Part 14

"I reckon I am," said 'Possum firmly. "There's other, things besides Cups. I couldn't do it." There was a hint of a sob in her voice. "Please don't ask me, Missus; you're a brick to say you'd help me, an' you don't know how I want them dresses. But I got to go without. Don't you worry about me--you been awful good to me already."

"Now I wonder would O'Connor mind?" Tom reflected, when they discussed the matter after Garth had gone to bed. "I don't believe he's close-fisted--and, though he probably wouldn't admit it, he's very proud of 'Possum. Do you know, I think a lot of women are afraid to ask their men-folk for money, when there's really no need to be afraid? Most men like to see their daughters decently turned out."

"Then I'll ask Mr. O'Connor myself!" said Aileen decidedly.

She did so some days later, meeting the big man on the road to Cuninghame, where she was hunting for strayed turkeys; and, having explained the matter, had the satisfaction of seeing Nick flare up, as his daughter would have said, "like a packet of crackers."

"'Possum's got no need to be badly dressed!" he said angrily, quite ignoring the fact that it was his own talk about money that kept the girl from asking him for an unnecessary sixpence. "I was on'y the other day talkin' to her about her clothes. I'll tell her she ought to have more sense than to talk to you like that."

"Please don't," Aileen said quickly. "I felt sure it was just that you didn't understand; but 'Possum hates to ask you for anything for herself. She will ask for things for Bertha and Polly, but she doesn't realize that she has also an example to set them of turning out neatly."

"That's right," the big man agreed. "Well, what am I to do, if you won't let me talk to her, Mrs. Macleod?"

"If you would give me the money, I would buy the materials, and then teach 'Possum to make them," said Aileen. "Then, if you show her that you notice and approve when she goes home in a new frock, it will do more good than a great deal of talking now. And you will be surprised to find what a good-looking daughter you have, Mr. O'Connor!"

"She used to be an awful jolly little kid--before her mother died," Nick said. "I'm afraid she's had a tough time ever since. She's just too useful--that's what's the matter with 'Possum!" He put some money into, her hand. "Will that do?"

"It is too much," Aileen said.

"Oh, you'll use it up soon enough. Tell me when you want more. And thank you, Mrs. Macleod. You've made a mighty lot of difference to 'Poss. I reckon the day you came here was a lucky day for her!"

Thus it was that 'Possum, summoned by Aileen, beheld dress-lengths of material of divers colours, and learned, to her utter amazement, that they were hers.

"Dad give you the money!" she gasped. "_Dad_? Well, that just beats everything!"

"Of course he gave it to me," Aileen said.

"An' never made a fuss?".

"No--why should he. I don't think you're quite fair to your father, 'Possum. You have made him think you care for nothing but work. Doesn't it ever occur to you that he would like to see his eldest daughter nicely dressed?"

"No, it don't," said 'Possum firmly. "I think he'd a jolly sight sooner see me on top of a plough!" Which view held so much truth that Aileen was compelled to laugh. Nevertheless, she held to her point.

"If he does, it's your own doing," she said. "Men are queer creatures: they always think what a woman encourages them to think. You have let him imagine that dungaree was the only thing to dress in. But once he sees you in something prettier, he won't be satisfied with the old dresses any more, except just for working."

"Well, I'd like to believe it," 'Possum said, drawing a long breath. "But I've known Dad a long time!"

"You'll know him much better when you have accustomed him to a well-turned-out daughter. And think of the children, 'Possum. How do you expect Bertha and Polly to be dainty and fresh if you don't set them the example?"

"Well, I seem to have been making a mighty lot of mistakes," 'Possum said ruefully. "I thought I was doin' the best for those kids, but I suppose I'm all wrong."

"I think you're wrong in one or two things, and just a wonder in everything else," said Aileen warmly. "And they love you just as if you were their mother, 'Possum. Now you have got to make them very proud of you."

So they worked at the new frocks together: Aileen patient in explaining, and swift at planning, while 'Possum grasped her needle as if it were a bradawl, and drove it through the stuff with much muscular effort, producing stitches of a size truly majestic. "Blest if I can handle the silly little thing!" said she, laboriously unpicking: "ploughin's a jolly sight easier!" But in time her natural deftness came to her aid, and when Aileen had succeeded in making her forget the methods by which she had "clamped" together the garments of her family, and inducing her to use a needle less thick than a skewer, she arrived at creditable results. The finished pile of dresses contained plenty of her work, and she gloated over them proudly, though most of her pride was reserved for the frocks for the little girls, and the cool suits for the boys, that had been "managed" out of the stock of material.

"We put 'em all on for tea," she told Aileen on the day following the great occasion of the finishing of the work. "I had the kitchen very dossy, an' a vawse o' flowers on the table, an' there we were when Dad came in. He just looked at us careless-like, an' then he seemed to take notice, an' he stared an' stared. An' of course the kids giggled. Then he said, 'Well!' just like that, an' stopped, like as if he hadn't any more ideas. An' he kep' on starin'. At last he says, 'I suppose this is Mrs. Macleod's doin'?' An' I says, 'Yes.' 'Who made 'em all?' he says. An' I told him. An' he says, 'Well, I'm proud of you, 'Poss--an' all my kids!' An' he got up an' went out. An' presently he come back--an' if you'll b'lieve me, Missus, he'd acshally gorn an' put on a clean shirt!"

*CHAPTER XVI*

*A LITTLE BOY*

"What are you going to do with the old boat, Dad?"

"Why, I really don't know that she's worth bothering about," Torn Macleod answered, looking up from the dinghy he was examining. "She's very ancient and leaky: I suppose Gordon used her before he got the new skiff. He was apparently quite satisfied to let her go to pieces, and I don't think I'll interfere with his intentions."

"Oh!" said Garth, somewhat disappointed. "I thought you were going to mend her; and it would be such an int'rusting job."

Tom laughed.

"Well, that was rather what I was thinking myself," he answered. "If I had nothing else to do I would like nothing better than to patch up the old thing. But then I have about fifty-seven other jobs waiting for me, most of them not nearly so interesting, but all more important. So I'm afraid the old dinghy must stand aside, son. Perhaps, if work is slack in the winter, I may get at her."

"I wish you would," Garth said. "I love helping you with carpent'ring jobs."

"Well, we'll see," said Tom. "But really, I'm afraid she's too rotten." He hauled the dinghy to the end of the jetty and moored her to a post, returning to his task of cleaning the skiff and the motor-launch. It was an idle morning, and to overhaul the contents of the boathouse had been a good way of using a few hours.

February had come, with a last burst of heat, after a cool January; and February heat has a vicious quality all its own, perhaps because it comes when people are beginning to hope that summer is over. Therefore, it induces much slackness, and makes a toil of work that in ordinary weather is only pastime.

The little household of Gordon's Farm had felt the influence of the weather. Garth's ability for work and play had slackened, and Aileen had begun to administer a tonic: herself white and heavy-eyed, and with little inclination for work. The cottage was stifling in the long, hot days; luckily, the nights helped them, for they all slept on the veranda, as they had done throughout the summer, and the fresh night breeze from the lake never failed. Tom watched his wife carefully, knowing that her spirit would keep her going long after her tired body needed rest. His own work in the paddocks was lessening as the season advanced; he had more time to give to the house, and spent many days ostensibly in the garden, but, in reality, ready to lend a hand at a hundred tasks. It was the constant thought, even more than the actual help, that carried Aileen on from day to day.

'Possum helped, too. There was little outside work for her, but she rode over often, and delighted in forcibly compelling Aileen to rest while she made light of housework and cooking. To cook with Aileen's patent stove was always a peculiar joy to her, and no inducement would draw her from the glass-fronted oven while she could watch her scones or pastry developing from dough to crisp perfection. To Aileen's remonstrances at being forced to be idle she turned a deaf ear.

"Just you don't worry," she would say. "You got to remember you've had a hard summer--workin' like a carthorse, an' you never used to work in your life before. It's bound to tell, 'specially with this beastly heat. You'll be all right once we get the autumn."

She came over early to-day, and hearing from Aileen that Tom was working at the boats, rode down to the jetty with a message. Nick O'Connor was going to a farm at Metung to look at store calves, which they both needed: he proposed to ride over presently and ask Tom to accompany him, making the journey in Tom's motor-launch. Macleod assented heartily.

"Nothing I'd like better," he said. "I was wondering where I could get hold of some young stock." His face clouded a little. "My wife isn't looking very fit to-day--I had planned to take her out this afternoon on the lake. Still, it's business, and she won't mind."

"Not she," said 'Possum. "I say, though, I haven't got anything special to do to-day: how'd it be if I was to stay and do a few odd jobs about the house, an' then take her an' Garth out in the skiff when it gets cooler? We could drift down to the lake, an' then just mooch along until we met you comin' home from Metung; an' you could bring us home in the launch an' tow the skiff."

"That's as brilliant as most of your ideas, 'Possum," Tom exclaimed. "I would be very glad to think Aileen had your company to-day, and she'll get her outing after all. It won't be hard work for you, either, for the current will take you down to the lake, and if you don't start until it's cool we ought to meet you soon after."

"Oh, that'll be all right," 'Possum answered. "Goodness knows, I'm used to pullin', an' that skiff of yours is just a beauty to pull--she's diff'rent from our old tub. Well, I'll get along, an' let me horse go."

It was an unusually stifling day, and Aileen was tired enough to be meek when 'Possum bullied her into subsiding into a long chair. She had risen at five o'clock, having found that the only way to work comfortably in such weather was to do so before the sun had time to grow vicious: therefore, the housework was done, and lunch prepared. 'Possum was slightly disgusted. "I came hopin' to be useful," she said, arranging Aileen's feet comfortably.

"You're always useful," Aileen said, smiling up at her. "Come and sit down, too, and we'll sew."

'Possum shook her head.

"No good _me_ tryin' to sew in this weather," she said. "The jolly old needle simply sticks in the stuff, like as if you'd rubbed glue on it. It's a marvel to me how you manage it, Missus. Never mind; I'll go on makin' the cage for that parrot we're goin' to catch for Garth some day. I won't make much mess, an' I'll sweep it up." She busied herself with tools deftly, while Garth watched and tried to help.

No one wanted much lunch: it was too hot to eat. They made what pretence they could, and soon went back to the veranda. At their feet Bran panted, open-mouthed; outside the fences they could see the fowls, with gaping beaks, standing about under the trees.

"I say," said Garth suddenly, "what about a bathe?"

"Isn't it too hot?" Aileen said.

"It's too hot, here, but it would be lovely down there," Garth answered wisely. "Do come, mother; we'd all feel heaps better."

"I believe it's sound advice," Aileen said. "Come on, 'Possum."

They put on their bathing-dresses in the house and, with sand-shoes on bare feet, went down the slope to the lake. There was a tiny sand-bank near the jetty, shelving gently under the water: a good place for Garth to splash and paddle when he was tired of swimming. He had not been a very apt pupil in the water--perhaps because his swimming lessons were somewhat haphazard, given when either Tom or Aileen had time. To swim half a dozen strokes was an achievement for him, and he accomplished it to-day with much puffing and blowing. Then he returned to the shallows and played with Bran, while 'Possum dived off a log into a deep pool, and Aileen swam about lazily--she was not a strong swimmer, and the day was not one for exertion, even in the water. However, they were all refreshed, when at length Garth clamoured that he was hungry, and the three dripping figures climbed the hill to the house.

It was tea-time when they were dressed, and after tea they made ready to start. The sun was hotter than ever, it seemed: a mist that had hung over the sky all day had cleared away, and had left blazing heat behind it.

"I don't think I would go, if we had not said we would," Aileen said. "But I suppose Tom might be anxious if we didn't appear."

"Afraid he would," 'Possum agreed. "They might go lookin' for us, too, thinkin' they'd missed us. Oh, you'll feel better on the water, Missus; an' ten to one we'll get a breeze when we come out on the lake."

"Yes, perhaps we will," Aileen said. "I really think it's wiser to go--one shouldn't let hot days make one too lazy."

"You ain't got a lazy bone in your body," 'Possum averred stoutly.

"Indeed, I don't feel as if I had a bone at all, on days like these," Aileen said. "It worries me that I should feel so useless, 'Possum. I haven't time to be useless!"

"Ah, you--useless! Not much you ain't!" said 'Possum. "Every one feels beastly weather like this--unless it's Garth. _He_ don't seem to be sufferin' from loss of energy, just now at all events."

She nodded at the small boy, who was racing ahead--a gallant little figure in white shirt and brief knickerbockers, with a wide felt hat. He took a flying leap upon the jetty, where the water swished softly on the pebbles, and capered beside the old dinghy that Tom had left moored near the skiff.

"Come on!" he shouted. "You're too slow. I'm going off to meet Daddy by myself!"

As he spoke, he planted one foot gingerly in the old boat. It rocked and swayed, and he almost overbalanced. 'Possum sprang forward with a quick catch of her breath, but the little fellow righted himself with a mighty wriggle, and sat down abruptly in the dinghy. 'Possum turned to Aileen with a relieved, half-shamefaced laugh.

"He jolly near sat down in the water that time," she said. "It give me a start--lucky he managed to hit the boat." She raised her voice. "Keep still, Garth; let me steady her while you get out."

There came a queer little cry from Garth.

"But it's going away with me!"

Aileen saw, and screamed, and ran. She was too far away. The sudden jerk had parted the rotten strands of the old rope that held the boat, and slowly, yet all too quickly for 'Possum's wild rush, the dinghy swung out into the stream. The tide was running out, and the current was very swift. It seemed in but a second; while they cried out and ran, that the current caught the old boat and whisked it swiftly away.

"Come on," 'Possum said, "quick! Don't worry, Missus, we'll catch him."

She leapt upon the jetty. Aileen followed, and flung herself into the skiff, thrusting the oars into the rowlocks. 'Possum tugged at the painter, and abused Tom's knots under her breath. They yielded at last, and she sprang in, pushing off with a force that sent the boat spinning down-stream. 'Possum grasped the oars, Aileen was already at the tiller--staring ahead in utter silence, seeing nothing but the little blue and white figure. It swung round a bend, and was out of sight.

"Keep her out in the middle, where the tide's swiftest, Missus," 'Possum said. "Don't look like that--it's all right--we'll get him."

She was rowing desperately, with sharp, quick strokes under which the boat flew through the water. They rounded the turn, and ahead--but how far ahead!--was the dinghy, with Garth sitting upright and very still. Faster and faster, as they neared the mouth, the current set out to sea.

"It's very light, you know," 'Possum said, between strokes, in answer to Aileen's look. "An' it got a good start. We're gainin', though, you notice." She was flinging quick looks backward as she rowed. "Ain't he sittin' still--my word, he's good! He's got sense enough for ten!"

Garth's clear little voice came back to them over the dancing water. They could not hear his words, but there was no fear in the tone. Aileen felt almost ashamed of her own sick terror, hearing that brave, childish voice: but the stories of the danger of the current echoed in her mind, and if once the dinghy gained the lake before them she knew that hope was slight. And he was such a little, little boy!

The high banks seemed to fly past. Afterwards, in her dreams, she saw them always: flickering visions of yellow banks and dark green masses of wattle-trees. But at the moment she saw only what lay ahead: glancing water, and swift oars flashing, and 'Possum's flushed, strained face; and the boat that rocked and fled from them with its tiny burden.

But they gained. As they swung round turn after turn, they crept nearer and nearer to the dinghy. Surely they must win! And yet, 'Possum was afraid--looking at her, with senses sharpened by terror, the mother saw the fear in her eyes. She met Aileen's glance with a forced smile, but it could not hide her fear. Her arms never ceased their rapid, mechanical strokes--under the thin blouse her muscles rose and fell as she opened her shoulders with long, powerful swings.

"Can you stand it?" Aileen whispered. "Oh, why can't I row decently!"

"You're ... far more use steerin'," 'Possum gasped. "I'm all right. See how we're gainin'."

"Then why are you afraid?" Aileen cried.

'Possum shook her head, and forced a smile--a smile that brought no conviction. Then Garth cried out again, something about "water," and "wet," and 'Possum's anxious look grew sharper. Her voice was shrill and strained as she called back to the child.

"I know, dearie--sit still!"

"What is it?" Aileen gasped: and suddenly knew. They were gaining rapidly now, but the dinghy was settling down in the water. The leaks! the wonder was that it had floated so long. Now the water rippled almost level with its edge. For an instant Aileen lost her head in her agony of terror. She screamed, starting half up.

"Sit down!" 'Possum's voice, stern in its anxiety, brought her to her senses. She flung a backward glance. "Near down," she gasped; "I knew, when we gained so quick."

Garth's voice came again, and this time with a sob of fear. The dinghy was almost sinking. For another moment the skiff spun through the water, rounding a bend, and there, ahead, lay the open water of the lake. 'Possum shipped the oars with a sudden jerk.

"Try 'n' keep her straight"--she flung the words at Aileen. "There's one chance----"

Ahead, the dinghy seemed to stop. There was a slow, sickening swirl, and, even as 'Possum screamed to Garth to jump, the water closed over the little boat. There was a cry--a cry that choked suddenly. Then the skiff quivered and stopped as 'Possum dived into the stream.

The water lay blank and desolate before the woman who sat staring in the skiff--blank but for the widening ripples that spread across the pathway of the current. So it lay for a dragging moment that was years, and then 'Possum's head broke it, and, but farther away, Garth's upturned face. They disappeared again.

When she saw them once more, they were together--'Possum gripping the boy tightly, and keeping afloat with one hand. The skiff was drifting down towards them. Aileen grasped an oar and tried to bring it closer, loathing the helpless ignorance that made her efforts awkward. Close--closer, but still too far. She thrust the oar towards them, leaning over the side. It was too short.

The current whisked her away--still stretching vainly towards the two faces in the water, crying to them, calling to God. Then she flung herself into the water, striving, with desperate helpless strokes, against the racing tide.

A motor-launch came swiftly round from the lake, the two men in her talking and smoking. They saw the empty boat first, and the words died upon their lips.

"My goodness!" said Tom Macleod, and sprang to his engine. The launch leaped like a live thing, tearing through the water. The skiff danced past them, rocking upon the waves.

"Can you see them?" he asked, between his teeth.

"One of 'em's close," Nick said. "Steady--starboard a little. Be ready to back if I miss." He hung over the side and clutched at the fair head near the boat. "Ah--got her. It's your wife." His great shoulders quivered as he dragged her in, looking wildly ahead as he did so. A cry broke from him.

"There's my girl--she's got your kid. Hold on, 'Poss! Get on with you, man--starboard, starboard!"

He flung Aileen into the boat, and turned again swiftly. 'Possum was paddling feebly with one hand, almost done. She met his eyes and her lips parted.

"Take the kid," she gasped. But he took both, catching them with his great arms, and holding them out of the water until Tom could get to his side. He caught his boy from 'Possum's tired hands and laid him in the boat beside his mother, while Nick O'Connor dragged at the girl.

"I believe we're too late," Tom said in a terrible voice. "Aileen! Aileen!"

Her eyes opened, and in them was an agony of fear. She tried to speak, but only a whisper would come.

"Garth!" And Garth half turned and cuddled in to her with a little sleepy sigh.

* * * * *

The current fled onward, and on its breast the empty skiff danced as though the little waves were playfellows that had come to greet it and to carry it away to join their game. They rocked it gently until it neared the lake; then they grew choppy, and the skiff bobbed and swayed until it was drawn out upon the bosom of the water. It was calm there; but still the tide set seawards, carrying the skiff away and away--over the lake, hurrying, hurrying, until the great grey piers loomed ahead, with the grey waste of the sea dark between them. The roar of the breakers boomed, rising and falling. The lane of water between the piers was smooth: there were no waves; but under the surface were deep eddies, and the skiff spun and quivered over them, still drawn onward and outward towards the bar that leaped and thundered beyond the end of the piers. It reached the bar, and the breakers took it and played with it, flinging it up and down. Their curling crests tossed their spray into it; and still the little boat rode bravely, now in the hollow trough of a wave, now rising on a great curving wall of green water, and dashing forward with the tide out to sea. So, by some strange chance it passed the bar into the long, smooth ocean swells, and drifted to the horizon.