GOOD-BYE
“I was just a-goin’ to ring the big bell,” said Mrs. Brown.
She was standing on the front verandah as the children came up the
lawn.
“Why, we’re not late, Brownie, are we?” asked Norah.
“Not very.” The old housekeeper smiled at her. “Only when your Pa’s
away I allers feels a bit nervis about you—sech thoughtless young
people, an’ all them animals and snakes about!”
“Gammon!” said Jim laughing. “D’you mean to say I can’t look after
them, Brownie?”
“I’d rather not say anythink rash, Master Jim,” rejoined Mrs. Brown
with a twinkle.
“I guess Mrs. Brown’s got the measure of your foot, old man,” grinned
Harry.
“Oh, well,” said Jim resignedly, “a chap never gets his due in this
world. I forgive you, Brownie, though you don’t deserve it. Got a nice
tea for us?”
“Sech as it is, Master Jim, it’s waitin’ on you,” said Mrs. Brown, with
point.
“That’s what you might call a broad hint,” cried Jim. “Come on,
chaps—race you for a wash-up!”
They scattered, Mrs. Brown laying violent hands on the indignant Norah,
and insisting on arraying her in a clean frock, which the victim
resisted, as totally unnecessary. Mrs. Brown carried her point,
however, and a trim little maiden joined the boys in the dining-room
five minutes later.
Mrs. Brown’s cooking was notable, and she had excelled herself over the
boys’ farewell tea. A big cold turkey sat side by side with a ham of
majestic dimensions, while the cool green of a salad was tempting after
the hot walk. There were jellies, and a big bowl of fruit salad, while
the centre of the table was occupied by a tall cake, raising aloft
glittering white tiers. There were scones and tarts and wee cakes, and
dishes of fresh fruit, and altogether the boys whistled long and
softly, and declared that “Brownie was no end of a brick!”
Whereat Mrs. Brown, hovering about to see that her charges wanted
nothing, smiled and blushed, and said, “Get on, now, do!”
Jim carved, and Jim’s carving was something to marvel at. No method
came amiss to him. When he could cut straight he did; at other times he
sawed; and, when it seemed necessary, he dug. After he had finished
helping every one, Wally said that the turkey looked as if a dog had
been at it, and the ham was worse, which remarks Jim meekly accepted as
his due. Nor did the inartistic appearance of the turkey prevent the
critic from coming back for more!
Everyone was hungry, and did full justice to “Brownie’s” forethought;
while Norah, behind the tall teapot, declared that it was a job for two
men and a boy to pour out for such a thirsty trio. Harry helped the
fruit salad, and Harry’s helpings were based on his own hunger, and
would have suited Goliath. Finally, Norah cut the cake with great
ceremony, and Wally’s proposal that everyone should retire to the lawn
with a “chunk” was carried unanimously.
Out on the grass they lay and chattered, while the dusk came down, and
slowly a pale moon climbed up into the sky. Norah alone was silent.
After a while Harry and Wally declared they must go and pack, and Jim
and his sister were left alone.
Wally and Harry scurried down the hail. The sound of their merry voices
died away, and there was silence on the lawn.
Jim rolled nearer to Norah.
“Blue, old girl?”
“‘M,” said a muffled voice.
Jim felt for her hand in the darkness—and found it. The small, brown
fingers closed tightly round his rough paw.
“I know,” he said comprehendingly. “I’m awfully sorry, old woman. I do
wish we hadn’t to go.”
There was no answer. Jim knew why—and also knowing perfectly well that
tears would mean the deepest shame, he talked on without requiring any
response.
“Beastly hard luck,” he said. “We don’t want to go a bit—fancy school
after this! Ugh! But there are three of us, so it isn’t so bad. It
wouldn’t matter if Dad was at home, for you. But I must say it’s
lowdown to be leaving you all by your lonely little self.”
Norah struggled hard with that abominable lump in her throat, despising
herself heartily.
“Brownie’ll be awfully good to you,” went on Jim. “You’ll have to buck
up, you know, old girl, and not let yourself get dull. You practise
like one o’clock; or make jam, or something; or get Brownie to let you
do some cooking. Anything to keep you ‘from broodin’ on bein’ a dorg,’
as old David Harum says. There’s all the pets to look after, you
know—you’ve got to keep young black Billy up to the mark, or he’ll
never feed ’em properly, and if you let him alone he changes the water
in the dishes when the last lot’s dry. And, by George, Norah”—Jim had a
bright idea—“Dad told me last night he meant to shift those new
bullocks into the Long Plain. Ten to one he forgot all about it, going
away so suddenly. You’ll have to see to it.”
“I’d like that,” said Norah, feeling doubtfully for her voice.
“Rather—best thing you can do,” Jim said eagerly. “Take Billy with you,
of course, and a dog. They’re not wild, and I don’t think you’ll have
any trouble—only be very careful to get ’em all—examine all the scrub
in the paddock. Billy knows how many there ought to be. I did know,
but, of course, I’ve forgotten. Of course Dad may have left directions
with one of the men about it already.”
“Well, I could go too, couldn’t I?” queried Norah.
“Rather. They’d be glad to have you.”
“Well, I’ll be glad of something to do. I wasn’t looking forward to
to-morrow.”
“No,” said Jim, “I know you weren’t. Never mind, you keep busy. You
might drive into Cunjee with Brownie on Tuesday—probably you’d get a
letter from Dad a day earlier, and hear when he’s coming home—and if he
says he’s coming home on Thursday, Wednesday won’t seem a bit long.
You’ll be as right as ninepence if you buck up.”
“I will, old chap. Only I wish you weren’t going.”
“So do I,” said Jim, “and so do the other chaps. They want to come
again some holidays.”
“Well, I hope you’ll bring them.”
“My word! I will. Do you know, Norah, they think you’re no end of a
brick?”
“Do they?” said Norah, much pleased. “Did they tell you?”
“They’re always telling me. Now, you go to bed, old girl.”
He rose and pulled her to her feet.
Norah put her arms round his neck—a very rare caress.
“Good night,” she said. “I—I do love you, Jimmy!”
Jim hugged her.
“Same here, old chap,” he said.
There was such scurrying in the early morning. Daylight revealed many
things that had been overlooked in the packing overnight, and they had
to be crammed in, somehow. Other things were remembered which had not
been packed, and which must be found, and diligent hunt had to be made
for them.
Norah was everybody’s mate, running on several errands at once, finding
Jim’s school cap near Harry’s overcoat while she was looking for
Wally’s cherished snake-skin. Her strong brown hands pulled tight the
straps of bulging bags on which their perspiring owners knelt, puffing.
After the said bags were closed and carried out to the buggy, she found
the three toothbrushes, and crammed each, twisted in newspaper, into
its owner’s pocket. She had no time to think she was dull.
Mrs. Brown, who had been up since dawn, had packed a huge hamper, and
superintended its placing in the buggy. It was addressed to “Master
James, Master Harry, and Master Wallie,” and later Jim reported that
its contents were such as to make the chaps at school speechless—a
compliment which filled Mrs. Brown with dismay, and a wish that she had
put in less pastry and perhaps a little castor oil. At present she felt
mildly safe about it and watched it loaded with a sigh of relief.
“Boom-m-m!” went the big gong, and the boys rushed to the dining-room,
where Norah was ready to pour out tea.
“You have some, Norah,” said Harry, retaining his position close to the
teapot, whence Wally had vainly striven to dislodge him.
“Yes, old girl, you eat some breakfast,” commanded Jim.
Norah flashed a smile at him over the cosy.
“Lots of time afterwards,” she said, a little sadly.
“No time like the present.” Wally took a huge bite out of a scone, and
surveyed the relic with interest. Someone put a smoking plateful before
him, and his further utterances were lost in eggs and bacon.
Mrs. Brown flitted about like a stout guardian angel, keeping an
especially watchful eye on Jim. If the supply on his plate lessened
perceptibly, it was replenished with more, like manna from above. To
his laughing protests she merely murmured, “Poor dear lamb!” whereat
Wally and Harry laughed consumedly, and Jim blushed.
“Well, you’ve beaten me at last, Brownie,” Jim declared finally. He
waved away a chop which was about to descend upon his plate. “No truly,
Brownie dear; there are limits! Tea? No thanks, Norah, I’ve had about a
dozen cups already, I believe! You fellows ready?”
They were, and the table was briskly deserted.
There was a final survey of the boys’ room, which resembled a rubbish
heap, owing to vigorous packing.
Everybody ran wildly about looking for something.
Wally was found searching frantically for his cap, which Norah
discovered—on his head. There was a hurried journey to the kitchen, to
bid the servants “Good-bye.”
The buggy wheels scrunched the gravel before the hall door. The
overseer coo-ee’d softly.
“All aboard!”
“All right, Evans!” Jim appeared in the doorway, staggering under a big
Gladstone bag. Billy, similarly laden, followed. His black face was
unusually solemn.
“Chuck ’em in, Billy. Come on, you chaps!”
The chaps appeared.
“Good-bye, Norah. It’s been grand!” Harry pumped her hand vigorously.
“Wish you were coming!” said Wally dismally. “Good-bye. Write to us,
won’t you, Norah?”
“Now then, Master Jim!” Evans glanced at his watch.
“Right oh!” said Jim. He put his arm round the little girl’s shoulders
and looked keenly into her face. There was no hint of breaking down.
Norah met his gaze steadily and smiled at him. But the boy knew.
“Good-bye, little chap,” he said, and kissed her. “You’ll keep your
pecker up?”
She nodded. “Good-bye, Jimmy, old boy.”
Jim sprang into the buggy.
“All right, Evans.”
They whirled down the drive. Looking back, waving their caps, the boys
carried away a memory of a brave little figure, erect, smiling and
lonely on the doorstep.