INTERCESSION.
A letter had come for Willie from his mother, saying that he really must
come home; he ought to be satisfied now, and they missed him very much,
and he really must return to school, and ever so many more reasons why
he should come home. Willie felt very downhearted.
"'Course I'd like to see them again, and I think a terrible lot of them,
and all that, but I do want to stay longer. I asked Mamma ever so long
ago to let me stay till November, and she nearly promised she would, but
a woman never can keep her word," he went on, dashing away a tear.
"We'll write and beg and beg for you," said Eva.
"Will you? Good! Write and say you can't part with me, that I'm a--a--a
real decent chap, and say--oh, say anything at all you like, only do get
her to let me stay till November. Say it's a long way up here, and it's
no use coming for a little while. Let's see--how long have I been here
now? About seven months--well, say that a person ought to stay nine or
ten months, but that I'll be real satisfied to go home in November, and
to be sure and let me stay till then."
"Yes, we'll say all that and a lot more."
"Righto! and I'll pay for the stamps," said Willie. "Whatever it costs,
let me know."
Then a letter was concocted, and to read it one would think that Willie
was a little angel upon earth:
We much regret that you want Willie back so soon [they wrote]. You
know, it is such a long way up here, and once he gets home it may be
years and years and years till he comes back. He means to work and
study so hard when he goes home to make up for this long holiday, and
we would love him to stay till November; and then he will be quite,
quite satisfied to go. But if he went now we would all miss him so
much, because he's such a help and such good company, and Dadda would
miss him fearfully, and so would Mamma and Miss Gibson and all of us.
He studies real well for Miss Gibson, considering that he is out so
much and loves riding so much, and, you know, in Sydney he'll never
get a ride; so now, while the horses are fat, he ought to stay and
ride a real lot, and I am sure if you will only let him he will grow
up to bless you.
"How will that much suit?" asked Eva, who took the composition on
herself and read it aloud to him.
"By cripes, it's real good!" answered Willie. "Go on a few more pages
like that, and she must let me stay."
"Well, if you say that word any more I won't write at all."
"What word?" asked Willie, trying to appear innocent.
"You know quite well; you got it from old Joe, and you needn't bother
copying him. Oh, dear! Whatever else can I say?"
"Let's see; you said I was nice and cheerful, didn't you? Well, say--oh!
say that I look real well, and I'm getting real fat."
"But you said that in your last letter, didn't you?"
"Yes, but you say it, too."
Willie looks so well and is getting real fat, and has a lovely colour
now, and he's so nice and cheerful and pleasant and kind that we would
all love him to stay longer; so I am sure, dear Mrs. Gray, that you
will not refuse our request, and that Willie will never forget you for
it.
There was much more in the same strain, and then signatures were
attached; but I think it was a little note that Mother enclosed that
made Mrs. Grey decide to let her little boy remain till November, and
there was great rejoicing when the decision arrived.
"We're real good at writing letters," said Eva, somewhat proudly.
"Yes, that was a bonser one about me. I don't know how you thought of it
all."
"Oh, we can think all right," said Eileen. "I wouldn't wonder if we made
some money some day thinking out inventions and patents and all those
kind of things."
"Well, when I grow up I'll help you," declared Willie. "If you want any
money just come along to me."
He felt very grateful for that letter, as he thought of the good free
time before him.
"How will you make the money?" asked Eileen.
"Oh, I'll manage that, all right! I haven't decided yet, but I'll have
it so you needn't be afraid to come for a loan. I won't forget old
friends...."
Willie was very polite for quite a long time after that. He was always
offering his chair to Mother or one of the girls, and he was continually
asking Mother if she felt a draught, and would she like windows or doors
closed? And he actually tried to study at night time to please Miss
Gibson. The thought of staying till November pleased him so much.
"I wonder how much money it would take to buy Myall?" he said to Joe, as
they were riding round the paddock.
"Pretty near a million, I reckon," answered Joe.
"A million!" gasped Willie. "Oh, dear!" he groaned. "I'll never manage
it."
"Was you thinkin' of buyin' it?" asked Joe.
"I was wondering if I ever could," said Willie. "If I went to work and
started to save up my money straight away; but, oh, dear! I'll never
manage it. A million's a terrible lot of money, isn't it, Joe?"
"I reckon so," answered Joe. "I wouldn't like the counting of it."
"No, 'specially if you were sleepy," said Willie.
"You take it from me, young man, I wouldn't be sleepy if I 'ad the
'andlin' of a million of money. Why, I'd be thinkin' every noise was a
burgular after it. No, old Joe'd be pretty wide awake if 'e 'ad the
'andlin' of a million of money!"
"Of course I wouldn't care if I didn't have a very big place," went on
Willie. "I wouldn't care if it was just one little paddock on the corner
of the creek. As long as it was land and belonged to me, and I could
live up here and ride. That's all I want."
"Just enough to run a horse on, like?" said Joe.
"Yes," said Willie, eagerly. "Do you think I could buy a place like
that?"
"Well, of course, you'd have to make a livin' somehow," answered Joe,
"and you couldn't make much of a livin' on a one-horse run; and I
wouldn't like it to be said that old Joe ever put the idea into your
'ead about it. But some day you might win a lease, or buy a piece of
land--enough to run a few hundred sheep on, and by degrees you might buy
a little more, and get on that way. But you want a bit o' money to start
with, or else you'll have to work very 'ard. 'Course, though, the banks
would lend you money, and you might be able to make a do of it."
"That's what I'll do. I'll get the banks to lend me money. I never
thought about them. Why, it'll be real easy. I'll go to a lot of
different banks and get them all to lend me a little; and I won't let
any of 'em know that I've been to the other one--see? My word! won't
Mother be surprised when she hears I've got a bit of land?"
"Hey, steady there!" said Joe, a bit afraid. "You're too young yet--a
long way too young to think about it. Well, you can think, but don't go
trying to git land right away. You've got a few years ahead of you yet."
"Yes, that's the worst of being young," sighed Willie.
"Well, it's funny, the difference in boys," soliloquised Joe; "here's
you dyin' to be on the land, and there was Frank dyin' to be off it."
"Yes, funny, isn't it?" agreed Willie.
From that time he commenced to build castles in the air, in which
figured prominently a green stretch of paddock with a gurgling creek
running through it; a dear little cottage nestling on its banks, and a
flock of big woolly sheep, some fine horses, and a few dogs to make up
the sum total of his possessions.
"And, of course, I must have some cattle," he would think, when
completing the picture in his mind's eye; "and a dear little pony and
sulky to meet them at the railway station when they come up to stay with
me."
"They" represented Mamma, Dadda, and Marcia.