CHAPTER XVI
Yarrahappini
Yarrahappini in the sunshine, the kind of sunshine that pushes thethermometer's silver thread up to 100 deg.!
Right away in the distance on three sides was a blue hill line andblue soft trees.
And up near the house the trees were green and beautiful, and theflowers a blaze of colour.
But all the stretching plain between was brown. Brown burnt grasswith occasional patches of dull green, criss-crossed here and therewith fences; that ran up the little hills that in places broke theplain's straight line, and disappeared in the dips where rank grassand bracken flourished. The head station consisted of quite a littlecommunity of cottages on the top of a hill. Years ago, when Estherwas no bigger than her own little General, there had been only a rough,red weather-board place on the hill-top, and a bark but or two forouthouses.
And Mr. Hassal had been in the saddle from morning to night, andworked harder than any two of his own stockmen, and Mrs. Hassal hadlaid aside her girlish accomplishments, her fancy work, her guitar,her water-colours, and had scrubbed and cooked and washed as many asettler's wife has done before, until the anxiously watched woolmarket had brought them better days.
Then a big stone cottage reared itself slowly right in front of thelittle old place with its bottle-bordered garden plot, where nothingmore aristocratic than pig's face and scarlet geranium had ever grown.A beautiful cottage it was, with its plenitude of lofty rooms, itsmany windows, and its deep veranda. The little home was kitchenand bedrooms for the two women servants now, and was joined to thebig place by a covered way.
A hundred yards away there was a two-roomed cottage that was occupiedby the son of an English baronet, who, for the consideration ofseventy pounds a year and rations kept the Yarrahappini businessbooks and gave out the stores.
Farther still, two bark humpies stood, back to back. Tettawonga,a bent old black fellow, lived in one, and did little else thansmoke and give his opinion on the weather every morning.
Twenty years ago he had helped to make a steady foundation forthe red cottage that had arrived ready built on a bullock-dray.
Fifteen years ago he had killed with his tomahawk one of twobushrangers who were trying to pick up Yarrahappini in theabsence of his master, and he had carried little tremblingMrs. Hassal and tiny Esther to place of safety, and gone backand dealt the other one a blow on the head that stunned himtill assistance came.
So, of course, he had earned his right to the cottage and thedaily rations and the pipe that never stirred from his lips.
Two of the station hands lived in the other cottage when theywere not out in distant parts of the run.
Close to the house was a long weather-board building with a heavy,padlocked door.
"Oh, let's go in," Nell said, attracted by the size of thepadlock; "it looks like a treasure-house in a book--mayn't wego in, please, little grandma?"
They were exploring all the buildings--the six children in a body,Mrs. Hassal, whom they all called "little grandma," much to herpleasure, and Esther with the boy.
"You must go and ask Mr. Gillet," the old lady said; "he keepsthe keys of the stores. See, over in that cottage near the tank,and speak nicely, children, please."
"Such a gentleman," she said in a low tone to Esther, "so clever,so polished, if only he did not drink so."
Meg and Judy went, with Baby hurrying after them as fast as hershort legs would allow.
"Come in," a voice said, when they knocked. Meg hesitatednervously, and a man opened the door. Such a great, gaunt man,with restless, unhappy eyes, a brown, wide brow, and neatlytrimmed beard.
Judy stated that Mrs. Hassal had sent them for the keys, if he hadno objection.
He asked them to come in and sit down while he looked for them.
Meg was surprised at the room, as her blue eyes plainly showed, forshe had only heard him spoken of as the store-keeper. There werebookshelves, on which she saw Shakespeare and Browning and Shelleyand Rossetti and Tennyson, William Morris, and many others she hadnever seen before. There were neatly framed photographs and engravingsof English and Continental scenery on the walls. There was a littlechased silver vase on a bracket, and some of the flowers from thepassion vines in it. The table with the remains of breakfast onit was as nice on a small scale as the one she had just left inthe big cottage.
He came back froth the inner room with the keys. "I was afraid Ihad mislaid then," he said; "the middle one opens the padlock,Miss Woolcot; the brass fat one is for the two bins, and thelong steel one for the cupboard."
"Thank you so much. I'm afraid we disturbed you in the middle of yourbreakfast," Meg said, standing up and blushing because she thought hehad noticed her surprise at the bookshelves.
He disclaimed the trouble, and held the door open for them witha bow that had something courtly in it, at least so Meg thought,puzzling how it came to be associated with salt beef by thehundredweight and bins of flour. He watched them go over thegrass--at least he watched Meg in her cool, summer muslin andpale-blue belt, Meg in her shady chip hat, with the shining fluffyplait hanging to her waist.
Judy's long black legs and crumpled cambric had no element of thepicturesque in them.
Mrs. Hassal unfastened the padlock of the store-room. Such achorus of "ohs!" and "ahs!" there was from the children!
Baby had never seen so much sugar together in her life before; shelooked as if she would have liked to have been let loose in thegreat bin for an hour or two.
And the currants! There was a big wooden box brim full--aboutforty pounds, Mrs. Hassal thought when questioned.
Bunty whipped up a handful and pocketed them when everyone waslooking at the mountain of candles.
"Home-made! my DEAR, why, yes, of course," the old lady said."Why, I wouldn't dream of using a bought candle, any more thanI would use bought soap."
She showed them the great bars of yellow, clean-smelling stuff,with finer, paler-coloured for toilet purposes.
Hams and sides of bacon hung thickly from the rafters. "Those aremutton hams," she said, pointing to one division. "I keep thosefor the stockmen."
Pip wanted to know if the stores were meant to serve them all theirlives, there seemed enough of them: he was astonished to hear thatevery six months they were replenished.
"Twenty to thirty men, counting the boundary riders and stockmenat different parts of the place; and double that number at shearingor drafting times, not to mention daily sundowners--it's like feedingan army, my dears," she said; "and then, you see, I had to makepreparations for all of you--Bunty especially."
Her little grey eyes twinkled merrily as she looked at that smallyouth.
"You can have them back," Bunty said, half sulkily. He producedhalf a dozen currants from his pocket. "I shouldn't think you'dmind, with such a lot; we only have a bottleful at home."
On which the old lady patted his head, unlocked a tin, and filledhis hands with figs and dates.
"And have you to cook every day, for all those men?" Meg said,wondering what oven could be found large enough.
"Dear, no!" the old lady answered. "Dear, dear, no; each mandoes everything for himself in his own hut; they don't even getbread, only rations of flour to make damper for themselves. Thenwe give them a fixed, quantity of meat, tea, sugar, tobacco,candles, soap, and one or two other things."
"Where do you keep the wool and things?" said Pip, who had a soulabove home-made soap and metal dips for candles; "I can't see anyshed or anything."
Mrs. Hassal told him they were a mile away, down by the creek,where the sheep were washed and sheared at the proper season. Butthe heat was too much to make even Pip want to go just then, so theyattached themselves to Mr. Hassal, leaving little grandma withEsther, the General, and Baby, and went over to the brick stablesnear.
There were three or four buggies under cover, but no horses at all,they were farther afield. Across the paddock they went, and up thehill. Half a dozen answered Mr. Hassal's strange whist
le; theothers were wild, unbroken things, that tossed their manes and fledaway at the sight of people to the farthermost parts where the treesgrew.
Pip chose one, a grey, with long, fleet-looking legs and a narrow,beautiful head; he prided himself upon knowing something about"points." Judy picked a black, with reddish, restless eyes, butMr. Hassal refused it because it had an uncertain temper, so shehad to be content with a brown with a soft, satiny nose.
Meg asked for "something very quiet" in a whisper Judy and Pip couldnot hear, and was given a ruggy horse that had carried Mrs. Hassaleighteen years ago. Each animal was to be at the complete disposalof the young people during their stay at Yarrahappini, but the rideswould have to take place before breakfast or after tea, they were told,if they wanted any pleasure out of them; the rest of the day wasunbearable on horseback. Nellie was disappointed in the sheep,exceedingly so. She had expected to find great snow-white beautifulcreatures that would be tame and allow her to put ribbon on theirnecks and lead them about.
From the hill-top the second morning she saw paddock after paddock,each with a brown, slowly moving mass; she ran down through thesunshine with Bunty to view them more closely.
"Oh, WHAT a shame!" she exclaimed, actual tears of disappointmentspringing to her eyes when she saw the great fat things with theirlong, dirty, ragged-looking fleece.
"Wait for a time, little woman," Mr. Hassal said; "just you waittill we give them their baths."
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