CHAPTER V
TWO POINTS OF VIEW
You found the Bush was dismal, and a land of no delight-- Did you chance to hear a chorus in the shearers' nut at night? A. B. PATERSON.
"Dear Mater,--Arrived at Cunjee safely, and, thanks to the way you fixedup things, found no one to meet me, as Uncle David thought I would notarrive until next day. However, a friendly yokel gave me a lift out toBillabong in a very dirty and springless buggy, so that the mistake wasnot a fatal one, though it gave me a very uncomfortable drive.
"The place is certainly very nice, and the house comfortable, though,of course, it is old-fashioned. I prefer more modern furniture; butUncle David seems to think his queer old chairs and table all that canbe desired, and did not appear interested when I told him where we gotour things. I have a large room, rather draughty, but otherwisepleasant, with plenty of space for clothes, which is a comfort. I dothink it's intensely annoying to be expected to keep your clothes inyour trunk. The view is nice.
"Uncle David seemed quite prepared to treat me as a small boy, but Ifancy I have demonstrated to him that I know my way about--in fact, asfar as city life goes, I should say he knew exceedingly little. I can'tunderstand any man with money being content to live and die in a holelike this out-of-the-way place: but I suppose, as you say, Aunt Helen'sdeath made a difference. Actually, they have not even one motor! andwhen I spoke of it Uncle David seemed almost indignant, and said horseswere good enough for him. That is a specimen of the way they arecontent to live. He seems quite idiotically devoted to the small child,and she lives in his pocket. If she weren't so countrified in her waysshe wouldn't be bad looking; but, of course, she is quite the bushyoungster, and, I should think, would find her level pretty quicklywhen she goes to school among a lot of smart Melbourne girls. I shouldhope so, at any rate, for she is quite spoilt here. It is exactly asyou said--everyone treats her like a sort of tin god, and she evidentlythinks herself someone, and is inclined to regard those older thanherself quite as equals. When I first saw her she had just fallen intosome mud hole, and her appearance would have given you a fit. But whatcan you expect?
"The fat old cook is still here, and asked after you. It's absolutelyridiculous to see the way she is treated--quite considers herself themistress of the place, and when I told her one morning to let me havemy shaving water she was almost rude. I think if there's one thingsillier than another it's the sort of superstition some people haveabout old servants.
"So far I find it exceedingly dull, and don't feel very hopeful thatthings will be much better when Jim comes home. Of course, he may beimproved, but he appeared to me a great overgrown animal when I lastsaw him, without an idea in his head beyond cricket and football. Idon't feel that he will be any companion to me. He will probably sufferbadly from swelled head, too, as every one is making a fuss about hisreturn. So quaint, to see the sort of mutual admiration that goes onhere.
"I have had some riding, being given a horse much inferior to eitherUncle David's or Norah's--the latter rides like a jockey, and, ofcourse, astride, which I consider very ungraceful. She turns out well,however, and all her get-up is good--her habits come from a Melbournetailor. I think I will get some clothes in Melbourne on my way back;they may not have newer ideas, but it may be useful for purposes ofcomparison with the Sydney cut. My riding clothes were evidently asource of much wonderment and admiration to the yokels. Unfortunatelythey have become badly stained with some confounded raspberry juice,and though I left them out for Mrs. Brown to clean, she has not done soyet.
"Well, there is no news to be got in a place like this; we never goout, except on the run, and there seems absolutely no society. Thelocal doctor came out yesterday, in a prehistoric motor, but I foundhim very uninteresting. Of course, one has no ideas in common withthese Bush people. Where the 'Charm of the Bush' comes in is more thanI can see--I much prefer Town on a Saturday morning to all Billabong andits bullocks. They wanted me to go out one night and--fancy!--help burndown dead trees; but, really, I jibbed on that. There is no billiardroom. Uncle David intends building one when Jim comes home for good,but that certainly won't be in my time here. I fancy a very few weekswill see me back in town.
"No bridge played here, of course! Have you had any luck that way?
"Your affectionate son,
"CECIL AUBREY LINTON."
Cecil blotted the final sheet of his letter home, and sat back with asigh of satisfaction, as one who feels his duty nobly done. He stampedit, strolled across the hall to deposit it in the post box which stoodon the great oak table, and then looked round for something to do.
It was afternoon, and all was very quiet. Mr. Linton had ridden offwith a buyer to inspect cattle, Norah ruefully declining to accompanyhim.
"I'm awfully sorry, Dad," she had said, "But I'm too busy."
"Busy, are you? What at?"
"Oh, cooking and things," Norah had answered. "Brownie's not very well,and I said I'd help her--there's a lot to do just now, you know." Shestood on tiptoe to kiss her father. "Good-bye, Dad--don't be too long,will you? And take care of yourself!"
Cecil also had declined to go out, giving "letters to write" as areason. The truth was that several rides had told on the town youth,whose seat in the saddle was not easy enough to prevent his becomingstiff and sore. Bush people are used to this peculiarity in cityvisitors, and, while regarding the sufferers with sympathy, generallyprescribe a "hair of the dog that bit them"--more riding--as the quickestcure; which Cecil would certainly have thought hard-hearted in theextreme. However, nothing would have induced him to say that he hadfelt the riding, since Cecil belonged to that class of boy that hatesto admit inferiority to others. So he suffered in silence, creakedmiserably at his uprising and down-sitting, and was happily unawarethat everyone in Billabong knew perfectly well what was the matter withhim.
Cecil and his mother were very good friends in the cool, polite waythat was distinctive of them. They "fitted" together admirably, and asa general rule held the same views, the one on which they were most inaccord being the belief in Cecil's own superior talents andcharacteristics. He wrote to her just as he would have talked, certainof her absolute agreement. When his letter was finished he felt muchrelieved at having, as Jim said, "got it off his chest." Not that Cecilwould ever have said anything so inelegant.
Sarah crossed the hall at the moment, carrying a tray of silver to becleaned, and he called to her--
"Where is Norah?"
"Miss Norah's in the kitchen," said the girl shortly. The Billabongmaids were no less independent than modern maids generally are, butthey had their views about the city gentleman's manner to the daughterof the house. "On'y a bit of a kid himself," Mary had said to Sarah,indignantly, "but any one'd think he owned the earth, an' Miss Norahwas a bit of it." So they despised Cecil exceedingly, and refrainedfrom shaking up his mattress when they made his bed.
"Er--you may tell her I want to speak to her."
"Can't, I'm afraid," Sarah said. "Miss Norah's very busy, 'elpin' Mrs.Brown. She don't care to be disturbed."
"Can't she spare me a moment?"
"Wouldn't ask her to." Sarah lifted her tray--and her nose--and marchedout. Cecil looked black.
"Gad! I wish the mater had to deal with those girls!" he saidviciously--Mrs. Geoffrey Linton was of the employers who "change theirmaids" with every new moon. "She'd make them sit up, I'll wager.Abominable impertinence!" He strolled to the door, and looked outacross the garden discontentedly. "What on earth is there for a man todo? Well, I'll hunt up the important cousin."
At the moment, Norah was quite of importance. Mrs. Brown had succumbedto a headache earlier in the day. Norah had found her, white-faced andmiserable, bending over a preserving pan full of jam, waiting for themystical moment when it should "jell." Ordered to rest, poor Browniehad stoutly refused--was there not more baking to be done, impossible toput off, to say nothing of the jam? A brisk engagement had ensued, fromwhich Norah had emerged victorious, the reins of government i
n herhands for the day. Brownie, still protesting, had been put on her bedwith a handkerchief steeped in eau-de-Cologne on her throbbingforehead, and Norah had returned to the kitchen to varied occupations.
The jam had behaved beautifully; had "jelled" in the most satisfactorymanner, just the right colour; now it stood in a neat array of jars ona side table, waiting to be sealed and labelled when cold. Then, afterlunch, Norah had plunged into the mysteries of pastry, and wasconsiderably relieved when her mince pies turned out very closely akinto those of Brownie, which were famous. Puddings for dinner hadfollowed, and were now cooling in the dairy. Finally, the joint beingin the oven, and vegetables prepared, the cook had compounded Jim'sfavourite cake, which was now baking; during which delicate operation,with a large dab of flour on her nose, the cook sat at the table, andwrote a letter.
"DEAR OLD JIM,--This must be in pencil, 'cause I'm watching a cakethat's in the oven, and I'm awfully scared of it burning, so I don'tdare to go for the ink. Dad said I was to write and tell you we wouldmeet you on Wednesday, unless we heard from you again. We are allawfully glad and excited about you coming. I'm sure Tait and Puckunderstand, '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 sosorry about Wally not coming, but we hope he will come later on. Domake 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'sawfully grown up, but he's small and terribly swagger. His ridingclothes are gorgeous, and you mustn't laugh at them. Dad did, but itwas into Bobs' mane. He came with us cutting-out, and Betty was toogood for him, swinging round, so he came a lovely cropper into somewild 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 heisn't enjoying himself very much, but of course he will be all rightwhen you come. It's jolly hard to entertain him, 'cause he isn't a bitkeen about anything. He has a tremendous array of shaving tackle. Andhe has a hand glass. Do you think he will lend it to you to see yourback hair?
"Bobs is just lovelier than ever. I never knew him go so well as he isnow, and he perfectly loves a jump. Dad has a new horse he callsMonarch, and he is a beauty, he is black with a star. OF COURSE, don'tsay anything about Cecil's spill to anybody, he could not help it. Andhe had a much bigger laugh at me, 'cause I fell into the lagoon the dayhe 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 abruptlyfrom the labours of composition, and then with promptness concealed herletter 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 nothingto do."
"I'm so sorry," Norah said contritely. "You see, Brownie's sick, andI'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 toocritical, 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 nevercan tell as a rule when you may have to turn to in the kitchen. Dadsays it's one of the beauties of Australia!"
"Can't say I like the idea of a lady in the kitchen," quoth Cecilloftily.
"Can't say I'd like to be one who was scared of it," Norah said. "And Iguess you'd get very bored if you had to go without your dinner!" Sheseized a cloth and opened the oven door gingerly, and made highlytechnical experiments with her cake, rising presently, somewhatflushed. "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 whiteapron as she flitted about the kitchen.
"I like having tea here," Norah confided to him. "Then I use Brownie'steapot, and don't you always think tea tastes miles better out of abrown pot? You won't get the proper afternoon cups either--I hope youdon't mind?" She stopped short, with a sudden sense of talking alanguage altogether foreign to this bored young man in correct attire;and a rush of something like irritation to think how different Jim orWally would have been--she could almost see Wally sitting on the edge ofthe 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 certainlyheavy 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 asmall jug. "The cake's not mine, so I can recommend it; but if you'renot frightened you can have one of my mince pies."
"Thanks, I'd rather have cake," said Cecil., and again Norah flushed athis tone, but she laughed.
"It's certainly safer," she agreed, "I'm sure Brownie thought it was ahideous risk to leave the pies to me." She supplied her cousin withcake, 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," explainedNorah. "We always do a lot of extra cleaning and rubbing up beforeChristmas, and they haven't a moment. Of course they'd do it in aminute, if I asked them, but I wouldn't--as it is, Sarah's going to dishup for me. They're the nicest girls; I'm going to take them tea as soonas I get my cake out!"
"You!" said Cecil. "You don't mean to say you're going to cart tea tothe servants?"
"I'd be a perfect pig if I didn't," Norah said, shortly. "I'm afraidyou don't understand the bush a bit, Cecil."
"Thank goodness I don't then," said Cecil, stiffly. "Who's that trayfor?"
"Brownie, of course." Norah was getting a little ruffled--criticism likethis 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 wheneveryone's nice to everyone!" She paused; it was hard to be patient andgrammatical, too.
"School will teach you a number of things," said her cousin loftily. Herose 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 toget on terms of familiarity with the lower classes is bad for both herand them." He looked and felt instructive. "It isn't exactly the actionthat 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 asone sheds a garment. He had sat down on the edge of the table in theflow of his eloquence; now he jumped up angrily, and, mutteringunpleasant things, endeavored to remove dough from his person. Norahhovered round, deeply concerned. Pastry dough, however, is a clingingand a greasy product, and finally the wrathful lecturer beat a retreattowards the sanctuary of his own room, and the cook sat down and shookwith laughter.
"My cake!" she gasped, in the midst of her mirth. She flew to the ovenand 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, becomingsolemn with difficulty. "You've no idea how improved I am, Daddy! Heseems to be certain that I'm not a lady, and he's very doubtful
if I'ma 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'tbother your head about the future. Your old Dad's not scared!"
Mates at Billabong Page 5
