EILEEN'S RETURN.
Eileen's head was craned far out of the train as it drew into the
station, where Teddy, with a broad smile on his face, was waiting for
the mail and any stray passengers.
"Anyone here to meet me, Ted?" she asked as she bounded out.
"You have to come with me in the sulky," answered Ted.
"Go with you? Oh, I say, I am disappointed!"
"That's a nice greeting for a man!" said Teddy.
"Oh, Teddy, I didn't mean anything against you!" she declared, "but, you
know, I was looking forward to seeing some of them, and what about my
boxes?"
"Logan's van's comin' over to-day, and it'll bring them."
"Oh, dear! oh, dear! I do hope it gets there to-night. I'd hate my boxes
to have a night out on the roads, and there's some pretty things in
them, too."
"I suppose he'll get there," said Ted, cheerfully.
"Oh, I'm not so sure about that. Don't you remember when he was bringing
that case of porter over, and he broke into it, and had a whole day and
night on the road, and lost a good many parcels, too?"
"Got many traps?" asked the good-natured Teddy.
"Only three, but one is so small you'd hardly count it, but it's pretty
heavy," she went on, doubtfully, "and then there's another big one, but
it's as light as anything. It's that light you'd hardly feel it, and the
other--well, the other's a bit solid."
"Let's see the little one," said Ted; "we might stow it in."
"Oh, Ted, you're splendid!" gushed Eileen, as she hurried him along the
platform. "There it is--the little heavy one, and there's the big light
one I was telling you about; just lift it, Teddo, and see for yourself
how light it is."
"It's light, right enough," agreed Teddy, as he glanced down at the
waiting sulky. "I think I could hoist this big chap on to the back."
"Oh, Teddy, if you only could!" gasped Eileen. "I'm sure Logan's old van
will be late coming over, and I do want to unpack as soon as I get
home."
"Well, keep your eye on them mailbags, till I come back," ordered Teddy,
as he hurried off with the big light one; and Eileen sat on the wooden
bench and watched him rope it on to the back.
"There's no doubt Teddy is good," she thought, "and I'm glad now that I
brought him that tie instead of spending the money on that check ribbon
for myself that I felt I wanted so badly; but I couldn't get them both,
so I am glad now that I decided on the tie for Teddo."
"You've got it fixed on beautifully," she said, as Teddy hurried back to
get the mail and the second box; but he was too important, and hurried
to answer her as he rushed round, strapping on boxes and bags.
"All aboard," he called at last, and Eileen climbed up on to the seat
beside him.
"Oh, it's lovely to be back again. Teddo!--just lovely, and everything
looks so big and so wide and so breezy, and there is such a lot of
space, and I bet they'll be glad to see me at home again."
"My word, they will!" agreed Teddy, "and so you got lonely down there?"
"Yes, real lonely. I just couldn't stay a day longer. Goodness me,
Teddo, I just felt inclined to take to my heels and run and run till I
got here, and I just felt that I loved everything and everybody up here.
Why, I believe I'll fairly kiss the old cows and hug the pet lambs and
dogs and chickens when I get home, and--but what's the matter, Teddo?"
For Teddo had gone off into a fit of laughter--he was so hugely
entertained.
"And before you're home a week you'll be sick of them all," he said at
last.
"Indeed, I won't," she answered, indignantly. "I'm much older than when
I went away you must remember, Teddy, and I see things in a very
different light," and she sat up very straight.
"Yes, you're a few months older," guffawed Teddy, "but, all the same,
you'll always have a hankering after Sydney--all women and girls do. I
bet the first hot day that comes next summer you'll be wanting to get
back to that there surf and the boat trips and all the rest of it; and
you'll take to your heels then and never stop running till you get
there." And then he laughed again till he nearly rolled out of the
sulky.
"Really, Teddy, it doesn't take much to amuse you." said Eileen, and so
they talked and argued all through the drive, while Teddy pulled up at
the different mail-boxes, which were sometimes boxes nailed on a tree,
or a kerosene tin sitting on a stump and secured there by a long nail.
Papers and letters were thrown in and sometimes a parcel or a pound of
butter or a loaf of bread, for Teddy acted as a general shopper at the
little railway township. Then the horses would trot along again through
the fresh clover that flicked, flicked, flicked against their hoofs, and
filled the air with a crushed fresh smell of greenery, and Eileen drew
in long, deep breaths and said it was "lovely."
"Cripes!" said Ted, as he turned the horses sharply, and wheeled back to
a mail-box off the road.
"Oh. Ted! Whatever are you turning back for?"
"Forgot to leave old Payne's tobacco," said Teddy.
"Oh, never mind it this time!" pleaded Eileen; "let him smoke tea-leaves
or bark, or anything; why, it's ever so far back!"
"No, I promised I'd fetch it," declared Teddy, stoutly, "and a promise
is a promise, even if it's only made to old Payne," and Teddy looked
quite pleased with himself after this statement, while Eileen sat back
in a resigned manner.
At last the little bridge near the homestead came in sight through the
trees, and Eileen shouted aloud for joy.
"Thought you were going on the stage down there?" said Teddy, giving a
parting shot.
"Oh, that'll come later on!" said Eileen, loftily. "I'm too young yet. I
want a little more home life before I leave for the stage."
Then Teddy made a grimace and murmured under his breath.
"Stage!--I don't think!"
There was shouting and commotion when the sulky drew up at the gate, and
Eileen sprang to the ground. Then a babel of voices filled the air as
everyone tried to speak at the same time.
"Oh, I am glad to see you all again!" Eileen told them over and over,
and Mother actually had tears in her eyes, though she couldn't for the
life of her tell you why.
And Doris and Baby, with fat, happy faces and the roses of winter on
their cheeks, danced round the new-comer.
"I have a little new pet lamb; you can have a nurse of it if you like
when you have had a wash."
"Oh, thank you, Doris, but I don't think I will this evening!"
"And dere's dear little puppies over at de shed," volunteered Baby.
"There's Willie, and goodness me if he's not riding! Doesn't he look
funny?" shrieked Eileen.
Willie overheard the remark, and looked daggers at Eileen. Then he
dismounted and walked slowly up to her with a great stockwhip wound
round his arm.
"Good evening, Eileen; how did you leave them all in Sydney?" he asked,
coolly.
"My goodness, but you do look funny!" answered Eileen. "You are
different; why, your Mother wouldn't know you--you've grown that tall,
and you're getting fat, too, and fancy you being able to ride!"
"Oh, it doesn't take a fellow long to learn that!" he answered,
carelessly.
"I've got some nice presents for you from your mother," said Eileen.
"Presents?" gasped Willie, with his eyes lighting up and his grown-up
manner completely gone.
"Yes, a pair of stockings and a muffler and some tooth-paste and scented
soap."
"Ugh! Presents. I don't call them presents," said Willie, in tones of
disgust. "Anything else?"
"What did you think I'd have?" asked Eileen, hotly. "A motor-car or a
carriage and pair?"
"Come off," said Willie, "I thought you might have a cricket bat or a
football, or something that would be of some use and fun to a fellow,
instead of old tooth-paste and old scenty soap; none of the men up here
use scenty soap, I bet."
"No, and it might be all the better if they did," flashed Eileen; "and,
another thing, I think you've got real spoilt since you came up here,
with your stuck up, grown-up airs, for a kid of your age."
"Oh, come in Eileen, before you two start fighting!" said Mollie, with a
laugh.
"Fighting!" echoed Willie. "Pshaw, I wouldn't fight with a girl!"
They all met again before teatime, and chased round with the pet lambs,
and climbed the fence of the calf-pen, and gazed at the little calves,
and tried to coax out the chickens from under their mother's wing, where
they were nestled for the night.
"They're such little beauties," said Mollie. "Little fluffy golden ones
and speckled and snowy white and brown, and some are real black."
"Oh, the darlings!" said Eileen; "I'll see them all in the morning."
"An' tometimes we 'as fosts in de mornin's," said Baby, clasping her
chubby hands; "no fosts in Tidney?"
"No, you darling," cried Eileen, "it's as mild as butter down there. Oh!
but I'm glad to be back again, for all Sydney's niceness, and I'll
never, never, never grumble any more at the bush or the quietness or the
work or anything else. I'm never going to grumble again as long as ever
I live."
"Oh, dear!" gasped Doris, shaking her head solemnly and looking in
wonder at Eileen.
"Oh, dear!" said Eva, in tones of surprise.
"Oh, dear!" cried Mollie, in mocking tones of unbelief.
And "Oh, dear me! whoever is talking?" cried Willie, in sarcastic tones.
Baby's teeth were stuck fast in some toffee that Eileen had brought her,
so she could not say anything.