Queensland Cousins Part 2

"What do you mean, Eustace?" she demanded.

He did not speak, so she put her hand on his shoulder and gave him a little shake.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

"Mother," Eustace said quite shortly.

"Yes, I know," Nesta said; "but what about her?"

"Father's going away," Eustace said.

"Of course," Nesta said, rather scornfully; "you told me that before. And I know mother will be dreadfully dull without him."

"Dull!" exclaimed Eustace, knocking the tips of his toes impatiently against the woodwork.

"Yes, dull," said the girl.

"Worse than dull," Eustace responded soberly.

"But we can do our best to cheer her up till he comes back."

Eustace turned slowly round until he was staring right into Nesta's eyes, and his look was so queer that she was startled.

"Do you mean to say you don't understand?" he said solemnly.

"No, I certainly don't," Nesta replied.

Eustace wheeled quickly back to the railing, gazing seaward again.

"Then I'm not going to tell you," he said decidedly.

Nesta stood blankly wondering for a moment.

"Well, it's hateful of you," she began; then suddenly her expression changed. "Eustace," she exclaimed, grabbing his arm with both hands, "do you mean mother will be frightened?"

"I'm not going to tell you," repeated the boy with seeming obstinacy.

But Nesta's face was full of certainty.

"It _is_ that!" she said with conviction. "You think she will be scared at being left."

Now Eustace had suddenly begun to repent of having said so much. He had not the least desire to frighten Nesta; he had honestly believed that she must have noticed what he did in their mother's tone and look, but now he realized Nesta had not understood. He stood silent, regretting his carelessness.

"O Eustace," Nesta cried, "of course it is that. How dreadful! I remember now what father said--he knew mother might be frightened, and that is why he offered to have Farley or Robertson up."

There was terror in Nesta's voice now, and Eustace rounded sharply upon her.

"I say, shut up!" he said, with a glance towards Peter, who was too engrossed with his train at the other side of the veranda to be listening. "You don't want to frighten the kids, do you? Besides, father said we should be all right, and he knows."

"But mother was frightened," Nesta said, looking unconvinced.

"She didn't say so," Eustace argued. "She refused to have either of the men up, you see. That doesn't look much like funking it."

"Then what did you mean?" demanded Nesta.

"Oh, never mind," Eustace said, throwing himself into a chair and reopening his book. "Don't let's talk about it."

"That is nonsense," Nesta said. "How can I help minding about a thing like that?"

"Well, but what's the good of talking?" Eustace exclaimed. "Dad has to go; we can't prevent that if we talk for ever."

"Yes; but if it is dangerous--" Nesta began in a low, awe-struck voice.

"Dangerous!" Eustace repeated. "What could there be dangerous about it?"

"You know as well as I do," Nesta replied. "Supposing the blacks were to come down on us in the night when we were here all alone!"

"Oh, do shut up!" Eustace said sharply. "Why should the blacks happen to come just because father is away? They may not even be in the neighbourhood."

"Yes; but you remember that horrid story Kate told us," Nesta said, almost whispering. "The father was away--there were nothing but women and children in the house--"

"Oh, stop, Nesta!" Eustace said. "Of course I remember all about it. I don't want to hear the beastly thing all over again. What is the good of frightening ourselves all for nothing? Don't you know that father wouldn't go if he could possibly help it? And if he must go, we've got to make the best of it, that's all. Now I'm going to read, so do shut up."

Nesta stood silently staring at him a moment, but he seemed already to have forgotten her very existence.

"Well, you are a queer boy," she said, in what the boys always called her "huffy" voice.

Still Eustace took no notice.

"Perhaps you will be sorry some day," Nesta said with a little gulp, and turned away to Becky, who was calling her.

Eustace was apparently engrossed in his book, but not a word did he see on the page he stared at so intently. He had done a stupid thing, and he regretted it, for the mischief was past remedy now.

Quite unintentionally he had made Nesta as nervous as he was himself, and he knew that nothing he might say would rea.s.sure her.

He was quite right that there was no use in talking about it; he felt sure that his father would say he ought not to have said so much, and he was vexed with himself for his carelessness. Silence seemed the only course open to him--silence on the subject for the present, and for the future a great, whole-hearted resolve to play the man come what might.

CHAPTER II.

BOB.

Eustace was right: their father would not have gone to Brisbane had it not been necessary; but this was not because Mr. Orban was troubled by any fears for the safety of his family. He had lived so long in North Queensland that he was used to the solitude, and thought nothing of the dangers surrounding them. It distressed him to have to go away simply because he knew that his wife would be terribly nervous without him. Fifteen years in the colony had not accustomed her to the loneliness of their position.

Besides the two engineers, and the field manager, Mr. Ashton, who all lived at the foot of the hill, the Orbans had no white neighbours nearer than five miles off. The field hands were coloured men of some five or six different races, chiefly Chinese or Malays--the good-for-nothing riff-raff of their own countries come to seek a living elsewhere.

There was no society, no constant dropping in of friends, nothing to relieve the monotony of daily life. But none of this did Mrs.