to her credit in the bank.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This pleasant sum was to pay passages across -the sea for all the family.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For, warm-hearted as the big overgrown -young island had proved, its eager, easily roused -enthusiasm would soon be turned upon some -other object, and there would be no permanent -opening for the girl-musician. She must go -to the little, pulsing, crowded island the other -side of the world for that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Cameron had the plan of campaign all -in readiness in her head. They were to find an -ideal house in a pleasant countrified suburb -just out of London, and Challis, accompanied -by her father, was to fulfil her English -engagements from there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When she went abroad, they would all, -when possible, go with her, and make -headquarters in some inexpensive French or German -village. The benefit of a varied life like this -would be incalculable to the young ones, after -the stagnant years at Wilgandra.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bart was to go to an English public school -the moment they touched land after the voyage. -He had but three or four years left now in -which to crowd all his school education, and -he was eager to begin. In general education -and the making of moral fibre, Wilgandra had -done a better work than Eton or Rugby could -ever hope to do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But I shall come back and be a squatter,' -he always insisted. 'No other life for me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'If he sticks to that,' old Stevenson said to -his father, 'send him back to me. I'll give -him a start, and be thankful to do it. He's -got the stuff in him to make the kind of man -this country wants.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he fell to chuckling over the memory -of the calf that Bart had sold him, and so -started the intimacy between them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hermie was to travel as much as possible, -take lessons in various subjects from good -masters, and go on with her general education -under the able guidance of her mother. And -there were picnics and dances and all manner -of brightness for her in her mother's campaign, -to counteract the grey monotony of her earlier -girlhood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And, when the war was over, one in khaki -would step in and take the young life into his -keeping, and make all the sunshine for it that -a boundless love makes possible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On his far battle-fields Mortimer knew now -the little girl's heart was his own. His father -had written to him one of his characteristic -letters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'm glad to hear, my boy, you're still alive, -but it was a fine thing that other fellow -Stevenson did for his general. I take pride -that my name's the same. But perhaps you'll -get a chance yet to do the same thing. I've -been looking round, and I think the hill over -the way will make the best place for your -house, and I daresay two or three thousand a -year would keep you going for a time, as she's -not flighty and used to fine things, like Luke's -wife. It's a pity she can't make soap and such -things, but maybe she can learn; she may -favour her mother, who seems a sensible body, -more than that fool of a father of hers. I'll -give the little baggage credit, at all events, for -being fond of you. A nice job of it I had -with her, when we thought it was you killed -instead of that fine fellow Mark Stevenson. -She was nearly crazy, because she said you'd -never know how she loved you.'</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 58%" id="figure-80"> -<span id="one-of-his-father-s-characteristic-letters"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="ONE OF HIS FATHER'S CHARACTERISTIC LETTERS." src="images/img-314.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">ONE OF HIS FATHER'S CHARACTERISTIC LETTERS.</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Mortimer fought the rest of his battles -with a light heart, and many a night, when -the veldt slumbered restlessly beneath its -covering of white, harmless-looking tents, he -lay happily awake, thinking of the green twin -hill at home and the bright cottage that was -going to crown it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But I shall insist that he travels about with -you for a year or two before you settle down,' -said the mother; 'it will do you both good. -And he must bring you for a visit home to -us at least every three years.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl went on her way, shyly, sweetly, -learning all she might to fit her for the high -office of woman and wife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Browne?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At first Mrs. Cameron had almost obeyed -the natural impulse to dismiss her kindly, give -her a handsome present of money, and help -her to find a comfortable situation. But the -vision perpetually haunted her of the poor -woman with a strand of dull hair blown loose, -and her blouse and skirt not quite meeting, -and her face moist with perspiration, toiling -in one hot country town after another, getting -sparks in her eyes, cooking other peoples' food, -dragging fat babies out for a walk, battling -helplessly with naughty small boys and girls, -and distractedly saying to them, 'My love, my dear.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This while she and her own family, their -eyes turned eagerly to a glowing future, sailed -thankfully away from all the misery and -monotony of the past.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She could not do it. The woman seemed -to stand right in their path, a moral -responsibility for all their lives.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So while Mr. Cameron was away with -Challis on the Australian tour, she filled in all -her spare time undertaking a mission to Miss -Browne. Her first battle was to make the -woman respect herself, trust herself. She -ordered some clothes for her, well-cut coats -and skirts, warm-coloured home dresses with -soft lace to hide the bony neck and wrists. -She gave deep thought to a style of doing -her hair, and having found it, kept her to it, -insisting that she should give plenty of time -to curling those helpless strands and brushing -them and getting them into good condition. -She encouraged her to form her own opinions -on things, and teased her gently out of her -little eccentricities of speech. She applied -herself energetically to making her capable -and efficient in the branches of housekeeping -which all these years she had so hopelessly -muddled. The mission was sheer hard, -exhausting work—there were times when it -seemed almost desperate; but women have -battled far harder and with far less hope of -success with the Island blacks or the far -Chinese, and here was her work come to her hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why,' cried the changed woman, at the -end of a day that had seen the accomplishment -of a most respectable pie-crust, an almost -invisible patch on a coat, and a hard piece -of music mastered, 'I shall be able to ask -for ten shillings a week, I am sure, when I -go to the registry office again; I never used -to get more than five or six until I came -to Mr. Cameron, and I am sure I was not -worth the ten he used to pay me then.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My dear,' said Mrs. Cameron, 'you have -finished with registry offices. I want you to -come to England with us, and help me -with Floss and Roly.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This decision she and her husband had -only just arrived at; to leave her behind, -even improved as she was, would mean she -would soon sink back without stimulus into -her dreary ways. So Challis gave yet one -more concert in a country town, to pay for -the extra passage money and frocks, and the -future they left to look after itself. She had -a relative or two in England who might give -her a home; if not, well, unless life went -very crookedly again, they would always keep -a corner for her themselves wherever they lived.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But before they had been in London six -months the pleased Fates relieved them of -their anxiety.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Next door to them in the pleasant home -they had made was a widower, just getting -over—and without overmuch difficulty—the -loss of a wife who had insisted upon managing -his very soul as well as his house, and -his two children and his very respectable -cheque-book.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His small ones were running wild—he noted -the contrast between them and Floss and Roly, -whom Miss Browne seemed now to manage -so admirably. The intimacy increased; the -change from his past, overruled existence to -the companionship of this gentle lady-help, who -deferred humbly to his opinions, and asked his -advice, and was curiously grateful for the -smallest attention, was such a restful novelty -to him that he offered her his hand and heart -and lonely little children forthwith.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now that Fortune, so long harsh and -uncompromising, had taken to flinging gifts -at the family with unstinted hand, it did not -leave Cameron himself out of its scheme of -sudden generosity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The picture of the ship had found its way -safely from under Miss Browne's bed at -Wilgandra across the sea to the artist who -painted in leafy Fontainebleau pictures the -world was pleased to stand and look at long.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the man's artist-soul rose in recognition -of the passion and strength that had gone forth -into the brush that had worked so feverishly -in that far-away bush township.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An important Paris exhibition was just -coming on. He rushed up to the city with -the canvas, and his influence got it in at the -right time, and saw it well hung. The second -day the exhibition was opened it sold for two -hundred guineas, and the path Cameron had -ached to walk on all his life was at last open -to his feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The day had not dropped her burdens -from the backs of these people for ever; it -had merely strengthened weak shoulders with -soldierly discipline, and readjusted the weight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bright days, sad days, separations, meetings, -temptations, love, death, all would come along, -as they always have done, as they always will.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For this is Life we fare upon, and not -just a little journey to ask smooth ground for -all the way.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>THE END.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics small">Printed in Great Britain by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ltd., -<br />London and Aylesbury.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">The Favourite Author Series.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics">A splendid series of entertaining stories, by Popular Authors, -<br />for girls still at school. Illustrated.</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics">Crown 8vo, or large crown 8vo, cloth gilt,</em><span> 2s. 6d. net.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Bede's Charity. By HESBA STRETTON.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A poor farmer's daughter, "an unlearned woman," tells the -history of her life—and very interesting reading it makes, too.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Carola. By HESBA STRETTON.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A most graphic and powerful story. The career of the heroine -and the character of an old Jew are skilfully portrayed.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Children of Cloverley. By HESBA STRETTON.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A charming story for children of life in England and America -during the terrible time of the American Civil War.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Cobwebs and Cables. By HESBA STRETTON.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A powerful story, the general teaching showing how sinful habits -that begin as "cobwebs" generally end as "cables."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Dwell Deep. By AMY LE FEUVRE.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The difficulties and happiness of a very sober-minded girl among -her more flighty companions are brightly described.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Enoch Roden's Training. By HESBA STRETTON.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A thoroughly interesting story for young people, who will find -the teaching conveyed in it very helpful when in trying circumstances.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Was I Right? By Mrs. O. F. WALTON.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Should a woman marry a man who has not her own religious -belief? That is the whole point of this interesting tale.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Winter's Folly. By Mrs. O. F. WALTON</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This helpful story shows how a little girl found her way to -the heart of a disappointed and friendless old man.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Wonderful Door; or, Nemo. By Mrs. O. F. WALTON</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A very spirited and amusing story of a nameless child who is -adopted by a basket-hawker, a noble-hearted dwarf.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Kiddie; or, The Shining Way. By AMY WHITTLE.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kiddie is a child of misfortunes who escapes from the cruel -guardianship of the owner of travelling roundabouts.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Looking Heavenward. By ADA VON KRUSENSTJERNA. -Translated by A. DUNCAN DODDS.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A Russian lady's sincere Christian character and conversation -bring blessings and peace to the hearts of all whom she meets.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Hillside Children. By AGNES GIBERNE.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Risely's boyishly-clever criticisms and witticisms frequently -lead to his own undoing, and his venturesome pranks bring trouble.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Scarlet Button. By KATE MELLERSH.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John and Joan discover an old family jewel, the fortunes of -which form the chief subject of this story.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Our Dick. By LAURA A. BARTER SNOW.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A really good story of a boy who is a boy, and fights his battles -in a brave, manly way.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>More About Froggy. By BRENDA.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Froggy has much trouble, brought about by bad acquaintances, -and many adventures on land and sea, until all ends well.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Peter and Pepper. By KATE MELLERSH.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Peter is a jolly little fellow, and the pranks he and "Pepper" -play together provide splendid and interesting reading.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">POPULAR STORIES BY AMY LE FEUVRE.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics">Illustrated. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt,</em><span> 2s. 6d. net.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Harebell's Friend. By AMY LE FEUVRE.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A pleasant story of domestic interest. Little Harebell is full -of quaint sayings, high spirited, and has the most tender and loving -little heart in the world.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Laddie's Choice. By AMY LE FEUVRE.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The small hero has to choose between living with a rich uncle, -or with his father who is poor.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A Little Listener. By AMY LE FEUVRE.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A splendid story of child-life. Trixie is a delightful little -prattler, very imaginative, and quite entertaining about things in -general.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Me and Nobbles. By AMY LE FEUVRE.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A wholesome, natural story of a child who yearns to meet the -father whom he does not remember.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Miss Lavender's Boy. By AMY LE FEUVRE.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A series of excellent stories all showing some pleasant trait of -human nature and inculcating good moral lessons.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Us, and Our Donkey. By AMY LE FEUVRE.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A rattling tale of the doings of some rectory children who, -with a donkey, have many exciting adventures.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Us, and Our Empire. By AMY LE FEUVRE.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An amusing story describing the various mishaps that befall -a family of children who formed an Empire League.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="bold italics large">Charming Stories for Girls.</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">—BY— -<br />Mrs. George de Horne Vaizey.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Mrs. George de Horne Vaizey is one of the foremost writers of -girls stories. All her works are full of brightness and unflagging -interest, and any girl who has not yet made Mrs. de Horne Vaizey's -acquaintance through her books has a great pleasure in store.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics">Illustrated. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt,</em><span> 3s. net.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>About Peggy Saville. By Mrs. G. de H. VAIZEY.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How Peggy rescues a rival from burning, plays innumerable -pranks, and disarms rebuke by her quaint ways, is pleasantly told.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>More About Peggy. By Mrs. G. de H. VAIZEY. A -Sequel to "About Peggy Saville."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A charming sequel to "About Peggy Saville." Peggy is never -short of an excuse to help her out of her scrapes.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Pixie O'Shaughnessy. By Mrs. G. de H. VAIZEY.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Describes the remarkable experiences of a little Irish girl and -her family, containing a rich fund of exhilarating humour.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>More About Pixie. By Mrs. G. de H. VAIZEY. A -Sequel to "Pixie O'Shaughnessy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The happy-go-lucky O'Shaughnessy's are delightful, especially -Pixie, with her French hats and manners, and her Irish heart and -tongue.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A Houseful of Girls. By Mrs. G. de H. VAIZEY.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The hopes, the fears, the serious endeavours, the pranks, and -the love-makings of six bright-eyed maidens are here charmingly -set forth.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="bold italics large">Pure High-toned Stories.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="large">By Rosa Nouchette Carey.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics">Containing graceful, vivid pictures of girl life. Abounding -<br />in striking incidents and full of pathos. The character -<br />sketching is very true to life.</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics">Illustrated. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt,</em><span> 3s. net.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Aunt Diana. By ROSA N. CAREY.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A characteristic love story by this popular writer, told in a -quiet, gentle, tender style, and with many strongly-marked -individualities.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Averil. By ROSA N. CAREY.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A young lady of delicate health and with ample means, seeks -to befriend her poorer relatives, also various waifs and strays.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Cousin Mona. By ROSA N. CAREY.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A charming story of two motherless girls suddenly bereft of their -father. Their trials are told in Miss Carey's inimitable way.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Esther Cameron's Story. By ROSA N. CAREY.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The whims and fancies, the mental qualities, and varying -dispositions of several girls are pleasantly set forth -in this chatty story.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Little Miss Muffet. By ROSA N. CAREY.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From a wild, unmanageable schoolgirl, the charming heroine -develops into a sweet and lovable young woman.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Merle's Crusade. By ROSA N. CAREY.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A delightful story for elder girls. The heroine strikes out a -new line for herself as a nurse for little children.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Our Bessie. By ROSA N. CAREY.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bessie's sunniness of disposition makes her the delight of -everybody, and brings her a good husband and a happy home.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="bold italics large">Fascinating Stories</em><span class="bold large"> -<br />FOR GIRLS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="large">By Evelyn Everett-Green.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics">Illustrated. Crown 8vo, or large crown 8vo, cloth gilt.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Barbara's Brothers. By E. EVERETT-GREEN. 3s. net.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Wulfric, M.D., and Gerald, would-be artist, have little in -common, so Barbara sees many family dissensions before her -brothers finally agree.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Conscience of Roger Trehern. By E. EVERETT-GREEN. 3s. net.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger's warfare with himself, a year or so of storm and stress, -is powerfully and skilfully told.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Cossart Cousins. By E. EVERETT-GREEN. 2s. net.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A charming love story. A young brother and sister are left -unprovided for and thrown on their cousin's tender mercies.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Family. By E. EVERETT-GREEN. 3s. net.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Some reminiscences of a housekeeper. A young wife at the -commencement of her married life, found herself unequal to the -responsibilities of her position.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Family Next Door. By E. EVERETT-GREEN. 3s. net.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The "family" consists mainly of some unruly Anglo-Indian -children, over whom their mother exercises practically no control.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Fir Tree Farm. By E. EVERETT-GREEN. 2s. net.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Davenant trod the downward path, passed through the depths -of degradation and despair, but finally struggled back from darkness.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Greyfriars. By E. EVERETT-GREEN. 2s. net.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Esther takes charge of her married sister's home, and has much -trouble with the children left in her care.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="bold italics large">Every Girl's Bookshelf.</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics">A Splendid Series of Stories for Girls. Each with Two -<br />Illustrations in colour, and coloured medallion on cover.</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics">Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, coloured wrapper,</em><span> 2s. net.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Her Treasure of Truth. By H. LOUISA BEDFORD.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madge Bramley, brought suddenly into contact with Alice -Masterman, acts on a generous impulsive desire to help her, with -splendid results.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Beryl's Triumph. By EGLANTON THORNE.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Depicting in a pleasant manner a young girl's life at her sea-side -home. Her final heroic deed completely changes Beryl's whole -life.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Annie Carr. A Tale of Two Hemispheres.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A sorely-tried girl passes through untold misery, not from any -fault of her own, but from the basest treachery.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Ellen Tremaine. By M. FILLEUL.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A splendidly told story of a woman's hard domestic struggles. -Her husband is lost at sea, but turns up again at last.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Girls of Marleigh Grange. By M. M. POLLARD.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A very readable story, describing three years of a girl's life. -There is also a good love element in the tale.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Little Maid Marigold. By ELEANORA H. STOOKE.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Little Marigold's winsomeness and unselfishness completely -undermined an unreasoning hostility and prejudice which her aunts -had conceived towards her mother.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Mysterious Locket. By RUTH LYNN.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From a little motherless babe, rescued from shipwreck, Ermyn -becomes an heiress—and all by the aid of a locket.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Mistress of the Manor. By E. KIRBY.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A domestic tale of unusual interest, in which the heroine passes -through many troubles and trials before she finally marries happily.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Anthony Cragg's Tenant. By AGNES GIBERNE.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An agreeably written story of a very good girl, a selfish, -deceitful woman, and a kindly man.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Heart of a Friend. By FLORENCE WILMOT.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A noble girl's influence and her genuine unselfishness has the -happiest effect on the members of a very mixed family.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Brown Eyes and Blue. By ANNIE MABEL SEVERS.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There are thrilling episodes, deep mysteries and startling -surprises in this invigorating story of home and school life.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Arthur Glynn. By RUTH LAMB.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Half-a-dozen well written tales, which combine interest of plot, -skill of narrative, and sound moral teaching.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Two Enthusiasts. By EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The efforts of an heiress and her companion to carry out their -views on social and religious questions are well told.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Faith of Hilary Lovel. BY EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Describes the exciting times of the Spanish Armada, and how -the people of England rose unitedly to resist the attempted invasion.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Romance of Miss Hilary, and other Stories.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Romances of humble life in which poor, hardworking people -make life beautiful by mutual sacrifice and unusual kindness.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Kitty and Kit. By FLORENCE WILMOT.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A brightly written story of home life, spiritedly told. Kitty, -an orphan girl, and Kit, her cousin, are especially attractive.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Colleen's Choice, and other Stories.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An interesting set of fourteen brightly told stories inculcating -the maxim, "Be good, and you will be happy."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Dick and Brownie. By MABEL QUILLER-COUCH.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A little girl, accompanied by her dog, runs away from a gipsy -caravan, and has many adventures.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Alwyn Ravendale. By EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A modern story of west country child life. The young hero is -quixotic, and in the end proves a faithful lover.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Half-a-Dozen Sisters. By EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A pretty story of family life in which six sisters take their -varied parts, and into whose interests the reader is irresistibly drawn.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Brought Out of Peril. By EMMA LESLIE.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An interesting story describing what befell a young servant girl, -silly, wilful, and easily led, although of good parentage.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A Turn of the Road; or, The Homeseekers. By ADELAIDE M. PLUMPTRE.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Depicting the delightfully free life of a party of home seekers, -in the still wild country of Canada West.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Young Gordons in Canada. By MARY B. SANFORD.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A vivid account of the experiences and adventures of a family -that reduced circumstances obliged to leave the old country.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Finding of Angela. By ALICE M. PAGE.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Four girls come from Alexandria to a school in England, hoping -to find Angela, a poor little kidnapped baby cousin.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A Queen of Nine Days. By E. C. KENYON.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An interesting account of the troubled but brief reign of Lady -Jane Grey, narrated by one of her maids of honour.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Lenore Annandale's Story. By EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A splendid book for young people, the pervading thought being -the fulfilment of duty in obedience to the commands of religion.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Veiled Hearts. By RACHEL WILLARD. A Romance of Modern Egypt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Sacred Carpet, howling Dervishes, and the Sword of Azrael, -form the groundwork of this fascinating romance of Modern Egypt.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Orphans of Merton Hall. By EMILY BRODIE.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claire and Olive are foster sisters, and their youthful experiences -and girlish confidences are told in an entertaining style.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Joint Guardians. By EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A captivating and romantic tale of two families of cousins, -whose fathers are joint guardians of a young girl.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Tom Heron of Sax. By EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A country lad who began by scoffing at religion, ended in being -shot while preaching among rough quarrymen.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Fir Tree Farm. By EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Davenant trod the downward path, passed through the depths -of degradation and despair, but finally struggled back from darkness -to light.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Greyfriars. By EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Esther takes charge of her married sister's home, and has much -trouble with the children left in her care.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="bold italics large">The "Home Art" Series</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">EDITED BY FLORA KLICKMANN.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics">Demy 8vo. About 120 pages. Fully illustrated.</em><span> -<br /></span><em class="italics">Paper boards.</em><span> 1s. 3d. net.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Home Art Crochet Book.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These designs are extremely handsome, the advanced worker -being as well catered for as those who are not so skilful.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Home Art Book of Fancy Stitchery.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This book contains an amazing quantity of information which -will be found an extremely valuable addition to the needlewoman's -equipment.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Mistress of the Little House.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Practical talks on domestic topics for educated women who are -not in a position to keep a properly trained servant.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Craft of the Crochet Hook.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Giving explicit instructions which are augmented by illustrations -so clear that the most intricate stitch can be traced without -difficulty.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Modern Crochet Book.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Contains original ideas for combining crochet with embroidery -and with fancy braids, together with new and unusual designs.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Cult of the Needle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A magnificent collection of new ideas, giving directions for -Bulgarian, Catalan, Hungarian and Baro Embroidery, and other -forms of needlecraft.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Artistic Crochet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Novel Beadings, Insertions and Edgings, and exquisite floral -designs in Irish Crochet, are some of the contents of this splendid -book.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="bold italics large">The "All Time" Stories.</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics">A Splendid Series of Select Books by Popular Authors.</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics">Illustrated. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt.</em><span> 2s. net.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Alone in London. By HESBA STRETTON.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A pleasant story showing that in whatever condition of life one -may happen to be, there are always some compensations.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>His Little Daughter. By AMY LE FEUVRE.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A high-spirited, mischievous little girl reads Bunyan's "Pilgrim's -Progress," and imagines and adapts the story to herself and her -surroundings.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Vicar of St. Margaret's. By M. G. MURRAY.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An interesting story of how a bright girl's life is clouded, and -her lover estranged by a crafty priest.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Max Krömer. By HESBA STRETTON.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A children's story of the siege of Strasburg, 1870, showing how -the children were involved in the keen sufferings of the war.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>David Lloyd's Last Will. By HESBA STRETTON.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The incidents of this interesting story are connected with the -Manchester cotton famine in the early sixties.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Highway of Sorrow. 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