A SURPRISE.
The letter had come at last. Ted was late, and they were all waiting for
him as he rode up to "Gillong," and when he fished a thick, square
envelope out of his pocket, and handed it to Father, Mollie and Eileen
thought their last hour had come.
"It's it," whispered Mollie, and she turned and fled, with Eileen close
at her heels. They couldn't face the ordeal yet. Later on they would be
called to listen to the wonderful news, but even a brief respite was
welcome.
"Oh, I hope they never guess!" said Mollie, anxiously.
"Guess? How can they?" asked Eileen, scornfully; but, all the same, she,
too, was anxious.
"What on earth is this about?" said Father, as he tore the envelope
open; and then he gasped. "Harry! From Harry! Good gracious! Vera,
Vera," he called to his wife. "Look at this--a letter from Harry!"
"From Harry?" cried Mother, in amazement. "Harry?"
"Yes, Harry! Wonders will never cease! It's the last thing in the world
I expected."
"What on earth does he say, after all these years?"
Then they both read the letter.
"And he's coming here? Coming here? Well, wonders will never cease!"
cried Mother. "Coming here! Dear, dear! just when things are at their
worst, with the drought on and not a decent thing to give him to eat....
But fancy writing after all these years!..."
"What does he say there, again?"
Mother read aloud:
It's wonderful how memories of the old days come back to one, and I
would very much like to see you and Vera again, so if you can put me
up for a week or so I shall be delighted to come. I know you are
suffering from a very severe drought up there, but I trust that that
will not make any difference, as I have to go away again shortly, and
wish to see you and the children before I commence my journey.
I have about a week to spare, so I hope you can put me up for that
time. We will have much to talk over when we meet. I suppose I can go
by coach from the nearest township, and please don't go to any trouble
on my account.
And there was very much more in the same strain that Mother read with
exclamations of wonder and amazement.
"Well, it's the last thing I'd have thought of!" declared Father.
"It's next week he means to come," cried Mother. "Why, we'll have to
wire him."
"So we will," said Father. "I suppose you can manage it all right?" he
asked. "About fixing up things?"
"Oh, yes! we'll manage it," said Mother, cheerfully. "I must let the
children know. Won't they be surprised? I suppose they hardly know they
have an uncle," and she called aloud, while Father marched off to the
stable, marvelling at the wonderful news, and already building castles
in the air.
The five children were together at the usual gum tree meeting ground
when they heard the call, and they looked at each other in dismay.
"Look surprised, Doris, do you hear, when Mother tells us. We must all
look surprised, and, for goodness sake, ask questions--somebody and
everybody. It doesn't matter what they are, as long as we're talking,
and let's all look astonished. Oh, dear! it's dreadful!" wailed Mollie.
"Yes, we must all help," declared Eileen, staunchly. "Everybody must ask
questions and ask all sorts of things, so as it won't look funny."
"If only we didn't know, and didn't have to pretend!" wailed Eva.
"If we didn't know, there'd be no surprise," answered Eileen, "for
there'd be no letter, no uncle, or anything."
"Come on, we'd better run," said Mollie; "there's Mother calling again.
Come on, let's run, and we'll be out of breath when we get up, and it
won't be so bad then if we don't ask questions straight away."
And then they took to their heels, and Baby was puffing like a pair of
bellows when they reached the house.
Presently five breathless little girls stood in front of Mother, who was
looking very pleased and important, as she smiled at the open letter in
her hand.
"I have a very, very big surprise for you, my dears. We've just heard
from your uncle in Melbourne, and--and you'll hardly believe it--but
he's coming to see us next week!"
They never remembered quite how they got through it. They only knew that
for a space there was dead silence, and then a Babel of voices as they
all asked questions together, scarcely heeding Mother's replies. They
only knew that they had come through the ordeal all right, that they had
all acted their parts well, and that Mother had never guessed; and as
Mollie noted the look of pleasure on her Mother's face, she was repaid
for all her anxiety about the letter she had worried over so much.
Then they all commenced to work and clean up the house for Uncle. They
scrubbed and scoured and polished and shone, till every door-knob looked
like burnished gold and the window-panes gleamed like diamonds. They
swept up all round the house and garden and away outside the gate, till
there was not a speck or a straw or a leaf to be seen. Dear me! the
house was like a new pin, and the little room on the end verandah was
transformed. The washstand out of Mother's room was put there, and
snow-white curtains on the little iron bedstead, and the strip of carpet
that Mother always kept away in case of emergency was spread on the
floor. A snowy cloth was on the little wooden dressing-table, and a
glass vase waiting for the day that Uncle would arrive, when it would be
filled with pepper leaves and berries, as there were no flowers left.
They all helped; even Baby was found going round with bits of rag,
polishing the already shining door-knobs, or busy, with a saucer of
water and rag, "washing" the floors; and Eva and Doris even took the
broom down to the bed of the creek and swept up around the favourite gum
tree, and threw away twigs and sticks and bushes off the path, and did
all in their power to make things spick and span for Uncle.
They all laughed and sang and shouted and talked a lot those days, now
that they could speak openly of Uncle's coming.
"I hope we never have a secret again as long as we live," said Eva.
"So do I," said Eileen. "I hope it's my first and only one. Why, I feel
years older since I've been keeping this one."
"I'll have no more," declared Doris.
"Me, too," said Baby, looking solemn.
"Oh, well! anyway, the worst is over," said Mollie, cheerfully.
"I don't know whether it is or not," declared Eileen, dubiously. "I
don't know how we're all going to face Uncle, knowing that he knows what
he knows, and we'll all have to look so innocent, and pretend
things--oh, it will be awful!----"
"Oh, yes!" agreed Eva, "I believe my face will burn off with shame."
"There's nothing to be ashamed of," declared Mollie, stoutly, although
she, too, was quailing at the thought of the ordeal.
"Oh, but the pretence!" said Eva.
"Well, it's for a good cause," answered Mollie. "Why, look how bright
Father and Mother have been since they got that letter. Oh, whatever we
do, we must never let them know! We'll just have to act again, and
pretend for all we're worth, when Uncle comes."
"Oh, we'll face it when the time comes--never fear!" said Eileen; "but
the thought of it is worse than--worse than----"
"Castor oil," said Doris.
"Yes, castor oil," agreed Eileen, as she couldn't think of anything
worse at the moment.
The great day arrived at last, and they were nearly sick with
excitement. Everything was in readiness. The pet lambs all had new red
strings round their necks, the stick horses had been "fed" early, and
were tied up with narrow strips of bright blue print; the porter-bottle
"dog" had a new ribbon, and Rose was decked out in her best finery; so
nothing remained to be done but to wait.
Father had borrowed the station buggy and driven to Bragan Junction to
meet him, and they knew they would soon hear the "top-top-top" of the
horses' hoofs on the creek bridge.
"My, but ain't he a swell!" said Old Joe, as a tall man, dressed in
grey, alighted from the buggy at the gate.
Old Joe had been with the family for years, and so was privileged.
"My! but ain't he?" gasped Eileen, unconsciously lapsing into Joe's
style.
Mother had hurried forward to greet him, and for an instant Mollie's
heart sank. How could they ever approach this tall, stylish man, who
looked so smart and alert, and so well groomed from the crown of his hat
to the sole of his boot; and to think that they had written to him and
asked him to come! Dear me! he was the smartest and most business-like
man she had ever seen, and he looked rather stern and severe, too,
although his eyes lit up with a smile as he shook hands with Mother.
They wished for an instant that he was just the ordinary, every-day,
common or garden variety kind of a man; but it couldn't be
helped--they'd have to face the inevitable.
And then he glanced towards them.
"And these are your little girls, Vera?"
"Yes; come along, children, and meet your Uncle."
They all came forward bravely, and were introduced to their new uncle;
and he was a real "sport," and never let on that he had even heard of
them before. He asked their names and ages, as though there were no such
thing in the world as a letter. They soon gained courage, and returned
his smiles.
"I suppose you are real little bush girls?" he asked, with a twinkle in
his eye.
Mother answered, "Yes, real little bush girls," and then they laughed
outright, because they knew what he meant.
Oh! all the talk there was at "Gillong" that night! Long after the
children had gone to bed the two brothers sat out on the verandah and
talked of many things, while the kindly moonlight cast a glamour over
the parched, dried earth, making the white road gleam like a silver
band.
It wasn't until the second day that they had a chance of a confidential
talk with Uncle, and then they had a meeting at the usual
meeting-ground--the old gum tree, and sat round, solemn and important
looking.
"Well, children, we had better discuss this proposition of a loan."
The children looked more important and solemn than ever.
"Oh, yes!" said Mollie, anxiously; "of course, we don't know much about
money, and all that, but we do know that we want it badly."
"And about how many hundreds do you think you will require?" Uncle was
enjoying the meeting immensely.
"Oh, dear! we don't know--do we, Mollie?" asked Eileen, anxiously. "You
see, we don't know much about it."
"You see," put in Mollie, eagerly; "Mother and Father and Frank have to
work so hard, and have so much worry, and we're always having such bad
luck, and we thought if we only had more money things would be ever so
much easier----"
"Yes, money can oil the wheels," agreed Uncle.
"Yes, oil the wheels," repeated Eileen, "and there are plenty of rusty
ones about here."
"Yes, things are about at a standstill," said Mollie, "and of course it
would have to be to Father you would lend money, and I suppose he won't
want to take it, because he'll think it will be such a long time before
he can pay it all back; but we will pay you back--in time; but, of
course, we can't let Father know we mean to pay. We'll work and work
till we pay back every penny. In about two years' time I'll be able to
go out as ladyhelp, and if Eileen could get some education she could go
out as governess later on, and we'd both save up to pay you back. Oh,
Uncle! you don't know how we'd save and scrape, if we can only get money
now----"
"And I have three pet lambs that I'll sell when the drought breaks,"
said Eileen, "and that will be a help towards it."
"And Dadda gave me old Jennie's foal, and I'll sell it when it grows
up," said Eva, eagerly; "and then I'll go out to work, too."
"You are clever little girls," said Uncle, gravely. "Don't you think you
would rather be something else than ladyhelps and governesses?"
"Oh, yes!" cried Mollie, "but we'll do anything to make money if you
will only help us now."
"Yes, and later on I might be an actress," said Eileen, calmly.
"Would you like that?" asked Uncle.
"Oh, I wouldn't mind! It would be an easy way of making a living, and
I'd have plenty of fun and chocolates, and pretty dresses."
"Some day I'd like to be a rich lady," said Doris, "and I'd give all
little girls a real nice time."
"Me be pitty lady," said Baby.
And then they all laughed.
"Uncle, we want to thank you for writing to us, and thank you for
coming. You've made everything brighter already, and Mother and Father
are so much happier-looking since you came, and they don't seem to be
always thinking of the old drought and hard times and debts----"
Uncle let them go on, for just then he couldn't speak. But by-and-by he
turned to the little group of upturned faces, and addressed them very
quietly.
"My dear little children, you have thanked me, and now I wish to thank
you."
"Thank us!" they exclaimed.
"Yes, for many things.... Later on you will understand, but I'm very
glad you sent me that letter, because I may be able to do some good for
your Father before it is too late. I think you may safely leave the
matter with me. I managed that letter to your Father all right, didn't
I?"
"Oh, yes, Uncle--beautifully!"
"Well, leave this to me, and don't bother your young heads about
repaying me. I'll see to that. Father and I will fix that up...."
"Oh, Uncle, you are good! But we will feel so mean if we don't pay you
something," blurted out Mollie.
"No, don't you worry about money and debts. Be happy, careless children
as long as you can."