by Sophie May
CHAPTER XXI
"GOOD-BYE, GOOD-BYE"
All was ready very early in the morning, for Dot was to start upon herjourney at ten o'clock.
The little school trunk and the family portmanteau stood side by side inthe hall, labelled and ready to go forth--neat clean labels, bearing theinscription in Dot's best hand-writing--
"MISS BRUCE, Passenger to Katoomba, Blue Mountains."
A strange excitement was upon Dot. She had never before in her life beenupon a railway journey.
The household generally, from her father down to little Nancy, treatedher with gentle politeness as a newly arrived and just departing guest.
At breakfast the bread was handed to her without her once asking forit; Nancy watched her plate eagerly, that she did not run out of butter;Mary ran in with a nicely poached egg just at the right moment; Mrs.Bruce kept her cup replenished without once asking if it was empty.
"Don't do any view hunting or gully climbing alone," said Mr. Bruce."It's the easiest thing in life to be lost in the bush. Besides, no girlshould roam about alone."
"Oh, don't be too venturesome, darling!" said Mrs. Bruce. "Just think ifyou fell down one of those valleys or gaps or falls!"
Yet Dot had never been "too venturesome" in her life.
"A little more bread?" inquired Cyril; "don't bother to eat that crustybit; we can, and I'll give you some fresh."
"More butter?" piped Nancy; then taking a leaf from Cyril's book--"Don'tbover to eat it if it's nasty; _we_ will. Have some jam astead."
And Betty, in the silence of her bedroom, was drinking cold water andeating dry bread, without any one asking solicitously "if she wouldhave a little more, or leave that if she did not like it, and havesomething nicer."
"Yet I was trying to earn money for them all," she said aloud. "I won'ttry any more. Dot only spends it, but they love her more than me."
It was while these thoughts were busy in her mind that Dot ran down thepassage and opened the door suddenly. Such a dainty pretty Dot, in hernew blue muslin dress that _almost_ reached to the ground, and fittedclosely to her slender little figure, and a new white straw hat with anew white gossamer floating out behind waiting to be tied when thekisses were all given and taken.
The girl's face was like a tender blush rose; her eyes were shining withactual excitement (rare thing in placid Dot), and her hair hung down herback in a thick plait tied with blue ribbon.
It was the plait which caught Betty's attention.
"Oh!" she cried in disappointment, and then stopped, remembering thesilence that had been imposed upon her.
Dot ran to her and kissed her.
"It's all right," she said. "You may talk to me. I asked mother, and shesays _yes_ until I go."
"I can't when you're gone," said Betty; but she brightened up very much.
And she thought it very kind of Dot to have asked her mother to breakthe rule of silence, if it were only for an hour.
"I thought you were going to wear your hair on the top of your head,"she said, surveying Dot's plait somewhat contemptuously.
"Mother won't let me," said Dot; "she says sixteen's too young."
"Why sixteen is _old_," said Betty, "and you've left school."
"I know. And mother was married at sixteen. But she says she wants me tokeep my girlhood a little longer than she kept hers."
"Hem," said Betty.
"_I_ don't want to," said Dot, and added virtuously, "but we can't dojust as we like even with our own hair."
"_I_ shall," said Betty, and gave her morsel of a plait a convincingpull. "Wasn't my hair as long as yours once; and didn't I cut it offbecause I wanted to?"
Then Dot bethought her of the wisdom of sixteen, and the foolishness oftwelve and a bit, and she slipped her arm as lovingly around her littlesister as she was wont to do around any of her friends at WestmeadHouse.
"Dear little Betty," she said, "promise me, you poor little thing, to begood all the time I am away."
But Betty, unused to caresses, slipped away.
"You always are away," she said. "I'll be as good as I want to. I wonderhow good you'd be if suddenly you had to stay at home and wash up anddust."
The picture was quite unenticing to Dot. _Wash up and dust and stay athome!_ She moved slowly to the door, feeling very sorry for Betty.
"I must go now," she said. "All this is just a finish up to my schooltime. Afterwards I shall have to stay at home and be eldest daughterwhile you have _your_ time. Mother says you may come to the gate and seeme off if you like."
But she was genuinely sorry for Betty all the way down the hall to thefront door, and her heart gave her an unpleasant pang when Betty sprangafter her and thrust a shilling into her hand.
"It's my own," whispered Betty; "take it; it will buy something; Iearned it. Don't be afraid; I'll earn plenty more some day," and she ranaway down the path to the gate.
"Dear little Betty," said Dot, and slipped the shilling into her purse."I'll buy something for her with it."
They all came down to the gate to see the little traveller off.
Mr. Bruce wore his best suit--well brushed--because he was going toaccompany his eldest daughter as far as Redfern station. As the otherswere saying good-bye to her, he occupied himself by counting his money,to make sure he had enough for a first-class return ticket for her, andthe three half-sovereigns he had decided to slip into her purse beforethey reached the station.
Mrs. Bruce, slight and small almost as Dot herself, put Baby down on thebrown-green grass at the gate, while she put a few quite unnecessaryfinishing touches to her eldest daughter.
"I went away from my home for a visit when I was sixteen," she said--"toKatoomba, too!" Then she took Dot into her arms and held her closely fora minute. "Come back to us the same little girl we are sending away,"she said as she let her go.
Cyril was waiting on the bush track, with the home-made "go-cart" piledup with Dot's luggage. He had to push it to the corner of the road andhelp it on the coach.
He was very anxious to get home again, for he had heard a few wordswhispered pleadingly by Dot, then a whispered consultation between Mr.and Mrs. Bruce. He knew what it was about. Even before his father pattedBetty's head and told her to start afresh from that minute, and hismother kissed her and said, "Be a good madcap Betty, and we'll commencenow instead of to-morrow morning."
Whereat Cyril became anxious to get home again to discover his sister'splans for the day.
Nancy was crying and clinging to Dot's skirt.
"Be quick and come home again," she said. "You look so nice in thathat!"
Betty climbed over the gate instead of going through it.
"I'm going down to the road to wave my handkerchief to you," she said."Oh, mother, will you lend me yours. Mine's gone."
When she reached the road corner, a dog-cart flashed by, almostupsetting Cyril's equilibrium as he laboured along the road.
In the dog-cart were Captain Carew and big John Brown. John lookedsteadily at the horse's head, fearing an explosion of wrath from hisgrandsire if he smiled at his fellow fortune-seeker. He, too, was goingto the mountains for his holidays, preparation to commencing life at aSydney Grammar School.
But the Captain himself looked at Betty, and his grim face smiled. Andthere are not many who can translate a smile, so that we may take itthat he was not altogether displeased with the little singer.
Down the road went Dot, after her father and Cyril--a little maid freshfrom school--dainty and fresh and crying gentle tears that would nothurt her eyes, and yet _must_ come because of all these partings.
Perhaps we shall see her again some day when she comes back again to tryto be an elder sister. Perhaps we shall see Betty, too, in her newposition as one of the "young ladies" of Westmead House.
But just now she has climbed an old tree-stump, and is standing therebare-headed and waving her handkerchief to cry--"Good-bye, good-bye."
_Printed in Great Britain by_ Butler & Tan
ner, _Frome and London_
