"Poor lad, he'll have to come down a peg though."
The cabby sprang towards the young nob.
"Where next, sir?"
"Grindlay's."
Archie was not more successful here, nor anywhere else.
But at the end of a week, during which time he had tried as hard as anyyoung man had ever tried before in Sydney or any other city to find somegenteel employment, he made a wise resolve; viz, to go into lodgings.
He found that living in a hotel, though very cheerful, made a terriblehole in his purse; so he brought himself "down a peg" by the simpleprocess of "going up" nearer the sky.
Here is the explanation of this paradox. It was Archie's custom tospend his forenoons looking for something to do, and his eveningswalking in the suburbs.
Poor, lonely lad, that never a soul in the city cared for, any more thanif he had been a stray cat, he found it wearisome, heart-breaking workwandering about the narrow, twisting streets and getting civillysnubbed. He felt more of a gentleman when dining. Afterwards histiredness quite left him, and hope swelled his heart once more. So outhe would go and away--somewhere, anywhere; it did not matter so long ashe could see woods, and water, and houses. Oh, such lovely suburbanvillas, with cool verandahs, round which flowering creepers twined, andlawns shaded by dark green waving banana trees, beneath which he couldofttimes hear the voices of merry children, or the tinkle of the lightguitar. He would give reins to his fancy then, and imagine things--suchsweet things!
Yes, he would own one of the biggest and most delightful of thesemansions; he should keep fleet horses, a beautiful carriage, a boat--hemust have a boat, or should it be a gondola? Yes, that would be nicerand newer. In this boat, when the moonlight silvered the water, hewould glide over the bay, returning early to his happy home. His bonniesister should be there, his brother Rupert--the student--his mother, andhis hero, that honest, bluff, old father of his. What a dear,delightful dream! No wonder he did not care to return to the realitiesof his city life till long after the sun had set over the hills, and thestars were twinkling down brighter and lovelier far than those lights hehad so admired the night his ship arrived.
He was returning slowly one evening and was close to the city, but in arather lonely place, when he noticed something dark under the shade of atree, and heard a girl's voice say:
"Dearie me! as missus says; but ain't I jolly tired just!"
"Who is that?" said Archie.
"On'y me, sir; on'y Sarah. Don't be afear'd. I ain't a larrikin. Helpthis 'ere box on my back like a good chummie."
"It's too heavy for your slight shoulders," quoth gallant Archie. "Idon't mind carrying it a bit."
"What, a gent like you! Why, sir, you're greener than they make 'emround here!"
"I'm from England."
"Ho, ho! Well, that accounts for the milk. So'm I from Hengland. Thisway, chummie."
They hadn't far to go.
"My missus lives two story up, top of a ware'us, and I've been to thestation for that 'ere box. She do take it out o' me for all the wage.She do."
Archie carried the box up the steep stairs, and Sarah's mistress herselfopened the door and held a candle. A thin, weary-looking body, withwhom Sarah seemed to be on the best and most friendly terms.
"Brought my young man," said Sarah. "Ain't he a smartie? But, heigho!_so_ green! _You_ never!"
"Come in a minute, sir, and rest you. Never mind this silly girl."
Archie did go in a minute; five, ten, ay fifteen, and by that time hehad not only heard all this ex-policeman's wife's story, but taken asemi-attic belonging to her.
And he felt downright independent and happy when next day he tookpossession.
For now he would have time to really look round, and it was a relief tohis mind that he would not be spending much money.
Archie could write home cheerfully now. He was sure that somethingwould soon turn up, something he could accept, and which would not bederogatory to the son of a Northumbrian squire. More than oneinfluential member of commercial society had promised "to communicatewith him at the very earliest moment."
But, alas! weeks flew by, and weeks went into months, and no more signsof the something were apparent than he had seen on the second day of hisarrival.
Archie was undoubtedly "a game un," as Sarah called him; but his heartbegan to feel very heavy indeed.
Living as cheaply as he could, his money would go done at last. Whatthen? Write home for more? He shuddered to think of such a thing. Ifhis first friend, Captain Vesey, had only turned up now, he would havegone and asked to be taken as a hand before the mast. But Captain Veseydid not.
A young man cannot be long in Sydney without getting into a set. Archiedid, and who could blame him. They were not a rich set, nor a very fastset; but they had a morsel of a club-room of their own. They formedfriendships, took strolls together, went occasionally to the play, andoften had little "adventures" about town, the narratives of which, whenretailed in the club, found ready listeners, and of course werestretched to the fullest extent of importance.
They really were not bad fellows, and would have done Archie a good turnif they could. But they could not. They laughed a deal at first at hisEnglish notions and ideas; but gradually Archie got over his greenness,and began to settle down to colonial life, and would have liked Sydneyvery much indeed if he had only had something to do.
The ex-policeman's wife was very kind to her lodger. So was Sarah;though she took too many freedoms of speech with him, which tended tolower his English squirearchical dignity very much. But, to do herjustice, Sarah did not mean any harm.
Only once did Archie venture to ask about the ex-policeman. "What didhe do?"
"Oh, he drinks!" said Sarah, as quietly as if drinking were a trade ofsome kind. Archie asked no more.
Rummaging in a box one day, Archie found his last letter ofintroduction. It had been given him by Uncle Ramsay.
"You'll find him a rough and right sort of a stick," his uncle had said."He _was_ my steward, now he is a wealthy man, and can knock down hischeque for many thousands."
Archie dressed in his best and walked right away that afternoon to findthe address.
It was one of the very villas he had often passed, in a beautiful placeclose by the water-side.
What would be his reception here?
This question was soon put at rest.
He rang the bell, and was ushered into a luxuriously-furnished room; aroom that displayed more richness than taste.
A very beautiful girl--some thirteen years of age perhaps--got up from agrand piano, and stood before him.
Archie was somewhat taken aback, but bowed as composedly as he could.
"Surely," he thought, "_she_ cannot be the daughter of the rough andright sort of a stick who had been steward to his uncle. He had neverseen so sweet a face, such dreamy blue eyes, or such wealth of hairbefore.
"Did you want to see papa? Sit down. I'll go and find him."
"Will you take this letter to him?" said Archie.
And the girl left, letter in hand.
Ten minutes after the "rough stick" entered, whistling "Sally come up."
"Hullo! hullo!" he cried, "so here we are."
There he was without doubt--a big, red, jolly face, like a full moonorient, a loose merino jacket, no waistcoat or necktie, but acricketer's cap on the very back of his bushy head. He struck Archie afriendly slap on the back.
"Keep on yer cap," he shouted, "I was once a poor man myself."
Archie was too surprised and indignant to speak.
"Well, well, well," said Mr Winslow, "they do tell me wonders won'tnever cease. What a whirligig of a world it is. One day I'm cleanin' agent's boots. Gent is a capting of a ship. Next day gent's nephewcomes to me to beg for a job. Say, young man, what'll ye drink?"
"I didn't come to _drink_, Mr Winslow, neither did I come to _beg_."
"Whew-ew-ew," whistled the quondam steward, "here's pride; here's atouch o' the old
country. Why, young un, I might have made you myunder-gardener."
The girl at this moment entered the room. She had heard the lastsentence.
"Papa!" she remonstrated. Then she glided out by the casement window.
Burning blushes suffused Archie's cheeks as he hurried over the lawnsoon after; angry tears were in his eyes. His hand was on thegate-latch when he felt a light touch on his arm. It was the girl.
"Don't be angry with poor papa," she said, almost beseechingly.
"No, no," Archie cried, hardly knowing what he did say. "What is yourname?"
"Etheldene."
"What a beautiful name!
From Squire to Squatter: A Tale of the Old Land and the New Page 18
