Books: Mates at Billabong
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Mary Grant Bruce (1878 1958). >> Mates at Billabong
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The jam had behaved beautifully; had "jelled" in the most satisfactory
manner, just the right colour; now it stood in a neat array of jars on
a side table, waiting to be sealed and labelled when cold. Then, after
lunch, Norah had plunged into the mysteries of pastry, and was
considerably relieved when her mince pies turned out very closely akin
to those of Brownie, which were famous. Puddings for dinner had
followed, and were now cooling in the dairy. Finally, the joint being
in the oven, and vegetables prepared, the cook had compounded Jim's
favourite cake, which was now baking; during which delicate operation,
with a large dab of flour on her nose, the cook sat at the table, and
wrote a letter.
"DEAR OLD JIM,--This must be in pencil, 'cause I'm watching a cake
that's in the oven, and I'm awfully scared of it burning, so I don't
dare to go for the ink. Dad said I was to write and tell you we would
meet you on Wednesday, unless we heard from you again. We are all
awfully glad and excited about you coming. I'm sure Tait and Puck
understand, 'cause I told them to-day, and they barked like anything.
Your room is all right, and we've put in another cupboard. We're all so
sorry about Wally not coming, but we hope he will come later on. Do
make him.
"Dad and I aren't talking about me going to school. It can't be helped,
and it only makes you jolly blue to talk about it.
"Cecil's come, and he's the queerest specimen of a boy I ever saw. He's
awfully grown up, but he's small and terribly swagger. His riding
clothes are gorgeous, and you mustn't laugh at them. Dad did, but it
was into Bobs' mane. He came with us cutting-out, and Betty was too
good for him, swinging round, so he came a lovely cropper into some
wild raspberries. It was so funny no one could have helped laughing,
and he wasn't really hurt, only prickled and very wild. I am afraid he
isn't enjoying himself very much, but of course he will be all right
when you come. It's jolly hard to entertain him, 'cause he isn't a bit
keen about anything. He has a tremendous array of shaving tackle. And
he has a hand glass. Do you think he will lend it to you to see your
back hair?
"Bobs is just lovelier than ever. I never knew him go so well as he is
now, and he perfectly loves a jump. Dad has a new horse he calls
Monarch, and he is a beauty, he is black with a star. OF COURSE, don't
say anything about Cecil's spill to anybody, he could not help it. And
he had a much bigger laugh at me, 'cause I fell into the lagoon the day
he came. I will tell you all about it when you come.
"The place is looking lovely, and hasn't dried up a bit--"
An unfamiliar step came along the passage, and Norah sat up abruptly
from the labours of composition, and then with promptness concealed her
letter under a cookery book.
"Why Cecil! How did you find your way here?"
"Oh--looked about me. I had finished my writing, and there was nothing
to do."
"I'm so sorry," Norah said contritely. "You see, Brownie's sick, and
I'm on duty here."
"You!" said Cecil, with a laugh. "And what can YOU do in a kitchen?"
Norah blushed at the laugh more than at the words.
"Oh, you'll get some sort of a dinner," she said. "Don't be too
critical, that's all."
"What, you really can cook? Or do you play at it?"
"Well, there are mighty few girls in the Bush who can't cook a bit,"
Norah said. "Of course we're lucky, having Brownie--but you really never
can tell as a rule when you may have to turn to in the kitchen. Dad
says it's one of the beauties of Australia!"
"Can't say I like the idea of a lady in the kitchen," quoth Cecil
loftily.
"Can't say I'd like to be one who was scared of it," Norah said. "And I
guess you'd get very bored if you had to go without your dinner!" She
seized a cloth and opened the oven door gingerly, and made highly
technical experiments with her cake, rising presently, somewhat
flushed. "Ten minutes more," she said, with an air of satisfaction.
"And, as Brownie would say, 'he's rose lovely.' Have some tea, Cecil?"
Cecil assented, and watched the small figure in the voluminous white
apron as she flitted about the kitchen.
"I like having tea here," Norah confided to him. "Then I use Brownie's
teapot, and don't you always think tea tastes miles better out of a
brown pot? You won't get the proper afternoon cups either--I hope you
don't mind?" She stopped short, with a sudden sense of talking a
language altogether foreign to this bored young man in correct attire;
and a rush of something like irritation to think how different Jim or
Wally would have been--she could almost see Wally sitting on the edge of
the table, with a huge cup of tea in one hand, a scone in the other,
and his thin, eager face alight with cheerfulness. Cecil was certainly
heavy in the hand. She sighed, but bent manfully to her task again.
"You take sugar, don't you? And cream? Yes, you ought to have cream,
'cause you've been ill." She dashed into the pantry, returning with a
small jug. "The cake's not mine, so I can recommend it; but if you're
not frightened you can have one of my mince pies."
"Thanks, I'd rather have cake," said Cecil., and again Norah flushed at
his tone, but she laughed.
"It's certainly safer," she agreed, "I'm sure Brownie thought it was a
hideous risk to leave the pies to me." She supplied her cousin with
cake, and retreated to the oven.
"Why don't you let one of the girls do this?" he asked.
"Sarah or Mary? Oh, they're as busy as ever they can be," explained
Norah. "We always do a lot of extra cleaning and rubbing up before
Christmas, and they haven't a moment. Of course they'd do it in a
minute, if I asked them, but I wouldn't--as it is, Sarah's going to dish
up for me. They're the nicest girls; I'm going to take them tea as soon
as I get my cake out!"
"You!" said Cecil. "You don't mean to say you're going to cart tea to
the servants?"
"I'd be a perfect pig if I didn't," Norah said, shortly. "I'm afraid
you don't understand the bush a bit, Cecil."
"Thank goodness I don't then," said Cecil, stiffly. "Who's that tray
for?"
"Brownie, of course." Norah was getting a little ruffled--criticism like
this had not come to her.
"Well, I think it's extraordinary--and so would my mother," Cecil said,
with an air of finality.
"I suppose a town is different," said Norah, striving after patience.
"We like to look after everyone here--and I think it's grand when
everyone's nice to everyone!" She paused; it was hard to be patient and
grammatical, too.
"School will teach you a number of things," said her cousin loftily. He
rose and put down his cup. "A lady shouldn't lower herself."
"Dad says a lady can't lower herself by work," retorted Norah. "Anyhow,
if taking tea to dear old Brownie's going to lower me, it'll have to,
that's all!"
"You don't understand," said Cecil. "A lady has her own place, and to
get on terms of familiarity with the lower classes is bad for both her
and them." He looked and felt instructive. "It isn't exactly the action
that counts--it's the spirit it fosters--er--the feeling--that is,
the--er, in short, it's a mistake to--"
"Oh, please be careful, Cecil, you're sitting in some dough!"
Norah sprang forward anxiously, and instructiveness fell from Cecil as
one sheds a garment. He had sat down on the edge of the table in the
flow of his eloquence; now he jumped up angrily, and, muttering
unpleasant things, endeavored to remove dough from his person. Norah
hovered round, deeply concerned. Pastry dough, however, is a clinging
and a greasy product, and finally the wrathful lecturer beat a retreat
towards the sanctuary of his own room, and the cook sat down and shook
with laughter.
"My cake!" she gasped, in the midst of her mirth. She flew to the oven
and rescued Jim's delicacy.
"Thank goodness, it's all right!" said she. Her mirth broke out afresh.
A shadow darkened the doorway.
"What--cooking and in hysterics?" said Mr. Linton. "May I have some tea?
And what's the matter?"
"Cecil's begun the reforming process," said his daughter, becoming
solemn with difficulty. "You've no idea how improved I am, Daddy! He
seems to be certain that I'm not a lady, and he's very doubtful if I'm
a cook, so could you tell me what I'm likely to be?"
"A better all-round man than Cecil, I should hope," said David Linton,
with a sound like a snort of wrath. "Give me some tea, mate, and don't
bother your head about the future. Your old Dad's not scared!"
CHAPTER VI
COMING HOME
The top of my desire
Is just to meet a mate o' mine.
HENRY LAWSON.
It had suddenly become hot--"truly Christmas" weather, Norah called it,
as she stood waiting on the Cunjee platform for a train which, in
accordance with all railway traditions at Christmas, was already over
an hour late. Norah felt it hard that to-day, of all days in the year,
it should be so--when Jim was actually coming home for good! At the
thought of Jim's arrival she hopped cheerfully on one leg, completely
oblivious of onlookers, and looked up the shining line of rails for the
thousand-and-first time. Would the old train never come?
"Aren't you contriving to keep warm, with the mercury trying to break
the thermometer? Or do you dance merely because you feel like it?"
asked a friendly voice; and Norah turned with a little flush of
pleasure to greet the Cunjee doctor. She and Dr. Anderson respected
each other very highly.
"Because I feel like it, I expect," she said, laughing and shaking
hands.
"Which my wide professional experience leads me to diagnose as the fact
that you're probably waiting for Jim!" said the doctor, gravely.
"There's a certain hectic flush, an intermittent pulse, which convinces
me of your painful state, when coupled with the restlessness of the
eye."
"Which eye?" asked Norah anxiously.
"Both," said the doctor. "Don't be flippant with your medical man. So
he's really coming, Norah?"
"Yes," said Norah, "and I don't care if I am excited--so'd you be,
doctor. Billy's outside with the horses, and he's just as excited as I
am."
"Billy!" said the doctor. "But he'd never say more than 'Plenty!' no
matter how excited he was."
"No, of course not, but then he finds it such a useful word," Norah
said a little vaguely. She was peering up the rails. Suddenly she spun
round, her face glowing. "There's the smoke--she's coming!"
Whatever additional remarks Dr. Anderson may have made fell on deaf
ears, for Norah had no further ideas from that moment. The train came
into view over the brow of the hill, and slid down the long slope into
the station, pulling up with a mighty grinding of brakes. Almost as it
stopped a door was flung open violently, and a very tall boy with the
Grammar School colours on his hat jumped out, cast a hurried glance
around, and then seized the small person in blue linen in an unashamed
bear's hug.
"Oh, Jim!" said Norah. "Oh, Jimmy--boy!"
"Well, old kiddie," said Jim. "You all right? My word, I am glad to see
you!"
"Me, too," said Norah. "It's been just ages, Jim."
"Hasn't it?" Jim said. He started. "Oh, by Jove! There's someone else
here!"
Norah wheeled round, and uttered a little cry of joy. Another boy with
the dark-blue hat band was grinning at her in most friendly fashion--a
thin, brown-faced boy, with especially merry dark eyes. Norah's hands
went out.
"Wally! But, how lovely! I thought you couldn't come."
"So did I," said Wally Meadows, pumping her hands vigorously. "I was
going home, but my aunt obligingly got measles. I'm awfully sorry for
Aunt. But it's an ill-wind that blows nowhere--old Jim took pity on me,
and here I am!"
"I should think so," Norah said. "We haven't felt a bit complete
without you. Dad was saying only this morning how sorry he was you
couldn't come. He'll get such a shock! Oh, it's so lovely to have you
two--and isn't it getting like Christmas! I'm so happy!" She jigged on
one foot, regardless of interested faces watching her from the train.
"You've grown about a foot," said Jim, patting her on the shoulder.
"Pretty thin, too--sure you're all right?"
Norah reassured him, laughing.
"Well, you look awfully fit, if you are thin," was Jim's comment.
"Doesn't she, Wally?"
"Never saw her look fitter," said Wally. "I'm glad as five bob Aunt got
the measles! Oh, what a beast I am--but, you know what I mean! Jim, this
train'll go on, and we've fifty million things in the carriage!"
"So we have!" Jim said, hurriedly, taking his hand from Norah's
shoulder and diving after his chum into the compartment they had
quitted. They emerged laden with suitcases, parcels, rackets, fishing
rods, golf sticks and other miscellaneous impedimenta.
"Catch!" Jim said, tossing a big box into Norah's hands.
"Chocolates!" said Norah blissfully. "Jim, you're an angel!"
"Always knew that," her brother replied, dropping his load on the
platform with a cheerful disregard of what might break. "Come on,
Wally, we'll get the heavy things out of the van. You watch those, Nor.
Who's in, by the way? And where's Dad?"
"Dad's in Cunjee; but he had business, and he couldn't wait at the
station, the train was so late. Cecil's with him--they're both riding.
I've got the light buggy with the ponies for you, and Billy's driving
the express for your luggage and heaps of things that Brownie wants for
the house." Norah spoke in one breath and finished with a gasp.
"Guess people must have thought you were a circus procession!" was
Jim's comment. "All right, we'll cart the things out to Billy."
Out at the bid express-wagon drawn by a pair of greys, Billy stood,
welcoming them with a smile on his dusky countenance that Wally likened
to a slit in a coconut. The luggage was piled in with special
injunctions to the black boy not to put the bags of flour on anything
that looked delicate--whereat Billy's smile widened to a grin, and he
murmured "Plenty!" delightedly.
"That's the lot," Jim said. "The buggy's at the hotel, I suppose,
Norah?"
"Yes--and we're to have lunch there with Dad. And you've got to be
awfully polite to Cecil!"
"Cecil!" said Jim, lifting his nose. "If Cecil's anything like what he
used to be--" He did not finish the sentence.
"Do we play with Cecil?" Wally asked, grinning.
"The question is, if Cecil will condescend to play with you," Norah
said. "He thinks ME too much of a kid to look at--"
"Oh, does he?" asked Jim resentfully.
"But you're both ever so much bigger than he is, so perhaps he'll let
you love him!" Norah finished.
"I'm relieved to my soul," said Wally, with gravity. "Visions of my
unrequited affection poured out on Cecil have been troubling my rest
for days. May I kiss him?"
"I'd wait a little while, I think," Norah answered. "He may be shy--not
that we've found it out yet. Indeed, he's the unshyest person I ever
met."
"Is he very awful, Nor?"
"Oh, he's a bit of a drawback," Norah said. "Dad says he's not bad at
heart, only so spoilt--and he's just terribly bumptious, Jim, and thinks
he can do everything; and his clothes are lovely! He isn't caring for
me a bit to-day, 'cause he gave me a broad hint that he wanted to ride
Bobs, and I didn't take it."
"Ride Bobs!" exclaimed Jim, in amazement. "Well, I should think you
didn't!"
"Well, I felt rather a pig, considering he's our guest," Norah said, a
little contritely. "If it were you or Wally, now--but he's really got an
awful seat, Jim, and Murty says he's a hand like a ham on a horse's
mouth! I didn't feel I could let him have Bobs."
"Bobs is your very special property--no one but an ass would ask for
him, and I told Cecil last year you were the only person who ever rode
him," said Jim indignantly. "Surely there are enough horses on the
place without him wanting to collar your pony!"
"Well, he didn't get him," said Norah, tranquilly, "so that's all right
and you needn't worry, Jimmy. I do think, if only one could get him off
his high horse, he wouldn't be at all bad--perhaps he'll thaw now you
boys are here. I hope he will, for his own sake, 'cause he'd have such
a much better time."
"Well, if he's going to be patronizing--" Jim began.
"Ah, perhaps he won't--I don't believe he could try to patronize you!"
Norah glanced lovingly at her tall brother. "You're nearly as big as
Dad, Jimmy, aren't you? and Wally's going to be too."
"Ill weeds grow apace," quoted the latter gentleman solemnly. "Jim's a
splendid example of that proverb."
"M'f!" said Norah. "How about yourself?"
"I'm coming up as a flower!" Wally replied modestly. "A Christmas lily,
I should think!"--whereat Jim murmured something that sounded "More like
an artichoke!" His exact remark, however, was lost, for at that moment
they arrived at the hotel, just as Mr. Linton emerged from it, and Jim
quickened his pace, his face alight.
"Dad!"
"Well, my boy!" They gripped hands, and David Linton's eye kindled as
it dwelt on the big fellow. "Glad to have you back, old son.
Why--Wally!"
"Turned up like a bad penny, sir," said Wally, having his hand pumped
in turn. "Hope you'll forgive me--it's pretty cool to arrive without an
invitation."
"As far as I know, you had invitations from all the family," said Mr.
Linton, laughing. "We regard you as one of the oldest inhabitants now,
you know. At any rate, I'm delighted to see you; the mistress of
Billabong must answer for herself, but she doesn't look cast down!"
"She's been fairly polite," Wally said. "On the whole I don't feel as
shy as I was afraid of feeling! I was horribly scared of having
Christmas with my aunt--but she's chosen measles instead, so I expect
she was just as scared as I was!"
"It's probable," said his host, laughing.
"You haven't grown up a bit, Wally, and it's such a comfort!" Norah
said.
"I'm getting old and reverend," said Wally severely, "and it's up to
you to treat me with respect, young Norah. Sixteen's an awful age to
support with any cheerfulness." His brown face at the moment gave the
impression of never having been serious during the sixteen years he
lamented. "As for this ancient mariner"--indicating Jim--"you can see the
signs of senile decay quite plainly!"
"Ass!" said Jim affectionately. He broke off. "How are you, Cecil?"
Cecil, coming out of the hotel, a dapper figure beside the two tall
schoolboys, gave languid greetings. He cast at Jim a glance of
something like envy. Height was the one thing he longed for, and it
seemed to him hard that this seventeen-year-old youngster should be
rapidly approaching six feet, while he, three years older, had stopped
short six inches under that measurement. However, generally speaking,
Cecil was uncommonly well satisfied with himself, and not even the
contemplation of Jim's superior inches could worry him for long. He
asked polite questions about the journey, and laughed at the freely
expressed opinion that the day was hot "You should go to Sydney if you
want to know what heat is," he said, with the superiority of the
travelled man; "Victoria really has no heat to talk about!"
"Well, I'm a Queenslander," said Wally bluntly, "and we're supposed to
know about heat there. And I do think to-day is beastly hot--look at my
collar, it's like a concertina! Sydney heat is hot, and Brisbane heat
is hotter, but Victorian heat has a hotness all of its own!" Whereat
everybody laughed, and the discussion was adjourned for lunch.
It was a merry meal; and if the fare was no better than that of most
township hotels, the spirits of the party were too high to trouble
about such trifles as tough meat, watery puddings, and weary butter
that bore out Wally's remarks about the heat by threatening to float
away on a sea of its own oil. Everything was rose colour in Norah's
estimation that day. She sat by Jim and beamed across the table at her
father and Wally. Even Cecil found himself at times included in the
beam, and took it meekly, for the happy face was infectious, while the
frank delight of the boys in having her with them again was to a
certain extent educational to the outsider. There was no lack of
manliness in Jim's strong, handsome face. If he found it worth his
while, Cecil reflected, to make such a fuss over a child, it might be
possible that she was not altogether a person to be snubbed. So he was
unusually affable to his small cousin, and lunch passed off very
successfully.
Afterwards there was shopping to be done. A long list of groceries had
been made out by Mrs. Brown, who professed herself far too busy with
Christmas preparations to come in person, and had laid the
responsibility on Norah, not without misgivings. It was, perhaps,
fortunate that the storekeepers were able to rise to the contents of
the list unaided, for Norah was scarcely in a condition to grapple with
problems relating to anything so ordinary as groceries, and found it
indeed difficult to read out her list coherently, with Jim standing
sentinel in the doorway and Wally wandering about the shop sampling all
he could find, from biscuits to brooms. On one occasion, when making a
special effort to preserve her dignity, she came to the item "flaked
oatmeal," and asked the shopman in rather frigid tones for "floked
atemeal," which had a paralysing effect on the unoffending storekeeper,
while Wally retired to the shelter of a pile of saucepans, and
shrieked. Thus the business of necessary purchases passed off
cheerfully; and then what Norah termed the more interesting
shops--saddlers' and stationers'--were visited, with a view to Christmas.
Finally Jim brought the buggy from the hotel, and they picked up their
lighter parcels.
"Surely that's all?" Jim inquired, as Norah and Wally came out of the
fruiterer's laden with bags of assorted sizes, which they dumped
thankfully into the buggy, with the immediate result that a bag of
peaches burst, and had to be rescued from all over the floor. "Nor.,
you'll not have a penny left, and we'll all be violently ill if we eat
half you've bought. Come on home."
"Brownie's laid in large stocks of medicine, she says," Norah answered,
tranquilly, climbing into the buggy. "So you needn't worry, need you?
But we've truly finished now, Jim, I think. Ready, Wally?"
"Quite," said Wally cheerfully. "I've put these peaches in with the
neatsfoot oil, and it seems a beautiful arrangement!" He hopped up
nimbly. "Right oh, J immy, and pray remember I am nervous!"
"I will," Jim grinned. He laid the whip on the ponies' backs, and they
shot forward with a bound, unused to such liberties. They went down the
main street of Cunjee in a whirl of dust, and turned over the bridge
spanning the river, where the ponies promptly rose on their hind legs
at the sight of Dr. Anderson's motor, and betrayed a rooted
disinclination to come down from that unusual altitude. Jim handled
them steadily, and presently they were induced to face the snorting
horror, wherein the doctor sat, waving his hand and calling cheery
Christmas greetings as they shot past, to which the three responded
enthusiastically. Cunjee sank into the distance behind them.
The miles flew past. On the metalled road the rubbered tyres spun
silently, and only the flying hoofs clattered and soon they had left
the made road and turned on to the hard-beaten track that led to
Billabong, where progress was even smoother. The tongues flew almost as
swiftly as the wheels. The hot sun sank gradually, and the evening
breeze sprang up. It was a time for quick questions and answers. Norah
wanted details of the term just over, the sports, the prize-giving, and
had to laugh over messages from those of Jim's boy friends whom she
knew; and Jim had a hundred things to ask about home--the cattle, the
fishing, his horses, his dogs, "Brownie," and the prospects of fun
ahead. They roared over her ducking and subsequent encounter with
Cecil, and chaffed her unmercifully.
"Such a mud-lark!" said Wally, with glee. "And that prim young man! Oh,
Norah, you are a dream! I'd have given something to see your face."
"I was altogether worth seeing," Norah remarked modestly. "When I
caught sight of myself in a glass I really didn't wonder at Cecil." But
Jim glowered and referred to the absent Cecil as a "silly ass."
They turned in at last at the homestead gate, and the ponies fairly
flew up the long paddock, something in the spirits of their drivers
communicating itself to them. The house was not visible until the track
had passed through a thick belt of trees, and as they came to this Jim
fell silent, looking keenly ahead. Then the red roof came into view and
the boy drew a long breath.
"There's the old place," he said. "My word, I am glad to be home!"
Under the dust-rug Norah slipped her hand on to his knee.
"It's just lovely to have you--both of you." she added. "You're glad,
too, aren't you, Wally?"
"I could sing!" said Wally.
"Once," said Jim, "you could. But for some years--"
"Beast!" said Wally. "If you weren't driving--"
"And you weren't nervous--!" grinned his chum.
"There'd be wigs on the green," finished Norah, cheerfully. "I'll
drive, if it would be any convenience to either of you."
"We'll postpone it," said Jim. "There's Brownie at the gate, bless her
old heart!"
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