A Little Bush Maid Part 22

"So do I," said Jim, "and so do the other chaps. They want to come again some holidays."

"Well, I hope you'll bring them."

"My word! I will. Do you know, Norah, they think you're no end of a brick?"

"Do they?" said Norah, much pleased. "Did they tell you?"

"They're always telling me. Now, you go to bed, old girl."

He rose and pulled her to her feet.

Norah put her arms round his neck--a very rare caress.

"Good night," she said. "I--I do love you, Jimmy!"

Jim hugged her.

"Same here, old chap," he said.

There was such scurrying in the early morning. Daylight revealed many things that had been overlooked in the packing overnight, and they had to be crammed in, somehow. Other things were remembered which had not been packed, and which must be found, and diligent hunt had to be made for them.

Norah was everybody's mate, running on several errands at once, finding Jim's school cap near Harry's overcoat while she was looking for Wally's cherished snake-skin. Her strong brown hands pulled tight the straps of bulging bags on which their perspiring owners knelt, puffing. After the said bags were closed and carried out to the buggy, she found the three toothbrushes, and crammed each, twisted in newspaper, into its owner's pocket. She had no time to think she was dull.

Mrs. Brown, who had been up since dawn, had packed a huge hamper, and superintended its placing in the buggy. It was addressed to "Master James, Master Harry, and Master Wallie," and later Jim reported that its contents were such as to make the chaps at school speechless--a compliment which filled Mrs. Brown with dismay, and a wish that she had put in less pastry and perhaps a little castor oil. At present she felt mildly safe about it and watched it loaded with a sigh of relief.

"Boom-m-m!" went the big gong, and the boys rushed to the dining-room, where Norah was ready to pour out tea.

"You have some, Norah," said Harry, retaining his position close to the teapot, whence Wally had vainly striven to dislodge him.

"Yes, old girl, you eat some breakfast," commanded Jim.

Norah flashed a smile at him over the cosy.

"Lots of time afterwards," she said, a little sadly.

"No time like the present." Wally took a huge bite out of a scone, and surveyed the relic with interest. Someone put a smoking plateful before him, and his further utterances were lost in eggs and bacon.

Mrs. Brown flitted about like a stout guardian angel, keeping an especially watchful eye on Jim. If the supply on his plate lessened perceptibly, it was replenished with more, like manna from above. To his laughing protests she merely murmured, "Poor dear lamb!" whereat Wally and Harry laughed consumedly, and Jim blushed.

"Well, you've beaten me at last, Brownie," Jim declared finally. He waved away a chop which was about to descend upon his plate. "No truly, Brownie dear; there are limits! Tea? No thanks, Norah, I've had about a dozen cups already, I believe! You fellows ready?"

They were, and the table was briskly deserted.

There was a final survey of the boys' room, which resembled a rubbish heap, owing to vigorous packing.

Everybody ran wildly about looking for something.

Wally was found searching frantically for his cap, which Norah discovered--on his head. There was a hurried journey to the kitchen, to bid the servants "Good-bye."

The buggy wheels scrunched the gravel before the hall door. The overseer coo-ee'd softly.

"All aboard!"

"All right, Evans!" Jim appeared in the doorway, staggering under a big Gladstone bag. Billy, similarly laden, followed. His black face was unusually solemn.

"Chuck 'em in, Billy. Come on, you chaps!"

The chaps appeared.

"Good-bye, Norah. It's been grand!" Harry pumped her hand vigorously.

"Wish you were coming!" said Wally dismally. "Good-bye. Write to us, won't you, Norah?"

"Now then, Master Jim!" Evans glanced at his watch.

"Right oh!" said Jim. He put his arm round the little girl's shoulders and looked keenly into her face. There was no hint of breaking down.

Norah met his gaze steadily and smiled at him. But the boy knew.

"Good-bye, little chap," he said, and kissed her. "You'll keep your p.e.c.k.e.r up?"

She nodded. "Good-bye, Jimmy, old boy."

Jim sprang into the buggy.

"All right, Evans."

They whirled down the drive. Looking back, waving their caps, the boys carried away a memory of a brave little figure, erect, smiling and lonely on the doorstep.

CHAPTER XII. THE WINFIELD MURDER

The next few days went by slowly enough.

Norah followed faithfully all Jim's plans for her amus.e.m.e.nt. She practised, did some cooking, and helped Mrs. Brown preserve apricots; then there were the pets to look to and, best of all, the bullocks to move from one paddock to another. It was an easy job, and Evans was quite willing to leave it to Norah, Billy and a dog. The trio made a great business of it, and managed almost to forget loneliness in the work of hunting through the scrub and chasing the big, sleepy half-fat beasts out upon the clear plain. There were supposed to be forty-four in the paddock, but Norah and Billy mustered forty-five, and were exceedingly proud of themselves in consequence.

Next day Norah persuaded Mrs. Brown to allow herself to be driven into Cunjee. There was nothing particular to go for, except that, as Norah said, they would get the mail a day earlier; but Mrs. Brown was not likely to refuse anything that would chase the look of loneliness from her charge's face. Accordingly they set off after an early lunch, Norah driving the pair of brown ponies in a light single buggy that barely held her and her by no means fairy-like companion.

The road was good and they made the distance in excellent time, arriving in Cunjee to see the daily train puff its way out of the station. Then they separated, as Norah had no opinion whatever of Mrs. Brown's shopping--princ.i.p.ally in drapers' establishments, which this bush maiden hated cordially. So Mrs. Brown, unhampered, plunged into mysteries of flannel and sheeting, while Norah strolled up the princ.i.p.al street and exchanged greetings with those she knew.

She paused by the door of a blacksmith's shop, for the smith and she were old friends, and Norah regarded Blake as quite the princ.i.p.al person of Cunjee. Generally there were horses to be looked at, but just now the shop was empty, and Blake came forward to talk to the girl.

"Seen the p'lice out your way?" he asked presently, after the weather, the crops, and the dullness of business had been exhausted as topics.

"Police?" queried Norah. "No. Why?"