Part 7

"Take up my time! Why, you've on'y got to come to sales with me--I'm always 'goin' to them--an' let me give you a word of advice: an' I can come over here now and then, to see how they were doin'. That ain't nothing to be paid for. You'll want to put in a bit of a crop for winter feed, an' I'll lend you my plough an' horses an' 'Possum--you can pay for them, if you like."

"Who is 'Possum?"

"'Possum's me right hand-man," said Nick O'Connor, with a twinkle. "Very useful, too. I can ride over an' help you get the crop in. You'll want to put in potatoes, too, won't you?"

"Yes, I suppose so," Tom said.

"Oh, there's money in spuds," said the big man. "And in fruit: you ought to make a bit off your orchard. And the hotels will always buy vegetables--likewise the summer visitors."

Aileen leant forward, a new light in her eyes.

"I can help in that," she said. "And, Mr. O'Connor, I want to go in for fowls--lots of fowls: chickens and ducks and turkeys."

"So you'd ought to. They take mighty little feeding: eat insecks and grasshoppers all the summer, an' they do fine on peas in the winter!"

"D'ly pea," said Tom, laughing at her.

"Yes, dry peas. We'll make him put in some for you, Mrs. Macleod--just a little crop."

"But how will I buy fowls? There are only a dozen or so here."

"Oh, 'Possum's the one to help you there," said the visitor. "What 'Possum don't know about fowls ain't worth finding out. Don't you worry, Mrs. Macleod, we'll fix it up all right."

"But we can't take up your time and 'Possum's without paying you," Tom said. "I know how valuable a man's time is."

Mr. O'Connor exhibited symptoms of impatience.

"Now, look here," he said. "You're neighbours; an' for five years we haven't had not what you could call a neighbour on this place. Nobody's very proud about here, but we do get full up of a man like ol' Gordon, who thinks himself too good to speak to any poor Australian. You ain't that sort, an' we're jolly glad to have you. If I needed advice about buyin' things in the city, wouldn't you give it to me?"

"Like a shot," said Tom. "But----"

"Well, thank goodness, I don't!" said Mr. O'Connor, pursuing his argument. "But I'll come to you when I need a lot of shares, or a swaller-tail coat an' hat, or anything fancy like that. Meanwhile, if you won't let us advise you about things like calves and spuds, where's the fairness come in? I've said I'll let you pay me for the ploughin', 'cause it's cheaper for you to do it that way than to buy an outfit an' start learnin' to use it. But the rest is on'y bein' neighbours. So s'pose we don't say any more about it. Eh, son--would you like to learn to be a farmer?"

"Rather!" said Garth, with shining eyes. "Am I big enough?"

"Oh, you're quite big enough for a start. I'll tell 'Possum to keep an eye on you." He rose, knocking the ashes from his pipe. "Well, they'll be waiting tea for me: I must get along home." He shook hands all round. "We'll make good Gippslanders of you in no time," he said. "Jolly nice drop o' rain we've had this last week, isn't it?--good thing for your ploughin', Mr. Macleod. Well, so long!" He was gone.

"Didn't I tell you he was a jolly decent sort of chap?" Garth said. "And he is, too!"

*CHAPTER IX*

*"MAGGIE OR SOMETHING"*

Morning broke clear and fine, with a golden sun smiling over a clean-washed world. Garth greeted it with a merry little shout.

"Hurrah, Mother! No more rain!"

"Not a drop," answered Aileen from the passage, where the steady swish of her broom could be heard. "It's going to be the most beautiful day!"

"Can I get up to breakfast?" Garth demanded. "I'm so sick of breakfast in bed, Mother."

"Oh, yes, I think so. I'll come and help you in a moment."

"I'm all right," Garth responded. "I'll be quite careful of my arm--don't you bother." He capered out into the passage, a cheery figure in pyjamas, flourishing a bath-towel; and disappeared into the bathroom, whence came presently much splashing, mingled with snatches of song.

"Bless him! I'm sure he's better," Aileen murmured. Something of the weight on her heart seemed to be lifted this morning. Perhaps it was the beauty of the day: perhaps an added hope and interest in life since their visitor of the night before. She sang as she swept. That in itself was not unusual, since singing was a cheerful exercise, and she believed in encouraging cheerfulness. "One's mouth can't turn down at the corners if one is singing," she was accustomed to think. But her song was not forced to-day: and Tom, coming up the path, caught the happy note in it, and smiled unconsciously.

"Look here," said he, later, at breakfast. "I want to draw the family attention to a painful fact. It's more than a fortnight since we came here; and for that whole fortnight Mother Aileen has not been outside the house!"

"Why, Tom, I've been----"

"You've been into the garden about three times, and once to the pigsty," he interrupted. "I knew that quite well, but it doesn't count. Does it, Garth?"

"'Course it doesn't," said Garth, his utterance impeded by porridge.

"Not at all. Your only other excursion was when you went to poke your nose into Horrors' room, and nearly fainted at what you saw there!"

"I didn't--though indeed, any one might well have fainted," Aileen defended herself. "It was like a charnel-house!"

"What's a charnel-house?" queried Garth, much interested.

"Horrors' room," said his father promptly. "At least, it was, until we went through it with fire and sword. Never mind; we're getting off the subject. Does the family think it's the square thing for Mother Aileen never to have been outside her gate?

"No!" from Garth.

"Certainly not!" from Aileen, amiably.

"I'm surprised to find you so sensible," said Tom, grinning at her. "Well, seeing that you have done nothing but scrub, and sweep, and cook, and generally behave like a galley-slave since we left Melbourne, it's time something was done about it. You're getting thin, and you've no colour, and if you're not very careful you'll get the blues; and where would Garth and I be then?"

"You needn't worry: I don't go in for such stupid things," said his wife, laughing. A shade of pink crept into her cheeks; behind the laugh it made her a little afraid, to think how near the surface blues had really been.

"Anyhow, it really won't do, old girl;" he said seriously. "No one could stand it: and this last week of wet weather has been enough to try any one. Therefore, I propose that to-day we leave the house to Horrors and the cats, and go exploring."

"Glory!" ejaculated Garth.

"It sounds nice," said Aileen. "Let me think if I can manage it."

"You're not to think at all. There's cold mutton, isn't there?

"Lots."

"Anything else?

"Cold odds and ends of pudding. And Garth's broth."

"There you are--what more do you want? That's supper, all ready. We can take out bread-and-butter and hard-boiled eggs, and make billy-tea: and that's lunch. We'll all hurry up, and finish the housework, so that you can go out without having awful thoughts of coming back to find the piano undusted!"

"I can do heaps with one hand," said Garth eagerly. "Oh, do say yes! Mother!"

"What a horrid mother I'd be if I didn't," she said, smiling at them both. "I think it would be perfectly lovely. Mind you eat a good breakfast, both of you, for it will be the only hot meal you'll get to-day."

"The same applies to you," said Tom, placing another slice of bacon on her plate. "No, you needn't dodge!--you know you haven't been eating enough lately to support a fly. Garth and I decline to have you swooning by the wayside from hunger."

"I wish you would be nice enough to forget the only occasion in my life when I did 'swoon,' as you call it," she said. "I truly won't do it again--I'm too ashamed of it. By the way, isn't that man of Mr. O'Connor's coming over to-day?"

"The chap he calls 'Possum? I'm not sure," Tom answered. "We won't stay at home on the chance of his coming, at any rate; we can tell Horrors to let him know what direction we take, and he wouldn't mind riding after us. After all, we can't go far. But even a little way will be better than nothing. I do want you to forget cooking-pots for a day."

It was still quite early when they left the house. The long grass was wet, but overhead fleecy white clouds swam in a sky of perfect blue, and were mirrored in the blue of the lake below. Just the day for a holiday, Garth said, capering ahead of his father and mother, while Bran raced in pursuit of skimming swallows, having been recalled sternly from the more hopeful pastime of chasing cows. The spirit of the morning had even entered into the elderly Jane, who was seen to kick up her heels and gallop across a hill-side, in stiff-legged imitation of the more youthful Roany. Everything was glad of the rain--especially now that the rain had ceased.

"Rain is like med'cine," Garth said sagely--"simply beastly when you're taking it, but it makes you feel better."

They followed the track leading down to the lake, skirting the fern gully, where the tiny creek had become a most excitable stream, leaping downward in a series of baby waterfalls, with all the ferns on its banks awash. The great tree-ferns overhead dripped steadily, but the sunlight lay upon their spreading fronds, turning the dewdrops into jewels. Far above them, bell-birds, hidden in the branches of a gum tree, chimed as if they could not be busy enough in ringing to welcome the glory of the morning.

The lake itself lay clear and blue, broken now and then by the splash of a leaping fish. Just below their land it turned, widening to a great pool: but they saw now that it was only an arm of the larger lake, and, beyond, it narrowed until it was like a river. A footpath led along its shores, and they followed it in single file. Sometimes the cleared paddocks came down to the water's edge, bare of timber: sometimes they passed through belts of forest where shy Bush creatures slipped noiselessly away through the undergrowth as they approached. They caught a glimpse of a wallaby hopping off to shelter; and once they came upon a native bear, sitting in a little gum tree, very still and solemn. Garth uttered a shout of delight.

"Oh, isn't he jolly, Daddy! What is he?"

"His book name is Koala, but we used to call him just 'monkey-bear' when I was your size," Tom answered. "He's a nice old chap, isn't he?"

"He just is!" breathed Garth, looking at the soft, grey, furry thing with its chubby body and wide, innocent face. "Daddy, do you think I could take him home and tame him?"

The monkey-bear looked with extreme disfavour at Bran, who was barking frantically at the foot of his tree and making ineffectual leaps towards him.

"Bran wouldn't agree," said Tom, laughing. "And anyhow, the old bear's no good as a pet. He's pretty, enough, but he's awfully stupid. The fact is, he's practically blind in the daytime--he can only see at night, and even then he hasn't much brain-power. Anything he meets--you, or a gate-post, or a house--he wants to climb up immediately, thinking it's a tree. He's really uninteresting; and he can scratch like fury!"

"What a pity!" Aileen said. "He looks such a dear."

"I don't think he means to be savage," Tom said. "He only claws in self-defence, if he's touched."

"Why shouldn't he?" said Garth. "Does he growl, or roar, or anything, Dad?"

"He may coo to his young, for all I know," said his father, laughing. "But he's generally considered a silent beggar; only if he's hurt or badly frightened, he cries exactly like a child. The blacks have a yarn that he was really a child, ages ago. I once saw some dogs attack an unlucky little fellow that was trying to get to a tree, and the way he cried made me shiver."

"Poor little chap!" Aileen said pityingly. "Does he ever get tame in captivity?"

"I don't think so: he's too stupid to be really tamed. You couldn't make a pet of him."

"Then it's really a pity he looks so jolly," was Garth's verdict; "'cause it only excites your hopes for nothing. I vote we go on; he doesn't look as if he'd move if we stopped here all day."

"He won't," said his father. "I always think he'd make an excellent heathen god, for he looks so wise, and it wouldn't matter in the least that he hasn't any brains at all. His great ability is for sitting still, and that's quite a desirable quality for a god."

They went on, through scrub that grew so closely that the path they followed became a mere sheep-track, and the bushes brushed their shoulders. Overhead a laughing-jackass broke into a peal of wild laughter, and was answered by another some distance off: and presently they saw one of the big brown birds alight on a bough, turning up his broad tail with a jerk as he came to rest, and then laughing as if the world were one huge joke.

"I'd like to see one of those fellows catch a snake," Tom said.

"Do they, truly, Daddy?"

"Nothing they like better, I believe. They drop on him like a stone, catch him in that big powerful beak, and take him up into a tree, where they batter him to death against a limb, and then eat him. I should think Mr. Snake must shudder, wherever he is, at the sound of a jackass's laugh."

"That's a nice, useful kind of a bird," Aileen said. "I would like to encourage a dozen or so to live round the house. I've never seen a snake, and I know I should run if I did."

"Not you," said Tom. "You'd try to kill it."

"Indeed, I would not. Snakes make me creepy all over," said his wife.

"I killed them as a boy, but I haven't seen any since, except in the Zoo," Tom said. "I suppose there are plenty in this district, so we shall have to make up our minds to meet them."

"Don't you try to attack them, Garth," said his mother anxiously. "If you meet one, get out of its way and let it pursue its business in peace."

"But if it came after me?"

"Run," said Tom. "But they don't, as a rule: they are only too anxious to avoid you. A tiger-snake may show fight, but not often: the others are of a retiring frame of mind, unless you happen to tread on them."

"Horrors found one in his boot," said Garth.

"How like Horrors!" remarked his father. "What did he do?"

"Oh, it was in the dark--he had put on one boot and was looking about for the other with his foot. But he couldn't find it, so he got matches and lit a candle. And there was his boot with a big snake in it!"

"Did he kill it?"

"No; he says he can't kill snakes 'cause it gives him the cold shudders. But he yelled, and Mr. Gordon came and killed it. And another time Mr. Gordon found one in his bed!"

"Ugh!" shuddered Aileen.

"He was going to bed, and he thought it looked lumpy, so he turned down the clothes, and there was old Mr. Snake coiled up, as happy as possible. Wouldn't he have felt funny if he'd gone to bed as usual and put his toes on him? I bet he'd have hopped!"

But the vision of the hopping Mr. Gordon was too much for Aileen, who declined to talk of snakes any more--much to the disappointment of her son, who had evidently learned many more stories from Horrors, and burned to impart them.

"I don't see why you don't like talking about snakes," he said, aggrieved. "_I_ think they're jolly things to talk about. And so does Horrors. I wonder who that is?"

They were crossing a paddock towards a little lane that ran down to the water's edge; and riding along this, with reins loose on the neck of an old grey horse, was a girl. As they drew nearer she stopped, looking at them curiously--a curiosity which their glances echoed, for they had never before seen any one quite like her.

She was a tall, angular girl of about sixteen, dressed in faded blue dungaree--the thick, strong cotton material of which men's working clothes are made in the Bush. Her blouse was a man's jumper, the collar sagging open, showing her brown throat: her skirt, home-made, and ornamented with patches of varying size and different shades of blue, was short enough to reveal lean legs, and feet shod with men's blucher boots. On her head was a battered old black felt hat, from holes in which short wisps of yellow hair protruded oddly. Garth remarked later that you couldn't see much of her face for freckles: but somehow, when you had looked at her face you did not trouble about her clothes. For it was a pleasant face, shrewd and merry, if not at all beautiful. She had a wide mouth, showing perfect white teeth; a snub nose; and twinkling little grey eyes that were very cheery and friendly. The powdering of freckles, covered her brown skin as far as could be seen; but when she pushed her hat back, her brow was startlingly white, and without a stain. She greeted them with a cheery smile, as they came up to the fence, though her manner had a touch of shyness.

"Hullo!" she said: and then, looking at Aileen: "You're Mrs. Macleod, aren't you?"

"Yes," said Aileen, smiling in return. They looked at each other across the fence.

"Me Dad sent me over," said the stranger. "I went to your place, an' your boy Horrors told me you'd gone this way. I thought I might cut you off at this lane, if I had luck."

"It was very nice of you to come," Aileen said, faintly puzzled, not knowing whether to regard this business-like young person as a caller. She certainly did not look like an ordinary caller: but to Aileen all things were possible in the Bush. "Will you tell me your name?"

"Me?" said the girl. "Oh, I'm 'Possum."

"'Possum? But----"

"Me Dad always calls me that, so it's kind of stuck," said the owner of the name. "I b'lieve I got another, but it never seems to matter: it's Maggie or something." The puzzled faces before her seemed to demand further explanation. "Mr. O'Connor's me Dad," she added.

Aileen began to laugh, and Tom followed suit.

"I'm sorry we were so stupid," Aileen said. "But from the way your father spoke we quite thought you were a man!"

"Blessed if I don't think he thinks so, most times," said 'Possum, her eyes twinkling. "It's a way Dad's got. An' I got to be a man, most times, so I s'pose he gets accustomed to it." She grinned at Garth. "How's the arm?"

"Better, thanks," Garth answered. "Did Mr. O'Connor tell you he cured it?"

"Said he pulled it straight. Hurts, don't it? I had mine put out when I was a kid." She grinned at him again; and from that moment Garth and 'Possum were friends. "You just knew," said Garth afterwards, "that she was a real decent sort."

"I'm so sorry you had the trouble of coming after us," Aileen said, "We were going for a day in the Bush: the rain has kept us indoors for a week. Won't you come, too?"

'Possum shook her head.

"Sorry," she said. "Me Dad's left me some sheep to bring home from Nelson's, an' it'll be a bit of a job, 'cause they're leavin' young lambs, an' drivin' 'em 'll be a caution. A mercy it ain't dusty an' hot; if it was they'd simply sit down in the road an' look at me. But it'll take me all me time, as it is. I just wanted to ask about that bit of ploughin' you wanted done."

Tom laughed.

"Hasn't your father told you how ignorant I am, Miss O'Connor? I don't know a thing about it."

There was a twinkle, polite, but irrepressible, in 'Possum's eye.

"Well, he did say you'd need a bit of coaching," she answered. "Him an' me had a yarn about your place last night, an' we reckoned that the little paddock where your calves are running now 'ud be about the best for cultivation. How about puttin' oats into the highest part, an' then some field-peas? An' maize ought to do real well on that low-lyin' strip goin' down to the creek. That 'ud give you about all the feed you'll need. And there's a corner beyond the creek I've had me eye on this long while. I'd like to try lucerne in it." She paused for breath, looking at him eagerly.

"It sounds attractive--but large," said Tom, hesitating. "I don't know that I can take all that on, Miss O'Connor."

"Why, it ain't much--the whole paddock's not that big," said 'Possum. "I'll get it ploughed in no time with our disc-plough. An' Dad'll come an' help us get the crops in. Then there's potatoes--I s'pose you'll put them in in Mr. Gordon's little potato paddock?"

"Yes, I thought so," he said. "Look here, I'm not proposing to stand by with my hands in my pockets while you and your father do my work. Can you teach me to take a hand? I mean"--he flushed--"will I be too much of a new chum to learn to be decently useful?"

"Why, we'll teach you as easy as wink," she said. "There ain't nothing difficult about it, if you ain't afraid of work. I only know what me Dad's taught me--you'll beat me in no time. We"--she paused, and for the first time looked embarrassed--"we think it's jolly rough on you people comin' into a place like this, not bein' used to anything. If there's anything we can do, you just let us know."

"It seems to me we're casting ourselves on your mercy," he said: at which 'Possum looked blank, and murmured something unintelligible. Aileen broke in.

"We're terribly ignorant people, but we do want to learn," she said. "What about me, Miss O'Connor? Can you teach me how to make an enormous fortune out of fowls?"

'Possum grinned.

"Well, I ain't learned that meself, yet. But there is a bit to be made out of 'em, if you go the right way about it, an' have decent luck. We'll try, Mrs. Macleod. Me Dad said you wanted to buy some?"

"Yes."

"Well, ol' Mother Coffey, up the lake, has plenty to sell. She's givin' up keepin' a lot--gettin' too rheumaticky. But if you don't mind me sayin' so, she'll raise the price on you if she thinks it's a new chum buyin'. Say you let me do the buyin'? I bet I'll get 'em pretty cheap."

"I'd be delighted," Aileen answered gratefully.

"Well now, look here," 'Possum said. "I'll come over to-morrow with the plough on the dray, an' then we can settle about the crops so's I can get straight ahead with the ploughin' next day. Then I'll jog on with the dray to ol' Mother Coffey's an' buy them chooks, an' bring 'em back. That gives us a good start. Got any setty hens?"

"There are three who sit on their nest--it's the same nest--all the time, and use very bad language if any one goes near them," Aileen said, laughing. "Is that being setty?"

"That's it," said 'Possum, grinning. "Well, wouldn't you like to start 'em on some aigs? Nothin' like rearin' chicks for yourself---it's cheaper by a long way than buyin' other people's."

"It sounds tempting," said Aileen. "Can I learn how?"

"Bless you, yes," said 'Possum, startled by a depth of ignorance of which she had not dreamed, "I'll show you." She turned her friendly glance upon Garth. "We'll put you on that job--shall we?"

"Oh--could I!" exclaimed Garth, and capered. "I'd love to."

"Me little brother Joe always helps rear ours," said 'Possum. "An' he's only six." She gathered up her reins. "Well, I must be goin', if I want to get them old ewes home before dark. I'll be over to-morrow, Mrs. Macleod. So long." She dug her heel into the old grey horse, and wheeled round. Suddenly she looked over her shoulder.

"If you wouldn't mind just callin' me 'Possum," she said. She flushed hotly, and cantered away. They saw that she rode on a man's saddle, sitting easily sideways, with her leg crooked over the pommel.

Tom sat down on a log and stared at his family.

"Well, of all the amazing young women!" he said slowly. "Do you think there are any more at home like her?"

"I think she's ripping!" said Garth.

"I'm not sure that I don't agree with you," his father answered. "But.... Oh, my stars, Aileen, I never felt so small in mv life! She can't be seventeen--and I'm a baby beside her in everything that matters!"