My Brilliant Career Part 25

When I had satisfactorily informed her on all these points, she bade me have something to eat, to bathe and dress, and gave me a holiday for the remainder of the day.

My hair was grey with dust, so I washed all over, arrayed myself in a cool white dress, and throwing myself in a squatter's chair in the veranda, spread my hair over the back of it to dry. Copies of Gordon, Kendall, and Lawson were on my lap, but I was too physically content and comfortable to indulge in even these, my sworn friends and companions. I surrendered myself to the mere joy of being alive. How the sunlight blazed and danced in the roadway--the leaves of the gum-trees gleaming in it like a myriad gems! A cloud of white, which I knew to be c.o.c.katoos, circled over the distant hilltop. Nearer they wheeled until I could hear their discordant screech. The thermometer on the wall rested at 104 degrees despite the dense shade thrown on the broad old veranda by the foliage of creepers, shrubs, and trees. The gurgling rush of the creek, the scent of the flower-laden garden, and the stamp, stamp of a horse in the orchard as he attempted to rid himself of tormenting flies, filled my senses. The warmth was delightful. Summer is heavenly, I said--life is a joy.

Aunt Helen's slender fingers looked artistic among some pretty fancy-work upon which she was engaged. Bright b.u.t.terflies flitted round the garden, and thousands of bees droned lazily among the flowers. I closed my eyes--my being filled with the beauty of it all.

I could hear grannie's pen fly over the paper as she made out a list of Christmas supplies on a table near me.

"Helen, I suppose a hundredweight of currants will be sufficient?"

"Yes; I should think so."

"Seven dozen yards of unbleached calico be enough?"

"Yes; plenty."

"Which tea-service did you order?"

"Number two."

"Do you or Sybylla want anything extra?"

"Yes; parasols, gloves, and some books."

"Books! Can I get them at Hordern's?"

"Yes."

Grannie's voice faded on my ears, my thoughts ran on uncle Jay-Jay. He had promised to be home in time for my birthday spread, and I was sure he had a present for me. What would it be?--something nice. He would be nearly sure to bring someone home with him from c.u.mmabella, and we would have games and fun to no end. I was just seventeen, only seventeen, and had a long, long life before me wherein to enjoy myself. Oh, it was good to be alive! What a delightful place the world was!--so accommodating, I felt complete mistress of it. It was like an orange--I merely had to squeeze it and it gave forth sweets plenteously. The stream sounded far away, the sunlight blazed and danced, grannie's voice was a pleasant murmur in my ear, the c.o.c.katoos screamed over the house and pa.s.sed away to the west. Summer is heavenly and life is a joy, I reiterated. Joy!

Joy! There was joy in the quit! quit! of the green-and-crimson parrots, which swung for a moment in the rose-bush over the gate, and then whizzed on into the summer day. There was joy in the gleam of the sun and in the hum of the bees, and it throbbed in my heart. Joy! Joy! A jacka.s.s laughed his joy as he perched on the telegraph wire out in the road. Joy! joy! Summer is a dream of delight and life is a joy, I said in my heart. I was repeating the one thing over and over--but ah! it was a measure of happiness which allowed of much repet.i.tion. The cool murmur of the creek grew far away, I felt my poetry books slip off my knees and fall to the floor, but I was too content to bother about them--too happy to need their consolation, which I had previously so often and so hungrily sought. Youth! Joy! Warmth!

The clack of the garden gate, as it swung to, awoke me from a pleasant sleep. Grannie had left the veranda, and on the table where she had been writing aunt Helen was filling many vases with maidenhair fern and La France roses. A pleasant clatter from the dining-room announced that my birthday tea was in active preparation. The position of the yellow sunbeams at the far end of the wide veranda told that the dense shadows were lengthening, and that the last of the afternoon was wheeling westward. Taking this in, in an instant I straightened the piece of mosquito-netting, which, to protect me from the flies, someone--auntie probably--had spread across my face, and feigned to be yet asleep. By the footsteps which sounded on the stoned garden walk, I knew that Harold Beecham was one of the individuals approaching.

"How do you do, Mrs Bell? Allow me to introduce my friend, Archie Goodchum. Mrs Bell, Mr Goodchum. Hasn't it been a roaster today?

Considerably over 100 degrees in the shade. Terribly hot!"

Aunt Helen acknowledged the introduction, and seated her guests, saying:

"Harry, have you got an artistic eye? If so, you can a.s.sist me with these flowers. So might Mr Goodchum, if he feels disposed."

Harold accepted the proposal, and remarked:

"What is the matter with your niece? It is the first time I ever saw her quiet."

"Yes; she is a noisy little article--a perfect whirlwind in the house--but she is a little tired this afternoon; she has been seeing those sheep through today."

"Don't you think it would be a good lark if I get something and tickle her?" said Goodchum.

"Yes, do," said Harold; "but look out for squalls. She is a great little fizzer."

"Then she might be insulted."

"Not she," interposed auntie. "No one will enjoy the fun more than herself."

I had my eyes half open beneath the net, so saw him cautiously approach with a rose-stem between his fingers. Being extremely sensitive to tickling, so soon as touched under the ear I took a flying leap from the chair somewhat disconcerting my tormentor.

He was a pleasant-looking young fellow somewhere about twenty, whose face was quite familiar to me.

He smiled so good-humouredly at me that I widely did the same in return, and he came forward with extended hand, exclaiming, "At last!"

The others looked on in surprise, Harold remarking suspiciously, "You said you were unacquainted with Miss Melvyn, but an introduction does not seem necessary."

"Oh, yes it is," chirped Mr Goodchum. "I haven't the slightest idea of the young lady's name."

"Don't know each other!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Harold; and grannie, who had appeared upon the scene, inquired stiffly what we meant by such capers if unacquainted.

Mr Goodchum hastened to explain.

"I have seen the young lady on several occasions in the bank where I am employed, and I had the good fortune to be of a little service to her one day when I was out biking. Her harness, or at least the harness on the horse she was driving, broke, and I came to the rescue with my pocket-knife and some string, thereby proving, if not ornamental, I was useful. After that I tried hard to find out who she was, but my inquiries always came to nothing. I little dreamt who Miss Melvyn was when Harry, telling me she was a Goulburn girl, asked if I knew her."

"Quite romantic," said aunt Helen, smiling; and a great thankfulness overcame me that Mr Goodchum had been unable to discover my ident.i.ty until now. It was right enough to be unearthed as Miss Melvyn, grand-daughter of Mrs Bossier of Caddagat, and great friend and intimate of the swell Beechams of Five-Bob Downs station. At Goulburn I was only the daughter of old d.i.c.k Melvyn, broken-down farmer-c.o.c.katoo, well known by reason of his sprees about the commonest pubs in town.

Mr Goodchum told us it was his first experience of the country, and therefore he was enjoying himself immensely. He also mentioned that he was anxious to see some of the gullies around Caddagat, which, he had heard, were renowned for the beauty of their ferns. Aunt Helen, accordingly, proposed a walk in the direction of one of them, and hurried off to attend to a little matter before starting. While waiting for her, Harold happened to say it was my birthday, and Mr Goodchum tendered me the orthodox wishes, remarking, "It is surely pardonable at your time of life to ask what age you have attained today?"

"Seventeen."

"Oh! oh! 'sweet seventeen, and never been kissed'; but I suppose you cannot truthfully say that, Miss Melvyn?"

"Oh yes, I can."

"Well, you won't be able to say it much longer," he said, making a suggestive move in my direction. I ran, and he followed, grannie reappearing from the dining-room just in time to see me bang the garden gate with great force on my pursuer.

"What on earth is the girl doing now?" I heard her inquire.

However, Mr Goodchum did not execute his threat; instead we walked along decorously in the direction of the nearest ferns, while Harold and aunt Helen followed, the latter carrying a sun-bonnet for me.

After we had climbed some distance up a gully aunt Helen called out that she and Harold would rest while I did the honours of the fern grots to my companion.

We went on and on, soon getting out of sight of the others.

"What do you say to my carving our names on a gum-tree, the bark is so nice and soft?" said the bank clerk; and I seconded the proposal.

"I will make it allegorical," he remarked, setting to work.

He was very deft with his penknife, and in a few minutes had carved S.

P. M. and A. S. G., encircling the initials by a ring and two hearts interlaced.