The Pioneers

by Katharine Susannah Prichard

  CHAPTER XI

  At school next morning Jessie Ross ran up to Davey, her fair plaitsflying.

  "I'm to go home with you after school, Davey Cameron," she criedeagerly. "My mother wants your mother to give her the recipe for makingcough-mixture out of gum leaves."

  "All right," said Davey.

  It was a very dismal morning in the school-room. The Schoolmaster's facewas dark with displeasure, and it was a very sullen, drooping Deirdrewho took her seat beside Davey.

  "After school I'm going to drive over to see your mother, Davey," Mr.Farrel said. "I must ask her pardon for what happened last night. I amgrieved and ashamed beyond measure that Deirdre--"

  His look of reproach went into Deirdre's heart. With a wailing cry sheburst into tears again.

  Davey, after his first glance at her, kept his eyes on his book; hetried not to see her, or hear her sobbing beside him. His heart was hotagainst Mr. Farrel. For, after all, it was because she loved theSchoolmaster so much and could not bear to be separated from him thatDeirdre was crying like this, he told himself. It was hard that Mr.Farrel should be angry with her as well as everybody else when she hadmade everybody angry with her on his account.

  But the sight of Deirdre's grief was more than the Schoolmaster couldbear either. He lifted her out of her seat and carried her off to thefar end of the room. He sat there with her on his knee talking to herfor awhile. Once Davey glanced in their direction; but he looked awayquickly. He had seen tears on the Schoolmaster's lean, swarthy cheeksand Deirdre's face lifted to his with a penitent radiance, and tear-weteyes, shining. The joy of being folded into his love again had banishedthe desolation and bleak misery from her face.

  When school was out, Jess clambered into the spring-cart Davey had cometo school in that day, and perched herself on the high seat.

  The Schoolmaster and Deirdre followed them along the road a littlelater.

  Lass went without any flicking with a switch, or mirthful goading ofhard young heels that afternoon. Davey brooded over the tragedy ofDeirdre's having to become domesticated, and of her love for her fatherthat made it unendurable for her to be away from him even for a night.Since he had forgiven her and they had come to an understanding, she hadeyes for nobody else. Her eyes had followed him all the afternoon, stillswimming with tears, an adoring light in them. Davey's young maleinstinct was piqued. He had had no existence for her; yet he had alwaysbeen her play-mate, and felt for her more than anybody else--even theSchoolmaster, he was sure.

  Jess jolted up and down contentedly on the seat beside him. The ends ofher little fair pig-tails flipped his arm. She chatted gaily.

  "I like you better than any of the other boys at school, Davey," shesaid with innocent candour. "I think you're the nicest boy, and I'llmarry you when I grow up. Mother says you kissed me once when I wasquite a little girl. And boys only kiss girls who are their sweethearts,don't they, Davey?"

  "No. I don't know," Davey muttered.

  Jessie Ross was a fair, tidy-looking little girl, with home-madestockings and black boots on her dangling feet. Her round little facenever freckled, nor got sunburnt, though she only wore a hat or bonnetin the summer time. Her skin was prettily coloured and her grey-blueeyes smiled up at him easily.

  It pleased Davey to think that she thought he was "the nicest boy." Hesmiled sheepishly. It was good to think that somebody liked him. Helooked round to see how far behind the Schoolmaster and Deirdre were.They were not very far. He saw Deirdre leaning happily against herfather, although in her hand--Davey's eyes lighted--was the red bundle.

  He clucked and whistled to Lass.

  "Gee-up! Gee-up, old Lazybones!" he called cheerily.

  Jess chirruped after him:

  "Gee-up! Gee-up, old Lazybones!"

  "You don't like Deirdre better than me, do you, Davey?" she asked.

  "No," said Davey in his newly-won good humour and sore at Deirdre'sindifference to his attempts to attract her attention all day.

  "The Schoolmaster means she's to stay with us anyway," he thought.

  Jess sighed.

  "Then if you like me, you can kiss me again, Davey," she said.

  "Eh?"

  Davey looked scared.

  "Well, then, I'll kiss you," Jess said gaily and forth with did.

  Davey felt himself grow hot and red.

  Jess laughed delightedly.

  "Oh you look so funny, Davey!" she cried. "Mick doesn't look like thatwhen I kiss him."

  Jess was only a kid, Davey told himself, and because she had brothersand kissed them, thought she could kiss other boys. Yet her gay littlepeck at his cheek had not displeased him. He wondered whether Deirdreand the Schoolmaster had seen it.

  Davey got out of the cart to swing open the long gate. He left it openfor the Schoolmaster. Mrs. Cameron came into the yard.

  Jess jumped out of the cart and ran to her.

  "Mother says, Mrs. Cameron dear," she cried, "would you please give herthe recipe for making cough-mixture with gum leaves. And she sends herlove and hopes you are well--as she is--and our black cow has a calf,and I found thirteen eggs in a nest in the creek paddock, and Mickkilled a snake, five-foot long, under the verandah on Sunday."

  Mrs. Cameron smiled and kissed her. Jess snuggled affectionately againsther.

  "The Schoolmaster's bringing Deirdre," Davey said.

  Mrs. Cameron's eyes flew along the track to the other cart that wascoming slowly up the hillside.

  Davey took charge of the Schoolmaster's horse. Mrs. Cameron and he andthe children went indoors.

  "I've come to apologise, Mrs. Cameron, for Deirdre's rudeness lastnight," the Schoolmaster said gravely. "It was very good of you to saythat you would teach her what I so much want her to know. I hope thatyou will forgive her and--"

  His voice trembled.

  "Deirdre, you've got something to say to Mrs. Cameron yourself, haven'tyou?"

  "I'm sorry!" Deirdre cried, with a dry, breathless gasp.

  Her face had whitened; the misery had come into her eyes again. Theywent appealingly to the Schoolmaster and back to Mrs. Cameron's face.

  "Will you--forgive me and teach me to cook and sew and be a goodhousewife," she sobbed, as if she were repeating a lesson.

  "Poor child!"

  Mrs. Cameron's compassionate gaze turned from Deirdre to theSchoolmaster.

  "Do you really think you ought to?" she asked.

  "So help me God, ma'am," he said, struggling with his emotion. "This isthe only chance I've got of making a decent woman of her--yourinfluence--if you will use it. I don't want her to be a hoyden always.She must be gentled and tamed, and if you will be as good as to helpme--"

  He stopped abruptly.

  "You will forgive me. Good-day," he said, and went out of the room.

  Deirdre made a quick, passionate gesture after him. She did not callhim, but a sob broke as she stood staring after him. She ran into thegarden to watch the cart with him in it go down the hillside and slipout of sight among the trees; then she threw herself on the grass andsobbed broken-heartedly.

  Davey moved to go out to her.

  "Leave her alone," his mother said gently, "it's best to let her getover it by herself, Davey."

  Jess flew backwards and forwards helping to set the table. She delightedin making herself useful.

  "Oh, Mrs. Cameron, what a funny salt-cellar," she cried. "We've got twoblue ones and a big new lamp mother got at the Port!"

  Mrs. Cameron looked from the tear-stained, grief-torn face ofthe Schoolmaster's little daughter to the plump, rosy-cheeked,happily-smiling child of her nearest and most prosperous neighbour, andsighed. When the tea was made, she and the children sat round the tablefor their meal.

  Donald Cameron was away and not expected home for a day or two.

  Deirdre tried to eat when she was told to, but her lips quivered. Shechoked over the mouthfuls of food she swallowed. Mrs. Cameron put herarms round her; but Deirdre stiffened against their gentle pressure. Shewould not be co
mforted. Davey stared at her miserably.

  Only Jess chattered on artlessly, taking no notice of her, eating allher bread and butter, and drinking her milk and water, saying her graceand asking to be excused from the table when she had finished hermeal--as though she were demonstrating generally how a nice,well-mannered child ought to behave. She had the other bed in the roomin which Deirdre had been put to sleep the night before.

  Mrs. Cameron kissed them both good-night.

  Jess responded eagerly to her caress. She threw her arms round Mrs.Cameron's neck and rubbed her soft little face against hers, purringaffectionately.

  "I do love you, Mrs. Cameron, dear," she whispered. "Good-night."

  Deirdre submitted to the good-night kiss; she did not respond to it. OfDavey she took no notice when she went to the little room she and Jesswere to sleep in. Jess held up her face for him to kiss as Mrs. Cameronhad done, but he turned away brusquely, as if he did not see it, and sheran off crying gaily:

  "Good-night, Davey Jones, And sweet sleep rest your bones."

  Jess undressed methodically. As she took off each garment she folded itand laid it neatly on the chair beside her bed. When she had on herlittle night-gown of unbleached calico, she brushed her hair and plaitedit again so that it hung in two braids on either side of her face. Thenshe knelt down by her bedside, folded her hands together, and prayedaloud.

  She got into bed and looked at Deirdre across the patchwork quilt,conscious of having performed her whole duty for the day.

  "Aren't you sorry you're such a bad, naughty, wicked, little girl?" sheasked.

  Deirdre's sobs were her only answer.

  "God doesn't love you, and I don't, and Mrs. Cameron and Davey don'tlove you either. Nobody loves bad, wicked, naughty little girls," Jesssaid solemnly.

  She put her head on the pillow and was sleeping, sweetly, peacefully, ina few minutes.

  Deirdre crept to the open window. She gazed out of it at the dark heaveof the forest that cut her off from the being she loved and the hut inthe clearing behind the school. The blue night sky that spread over herwas spread over the hut in the clearing and the school too, she knew.They were not many miles away, the hut, the clearing, and the school.From gazing steadily before her and realising that fact, she glancedfrom the window to the ground. It was such a little distance.

  Davey, going to bed in a loft in the barn saw her standing at thewindow, and watched her, a troubled pain at her suffering gripping hisheart.

  When she dropped from the window into the garden he was beside her in aninstant. He caught her sobbing breath as he touched her.

  "You're not going home, Deirdre?" he asked.

  "Yes!" she panted, her eyes wide and dark with anguish. "I can't bearit, Davey. I can't breathe."

  "He'll be angry," Davey said.

  "Yes." She cried and sobbed quietly for a moment. "But I'd rather he'dbe angry than send me away from him."

  "It'll be morning soon. If you walked you wouldn't be home any earlierthan if you waited for us to go to school," Davey said, with raresubtlety. "The Schoolmaster won't be angry if you wait till then,Deirdre, and--" A brilliant inspiration came to him. "I'll bring Lass inan hour earlier and we can start then."

  "True, Davey?"

  Her eyes questioned him tragically.

  "True as death!" he said, and struck his breast three times.

  She turned to go back to the bedroom.

  "I'm sorry--that sorry, Deirdre," he cried, fumbling for words, andunable to express his sympathy.

  She did not turn or look back at him as she clambered in the window; buther face in the morning showed that she understood his championship. Sheturned to him eagerly when she saw him at breakfast, a subdued gratitudein her eyes. Davey thought that she had at last recognised in him afriend to whom she could turn when everybody's hand was against her.