Mates at Billabong

by Mary Grant Bruce

  CHAPTER X

  CHRISTMAS

  O mellow air! O sunny light! O Hope and Youth that pass away, Print thou in letters of delight Upon each heart one glorious day! G. ESSEX EVANS.

  Norah woke up early.

  Close outside her open windows a magpie in the magnolia tree wascarolling as though he knew it was a special morning, and that he had aspecial message to deliver. The linen blinds were rolled tight up, andshe could see him near one of the great creamy blossoms, each bigenough for his bath; his black and white coat very spruce and smart,his head thrown back in utter enjoyment of his own song. Norah smiledat him sleepily from her pillow.

  "Nice old chap!" she said; and then she remembered.

  "Oh!--Christmas." She gave a little happy laugh, for to-day was going tobe such a very good day. There was something that had taxed all herpatience; it was so hard to keep the secret until Christmas. Norah wasnot a very patient person by nature, and she was glad that the need forit was almost over.

  She turned over lazily, and then burst out laughing as something caughther eye at the foot of the bed--a huge football stocking, assumingextraordinary shapes by reason of strange packages within it, whilefrom the top a monkey on a stick grinned at her. Norah jumped up andbrought the stocking back to bed for examination, weak with laughterwhen she had finished. A big box of chocolates; a scarlet Christmascracker; a very flowery mug of thickest china, with "Love the Giver" onit, and tied to the handle a label with "For a Good Little Girl" in thebest handwriting of Wally, who evidently considered it not sufficientlyadorned by nature; a live frog in a glass-covered box; a huge bundle,which took her many minutes to unwrap, and was finally found to containa tiny pig of Connemara marble; a Christmas pudding the size of a golfball; and finally, in the very toe, a minute bottle labelled "CastorOil; Seasonable at Any Time."

  "Oh, you NICE donkeys!" said the recipient of these varied gifts, lyingback and investigating the chocolates. A sound at the window made herlook up, and Jim's laughing face peeped round the curtain.

  "Like 'em?"

  "They're lovely," said Norah, fervently. "Come in, Jimmy, you oldduffer. Merry Christmas!"

  Jim came in, immensely tall and lean in his pyjamas, and sat down onthe bed.

  "Merry Christmas, old kid!" he said, and kissed her. "Taken your oil?"

  "Pudding first--and chocolates," said Norah, solemnly, indicating thebox. "Take lots, Jim, they're beauties. How did you get that thing intomy room?"

  "Waited until I could hear your cheerful snores, and then sneaked in bythe window," said her brother, dodging a chocolate. "My best stocking;I think I was jolly good to lend it to you--you'll kindly notice thatthe frog's box tore a hole in it, and take steps accordingly! It's aripping morning--but it's going to be hot. Do you know what time it is?"

  "I don't," said Norah.

  "Five o'clock," said Jim; "isn't it ridiculous!--and you wide awake andplaying with pigs and frogs! I'm off to bed again for a bit--besides,young Wally's bursting to know how you liked your sock. Go to sleepagain, old chap."

  "I'll try," said Norah, obediently, snuggling down, "Take somechocolates to Wally--and the castor oil!"

  At the moment Norah was quite convinced that sleep was the last thingpossible for her, and merely laid down to please Jim, just as she wouldcheerfully have endeavoured to jump over the moon had he expressed anywish in that direction. Thus she was considerably surprised on wakingup two hours later to hear the dressing gong pealing through the house.Further off came the cheerful voices of Jim and Wally on their way tothe lagoon. Cecil preferred the bath in the house, saying that heconsidered it cleaner, which remark had incensed Norah at the time. Butthey were learning not to worry about Cecil's remarks, but to regardhim with a kind of mild toleration, as one who "could not help it."

  Norah tore in haste to the bath, and returning made a speedy toilet;breakfast was to be half an hour later than usual, but still there wasmuch to do. Her gifts to the men's quarters had gone over the nightbefore, in charge of Mrs. Willis; still there were parcels for thegirls in the house, together with the envelopes containing cheques forthem, which Mr. Linton always gave into Norah's care, and of courseBrownie's gifts, besides the nearer and dearer excitement of thebreakfast table. To the latter she attended first, scattering parcelsat each plate before any one else arrived on the scene. Then she racedoff, just escaping in the hall Jim, who immediately put his handsbehind him and began to whistle with great carelessness. Jim was a manof tact.

  Mrs. Brown, narrowly watching some fried potatoes, heard flyingfootsteps, and turned to receive Norah bodily.

  "Merry Christmas, Brownie, dear!" said the breathless one. She hungover the stout shoulders a tiny shawl of softest white wool.

  "It's only a shawl-let," Norah explained, "just for when you feel thesummer evenings get cool, you know."

  "An' you made it, my precious!"

  "Why, of course," said Norah, lifting her brows; "do you think I'd buyit, when you taught me to knit? Ah, Brownie, I'm having such a goodtime!"

  "Look at me!" said Mrs. Brown, sitting down in rapture, and forgettingher frying pan entirely. "This lovely shawl--an' your Pa's cheque--andhere's even Master Wally brung me down a cap, an' Master Jim--don't 'ealways think!--a frame with the photer 'e took of you an' your Pa, an'it's sollud silver, no less, if you'll believe me, an' then it's nonetoo good for the photer, but the dear lamb knew wot I'd like more thananything on earth! Of all the loving--kindest children--" At this pointBrownie's feelings overcame her, and she sniffed and, inhaling a threatof burnt potato, rushed to conceal her emotions over the stove.

  Sarah and Mary felt delighted with the pretty collars Mrs. Stephensonhad chosen for Norah in Melbourne; the daughter of the houseencountered Jim returning from the back regions, with a broad smile onhis brown face. Jim's invariable gift to Lee Wing was a felt hat, andas the Celestial still wore the one first given, eight Christmasesbefore, it was popularly supposed that the intermediate half-dozen wentto support his starving relatives in China! Lee Wing had nevermentioned the existence of any starving relatives, but Wally said itwas well known that all Chinese gardeners had them--speaking, as Norahremarked, as though it was a new complaint, like measles or mumps!

  "You didn't give Wing another hat, Jim?" queried his sister.

  "I did, though," returned Jim, firmly. "Asked him at midwinter whathe'd have, and he grinned and said, 'Allee same hat!' So he got it--alovely green one!"

  "Jim!--not green! For Lee Wing!"

  "There weren't any other colours left," said Jim; "next year it wouldhave had to be pale blue! He took it with a heavenly smile, and lookedat it all over inside and out; then he looked down at his feet, and Ibeheld his toe sticking out of his boot. He didn't say 'Thank you' atall. What he did say was 'Nex'-Clis'mas-socks,' all in one word, andyou couldn't have widened his smile without shifting his ears furtherback!"

  "Merry Christmas, Norah, asthore!" said a cheerful voice, and Norahturned to greet Wally. So Wally had to hear the story of Lee Wing allover again, and they were laughing over it when Mr. Linton came out onthe verandah, pausing in the doorway a moment to look at the slenderfigure in the blue frock, with white collar and tie, and the tall ladsin white flannels beside her.

  Three greetings flashed at him simultaneously as he came into view.

  "Merry Christmas, every one!" he said, one hand on his small daughter'sshoulder. "Going to be a hot Christmas, too, I believe. Where's Cecil?"

  "Coming," said that gentleman, exchanging good wishes with a languidair. "Sorry to be late, but I couldn't open the bathroom door."

  Wally started.

  "Good gracious, was it you in there?" he asked anxiously. "I thought itwas Norah--and we wanted her out of the way at the moment, so Ibarricaded the door! Then I saw her afterwards, so I reckoned she'd gotout all right, and I never bothered to take down the barricade. I'mawfully sorry!"

  Every one laughed but Cecil, who saw nothing humorous in having beenobliged to climb through the ba
throom window, and said so with point.

  "I'm a fearful ass, truly," said Wally, with contrition. "Norah, you'veno need to laugh like a hyena--you ought to have been there, if youweren't!"

  "That's why I laugh," Norah explained kindly. "Never mind, it'sChristmas--and there's breakfast!"

  It was the gong, but not breakfast. Mrs. Brown knew better than to sendin the porridge with the gong on Christmas morning. Instead, the tablewas heaped with parcels, a goodly pile by every plate.

  "What an abominable litter!" said Mr. Linton, affecting displeasure."Norah, kindly oblige me by getting those things out of your way. Howare you going to eat breakfast?"

  "You're as bad as I am, Daddy!"

  "Dear me!" said her father. "I seem to be. Well, yours is decidedly themost untidy, so you had better begin."

  They watched the eager face as Norah turned to her bundles. Books fromCecil and his mother; warm slippers made by Brownie; a halterexquisitely plaited from finest strips of hide by Murty O'Toole, thesight of which brought the whole gathering to Norah's side; from Wallya quaint little bronze inkstand, and from Jim the daintiest horse rugthat Melbourne could produce, made to fit Bobs, with a big scarlet B inone corner, and Norah's monogram in the other. "Not that he needs itjust now," Jim explained, as Norah hugged him--"but a store's no sore,as Brownie'd say!" Last, a tiny velvet case, which concealed a brooch--athin bar of gold with one beautiful pearl. Norah did not need the slipof paper under it to know it came from Dad.

  Then things became merry, and even Cecil warmed at the gifts on hisplate, while the boys were exclaiming in delight over Norah's knitting,and Wally was shaking hands with Mr. Linton and lookinghalf-shamefacedly at the plain gold sleeve links from him and thesilver watch chain from Jim; and Mr. Linton's face was alight withpleasure at the waistcoat Norah had made for him, and the little oakbookshelf for his bedside that was the work of Jim's spare hours.Finally all the bundles were unwrapped, and there was a lull, thoughNorah's eyes were still dancing, and she exchanged glances with herfather.

  Jim spoke.

  "There's a string under my plate," said he, faintly puzzled. "At least,there's one end."

  "Strings always have two ends," said Wally, wisely. "Where's theother?"

  "I'm blessed if I know," said Jim. "It goes down to the floor."

  Wally came round, investigating.

  "Seems to me it goes out of the window," he said. "Guess you'd betterfollow it, Jimmy."

  Jim looked round, a little doubtful. Then he saw Norah's face, and knewthat there was something he did not understand. He laughed a little.

  "Some one pulling my leg?" he asked, good-humouredly. "Oh, well, I'llchase it."

  The string went somewhere--that was evident. Outside it was at theheight of Jim's hand, and ran along the wall, so that it was easy tofollow. They trooped after him as he went along, Norah completelyunable to walk steadily, but progressing principally on one foot, whileDavid Linton's eyes were twinkling. The chase was not a long one; thestring suddenly cut across to the door in the high fence dividing thefront and back gardens, and there disappeared.

  "What next?" said Jim.

  "If it was me," said Wally, with a fine disregard of grammar, "I shouldopen the door."

  "Good for you, Wally," grinned Jim. "Here goes!" He flung the dooropen, and then stood as if rooted to the spot.

  The string went on. It ended, however, just through the door, where itsend was spliced to a halter, held by black Billy, whose smile disclosedevery tooth in his head. Fidgeting in the halter was a big bay horse,showing all Monarch's quality, and all his good looks; a show ringhorse, picked by a keen judge, and built for speed as well as strength.He looked at Jim with a kind eye, set well in his beautiful head. Therewas no flaw in him; from his heels to his fine, straight forelock hewas perfection.

  Jim had no words. He did not need to be told anything--Norah's face hadbeen enough; but he could not speak. He took refuge with the big bay,moving forward and putting out a hand, to which the horse respondedinstantly, rubbing his head against him in friendly fashion. Then,across the arched neck, Jim's eyes met his father's, and the colourflooded into his brown face.

  "Well, old son--will he do?"

  "Do!" said Jim, weakly. "Dad!--by Jove, I--I--" He stopped helplessly;then his hand went out and took his father's in a grip that made DavidLinton realize that this big son of his was nearly a man.

  "Oh, Jimmy, I'm so glad--and isn't he lovely?"

  "Why, he's perfect," Jim said, stepping back and running his eye overhis Christmas box. "My word, Dad, he'll jump!"

  "Yes, he'll jump all right," said David Linton. "Gallop, too, I shouldsay."

  "Plenty!" said Billy, with unexpected emphasis, whereat every onelaughed.

  "Billy and Norah have had this little joke plotted for some time," Mr.Linton said--"and the experiences they have undergone in keeping stringsand steed out of your way this morning have, I believe, whitened thehair of both!"

  Jim looked gratefully round.

  "You're all bricks," he said. "Has he got a name, Dad?"

  "'A tearin' foine wan,' Murty says," responded his father; "since it'sIrish: Garryowen, unless you'd like to change it."

  "Not me!" said Jim. "I like it." He looked round as the sound of thegong came across the garden. "I say, don't mind me," he said--"go intobreakfast. I don't want any this morning." His eye went back to thebay.

  "Rubbish!" said his father--"he'll be alive after breakfast! Comealong," and reluctantly Jim saw Billy lead his horse away to thestable. He discovered, however, on reaching the breakfast room, that hewas remarkably hungry, and distinguished himself greatly with his knifeand fork.

  Afterwards it was necessary to try the bay's paces without delay, andthey all watched Jim take him round the home paddock. Garryowen movedbeautifully; and when Jim finally put him at the highest part of theold log fence, and brought him back again, he flew it with a foot tospare. The boy's face was aglow as he rode up.

  "Well, he's perfect!" he said. "I never was on such a horse." He cameclose to his father. "Dad," he said in a low tone--"are you sure youwouldn't like him instead of Monarch? He's far more finished."

  "Not for anything, thanks, old chap--I prefer my pupil," said hisfather, his look answering more than his words. "You see he never buckswith me, Jim!"

  Jim laughed, dismounting. "Like to try him, Cecil?"

  "Thanks," said Cecil, scrambling up and setting off down the paddock,while Jim watched him and writhed to think of possible damage to hishorse's back and mouth. Billy, who was near, said reflectively, "Plentybump!" and Murty O'Toole roundly rebuked Jim for "puttin' up an insultlike that on a good horse!" They breathed more freely when Cecil cameback, albeit the way in which he sawed at the bay's mouth wascalculated to strike woe to the heart of any owner. Then Wally triedGarryowen, and finally Norah, having flown to the house for a ridingskirt, had a ride also, and sailed over the log fence in a manner fullyequal to Jim's. She came back charged with high compliment.

  "He's nearly as good as Bobs, Jim!"

  "Bobs!" said Jim, loftily. "We don't compare ponies with horses, mychild!"

  "Then he's not to be compared with Bobs!" Norah retorted sturdily, and,the laugh being on her side, retired quickly to dress for dinner.

  Dinner was typical of Billabong, and an Australian Christmas--one withthe thermometer striving to reach the hundred mark. Everything wascold, from the mammoth turkey, with which Mr. Linton wrestled, to theiced peaches that topped off what the boys declared "a corking feed."There was plum pudding, certainly, but it was cold, too. Wally found inhis piece no fewer than four buttons; and, deeply aggrieved, wentafterwards to remonstrate with Mrs. Brown, who was amazed, declaringshe had put in but one, which to her certain knowledge had fallen tothe unhappy lot of Sarah. Further inquiries revealed the fact that Jimhad come to the table well supplied with buttons, with which he hadcontrived to enrich Wally's portion as it travelled past him--which ledto a battle on the lawn, until both combatants, too well fed and we
akwith mirth to fight, collapsed, and slept peacefully under a pine tree.

  Later on the horses were saddled, and every one rode out to the river,where Brownie and the maids had already been driven by Fred Anderson,and where they picnicked for tea. Afterwards they lay on the softgrass, with the water murmuring past them, and Mr. Linton told themstories--for Christmas was ever, and will ever be, the time for stories.Simple, straightforward tales, like the man himself: old Christmasesoverseas, and others in many parts of Australia--some that brought asadder note into the speaker's voice, and made Norah draw herself alongthe grass until she came within touch of his hand. Words were neverreally needed between them--being mates.

  So they stayed until the golden western sky had grown rose colour, andthe rose glow faded into night, that brought with it a little coolbreeze. Then the horses were saddled, and they rode home by the longestpossible way, singing every imaginable chorus, from Good Old Jeff tothe latest medley of pantomime ditties, and ending with a wild scurryacross the paddock home. They all trooped into the house, waking itsquietness to youth and laughter.

  But David Linton called to Norah.

  "Come on," he said, "we'll finish up with the real Christmas songs."

  So they all gathered round the piano while Norah played, and joined inthe old Christmas hymns and carols--none the less hearty in that theysang of frost and snow with all around them the yellowing plain, driedup by the scorching sun, and, beyond that, the unbroken line of thelittle trodden Bush. The young voices rang out cheerily, David Lintonlistening in his armchair, his hand over his eyes.

  Norah was in bed when her father looked in, in passing, to saygood-night. She put up her face to him sleepily.

  "It's been a beautiful Christmas, Daddy dear!" she said.