Back to Billabong Part 21

"By Jove!" said Jim, under his breath. "I thought once I'd never see the old place again."

They flashed through mighty red gums and box trees, Murty galloping beside them now. There was a big flag flying proudly on Billabong house--they found later that the household had unanimously purchased it on the day they heard that Jim had got his captaincy. The gate of the great sanded yard stood open, and near it, on a wide gravel sweep, were the dear and simple and faithful people they loved. Mrs. Brown first, starched and spotless, her hair greyer than it had been five years before, with Sarah and Mary beside her--they had married during the war, but nothing had prevented them from coming back to make Billabong ready.

Near them the storekeeper, Jack Archdale, and his pretty wife, with their elfish small daughter; and Mick Shanahan and Dave Boone, with the Scotch gardener, Hogg, and his Chinese colleague--and sworn enemy--Lee Wing. They were all there, a little welcoming group--but Norah could see them only through a mist of happy tears. The buggy stopped, and Evans sprang out over the wheel; she followed him almost as swiftly, running to the old woman who had been all the mother she had known.

"Oh, Brownie--Brownie!"

"My precious lamb!" said Brownie, and held her tightly. She had no hands left for Jim and Wally, and they did not seem to mind; they kissed her, patting her vast shoulders very hard. Then Mrs. Archdale claimed Norah, and Brownie found herself looking mistily up at David Linton and he was gripping her hand tightly, the other hand on her shoulder.

"Why, old Brownie!" he said. "Dear old Brownie!"

They were shaking hands all round, over and over again. n.o.body made any speeches of welcome--there were only disjointed words, and once or twice a little sob. Indeed, Brownie only found her tongue when they had drifted across the yard in a confused group, and had reached the wide veranda. Then she looked up at Jim and seemed suddenly to realize his mighty height and breadth.

"Oh!" she said. "Oh! Ain't 'e grown big an' beautiful!" Whereat Wally howled with laughter, and Jim, scarlet, kissed her again, and told her she was a shameful old woman.

No one on Billabong could have told you much of that day, after the first wonderful moment of getting home. It was a day of blurred memories. The new-comers had to wander through the house where every big window stood open to the sunlight, and every room was gay with flowers; and from every window it was necessary to look out at the view across the paddocks and down at the gardens, and to follow the winding course of the creek. The gong summoned them to dinner in the midst of it, and Brownie's dinner deserved to be remembered; the mammoth turkey flanked by a ham as gigantic, and somewhat alarming to war-trained appet.i.tes; followed by every sweet that Brownie could remember as having been a favourite. They drifted naturally to the stables afterwards, to find their special horses, apparently little changed by five years, though some old station favourites were gone, and the men spoke proudly of some new young ones that were going to be "beggars to go," or "a caution to jump." Then they wandered down to the big lagoon, where the old boat yet lay at the edge of the reed-fringed water; and on through the home paddock to look at the little herd of Jerseys that were kept for the use of the house, and some great bullocks almost ready for the Melbourne market. So they came back to the homestead, wandering up from the creek through Lee Wing's rows of vegetables, and came to rest naturally in the kitchen, where they had afternoon tea with Brownie, who beamed from ear to ear at the sight of Jim and Wally again sitting on her table.

"I used to think of you in them 'orrible trenches, an' wonder wot you got to eat, an' if it was anything at all," she said tremulously.

"We got something, but it was apt to be queer," said Jim, laughing.

"We used to think of sitting on the table here, Brownie, and eating hot scones--like this. May I have another?"

"My pore dears!" said Brownie, hastily supplying him with the largest scone in sight. "Now, Master Wally, my love, ain't you ready for another? Your appet.i.te's not 'alf wot it used to be. A pikelet, now?"

"I believe I've had six!" said Wally, defending himself.

"An' wot used six pikelets to be to you? A mere fly in the ointment,"

said Brownie, whose similes were always apt to be peculiar. "Just another, then, my dear. An' I've got your fav'rite sponge cake, Miss Norah--ten aigs in it!"

"Ten!" said Norah faintly. "Hold me, daddy! Doesn't it make you feel light-headed to think of putting ten eggs in one cake again?"

"An' why not?" sniffed Brownie. "Ah, you got bad treatment in that old England. I never could see why you should go short, an' you all 'elpin'

on the war as 'ard as you could." Brownie's indifference to national considerations where her nurselings were concerned was well known, and n.o.body argued with her. "Any'ow, the cake's there, an' just you try it--it's as light as a feather, though I do say it."

Once in the kitchen Norah and the boys went no further. They remained sitting on the tables, talking, while presently David Linton went away to his study, and, one by one, Murty and Boone and Mick Shanahan drifted in. There was so much to tell, so much to ask about; they talked until the dusk of the short winter afternoon stole into the kitchen, making the red flames in the stove leap more redly. It was time to dress for tea. They went round the wide verandas and ran upstairs to their rooms, while old Brownie stood in the kitchen doorway listening to the merry voices.

"Ain't it just 'evinly to 'ear 'em again!" she uttered.

"It is that," said Murty. "We've been quare an' lonesome an' quiet these five years."

CHAPTER XI

COLONIAL EXPERIENCES

Cecilia--otherwise Tommy--and Bob Rainham came up to Billabong three days later, and were met by Jim, who had ridden into Cunjee with Black Billy, and released the motor from inglorious seclusion in the local garage. Billy jogged off, leading Garryowen, and Jim watched them half wistfully for a minute before turning to the car. Motors had their uses certainly; but no Linton ever dreamed of giving a car the serious and respectful consideration that naturally belonged to a horse.

Nevertheless, it was a good car; a gift to Norah from an Irishman they had known and loved; and Jim drove well, having developed the accomplishment over Flemish roads that were chiefly a succession of sh.e.l.l holes. He took her quietly up to the station, and walked on to the platform as the train thundered in.

Tommy and Bob were looking eagerly from their carriage window, and hailed him with delight; they had been alone, for the first time since leaving England, and had begun to feel that Australia was a large and slightly populated country, and that they were inconsiderable atoms, suddenly dumped into its vacant s.p.a.ces. Jim was like a large and friendly rock, and Australia immediately became less wide and desolate in their eyes. He greeted them cheerily and helped Bob to pack their luggage into the car.

"Now, I could get you afternoon tea here," he said; "and I warn you, it will be bad. Or I could have you home in well under an hour, and you wouldn't be too late for tea there. Which is it to be, Tommy?"

"Oh--home," said Tommy. "I don't care a bit about tea; and I want to see this Billabong of yours. Do let's go, Jim."

"I hoped you wouldn't choose tea here," said Jim, striding off to the car. "Bush towns.h.i.+ps don't run to decent tea places, as a rule; the hotel is the only chance, and though they can give you a fair dinner, tea always seems to be a weak spot." He packed them in, and they moved off down the winding street.

"Do you know," Jim said, "that I never went down this street before except on a horse, or behind one? It seems quite queer and unnatural to be doing it in a car. I suppose I'll get used to it. Had a good trip up?"

"Oh, quite," Tommy told him. "Jim, how few people seem to be living in Australia!"

Jim gave a crack of laughter.

"Well, you saw a good many in Melbourne, didn't you?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. But Melbourne isn't Australia. It's only away down in a wee little corner." Tommy flushed a little. "You see, I haven't seen much of any country except France and the England that's near London," she said.

"And there isn't much waste s.p.a.ce there."

"No, there isn't," Jim agreed. "I suppose we'll fill up Australia some day. But the people who come out now seem to have a holy horror of going into the 'waste s.p.a.ces,' as you call 'em, Tommy. They want to nestle up to the towns, and go to picture theatres."

"Well, I want to go and find a nice waste s.p.a.ce," said Tommy. "Not too waste, of course, only with room to look all round. And I'd like it to be not too far from Norah, 'cause she's very cheering to a lone new-chum. But don't you go planning to settle in one of those horrid little tin-roofed towns, Bobby, for I should simply hate it."

"Certainly, ma'am," said Bob cheerfully. "We'll get out into the open. I can always run you about in an aeroplane, if you feel lonesome, provided we make enough money to buy one, that is. Only new-chums don't always make heaps of money, do they, Jim?"

"Not at first, I'm afraid," Jim said. "The days of picking up fortunes in Australia seem to be over; anyway, there's no more gold lying about.

Nowadays, you have to put your back into it extremely hard, if you've no capital to start with; and even if you have, you can't loaf. How did you get on in Melbourne? I hope you didn't buy a station without consulting us."

"Rather not," Bob answered. "We raced round magnificently in your aunt's car and presented our letters, and had more invitations to sundry meals than we could possibly accept. Every one was extraordinarily kind to us.

I've offers and promises of advice in whatever district we settle; three squatters asked me up to their places, to stay awhile and study the country; and one confiding man--I hadn't a letter to him at all, by the way, only some one introduced us to him in Scott's--actually offered me a job as jackeroo on a Queensland run. But he was a lone old bachelor, and when he heard I had a sister he s.h.i.+ed off in terror. I think he's running yet."

Jim shouted with laughter.

"Poor old Tommy!" he said.

"Yes, is it not unfair?" said Tommy. "I told Bob I was a mere enc.u.mbrance, but he would bring me."

"You wait until you've settled, and Bob wants some one to run his house, and then see how much of an enc.u.mbrance you are," rejoined Jim. "Then you'll suddenly stop being meek and get swelled head."

"And not be half so nice," interjected Bob.

"But so useful!" said Tommy demurely. "Only sometimes I become afraid--for you seem always to kill a whole sheep or bullock up in the bush, and how I am to deal with it I do not know!"

"It sounds as if you preferred some one to detach an occasional limb from the sheep as it walked about!" said Jim, laughing.

"Much easier for me--if not for the sheep," said Tommy.

"Well, don't you worry--the meat problem will get settled somehow," Jim told her cheerfully. "All problems straighten out, if you give 'em time.