It was a barren country, and Wadgery was generally shrivelled with heat,
but he always had roses in his garden, on his window-sill, or in his
button-hole. Growing flowers under difficulties was his recreation.
That was why he was called Old Roses. It was not otherwise inapt, for
there was something antique about him, though he wasn't old; a flavour,
an old-fashioned repose and self-possession. He was Inspector of Tanks
for this God-forsaken country. Apart from his duties he kept mostly to
himself, though when not travelling he always went down to O'Fallen's
Hotel once a day for a glass of whisky and water--whisky kept especially
for him; and as he drank this slowly he talked to Victoria Lindley the
barmaid, or to any chance visitors whom he knew. He never drank with any
one, nor asked any one to drink; and, strange to say, no one resented
this. As Vic said: "He was different." Dicky Merritt, the solicitor,
who was hail-fellow with squatter, homestead lessee, cockatoo-farmer, and
shearer, called him "a lively old buffer." It was he, indeed, who gave
him the name of Old Roses. Dicky sometimes went over to Long Neck
Billabong, where Old Roses lived, for a reel, as he put it, and he always
carried away a deep impression of the Inspector's qualities.
"Had his day," said Dicky in O'Fallen's sitting-room one night, "in
marble halls, or I'm a Jack. Run neck and neck with almighty swells
once. Might live here for a thousand years and he'd still be the
nonesuch of the back-blocks. I'd patent him--file my caveat for him
to-morrow, if I could, bully Old Roses!"
Victoria Lindley, the barmaid, lifted her chin slightly from her hands,
as she leaned through the opening between the bar and the sitting-room,
and said: "Mr. Merritt, Old Roses is a gentleman; and a gentleman is a
gentleman till he--"
"Till he humps his bluey into the Never Never Land, Vic? But what do you
know about gentlemen, anyway? You were born only five miles from the
jumping-off place, my dear."
"Oh," was the quiet reply, "a woman--the commonest woman--knows a
gentleman by instinct. It isn't what they do, it's what they don't do;
and Old Roses doesn't do lots of things."
"Right you are, Victoria, right you are again! You do Tibbooburra
credit. Old Roses has the root of the matter in him--and there you
have it."
Dicky had a profound admiration for Vic. She had brains, was perfectly
fearless, no man had ever taken a liberty with her, and every one in the
Wadgery country who visited O'Fallen's had a wholesome respect for her
opinion.
About this time news came that the Governor, Lord Malice, would pass
through Wadgery on his tour up the back-blocks. A great function was
necessary. It was arranged. Then came the question of the address of
welcome to be delivered at the banquet. Dicky Merritt and the local
doctor were named for the task, but they both declared they'd only "make
rot of it," and suggested Old Roses.
They went to lay the thing before him. They found him in his garden. He
greeted them, smiling in his quiet, enigmatical way, and listened. While
Dicky spoke, a flush slowly passed over him, and then immediately left
him pale; but he stood perfectly still, his hand leaning against a sandal
tree, and the coldness of his face warmed up again slowly. His head
having been bent attentively as he listened, they did not see anything
unusual.
After a moment of inscrutable deliberation, he answered that he would do
as they wished. Dicky hinted that he would require some information
about Lord Malice's past career and his family's history, but he assured
them that he did not need it; and his eyes idled ironically with Dicky's
face.
When the two had gone, Old Roses sat in his room, a handful of letters,
a photograph, and a couple of decorations spread out before him, his
fingers resting on them, his look engaged with a far horizon.
The Governor came. He was met outside the township by the citizens and
escorted in--a dusty and numerous cavalcade. They passed the Inspector's
house. The garden was blooming, and on the roof a flag was flying.
Struck by the singular character of the place Lord Malice asked who lived
there, and proposed stopping for a moment to make the acquaintance of its
owner; adding, with some slight sarcasm, that if the officers of the
Government were too busy to pay their respects to their Governor, their
Governor must pay his respects to them. But Old Roses was not in the
garden nor in the house, and they left without seeing him. He was
sitting under a willow at the billabong, reading over and over to himself
the address to be delivered before the Governor in the evening. As he
read his face had a wintry and inhospitable look.
The night came. Old Roses entered the dining-room quietly with the
crowd, far in the Governor's wake. According to his request, he was
given a seat in a distant corner, where he was quite inconspicuous. Most
of the men present were in evening dress. He wore a plain tweed suit,
but carried a handsome rose in his button-hole. It was impossible to put
him at a disadvantage. He looked distinguished as he was. He appeared
to be much interested in Lord Malice. The early proceedings were
cordial, for the Governor and his suite made themselves agreeable, and
talk flowed amiably. After a time there was a rattle of knives and
forks, and the Chairman rose. Then, after a chorus of "hear, hears,"
there was general silence. The doorways of the room were filled by the
women-servants of the hotel. Chief among them was Vic, who kept her eyes
fixed on Old Roses. She knew that he was to read the address and speak,
and she was more interested in him and in his success than in Lord Malice
and his suite. Her admiration of him was great. He had always treated
her as though she had been born a lady, and it had done her good.
"And I call upon Mr. Adam Sherwood to speak to the health of His
Excellency, Lord Malice."
In his modest corner Old Roses stretched to his feet. The Governor
glanced over carelessly. He only saw a figure in grey, with a rose in
his button-hole. The Chairman whispered that it was the owner of the
house and garden which had interested His Excellency that afternoon.
His Excellency looked a little closer, but saw only a rim of iron-grey
hair above the paper held before Old Roses' face.