Part 4

There were four main rooms, with a kind of lobby at the back, off which were bathroom and storeroom. It was a simple cottage, such as you will find in the Bush in hundreds: a big living-room, and three bedrooms of varying sizes, the largest of which would have made a servant's bedroom in the "House Beautiful"--which was, perhaps, a place that gave itself airs. Such rooms they were! The extreme filth of the kitchen had not penetrated indoors; but they were dirty enough, with dust thick in every corner, and an almost unbearable fustiness that cried eloquently for fresh air. After her first sniff of the evil atmosphere Aileen went hastily to each window, flinging them open: all save one, which, apparently, never had been opened, and declined to begin now. She struggled with it for a minute and then gave it up, glancing at her dirt-streaked hands with a little shudder of disgust.

They had sent ahead of them, by steamer, a few articles of furniture, arranging with Mr. Smith to bring them out and unpack the new beds; which stood, gaunt with their naked mattresses, looking painfully clean amid the surrounding squalor. Sheets and blankets were somewhere in the mass of luggage that even now was being flung down on the dark back veranda. The other furniture was rough and untidy, and chiefly home-made: the dressing-tables were old packing-cases draped with dingy cretonne, the washstands were shelves against the wall. Mr. Gordon had evidently been a gentleman with a turn for carpentry: there were chairs made from barrels, and bookshelves composed of old laths from fruit cases, and filled with tattered and dirty books. The walls were boarded and varnished, cobwebs forming their only decoration.

"It's a funny house," Garth said plaintively. "Mother, could I go to bed, do you think?"

"Mother hasn't got a proper bed ready for you," Aileen said. "Never mind, sonnie: I'll fix you up without proper things for a while."

She brought the bundle of rugs, and spread them on the smaller bed: Mr. Smith, with an admirable economy of space, had erected both in one room. Garth was fumbling wearily at his buttons, and she came to his aid quickly.

"We won't take all your clothes off, because your pyjamas, are hiding in one of the boxes," she told him. "But you won't mind that, to-night."

Garth was past minding anything. His heavy head nodded forward as she picked him up, kneeling on the dirty floor while she unlaced his boots; then she laid him gently back on the uncovered pillow. He was asleep almost as his head touched it. Very gently, she drew the rugs over him, and turned from him, shading the candle with her hand.

Tom Macleod, entering hurriedly, looked from the white face on the pillow to that of his wife, almost as white.

"My poor little girl!" he said.

A lump rose in Aileen's throat. She choked it back with decision.

"If you begin to pity me I might cry, and there doesn't seem time for any diversion like that," she said, smiling bravely. "We're all right. I've put Garth to bed---the poor man was so tired I wouldn't wait for sheets. But I would like some milk for him, Tom. Do you know if there is any?"

"There should be any amount--I think it's kept in the store-room," he said.

"And a saucepan?"

"Smith says he put the new pots and pans in the store-room, too--and the bread and meat and things we ordered."

"Then we'll all have hot milk and bread before we start unpacking," said his wife with decision. "Would you get the lamp, Tom? I'm so tired of this illumination!" She put down the greasy bottle and looked at the candle-end with disfavour. "I'll leave it, in case Garth wakes."

The store-room was more hopeful, since its window consisted of wire gauze, through which the air came freely. They found milk in what seemed to Aileen enormous quantities, most of it sour; but a bucket held the fresh supply of the evening, and a huge parcel from the store revealed butter as well as bread and groceries. They found another lamp, and while Tom heated milk in a hurriedly-rinsed saucepan, Aileen spread their first meal in the dining-room, using old newspapers for a tablecloth. She woke Garth, and made him drink a cupful of milk, but he was too sleepy to eat.

"Never mind--the milk will do him good," Tom said, watching them. "Now come and have some yourself."

They looked at each other over the paper-spread table, and to each of them came a vision of the "House Beautiful"--was it only last night that they had been in its dainty luxury! Neither spoke of it, however. Tom poured milk into a cracked cup and gave it to her.

"Don't be afraid. I washed the cups!" he said. "There was plenty of hot water, but nothing to dry them with--at least, nothing that you'd have cared about! So they're damp, if clean."

"Bless you!" said his wife. "Did you ever wash a cup before, Tom?"

"Not that I know of," he said, laughing. "But it isn't really difficult, if you have brains! Is the house very awful, dear?"

"Well--I'm inclined to think it's as well I had no stronger light than my candle-end to inspect it," she said, forcing a laugh. "It's--well, just a bit dirty. You ordered a charwoman, didn't you, Tom?"

"Of course I did. At least, one doesn't order them in this part of the world: one begs them humbly. I arranged with a plump lady named O'Brien, and Smith was to bring her out as often as was necessary. But she sent him a message that she had a lady friend from Bairnsdale staying with her, and she wasn't going. There doesn't seem to be any one else; so, since Gordon left, the house has been at the tender mercy of Horrors, not that I think he gets much beyond the kitchen. The kitchen is eloquent of him."

"It is, indeed," said Aileen, with a shudder. "Where is he now?"

"Gone to open the gate for Smith. I told him to come back quickly, but I don't fancy he's strong on being quick. I want him to help me carry things into the lobby--it's the best place to unpack. You know where to put your hands on the things we need to-night, don't you?"

"Oh, yes--bedclothes and sleeping things are all together in the black trunk, and so are our old clothes. They're all handy. But I can't remember where I packed soap and towels."

"They'll turn up," said Tom cheerfully, "especially if you don't worry about them. All you have to think of to-night is bed, even if you go there grubby! I'm afraid you'll have a very hard day to-morrow, my girl."

"It doesn't seem as if anything could be hard if I only had a sleep first," she said. "Have more hot milk, Tom."

Tom drained the saucepan.

"I never knew what a really good thing milk was," he said. "Let's live on it largely: it's cheap, and easy to cook! I feel pounds better."

"Kin I go ter bed?" said a voice at the door.

It was Horrors: a curious, squat boy of fifteen, with a very red face in which small eyes looked dully at the world; with a mop of extremely tight black curls, and an expression of stupidity that proved to be quite genuine. His clothes, tightly buttoned, were of blue dungaree, and had a well-filled look which, later, they found to be due to a habit of wearing other complete suits underneath the top layer, as though prepared at any minute to leave home suddenly. He stood at the door opening from the lobby and repeated his question heavily.

"Kin I go ter bed?"

"You can't, just yet," Tom said. "I want you to help me carry in those boxes."

"Awright," said Horrors sadly.

"Where do you sleep?" Aileen asked nim, studying her new henchman gravely.

"In me room."

"But where? Not in the house?" with a swift fear.

"Over there." He jerked his head towards the outer world. It was characteristic of Horrors that he never used two words where one would do.

"There's a buggy-shed, with a lean-to attached that forms Horrors' sleeping-bower," Tom told his wife. "I told him to clean it out before we came."

"Did," said Horrors.

"H'm," said Tom. "Pity you didn't clean the kitchen, too. Well, we'll get in these boxes."

They carried them in, placing them so that they could be conveniently unpacked. Aileen dragged out bedclothes and garments and made the bed by the light of the candle-end, now nearly exhausted. She was not used to the task: it would not have been considered a well-made bed. But it looked rather like heaven to her when it was finished.

Tom came in, to find her rooting wearily in a trunk.

"I wish I could have helped you," he said anxiously. "What are you looking for, now?"

"Soap," she said, her lip quivering in spite of herself. The hunt for soap had suddenly assumed enormous proportions--she had a vague idea that, if necessary, she must go on searching for it all night.

"Oh, you poor old tired thing!" her husband said. "There's an old bit of yellow in the bathroom, and here's a spare pillow-case--it will make a beautiful towel. I've got hot water in the basin--it was the dirtiest basin you ever saw, by the way. Come along." He lifted her to her feet.

They washed their hands and faces together in the basin, like children, and dried them on the pillow-case. The candle-end had guttered out when Aileen went back to her room, and she undressed by a faint gleam of moonlight that filtered in through the uncurtained window. The smell of the yellow soap was her last waking memory on her first night in the new home.

*CHAPTER VI*

*A DAY IN THE COUNTRY*

The sun was streaming through a threadbare yellow blind when Aileen Macleod awoke next morning. For a moment, dazed with sleep, she wondered what had happened--surely Julia was very late in bringing tea! Then memory came to her, and, with it, the realization that, for the first time in her life, food depended upon her own exertions. Simultaneously came the conviction that never before had she wanted morning tea so much.

She slipped out of bed. Garth and her husband were still sound asleep, but from outside came a clatter of buckets that gave hope that Horrors was astir. The thought of the bath called her. But on examination, the plunge-bath proved to possess an encrusted layer of dirt that defied cold water, and effectually robbed her of any craving to use it. The basin provided minor ablutions--the pillow-case was still damp from its midnight use, but its cleanliness, even though moist, was pleasant. Everywhere that she looked the pitiless daylight revealed dirt which the kindly candle-end had hidden the night before. She drew the skirts of her pretty dressing-gown more closely about her as she went back along the narrow passage towards the locked front door. She threw it open and went out upon the veranda.

Before her was loveliness of which she had not dreamed.

The house stood on a little hill, which sloped gently away at the back, and, in front, shelved more steeply down to where a glimpse of blue water showed. Like a river, it wound away among the hills until it was lost to sight: now narrow, now widening almost to a baby lake. Beyond were hills clothed with gum trees and wattle, stretching to the far distance; but nearer, she looked down into an exquisite fern gully, where splendid tree-ferns flung their fronded crests high into the air, and smaller fern-growths nestled about their stems. The plash of a tiny waterfall told of a stream running through it, to empty itself in the lake. Nearer, the hills were low and rounded, their fresh greenness a delight to tired city eyes.

No other houses were visible. It was as though they owned all the sweet countryside that stretched about the little cottage. On a far rise she could see knots of sheep, like dots of white wool upon the green; but before her no living thing moved, and there was only the still peace of hill and valley and curving lake. There had been fear in her heart--the fear born of inexperience and ignorance, the dread that the task she had shouldered would prove too hard for her. But it died as she looked out across the paddocks. In fancy she saw Garth running on the hills: growing strong and rosy, losing the pinched, tired look, and the blue circles under his eyes. With that dear vision in her heart, nothing else could matter.

She went back to her room. Garth was sitting up in bed, frankly bewildered.

"Hallo, Mother!" he said. "Did I go to sleep in my clothes?"

"You did," said his mother, beginning to brush her hair with swift strokes. "You were quite too tired last night to worry about pyjamas and sheets, sonnie."

"I don't remember a thing about it," said Garth. "I say, isn't this a queer room?"

"Oh, rooms don't count," Aileen answered. "You won't think about them when you see what a country we have come to. It's just lovely, Garth. Green paddocks--and gullies--and blue water!"

"Glory!" said Garth, and tumbled out of bed: a quaint figure in crumpled shirt and trousers. He ran to the window. "Oh-h, Mother!"

"Are you two discovering Gippsland?" asked a sleepy voice.

"Yes. Get up, lazy one, and discover it too," said Aileen.

"You forget that I explored it before kindly bringing you here," answered her husband, turning more comfortably on his pillow. "Aren't you grateful to me?" He suddenly regarded her with amazement. "Why are you doing your hair in that small, hard bun?"

Aileen skewered the bun in question with a final careful hairpin.

"There is going to be an amount of dust raised in this house to-day that will make up for the years during which it has never seen a spring-cleaning," she answered. "And my hair is clean. So I screw it in a bun, and presently I shall also tie it in one of your largest handkerchiefs. Then I shall sally forth and attack our new home with a broom."

"To do which, you must be fed," said Tom, getting up with a quick movement and disappearing towards the bathroom.

"How he'll _hate_ that wet pillow-case!" Aileen murmured. Inspiration came to her, and she dived into a trunk, which, after a moment's rummaging, revealed a large brown towel. Thrust in at the bathroom door, this induced gasping sounds of gratitude.

The newspaper tablecloth of last night did duty for breakfast also; and breakfast was eggs, boiled over a spirit-lamp, and tea, which Tom brewed in the kitchen. Garth, delighted at what he regarded as a huge picnic, trotted here and there, helping and hindering with equal enthusiasm.

"I've made a tour of the house," Aileen said, manipulating an enormous brown tea-pot; "and I want to map out our plan of campaign. What are you going to do?"

"Help you, until the place is clean," said her husband, looking at her. She was an unfamiliar Aileen, in a blue overall, short and workmanlike, and with her tightly-screwed hair. Tom came to the conclusion that he liked it. "What do we do first?"

"Good housewives, I have always read, begin by setting their kitchen in order," she answered. "But I think I would rather have clean bedrooms first; and I propose to ignore the kitchen. It's dirtier than all the rest of the house put together, and I feel that it will keep. If we could set up the oil-stove in the lobby we could boil kettles and things there. I brought an enormous piece of cooked corned-beef, so we shan't need to cook."

"First-rate idea," said Tom approvingly. "What about the kid? Does he eat corned-beef?"

"There's a cold chicken for him," said his mother. "Also meat jelly, in a jar: I trust it's not broken by that unholy bumping last night of Mr. Smith's express wagon. What does Horrors do to earn his living, Tom?"

"He's supposed to do what he is told; but under Gordon he seems to have done very much what he liked," Tom answered. "He milks three cows, and feeds pigs and calves and fowls; and cuts wood, and draws water--no, he doesn't, there are taps, praise the pigs! He's just an odd-job boy--and quite at your disposal. His not to reason why!"

"He might do some of the rougher work, and the scrubbing," Aileen said. She knitted her brows. "I do feel so stupid--I don't know where to begin!"

"I don't blame you, with a house in what my old nurse used to call a dirty uproar," said her husband. "Let's hurl everything out of one front room on to the veranda and clean things there. Then we'll clean the room, and put the clean things back into it, and then we'll sit down in the clean midst of everything and smirk at the result. We shan't be clean, ourselves, by that time, but that's a detail. If we do that every day for a week you won't know our mansion!"

"It sounds a good plan," said Aileen enthusiastically. "Come on, and we'll begin." She reached the door, and then turned back, laughing.

"I quite forgot that if we didn't clear away the breakfast things, nobody would!" she said. "I must wash up."

"I'll help you, Mother," said Garth eagerly.

"Will you, sweetheart? Well, you can dry the things. And Tom, if you could get Horrors, you and he might begin the hurling-out of the furniture. Where is Horrors, by the way?"

"When I last saw him, he had eaten five eggs, and was beginning a sixth!" said her husband. "If he feels well enough, which seems doubtful, I'll get him at once. I'll fill the kettle for you. Don't go into the kitchen more than you can help, for it is in every sense a place of horrors. I saw fully five thousand cockroaches there last night."

"Ugh!" shuddered Aileen.

"Don't worry. I'm told that it's only at night that 'the rogues come out to play,'" said he. "We'll poison them when we come to attack the kitchen. They must have been great company for that boy in the long evenings--we mustn't grudge him lively society!"

"What's cockroaches?" asked Garth, greatly interested. "I never saw one."

"I trust not," said his mother hastily. "Never mind them--we must get to work, sonnie."

There were evil rags in the kitchen that had done duty as dish-towels, and which Aileen, having sniffed gingerly, lifted on the point of a stick and conveyed to the fire. There was also a dish-pan so encrusted with the remains of many washings that she decided to use a wash-hand basin. There were the shelly remnants of Horrors' breakfast--which it seemed best to leave for his own disposal. Finally, having discovered that when cockroaches are sufficiently tame and prosperous they do not always shun the daylight, she seized the kettle and, shuddering, fled, leaving both doors open, that fresh air might remove some of the more obtrusive odours of Horrors' sitting-room. Later, she found that this plan had led to the intrusion of a large family of fowls and several half-wild cats. In the hope that some of these visitors might care for eating cockroaches, she forebore to disturb them.

It was a strange day for a woman who had never before done an hour's hard work. Throughout her life she had known only ease and dainty comfort; now she found herself plunged into dirt and squalour, with no skilled aid, and handicapped by utter inexperience. It was the inexperience that almost angered her as the hours went on. By nature she was practical enough--it was hurting to her pride to make stupid mistakes that must be paid for by more hard work. She scrubbed a room without thinking of cleaning the walls and ceiling--which, when examined, yielded so much grime that her fastidiousness forthwith scrubbed the defiled floor again. Tom was greatly annoyed with her when he found her on her knees, wielding the scrubbing-brush anew. But at least there was comfort in having done the job thoroughly.

Horrors, as a scrubber, proved an utter failure. Tom said he "took the rough off"; but Aileen, looking at pools of filthy water which seemed to have flung up waves of dirt, decided that his methods were hopeless, and--when Tom was out of the way--went over the work again herself, and made the discovery that scrubbing is not so easy as it looks, and that it carries possibilities of backache undreamed of before. Indeed, as the day wore on, a thousand aches seemed situated in her back, and her shoulders grew so stiff that she could scarcely raise her arms. Like all enthusiastic beginners, she tried to do too much, and paid the penalty.

Yet throughout the hard day she was never unhappy. The work brought its own reward in the delight of feeling cleanliness about her again; and it was something to be working together, uniting their efforts in making the new home. Garth's happy face, as he appeared from time to time at a window, full of joyful tidings of new discoveries outside, was a never-failing tonic. And Tom was the best of mates; ignorant as herself, and much more unpractical, but full of energy, and with a joke always on his lips. Garth's voice singing, as he roamed in the garden, mingled with his father's, singing also, to the accompaniment of much rattling and banging, as he unpacked and erected the new oil-stove. It made her want to sing herself--only that her back ached too much.

They lunched in a scrappy fashion, very late which was foolish; and, having lunched late, let afternoon tea go altogether, which was more foolish still. They had yet to learn that hard work, without sufficient food, does not pay. Aileen was finishing bed-making, in a room that fairly smelt of cleanliness, when Tom appeared in the doorway.

"Six o'clock; and that's the last stroke of work you do this day," said he firmly. "Come and eat things: I've made an enormous pot of tea, and Garth has laid the table."

"How lovely! and what dears you both are!" she said, turning, and smiling at him. Then suddenly the room began to turn round, slowly at first, and then faster, and she was falling through space.

It seemed a very long while, though it was but a few moments, before she opened her eyes, to find herself on her bed, with Tom bending over her.

"What's the matter?" she asked. "I'm all right, Tom--let me get up." She struggled to rise.

"Lie still, dear," he said anxiously.

"Did I faint?--how silly of me!" she said disgustedly. "I'm so sorry; I must have frightened you."

"I'm glad I caught you," he said. "Isn't there some medicine I could give you? Sal volatile, or something? Tell me where to look."

Colour was coming back to her lips. She began to laugh.

"Oh, I don't want any medicine," she answered. "I haven't got any, either--you know I never faint, Tom. It's too stupid of me to do it now. I was only a little tired--and I think the idea of tea overcame me!"

"Keep quiet, then, and I'll bring you a cup," he said, disappearing. He was back in a moment, cup in hand, and made her lean against him as she drank it.

"That was lovely!" she said, lying back. "Oh, I've such a heavenly feeling of laziness, and of course, I must nip it in the bud! I'm all right now, Tom, and so hungry. Come along."

"Sure you are?" he said, regarding her doubtfully as she got up. "Well, don't go tumbling about like that any more: it scares one." He held her arm as they went along the narrow passage to the dining-room, and kept a wary eye upon her throughout the meal. Being well aware of this, she forced herself to be extremely merry, despite thee fact that red-hot knives seemed to be running in and out of her shoulders.

"It's just the beautifullest place that ever was!" Garth said, blissfully looking up from his bowl of bread and milk. "There's lovely sheds, and a big bench with tools--they's rustier than _your_ tools, Daddy!--and a stable, and such a jolly loft, with hay in it, and rats!"

"It sounds a jolly place," said his father. "Are there more rats than hay, or vice versa?"

"I didn't see any---any of those things you said," answered Garth, slightly puzzled. "Do they run about?"

"Not as a rule," said Tom gravely. "Never mind; I dare say there are none. But are there many rats?"