`How the oaks are sighing to-night,Joe!'
Next morning I rode across to Wall's station and tackled the old man;but he was a hard man,and wouldn't listen to me --in fact,he ordered me off the station.I was a selector,and that was enough for him.
But young Billy Wall rode after me.
`Look here,Joe!'he said,`it's a blanky shame.All for the sake of a horse!
And as if that poor devil of a woman hasn't got enough to put up with already!
I wouldn't do it for twenty horses.I'LL tackle the boss,and if he won't listen to me,I'll walk off the run for the last time,if I have to carry my swag.'
Billy Wall managed it.The charge was withdrawn,and we got young Billy Spicer off up-country.
But poor Mrs Spicer was never the same after that.She seldom came up to our place unless Mary dragged her,so to speak;and then she would talk of nothing but her last trouble,till her visits were painful to look forward to.
`If it only could have been kep'quiet --for the sake of the other children;they are all I think of now.I tried to bring 'em all up decent,but I s'pose it was my fault,somehow.It's the disgrace that's killin'me --I can't bear it.'
I was at home one Sunday with Mary and a jolly Bush-girl named Maggie Charlsworth,who rode over sometimes from Wall's station (I must tell you about her some other time;James was `shook after her'),and we got talkin'about Mrs Spicer.Maggie was very warm about old Wall.
`I expected Mrs Spicer up to-day,'said Mary.`She seems better lately.'
`Why!'cried Maggie Charlsworth,`if that ain't Annie coming running up along the creek.Something's the matter!'
We all jumped up and ran out.
`What is it,Annie?'cried Mary.
`Oh,Mrs Wilson!Mother's asleep,and we can't wake her!'
`What?'
`It's --it's the truth,Mrs Wilson.'
`How long has she been asleep?'
`Since lars'night.'
`My God!'cried Mary,`SINCE LAST NIGHT?'
`No,Mrs Wilson,not all the time;she woke wonst,about daylight this mornin'.She called me and said she didn't feel well,and I'd have to manage the milkin'.'
`Was that all she said?'
`No.She said not to go for you;and she said to feed the pigs and calves;and she said to be sure and water them geraniums.'
Mary wanted to go,but I wouldn't let her.James and I saddled our horses and rode down the creek.
Mrs Spicer looked very little different from what she did when I last saw her alive.It was some time before we could believe that she was dead.But she was `past carin''right enough.
A Double Buggy at Lahey's Creek.
I.Spuds,and a Woman's Obstinacy.
Ever since we were married it had been Mary's great ambition to have a buggy.
The house or furniture didn't matter so much --out there in the Bush where we were --but,where there were no railways or coaches,and the roads were long,and mostly hot and dusty,a buggy was the great thing.
I had a few pounds when we were married,and was going to get one then;but new buggies went high,and another party got hold of a second-hand one that I'd had my eye on,so Mary thought it over and at last she said,`Never mind the buggy,Joe;get a sewing-machine and I'll be satisfied.
I'll want the machine more than the buggy,for a while.
Wait till we're better off.'
After that,whenever I took a contract --to put up a fence or wool-shed,or sink a dam or something --Mary would say,`You ought to knock a buggy out of this job,Joe;'but something always turned up --bad weather or sickness.Once I cut my foot with the adze and was laid up;and,another time,a dam I was making was washed away by a flood before I finished it.Then Mary would say,`Ah,well --never mind,Joe.
Wait till we are better off.'But she felt it hard the time I built a wool-shed and didn't get paid for it,for we'd as good as settled about another second-hand buggy then.
I always had a fancy for carpentering,and was handy with tools.
I made a spring-cart --body and wheels --in spare time,out of colonial hardwood,and got Little the blacksmith to do the ironwork;I painted the cart myself.It wasn't much lighter than one of the tip-drays I had,but it WAS a spring-cart,and Mary pretended to be satisfied with it:anyway,I didn't hear any more of the buggy for a while.
I sold that cart,for fourteen pounds,to a Chinese gardener who wanted a strong cart to carry his vegetables round through the Bush.
It was just before our first youngster came:I told Mary that I wanted the money in case of extra expense --and she didn't fret much at losing that cart.But the fact was,that I was going to make another try for a buggy,as a present for Mary when the child was born.
I thought of getting the turn-out while she was laid up,keeping it dark from her till she was on her feet again,and then showing her the buggy standing in the shed.But she had a bad time,and I had to have the doctor regularly,and get a proper nurse,and a lot of things extra;so the buggy idea was knocked on the head.
I was set on it,too:I'd thought of how,when Mary was up and getting strong,I'd say one morning,`Go round and have a look in the shed,Mary;I've got a few fowls for you,'or something like that --and follow her round to watch her eyes when she saw the buggy.
I never told Mary about that --it wouldn't have done any good.
Later on I got some good timber --mostly scraps that were given to me --and made a light body for a spring-cart.Galletly,the coach-builder at Cudgeegong,had got a dozen pairs of American hickory wheels up from Sydney,for light spring-carts,and he let me have a pair for cost price and carriage.I got him to iron the cart,and he put it through the paint-shop for nothing.He sent it out,too,at the tail of Tom Tarrant's big van --to increase the surprise.
We were swells then for a while;I heard no more of a buggy until after we'd been settled at Lahey's Creek for a couple of years.
