by Henry Lawson
IV. The Buggy Comes Home.
I 'whipped the cat' a bit, the first twenty miles or so, but then, Ithought, what did it matter? What was the use of grinding to save moneyuntil we were too old to enjoy it. If we had to go down in the worldagain, we might as well fall out of a buggy as out of a dray--there'd besome talk about it, anyway, and perhaps a little sympathy. When Mary hadthe buggy she wouldn't be tied down so much to that wretched hole in theBush; and the Sydney trips needn't be off either. I could drive down toWallerawang on the main line, where Mary had some people, and leave thebuggy and horses there, and take the train to Sydney; or go right on, bythe old coach-road, over the Blue Mountains: it would be a grand drive.I thought best to tell Mary's sister at Gulgong about the buggy; I toldher I'd keep it dark from Mary till the buggy came home. She enteredinto the spirit of the thing, and said she'd give the world to be ableto go out with the buggy, if only to see Mary open her eyes when she sawit; but she couldn't go, on account of a new baby she had. I was ratherglad she couldn't, for it would spoil the surprise a little, I thought.I wanted that all to myself.
I got home about sunset next day, and, after tea, when I'd finishedtelling Mary all the news, and a few lies as to why I didn't bring thecart back, and one or two other things, I sat with James, out on a logof the wood-heap, where we generally had our smokes and interviews, andtold him all about the buggy. He whistled, then he said--
'But what do you want to make it such a Bushranging business for?Why can't you tell Mary now? It will cheer her up. She's been prettymiserable since you've been away this trip.'
'I want it to be a surprise,' I said.
'Well, I've got nothing to say against a surprise, out in a hole likethis; but it 'ud take a lot to surprise me. What am I to say to Maryabout taking the two horses in? I'll only want one to bring the cartout, and she's sure to ask.'
'Tell her you're going to get yours shod.'
'But he had a set of slippers only the other day. She knows as muchabout horses as we do. I don't mind telling a lie so long as a chap hasonly got to tell a straight lie and be done with it. But Mary asks somany questions.'
'Well, drive the other horse up the creek early, and pick him up as yougo.'
'Yes. And she'll want to know what I want with two bridles. But I'll fixher--YOU needn't worry.'
'And, James,' I said, 'get a chamois leather and sponge--we'll want 'emanyway--and you might give the buggy a wash down in the creek, cominghome. It's sure to be covered with dust.'
'Oh!--orlright.'
'And if you can, time yourself to get here in the cool of the evening,or just about sunset.'
'What for?'
I'd thought it would be better to have the buggy there in the coolof the evening, when Mary would have time to get excited and get overit--better than in the blazing hot morning, when the sun rose as hot asat noon, and we'd have the long broiling day before us.
'What do you want me to come at sunset for?' asked James. 'Do you wantme to camp out in the scrub and turn up like a blooming sundowner?'
'Oh well,' I said, 'get here at midnight if you like.'
We didn't say anything for a while--just sat and puffed at our pipes.Then I said,--
'Well, what are you thinking about?'
I'm thinking it's time you got a new hat, the sun seems to get inthrough your old one too much,' and he got out of my reach and went tosee about penning the calves. Before we turned in he said,--
'Well, what am I to get out of the job, Joe?'
He had his eye on a double-barrel gun that Franca the gunsmith inCudgeegong had--one barrel shot, and the other rifle; so I said,--
'How much does Franca want for that gun?'
'Five-ten; but I think he'd take my single barrel off it. Anyway, I cansqueeze a couple of quid out of Phil Lambert for the single barrel.'(Phil was his bosom chum.)
'All right,' I said. 'Make the best bargain you can.'
He got his own breakfast and made an early start next morning, to getclear of any instructions or messages that Mary might have forgotten togive him overnight. He took his gun with him.
I'd always thought that a man was a fool who couldn't keep a secretfrom his wife--that there was something womanish about him. I found out.Those three days waiting for the buggy were about the longest I everspent in my life. It made me scotty with every one and everything;and poor Mary had to suffer for it. I put in the time patching up theharness and mending the stockyard and the roof, and, the third morning,I rode up the ridges to look for trees for fencing-timber. I remember Ihurried home that afternoon because I thought the buggy might get therebefore me.
At tea-time I got Mary on to the buggy business.
'What's the good of a single buggy to you, Mary?' I asked. 'There's onlyroom for two, and what are you going to do with the children when we goout together?'
'We can put them on the floor at our feet, like other people do. I canalways fold up a blanket or 'possum rug for them to sit on.'
But she didn't take half so much interest in buggy talk as she wouldhave taken at any other time, when I didn't want her to. Women areaggravating that way. But the poor girl was tired and not very well, andboth the children were cross. She did look knocked up.
'We'll give the buggy a rest, Joe,' she said. (I thought I heard itcoming then.) 'It seems as far off as ever. I don't know why you want toharp on it to-day. Now, don't look so cross, Joe--I didn't mean to hurtyou. We'll wait until we can get a double buggy, since you're so set onit. There'll be plenty of time when we're better off.'
After tea, when the youngsters were in bed, and she'd washed up, we satoutside on the edge of the verandah floor, Mary sewing, and I smokingand watching the track up the creek.
'Why don't you talk, Joe?' asked Mary. 'You scarcely ever speak to menow: it's like drawing blood out of a stone to get a word from you. Whatmakes you so cross, Joe?'
'Well, I've got nothing to say.'
'But you should find something. Think of me--it's very miserable for me.Have you anything on your mind? Is there any new trouble? Better tellme, no matter what it is, and not go worrying and brooding and makingboth our lives miserable. If you never tell one anything, how can youexpect me to understand?'
I said there was nothing the matter.
'But there must be, to make you so unbearable. Have you been drinking,Joe--or gambling?'
I asked her what she'd accuse me of next.
'And another thing I want to speak to you about,' she went on. 'Now,don't knit up your forehead like that, Joe, and get impatient----'
'Well, what is it?'
'I wish you wouldn't swear in the hearing of the children. Now, littleJim to-day, he was trying to fix his little go-cart and it wouldn't runright, and--and----'
'Well, what did he say?'
'He--he' (she seemed a little hysterical, trying not to laugh)--'he said"damn it!"'
I had to laugh. Mary tried to keep serious, but it was no use.
'Never mind, old woman,' I said, putting an arm round her, for hermouth was trembling, and she was crying more than laughing. 'It won't bealways like this. Just wait till we're a bit better off.'
Just then a black boy we had (I must tell you about him some other time)came sidling along by the wall, as if he were afraid somebody was goingto hit him--poor little devil! I never did.
'What is it, Harry?' said Mary.
'Buggy comin', I bin thinkit.'
'Where?'
He pointed up the creek.
'Sure it's a buggy?'
'Yes, missus.'
'How many horses?'
'One--two.'
We knew that he could hear and see things long before we could. Marywent and perched on the wood-heap, and shaded her eyes--though the sunhad gone--and peered through between the eternal grey trunks of thestunted trees on the flat across the creek. Presently she jumped downand came running in.
'There's some one coming in a buggy, Joe!' she cried, excitedly. 'Andboth my white table-cloths are rough dry. Harry! pu
t two flat-irons downto the fire, quick, and put on some more wood. It's lucky I kept thosenew sheets packed away. Get up out of that, Joe! What are you sittinggrinning like that for? Go and get on another shirt. Hurry--Why! It'sonly James--by himself.'
She stared at me, and I sat there, grinning like a fool.
'Joe!' she said, 'whose buggy is that?'
'Well, I suppose it's yours,' I said.
She caught her breath, and stared at the buggy and then at me again.James drove down out of sight into the crossing, and came up close tothe house.
'Oh, Joe! what have you done?' cried Mary. 'Why, it's a new doublebuggy!' Then she rushed at me and hugged my head. 'Why didn't you tellme, Joe? You poor old boy!--and I've been nagging at you all day!' andshe hugged me again.
James got down and started taking the horses out--as if it was aneveryday occurrence. I saw the double-barrel gun sticking out from underthe seat. He'd stopped to wash the buggy, and I suppose that's what madehim grumpy. Mary stood on the verandah, with her eyes twice as big asusual, and breathing hard--taking the buggy in.
James skimmed the harness off, and the horses shook themselves andwent down to the dam for a drink. 'You'd better look under the seats,'growled James, as he took his gun out with great care.
Mary dived for the buggy. There was a dozen of lemonade and ginger-beerin a candle-box from Galletly--James said that Galletly's men had agallon of beer, and they cheered him, James (I suppose he meant theycheered the buggy), as he drove off; there was a 'little bit of aham' from Pat Murphy, the storekeeper at Home Rule, that he'd 'curedhimself'--it was the biggest I ever saw; there were three loaves ofbaker's bread, a cake, and a dozen yards of something 'to make up forthe children', from Aunt Gertrude at Gulgong; there was a fresh-watercod, that long Dave Regan had caught the night before in the Macquarieriver, and sent out packed in salt in a box; there was a holland suitfor the black boy, with red braid to trim it; and there was a jar ofpreserved ginger, and some lollies (sweets) ('for the lil' boy'), anda rum-looking Chinese doll and a rattle ('for lil' girl') from Sun TongLee, our storekeeper at Gulgong--James was chummy with Sun Tong Lee,and got his powder and shot and caps there on tick when he was short ofmoney. And James said that the people would have loaded the buggy with'rubbish' if he'd waited. They all seemed glad to see Joe Wilson gettingon--and these things did me good.
We got the things inside, and I don't think either of us knew what wewere saying or doing for the next half-hour. Then James put his head inand said, in a very injured tone,--
'What about my tea? I ain't had anything to speak of since I leftCudgeegong. I want some grub.'
Then Mary pulled herself together.
'You'll have your tea directly,' she said. 'Pick up that harness atonce, and hang it on the pegs in the skillion; and you, Joe, backthat buggy under the end of the verandah, the dew will be on itpresently--and we'll put wet bags up in front of it to-morrow, tokeep the sun off. And James will have to go back to Cudgeegong for thecart,--we can't have that buggy to knock about in.'
'All right,' said James--'anything! Only get me some grub.'
Mary fried the fish, in case it wouldn't keep till the morning, andrubbed over the tablecloths, now the irons were hot--James growlingall the time--and got out some crockery she had packed away that hadbelonged to her mother, and set the table in a style that made Jamesuncomfortable.
'I want some grub--not a blooming banquet!' he said. And he growled alot because Mary wanted him to eat his fish without a knife, 'and thatsort of Tommy-rot.' When he'd finished he took his gun, and the blackboy, and the dogs, and went out 'possum-shooting.
When we were alone Mary climbed into the buggy to try the seat, andmade me get up alongside her. We hadn't had such a comfortable seat foryears; but we soon got down, in case any one came by, for we began tofeel like a pair of fools up there.
Then we sat, side by side, on the edge of the verandah, and talkedmore than we'd done for years--and there was a good deal of 'Do youremember?' in it--and I think we got to understand each other betterthat night.
And at last Mary said, 'Do you know, Joe, why, I feel to-nightjust--just like I did the day we were married.'
And somehow I had that strange, shy sort of feeling too.