named Carry, who had a sweetheart named Larry; at the gate they often
would tarry, to talk about when they would marry."
But this remark of Andrew's to parry, Dawn good-naturedly plunged into
an account of the meeting.
"What did they do?" asked grandma.
"Do?--they only blabbed. Mr Walker was there to-night. We asked that
Jimmeny girl from the pub. to join, and she delivered a great parable
at us, looking round all the time to see if the boot-licking tone of
it was pleasing the men. She said that women ought to bring up their
children to respect them--"
"The most commonest idea some people has of bringin' up their children
to respect them," grandma chipped in, "is to let youngsters make
toe-rags of their mother; and boys only as high as the table think
they can cheek their mother because she's only a woman an' hasn't as
much right to be livin' in the world as them, and when they are
twenty-one the law confirms this beautiful sentiment. Leastways, until
just lately," she concluded.
"And this Jimmeny piece," continued Dawn, "said women ought to treat
their husbands decently, and she thinks a woman disgraces her sex by
getting up on a platform to speak. I asked her if she thought they did
not disgrace themselves and the other sex too by standing behind a bar
and serving out drinks and grinning at a lot of goods that ought to be
at home with their families,--and that was a bit of a facer. Then she
said it was only the ugly old women who wanted to shriek round and get
rights,--that men would give the young pretty ones all they wanted
without asking! Of all the old black gin ideas, I always think that
the terriblest. A nice state of affairs, if people couldn't get honest
civilised rights without being young and pretty; and _the fools_!"
said the girl heatedly, "can't they look round and see how long the
beauty and youth business will work! 'Men,' she says, 'ought to rule;
they're the stronger vessel.'" And Dawn gave inimitable mimicry of
Miss Jimmeny of the pub. "If you take my tip for it, those girls that
sing out that men are the stronger vessel are the sort that have a
dishcloth of a husband, and never let him off a string."
This attitude of mind was one of Dawn's distinctive characteristics.
Having that beauty, which in the enslaved condition of women has
always been an unfair asset to the possessor, to the exclusion of
worthier traits, she was not like most beauties, content to sit down
and trade upon it, but had wholesomer, honester, workaday ideals in
regard to the position of her sex.
She was going to Sydney in the morning for her second singing lesson,
and as Ernest, by a strange coincidence, happened to have business
that would take him on the same journey by the same train, I
accompanied him to the gate to warn him against inadvertently
divulging that I had been an actress by trade.
"I want to take you into my confidence," I said, as we passed several
naked cedar-trees, and halted in the shelter of some fine peppers that
grew to perfection in this valley, where I related the trouble I had
had to bring the old lady round to the idea of Dawn's singing lessons,
and mentioned the girl's ambition regarding the stage.
"Now," I continued, "if the old dame were to discover I had been on
the stage, she would think I was leading Dawn to the devil, and would
not credit that no one is more anxious than I am to save her from the
footlights, or that the best way to stave her off is this training.
My secret ambition regarding her," I said, critically observing the
strong knobby profile, "is that within the next five years she should
marry some nice youngster with means to place her in a setting
befitting her intelligence and beauty."
"Have you got any one in your eye now?" he irrelevantly inquired. And,
considering he stood where he filled my entire vision, as he rose
between me and the light shed by the last division of the western
passenger mail as it self-importantly crossed the viaduct, I
answered--
"Yes; I think I know a man who would just fill the bill."
He did not ask for further particulars, but remarked warningly--
"Decent fellows with cash are scarce. They are inclined to get into
mischief if they have too much time and money on their hands."
"That's it; and I would not like to make a mess of things now that
I've taken up matchmaking. You'll have to advise me when matters get
out of hand; a little practice may come in handy some day when you
have half a dozen daughters."
"It would come in still handier now."
"Pshaw, now! You'd only have to ask to receive, at your time of life
and with your qualifications."
"I'm not so sure. You're the only one who has such an opinion of me,"
he said disconsolately. "Others look upon me as a red-headed fool with
big ears, &c.;" and thus I knew Dawn's idle words had returned to his
ears, as these things invariably do, and had stung.
"Silly-billy! I'll take you in hand when I've settled Dawn. I'm the
one to advertise your wares, for could I turn back the wheel of time
eight or nine years and make us of an age, I'd make it leap-year and
propose to you myself."
"I'd like to propose to you without altering the time," he gallantly
responded, apparently not in such deadly fear of a breach of promise
action as was Uncle Jake.
"If I don't move in the matter Dawn will be marrying that Eweword, and
though he's a most handsome and worthy--"
"Soft as a turnip," contemptuously interposed Ernest; "eats too much.
It would take twelve months hard training to make any sort of a man of
him."
"It would be a pity to see Dawn just settling down into the dull,
drudging life of a farmer's wife, going to an occasional show or
tea-meeting in a home-made dress, with two or three children dragging
at her skirts and looking a perfect wreck, as most of the mothers do."
"By Jove, yes!"
"She has a right to be on the lawn on Cup Day or in the front circle
on first nights. She'd surprise some of the grandees, and with her
vivacity and courage she'd make a furore for a time."
"She'd make a good sport if she were a man," assented Ernest. "No
running stiff or jamming a jock on the post or anything like that from
her--she'd always hit straight out from the shoulder and above the
belt."
"Yes; she has particularly infatuated me, and I'd like to save her
from Eweword."
"Marry him to the girl Grosvenor while you're about it and that will
dispose of him and suit her, for she strikes me as anxious for
matrimony."
"She hasn't been--" I began.
"Oh, no, I think she's a splendid woman in every way, but--"
"_But_, even the finest and most chivalrous man, while he thinks the
only sphere for women is matrimony, yet is shocked if a woman betrays
in the least way that her ambitions lie in the domestic line--strange
inconsistency. However, you will not let Dawn know my ideas of
disposing of her;" and with the want of perspicacity of his sex, or
else with a wonderful power of covering his thoughts excelling that of
women, and of which women never suspect men, Ernest promised without
sensing what I had in view.
SEVENTEEN.
MRS BRAY AND CARRY COME TO ISSUES.
Contention arose in the Clay household next day, Dawn's singing
lessons being at the root of the trouble. It was her week in the
kitchen, and that she should be two days absent from the cooking,
displeased Carry.
"Well, if you don't think the place fair, you can go!" said grandma.
"But I think you're a fool, an' you're giving me a lot of worry. It's
all very fine in other people's places, but some day w'en you have a
home of your own you'll know the worry of it. Next time I make a
arrangement with a girl she'll have to take a extra day in the kitchen
without humbuggin'."
"I'll vote for me grandma on that bill," said Andrew, "for I've often
been give the pip by who is in the kitchen an' who is out of it.
Grandma, did you hear the latest? Young Jack Bray's been in another
orange orchard and didn't do a get quick enough, and has got took up,
and his father will have to pay money to keep him out of quod."
The old lady bristled.
"Didn't I tell you! Who knows how to receive these things best now?
I've always believed in rarin' me family me own way, an' Mrs Bray is a
fine woman, moral and decent, but she's got too many stones to throw
at others and doesn't see to it sharp enough that less stones can't be
threw at her. I thought she didn't take it serious enough. You'd have
been in this too only for me dreadin' the spark. What are they goin'
to do?"
"Pay the money, of course; an' Mr Bray is goin' to tan the hide off
Jack."
"Some people don't get frightened of dishonesty unless it costs 'em
something," said the old lady.
"Well, I'll vote for me grandma every time," said Andrew, "and Jim
Clay every second time," as he went out the door, "and meself the most
times of all," he concluded in the back yard.
Mrs Bray dropped in that afternoon for a chat, and grandma mentioned
that we were without afternoon tea because Carry had "jacked up" about
getting it, for reasons before mentioned.
"Just like her!" said Mrs Bray; "she gives herself as much side as if
she was one of us. She's the sort of girl who wouldn't think twice of
telling you to do a thing yourself, and you've made an awful fool of
her by making so much of her. Them things of girls _earnin' their own
livin'_ ought to be kept in their place more," was the utterance of a
woman who believed herself a staunch advocate for the freedom of her
sex; but when Mrs Bray spoke of sex she meant self.
"That ain't the point," said grandma; "I never think it anythink but a
credit to a girl to be earnin' her living, an' would never be narrer
enough to make them feel it. I always make a practice of treatin' the
girls as near equal as within reason, for Carry's every bit as
fine-lookin' an' good a girl as me own, an' if I wasn't here, wouldn't
Dawn have to be foragin' for herself too? but there's reason in
everythink, and Carry might be a bit obligin'."
"Of course she ought to be; but what could you expect of her, took up
with that Larry Witcom, an' does the ass think he really wants her?
He's only got her on a string for his own amusement? He goes to see
that Dora Cowper at the same time; Jack seen him there. I wonder will
_he_ be scared off by being thought a ketch before the pot's boiled,
so to speak. Good ketches, eh? I don't see nothing in none of them.
They're only thought something because men is scarce here; they've all
cleared out to the far out places, and West Australia. It's like a
year the pumpkins is scarce, you can sell little things you'd hardly
throw to the pigs another time, and that's the way it is with the few
paltry fellers round here. It makes me mad to see the girls after
them--_the fools!_ and the men grinnin' behind their backs. There's
that Ada Grosvenor, if Eweword just calls up and talks to her she
tells you about it as if it was something, and inviting him down
there, an' then the blessed fellers gets to think they're gods. It
makes me sick!"
"Yes," said grandma; "I see the girls after fellers now,--there's that
Danby for instance, he's a fine lump of a man, but w'en I was a girl I
wouldn't have made toe-rags of a policeman."
"Yes, a blessed feller strollin' up and down the street lookin' at his
toes or runnin' in a drunk. I say, did you hear the latest about old
Rooney-Molyneux? He didn't believe in women having the vote, didn't
consider they had intellect to vote, so _he_ says (not as much brain
as he has, don't you see, to marry a woman, and a baby to be coming
and nothing to put on its back, while he strolls round and gets
drunk), but now they've got the vote, he says (the great Lord Muck
Rooney-Molyneux says it, remember) that it is their _duty_ to use it,
and he intends to _make_ (mind you, _make_; I'd like to hear a man say
he'd _make_ me do anything; I'd scald him, see if I wouldn't, and
that's what wants doing with half the men anyhow, for the way they
carry on to women), and he's going to _make_ his wife go round
canvassing, _Now_! Men make me sick; w'en they're boys they're that
troublesome they ought to be kep' under a tub, and we'n they get older
they're that cantankerous and self-important they all want killin'
off."
"I'll bet Mrs Rooney won't be workin' for a different man to him. If
her convictions led her that way, you'd see he'd have a flute about
her not bein' fit to be out of her home," said grandma astutely.
"Yes, that's the way with 'em; first they thought the world would
tumble to pieces if women stirred out of the house for a minute to
vote, and now that we've got the vote in spite of them, they'd make
their wives walk round after votes for their side whether they was
able or not."
"They kicked agen us having the vote, and now we've got it they think
we ought to vote with them like as if we was a appendage of theirs;
men will be learnt different to that by-and-by, but it's best to go
gradual; they've had as much as they can swaller for a time."
"Ain't it just the very devil to them to think women is considered as
important as themselves now, instead of something they could just do
as they like with? Old Hollis there says he won't vote this year
because the women have one. Did you ever hear of an insult like that?
He says the monkeys will have a vote next, and that shows you what men
think of women,--like as if they was some sort of animals."
"Well, if you ask me," said grandma, "the monkeys have been havin' a
vote all along in the case of old Hollis."
Any further discussion in this line was terminated by the entrance of
Carry, with her good-looking face flushed and hard set, as, rolling
down her sleeve and buttoning it aggressively as the finishing touch
to her toilet after completing her afternoon's work, she confronted
Mrs Bray, on battle bent.
"Well, Mrs Bray, I'd like to have given my opinion of you to your teeth
long ago, but I held my tongue as it wasn't my house, and some people have
different tastes and have folk around that I'd be a long time having
anything to do with. Now, I think things do concern me, and I'm going to
have my say; I couldn't have it sooner because I'm a _thing_ earning my
living and had to finish my work. I haven't got a home of my own, and like
some people, if I had, I'd be in it teaching my dirty rude brats not to be
thieves. I wouldn't for everlasting be at other people's places
scandalising people twice as good as myself. I didn't think Mrs Clay was
the sort of person to go tittle-tattling--she can please herself; but it
doesn't concern you if I do put on airs. I want to know what you mean by
that I should be kept in my place. I'll swear I know how to carry my day as
well as you do, and to keep in my place too well to be going round meddling
with other people's business."
"I didn't say nothing but was correct, an' what right have you to come
bullying me? It's like your impudence--you a hussy out to work for
your living at a few shillings a-week, and calling yourself a _lady_
help when you're a servant, that's what you are; to bully _me_, a
woman with a good home, and the mother of a family."
Carry snorted contemptuously.
"That old 'mother of a family' racket needn't be brought forward. It
doesn't hold as much water as it used to. Women are thought just as
much of now who are good useful workers in the world, and not tied up
to some man and the mother of a few weedy kids that aren't any credit
to king or country."
"Mercy!" exclaimed grandma. "What am I to?"
"Let 'em fight it out," I laconically advised in an aside, and she
seemed disposed to take my advice.
"You dare," blustered Mrs Bray. "And what else have you got to say?"
"I want an explanation of the aspersion on my character when you said
I had taken up with Larry Witcom. I'm not going to stand anything on
my character in that line if I _am_ earning my living, and you _are_
the mother of one or fourteen families, all as great a credit to you
as the one Jack represents. And as for me earning my living, what are
_you_ doing? If a man wasn't keeping you to suit himself, how would
you be earning your living? I could earn my living the same way as you
are doing to-morrow if I liked; but of the two, I think my present
occupation is the decentest and less dependent. Apart from your
bullying selfishness, a nice sensible way you have of talking! If you
killed off the men, who would you have to keep you? And that's a nice
civilised way to speak about your fellow creatures anyhow; whether
they be men or black gins, they've just as much place in the scheme of
creation as you have. We would have been a long time getting the vote
or any other decent right if the men were like you. It's because you
are the same stamp as so many of the men that we've been kept down so
long as we have; and now, what about me taking up with Larry Witcom?"
"Well, it's well known what Larry is."
"Well, what is he?"
"You ask him about Mrs Park's divorce case."
"I hope you don't think your old man is a saint, do you? As big a fool
as you are, you're surely not fool enough for that, are you? Perhaps
he isn't as clean a potato as Larry if it was all brought out."
"But he's a married man this many a year, with a married daughter, and
his young days are lived down long ago."
"Well, so would Larry be married many a year and have things lived
down in time, and not as many to live down either as your husband has
at present, if things are true; for all your everlasting shepherding
he gets off the chain sometimes."
Hoity-toity! this was putting a fuse to gunpowder.
"You hussy! What have you got to say about my husband? Prove it, and
I'd make short work of him; and if it's lies, I'll bring you into
court for it."
"I'll leave it for you to prove; you're one of those who thinks every
yarn entertaining till they touch yourself."
"Two to one on Carry every time when me grandma's the umpire," grinned
Andrew round the corner.
"Carry, you've had enough to say. I forbid any more in my house," said
grandma, rising to order.
"I declare this a drawn fight," said Andrew.
"You can have it out with Mrs Bray in her own house if you want, but
no more of it here," continued grandma.
"Don't you dare come to my house," said Mrs Bray.
"_Your_ house! no fear; I never associate with scandal-mongers,"
contemptuously retorted Carry, as Mrs Bray made a precipitate
departure, emitting something about a hussy who didn't know her place
as she went.
"I'm surprised at you!" said grandma. "Her tongue does run on a little
sometimes, but you ought to remember she's old enough to be your
mother, and girls do owe somethink to women with families."
"And women with families and homes ought to remember they owe
something to girls that aren't settled, because they haven't got a man
caught yet to keep them."
"Well, this ain't my quarrel, an' don't you bring it up to me again. A
woman that's rared a family, and two of them like I have done, has
enough with her own dissensions."
It was rather a sullen party at tea that evening, so Dawn's return
from Sydney immediately after, with her cheeks radiant from travel in
the quick evening express, and herself brimming over with her day's
adventures, formed a welcome relief.
"I had a great time coming home," said she. "Mr Ernest and Dora
Eweword both went to Sydney this morning, and Mr Ernest and I raced
into a carriage to escape Dora, and we did; and he must have asked the
guard, for he found our carriage, but he had only a second-class
ticket, and wouldn't be let in."
"And how came you to be in a first-class carriage?" inquired grandma.
"I can't stand that; there's expense enough as it is, and your betters
travel second."
"It wasn't my fault. Mr Ernest bought the tickets like a gentleman
should (it says in the etiquette book), and I couldn't fight with him
there and then,--you're always telling me to be more genteel."
"But I don't want strangers paying anything for my granddaughter."
"You needn't mind in this instance," I interposed.
"Mr Ernest probably wished to be gentlemanly to Dawn because she has
been so good to me." Once more I saw the little derisive smile flit
across the exquisite face, but she said--
"Yes; he said that you're looking so well it must be our nursing, and
that he will try and get grandma to take him in if he falls ill."
"I wonder if he's going to get took bad--love-sick--like the other
blokes," said Andrew.
Dawn cast a murderous glance at him, and covered the remark by making
a bustle in sitting to her tea, and in retailing minute details of her
singing lesson.
We retired early, and she produced from the basket in which she
carried her music a most pretentious box of sweets and various society
newspapers.
"Mr Ernest said you might like some of these, and I was to have a
share because I carried them home, though he got the 'bus and brought
me to the door, so I hadn't to walk a step."
"Good boy! What did he talk about to-day?"
"I asked him about all the actresses he has seen. He's going to give
me the autographed photos he has of them. You wouldn't think he'd like
to part with them, but he says he's tired of them all now--they're
nearly all married, and are back numbers. Actresses are only thought
of for a little while, he says."
"That is the natural order of things, and applies to others as well as
actresses. Pretty young girls are not pretty for long. They should see
to it that they are plucked by the right fingers while their bloom is
attractive. The old order falls ill-fittingly on some, but is fair in
the main,--we each have our fleeting hour."
"Yes; but where is there a desirable plucker?" said the practical
girl. "There are scarcely any good matches and the few there are have
so many running after them that I wouldn't give 'em the satisfaction
of thinking I wanted them too."
True, good matches are few. In these luxurious times the generality of
girls' ideas of a good match being very advanced--in short, a man of
sufficient wealth to keep them in petted idleness. There can be no
shade of reproach on women for this ambition, it is but one outcome of
the evolution of civilisation, and is merely a species of common-sense
on their part; for the ordinary routine of marriage, as instanced by
the testimony of thousands of women ranked among the comfortably and
happily married, is so trying that girls do well to try for the most
comfortable berths ere putting their heads in the noose.
"And Dora, where was he all this time?" I asked.
"Oh, he brought Ada Grosvenor home; thought that would spite me. She
was in town too, and you should just hear her after this. The silly
rabbit can't open her mouth but she tells you what this man did and
that one said to her, when all the time it's nothing but some ordinary
courtesy they ought to extend to even black gins."
EIGHTEEN.
THE FOUNDATION OF THE POULTRY INDUSTRY.
Peace was restored in the Clay household through my interviewing Carry
and offering to teach her music and allow her the use of my piano if
she would do some of Dawn's work for two days during every second
week. The next irritation arose from the male portion of the family.
Now, we had all been so vigorously on political entertainment bent,
that no one had given a thought to Uncle Jake and his doings or
political opinions, or whether he had any, but it transpired, though a
"mere man," he had been pursuing his course with as much attention to
electioneering technique as the most emancipated woman among us.
On the afternoon following Carry's little difference with Mrs Bray,
Ada Grosvenor called to invite us to accompany her to hear Olliver
Henderson, the ministerial candidate, who was to address the women at
the hall first, and the men at Jimmeny's pub. afterwards, and we all
went. Next morning at breakfast, when we had set to work upon the
"dosed" porridge, Andrew again catechised his grandma concerning the
casting of her vote.