Part 9

Two months passed, and spring deepened into summer. The gold of the wattle, which had covered the hills when the strangers came to Gippsland, faded; its tiny yellow balls floated down on the surface of the river, carpeting it with a rippling sheet of gold, until the current took them away to sea. The hot winds breathed upon the creamy tangles of clematis, and turned them to hanging masses of dull brown. The tiny orchids in the gullies sighed for the wet spring, drooped, and died. But the convolvulus and the purple sarsaparilla went on blossoming bravely, climbing through the densest masses of the scrub; and the tiny eucalyptus capsules burst, flinging their wee caps afar, and releasing bunches of perfumed stamens, so that all the air was filled with sweetness. Out on the hills the grass turned yellow and the ground was hard. But the gullies were always cool, their rich earth moist under the great green tree-ferns, about whose roots the little streams gurgled, winding away to the lake.

Garth loved the gullies. Now that Mother and Daddy were so busy all day there was much time on his hands. A small boy of seven cannot always help, no matter how willing he may be; there were times when all his jobs--and they were many--were done, and he was free to wander off into the paddocks, where the cool fern-glades were storehouses of wonder for the little city lad. Books were forbidden him nowadays; but his brain held old stories of fairies and elves and gnomes, and it was easy to people this new country with them all.

Best of all he loved the days when 'Possum worked upon the little farm. 'Possum never was too busy for a small boy. Her day's work was a generous one, for she came early--rising at no one knew what unearthly hour to finish her home-tasks first--and stayed late, riding away in the dusk with her blue skirt flapping against the side of the old grey; and she was a swift, tireless worker, with a rare ability for using her head as well as her hands, so that she never made two strokes where one would suffice. But she managed to include Garth in most things. If she were ploughing, he knew that by waiting at the end of the furrow he could have a few words with her as he watched the fascinating business of turning the big disc-plough; and if the going were good, there might even be the wild joy of sitting in its curved iron seat, and holding the reins while 'Possum turned the horses. Always at the end of the day he was there to help her take them out of the plough; and then, each mounted on a broad bare back, with the harness jingling, they would jog home together to the stable, and he would help to rub down the horses and feed them. 'Possum always let him help. It was one of the things Garth liked best about her.

He was fast turning into a country boy. All the dull business of putting in the crops was a gloriously interesting matter to him--partly because it was so interesting to Daddy, and because Daddy was learning, even as he was. They watched together for the first shoots of the oats, the tiny tender leaves of the field-peas, and the slender spears of the maize; and Garth was a proud boy because it was he who first found the potatoes sending green messages above the brown soil he had helped to prepare. Later, 'Possum showed them how to "hill" them, so as to protect the tender stems: just as she taught them the points of the new calves that were now running in the paddocks, turning from good veal into better beef, and of the sheep that dotted the rises. Her father showed Tom how to buy them: or rather, he bought them while Tom looked on, vainly trying to see why a beast should be good value at 30*s*., and another, looking--to him--very like the first, should be ruination at 35*s*. Nick O'Connor, for all his kindliness, was not good at explaining. But 'Possum knew almost as much as her father about stock, and her knowledge was always at their disposal: so that light gradually broke upon Tom, and with it an added interest in his new work. Garth listened with all his ears, and picked up crumbs of information. Already he knew a Hereford from a Shorthorn, and could tell you which was likely to turn into the best beef.

But there were times when 'Possum laid aside business, and became simply the best mate imaginable. Sometimes it would be when she had come especially early, and so could squeeze a spare hour out of the tail of the day: sometimes on a Sunday afternoon she would appear, and take possession of Garth, and they would vanish into the Bush. 'Possum taught him all her own learning: how to find all manner of birds' nests, for which she would climb like a monkey; where the wallaby and wombat hid by day, and which were the holes that might hide her namesakes, the 'possums. She had queer stories of the Bush fairies, and taught him to recognize the rings their dancing left in the grass, where mushrooms would come up in the autumn. They came back from these rambles laden with treasures: yams, dug with sharp sticks, which 'Possum cooked in the fashion of the blacks; clumps of rare fern; strange fungi; cool mosses; birds' eggs of delicate hues. 'Possum would never take more than one egg from a nest. "Don't you reckon a bird's got feelin's, same's you?" she would ask the abashed Garth.

She was always a little shy of Tom, even while she taught him his new trade of farmer. There was a twinkle in his eye that was disconcerting moreover, his manners were so good, and his politeness so invariable, that she never got over an uneasy feeling that he might be laughing at her. She liked him very much, and referred to him in her own mind as "a real gent." But the shyness was always there.

She worshipped Aileen frankly. Something in the dainty sweetness of Garth's mother appealed to the Bush girl who had never known daintiness. Not a line of the slender body in the fresh print frocks was lost upon her: not a ripple of the smooth, shining hair. Even in the midst of hard country work Aileen's well-groomed look never left her--partly because of the extreme simplicity of her dress; and it was this quality of fresh neatness that captivated 'Possum most. It never occurred to her that it would be possible to imitate it. Torn and shapeless dungaree frocks were her portion in life, and though she hated them she regarded them as inevitable.

Already Aileen's poultry farm was flourishing. The three bad-tempered hens had applied themselves to their duties with such concentration that three dozen half-fledged chicks now followed them about. Others had been set to rear turkeys and ducks, and these, too, flourished; although the unpleasant propensity of young turkeys for expiring without warning had done much to age Garth, who fed them once an hour with clockwork regularity. The fowls purchased from Mother Coffey had done well. Garth knew all their nests which was saying something, as the Bush fowl changes her nest frequently, in the hope of finding a corner sufficiently well concealed to prevent prying humans from robbing her of her eggs. In the store-room kerosene tins in steadily increasing numbers held eggs, put by in waterglass to sell in the winter; and meanwhile the hotels and stores, and the summer visitors, demanded all that could be spared, and paid good prices for vegetables, at which Tom and Aileen worked early and late. 'Possum did the marketing, with her own goods, unwillingly accepting a small commission. "I won't let you do it unless we pay you," Aileen had said. "And think of the wretched prices I should get! I should never have courage to ask half the money you make people pay!"

"I'm gettin' more meself than I ever did," 'Possum had answered. "Look how you've learnt me to get things up dossy, to sell--strawb'ries an' gooseb'ries in little nests of leaves, an' veg'tables lookin' pretty enough to put in vawses in a parlour! I used to dump me things in anyhow. It's no wonder they fall over themselves to buy things like you send 'em in. Flowers, too; it never even entered me head that summer visitors 'ud like 'em--an' they rush me for 'em! I do think I was a silly ass all these years!"

Melbourne seemed to have faded away. Sometimes, even yet, a pang of homesickness swept over Aileen; but for the most part she was too busy and too interested in her new rife to spare time for hankering after vanished fleshpots. Outside occupations had taught her the folly of cooping herself too much in the house. Work, too, had grown easier as method developed; she was just as "house-proud" as ever, and the little cottage shone throughout, but it no longer claimed all her time. Garth was an excellent helper, and Tom always willing to lend a hand; and a woman had been found to give a day weekly to washing and scrubbing. Even Horrors was responding to training which had demanded the patience of Job, and could be trusted to wash dishes and scour saucepans, getting himself extremely wet in the process, but arriving, in the fullness of time, at cleanliness. Cooking was simple, for they lived mainly on their own produce, and had appetites that required no tempting. They took many meals in the open: grilling chops over a fire in the Bush, boiling the billy, and making the most ordinary meal into a picnic. "Saves a heap of washing-up, and it's healthy," said Tom.

It was certainly healthy. Already the simple life had set its seal on them all. Garth had grown and broadened, and his brown face and clear eyes were sufficient proof of the wisdom of Dr. Metcalfe's advice. Aileen, Tom declared, grew younger and prettier every day, and was herself astonished at her muscular development; while Tom, lean and bronzed, and hard as nails, showed the perfect physical condition of a young colt. They rose early, and went to bed early: worked hard, lived in the open air, and had appetites that would have alarmed the Julia of old days. Interests which had meant much to them once upon a time were now small matters beside the rain that came when the crops were just needing it, the price of eggs and vegetables, or the calf that strayed away into the scrub and remained lost for three days. It was Garth who found it, at last, and his pride was all but sinful--not that he had found it, but because he managed to follow its tracks along the bed of a creek!

Life on the whole was very happy. There were bad days, of course; days when the oil for the stove failed, and all the firewood was wet and declined to burn--or when there was none at all, and Tom and Horrors were away in the paddocks, so that there was nothing for Aileen to do but take the axe and go for some herself. She developed a queer fondness for using the axe, and preferred it to any other form of exercise; it was so interesting, she said, to see how seldom you could hit twice in the same place! Days came, too, when, everything went wrong: when cooking was a failure, and ironing only scorched the clothes, and the baker failed to come and the milk turned sour for no apparent reason; and worse days still, when, perhaps, a headache or a bad night made the world go awry, and everything seemed to conspire to irritate; when Garth might be provoking or Tom be so busy in the paddocks as to forget dinner-time, arriving in a leisurely fashion half an hour late. Those were days when sharp words sprang to the lips unbidden, and had to be fought back. It was sometimes necessary to pray very hard at her quaint little supplication--"Lord, keep me from gettin' sour!"

She helped herself by contrasting her lot with that of hundreds of women whose life was so much harder--who had half a dozen little children about therr busy feet, and perhaps half a dozen rough men for whom to cook and clean. She knew what therr homes were like--comfortless, rough, and bare, with neither daintiness nor convenience. She had every labour-saving device that Tom could procure her: they had nothing but such primitive arrangements as their grandmothers had had when the country was new. They worked early and late and grew old and worn-out long before their time; but still, they worried along, and reared their swarm of babies into tall men and women, a credit to their country: and they were happy, and would not change their lot, so long as the babies lived, and the husband was kind. She felt herself a butterfly beside them--even when she looked at her roughened hands, stained with earth, and contrasted them with the memory of the pink nails she used to manicure in the "House Beautiful."

Life was not all work. They took long drives into the country, jogging behind Roany along lanes where the narrow track wound in and out among clumps of tea-tree and stunted gums, skirting fallen logs and ancient stumps. Aileen and Garth learned to drive, as well as to harness Roany and get the buggy ready. Tom laughed at her for insisting on the last, but Aileen stuck to her point--a woman in the Bush could not be too independent, she said. Garth's education in riding had gone ahead as soon as his wrist was strong enough; and now he and Jane had fought many a tussle together until Jane unwillingly admitted that the small boy was master, and submitted with meekness, if not with enjoyment, to being galloped round the paddocks barebacked. Best of all was the motor-boat--no new thing to them, since in the old days they had often made excursions in one up and down the Yarra and into the great, placid expanse of Port Phillip Bay. But boating near the city was a different matter to exploring the by-ways of the lakes, away from the track of steamers and fishing-boats, finding little hidden bays and islands, and coming home brown and hungry, and laden with fish. On the hot days they bathed in these quiet corners: or sometimes, landing on the farther shore, climbed the hummocks until they came in sight of the Southern Ocean, pounding on the narrow strip of land which holds it back from the lakes. Then came the most glorious bathes of all--when they ran down the sand-hills and into the sea, each holding a hand of Garth's--and the great rollers came curling in and took them and buffeted and battered them, until they were swept far up on the smooth beach, breathless and laughing, and ready to run back and dive into the next breaker. Then, when they were too breathless to fight the rollers any more, it was good to dress quickly in nooks in the hot sand; to climb back to a sheltered hollow in the hummocks, where the sea-breeze could not scatter the ashes of their fire, and boil the billy and grill fish over driftwood embers--fish that had been swimming in the lake an hour before.

Once or twice they made a day's excursion to Bairnsdale--going up by the early steamer through the morning freshness of lake and river, spending a few hours in the pleasant town on the bank of the Mitchell, and returning in the afternoon--no longer the tired strangers that had made the first journey in the spring, but worthy settlers happily coming home. The peach orchards had flung a dress of palest pink over the sunny Bairnsdale hillsides when they first came: now they were densely green, with splendid fruit turning rosy under the leaves; and the flats along the backwater were bearing stately crops of maize. It was pleasant to be in a town again; to wander about the wide streets and trim gardens, and to see new faces; and to dine at an hotel was a real excitement--not to know, as Aileen said joyfully, what the pudding would be, nor to care who would wash up afterwards! But there was happiness in going home to the little house on the hill, where the bright sitting-room smiled a welcome, and even Horrors' stolid face would expand into a grin as they approached. Nothing would ever make Horrors intelligent. But kindness and cleanliness had had a softening effect upon him, and he had developed a queer, dog-like affection for them all.

The farm showed signs of paying. Fruit and vegetables brought in a small but steady income, and as fast as one crop was exhausted another was sown. Ignorance and brains combined do not make a bad working outfit. Tom Macleod knew his limitations, and was thankful for Nick O'Connor's guidance and 'Possum's helping hand; but in addition he read widely on farming matters, studied his land, and sent samples of the different soils to Melbourne for analysis. Expert advice as to manures came back; and since his business training had taught him what many farmers never learn--that it is wise to spend money in order to gather it--he bought artificial fertilizers for his land and food for his calves, and already had some reward in the promise of heavy crops and in sleek, quickly-growing animals. It left them with very little money to spend. But then, it was comforting that there was not much chance of spending. The farm gave them butter and milk and cream, fresh eggs and chickens, fruit and vegetables and honey. One pig had already been converted into pork and bacon, under the direction of Mr. O'Connor; another promised a further supply for the winter. The lake was close at hand, swarming with fish; occasionally a rabbit fell to Tom's gun, and there were visions of duck-shooting ahead. Garth and Aileen scarcely ate meat at all: Tom ate less than he had ever done, and felt all the better for his change of food. Except for their modest supply of groceries, there was little need to spend.

Meanwhile, their coming meant wealth to 'Possum. When she worked for them, using her father's horses, she carefully handed half her day's pay to Nick; but on the days when she jogged over on her own old grey and used only her own muscles, the money went to swell her little account in the Savings Bank--the only building in the township that she was supposed to enter with pleasure. The account had grown but slowly before the Macleods came; now it was swelling in the most delightful fashion.

"What are you going to do with it, 'Possum?" Aileen asked her.

"Oh, I d'no," 'Possum answered. "You never know when you'll want a bit of money. Me Dad's all right about payin' for boots an' things, so long as we don't come it too strong; but he'd never understand some ways of spendin' money."

"What ways? Tell me, 'Possum."

"Well, there's the kids. Bill may want to go to Melbourne for the Show some day, or to the Cup; an' Bert an' Polly'll be gettin' bigger, an' p'raps there'll be parties an' darnces comin' along, an' they got to have decent clothes. Dad 'ud never understand; he'd think they could go all right in whatever they happened to have on. But they got ideas. They been with other girls at the school, y' see. I couldn't have 'em cut out by a parcel of kids not half as good-lookin' as they are. I'm goin' to get them dresses for the regatta on New Year's Day. All Sale an' Bairnsdale comes down then, an' my kids got to look as well as any of 'em."

"What about yourself, 'Possum?" Aileen asked. "Don't you ever want to go to regattas and dances and jollifications?"

"Me?" said 'Possum, with blank amazement. "Oh, I'm too old--an' I ain't got no time." She stuck out a roughly-booted foot and looked at it critically; then gave an irrepressible little chuckle. "Wouldn't I be a rummy spectacle at a darnce, now, Missus?" But the laugh did not last long, and Aileen thought it was followed by a sigh.

*CHAPTER XII*

*SAILING*

"Christmas is coming!" announced Garth at the tea-table. "Isn't it scrummy?"

"Very scrummy," said his father; "but then, Christmas always is. Still, I'm a little worried about old Santa Claus."

"Why, Dad?" Garth's tone showed swift alarm. Santa Claus was absolutely real to him, and his visit was one of the very greatest events of the year.

"Well, it was all right in Melbourne, of course," Tom answered gravely. "He knew his way about there; and then, it's very easy to get about, in decent streets--don't you remember how you thought you heard the feet of his reindeer trotting along Orrong Road? But it's a very different matter to be here in the Bush, where there are mostly no tracks at all. I don't believe reindeer could haul his sleigh round here. Why, Nick O'Connor couldn't manage a sledge with a team of bullocks the other day--it simply rolled over on the hill-sides. Santa Claus' sleigh is much more lightly built than a sledge, I should think."

Tom ceased, and retired behind his tea-cup. Garth's face had lengthened.

"I never thought of that, but I suppose it _would_ be hard for him," said the small boy dolefully. "And of course, he doesn't know we've moved! It's--it's pretty hard luck, isn't it?" He tried to make his tone unconcerned, and Aileen's mother-heart rebelled.

"_I_ think you're two very foolish people, and you don't deserve to have Santa Claus come at all, for not trusting him!" she remarked. "Do you suppose he neglects all the little children in the Bush?"

"Well, Joe's never heard of him," said Garth; which was something of a poser, but Aileen rose to it manfully.

"I believe he does miss out some people who have never believed in him," she said. "But he very seldom forgets any one he has been good to. I wouldn't worry, if I were you, sonnie. I think he'll come."

Garth still looked doubtful.

"But how about his reindeer? It is bad country for them, isn't it?"

Aileen pondered.

"I don't believe he has reindeer at all in rough country," she said. "I believe he has a team of big black swans, and his sleigh will float; and when he comes to the lake, or to a river, the swans just swim and pull the sleigh along the water, but when he has to cross mountains or rough parts of the Bush they mount into the air, and fly over with him. Don't you think that would be a really sensible plan for him, in Australia?"

Garth bounded in his seat.

"Oh, that's a ripping idea, Mother! Of course he must do it!"

"Well, we know he must be a sensible old chap, or he never could get through all the jobs he has on Christmas Eve," said his mother. "I've often thought he must have a wonderful head for business. So it's only natural to think that he accommodates himself to different countries. I dare say he uses elephants in India, and camels in the desert of Gobi."

"Or whales in the Red Sea!" suggested Tom dreamily.

"Certainly not--he has Pharaoh's chariots there, all handy!" rejoined Aileen. "At all events, he won't neglect his jobs for little difficulties about transport. So I would just not worry if I were you, Garth."

"You're an awful comfort, Mother!" said Garth gratefully. "I've finished--can I go, please?"

"Where are you off to?" asked his father.

"Got to shut up the young turkeys. 'Possum said she heard a fox last night, so we can't be too careful." They heard him race through the back yard, whistling for Bran, then the bang of the gate in his wake.

"Isn't he getting a man?" Aileen said, laughing. "Why do you torment the poor soul?"

"Just to give you a chance of smoothing away his difficulties," he said, and smiled at her. "Isn't that what you're for?"

She smiled in return, and then grew thoughtful.

"I've been thinking about Christmas, Tom," she said. "Have we any money?"

"Not a heap, when I've paid for the last lot of fertilizer," he said. "Not enough to give you a diamond necklace, I'm afraid--I'm sorry!"

"It would be so handy to me here that it seems a pity," she rejoined. "The spectacle of Mrs. Macleod hoeing turnips in a diamond necklace would be interesting, to say the least of it!"

"It would," he agreed. "But, apart from diamonds, I can give you a little money, dear. How much do you want?"

"Oh, a very little," she answered. "We'll plan Garth's presents together, of course; but I want to do something for 'Possum, Tom. 'Possum has been very good to us."

"I quite agree--she has done a great deal more than she has been paid for," Tom said heartily. "What do you want to give her?"