Joe Wilson and His Mates [6]
could be done. I told her that I was doing
all I could to keep you straight.'
I knew enough of Jack to know that most of this was true.
And so she only pitied me after all. I felt as if I'd been courting her
for six months and she'd thrown me over -- but I didn't know anything
about women yet.
`Did you tell her I was in jail?' I growled.
`No, by Gum! I forgot that. But never mind I'll fix that up all right.
I'll tell her that you got two years' hard for horse-stealing.
That ought to make her interested in you, if she isn't already.'
We smoked a while.
`And was that all she said?' I asked.
`Who? -- Oh! 'Possum,' said Jack rousing himself. `Well -- no;
let me think ---- We got chatting of other things -- you know
a married man's privileged, and can say a lot more to a girl
than a single man can. I got talking nonsense about sweethearts,
and one thing led to another till at last she said, "I suppose Mr Wilson's
got a sweetheart, Mr Barnes?"'
`And what did you say?' I growled.
`Oh, I told her that you were a holy terror amongst the girls,' said Jack.
`You'd better take back that tray, Joe, and let us get to work.'
I wouldn't take back the tray -- but that didn't mend matters,
for Jack took it back himself.
I didn't see Mary's reflection in the window again, so I took the window out.
I reckoned that she was just a big-hearted, impulsive little thing,
as many Australian girls are, and I reckoned that I was a fool
for thinking for a moment that she might give me a second thought,
except by way of kindness. Why! young Black and half a dozen
better men than me were sweet on her, and young Black was to get
his father's station and the money -- or rather his mother's money,
for she held the stuff (she kept it close too, by all accounts).
Young Black was away at the time, and his mother was dead against him
about Mary, but that didn't make any difference, as far as I could see.
I reckoned that it was only just going to be a hopeless, heart-breaking,
stand-far-off-and-worship affair, as far as I was concerned --
like my first love affair, that I haven't told you about yet.
I was tired of being pitied by good girls. You see, I didn't know women then.
If I had known, I think I might have made more than one mess of my life.
Jack rode home to Solong every night. I was staying at a pub
some distance out of town, between Solong and Haviland.
There were three or four wet days, and we didn't get on with the work.
I fought shy of Mary till one day she was hanging out clothes
and the line broke. It was the old-style sixpenny clothes-line.
The clothes were all down, but it was clean grass, so it didn't matter much.
I looked at Jack.
`Go and help her, you capital Idiot!' he said, and I made the plunge.
`Oh, thank you, Mr Wilson!' said Mary, when I came to help.
She had the broken end of the line and was trying to hold
some of the clothes off the ground, as if she could pull it an inch
with the heavy wet sheets and table-cloths and things on it,
or as if it would do any good if she did. But that's the way with women
-- especially little women -- some of 'em would try to pull a store bullock
if they got the end of the rope on the right side of the fence.
I took the line from Mary, and accidentally touched her soft,
plump little hand as I did so: it sent a thrill right through me.
She seemed a lot cooler than I was.
Now, in cases like this, especially if you lose your head a bit,
you get hold of the loose end of the rope that's hanging from the post
with one hand, and the end of the line with the clothes on with the other,
and try to pull 'em far enough together to make a knot.
And that's about all you do for the present, except look like a fool.
Then I took off the post end, spliced the line, took it over the fork,
and pulled, while Mary helped me with the prop. I thought Jack
might have come and taken the prop from her, but he didn't;
he just went on with his work as if nothing was happening inside the horizon.
She'd got the line about two-thirds
all I could to keep you straight.'
I knew enough of Jack to know that most of this was true.
And so she only pitied me after all. I felt as if I'd been courting her
for six months and she'd thrown me over -- but I didn't know anything
about women yet.
`Did you tell her I was in jail?' I growled.
`No, by Gum! I forgot that. But never mind I'll fix that up all right.
I'll tell her that you got two years' hard for horse-stealing.
That ought to make her interested in you, if she isn't already.'
We smoked a while.
`And was that all she said?' I asked.
`Who? -- Oh! 'Possum,' said Jack rousing himself. `Well -- no;
let me think ---- We got chatting of other things -- you know
a married man's privileged, and can say a lot more to a girl
than a single man can. I got talking nonsense about sweethearts,
and one thing led to another till at last she said, "I suppose Mr Wilson's
got a sweetheart, Mr Barnes?"'
`And what did you say?' I growled.
`Oh, I told her that you were a holy terror amongst the girls,' said Jack.
`You'd better take back that tray, Joe, and let us get to work.'
I wouldn't take back the tray -- but that didn't mend matters,
for Jack took it back himself.
I didn't see Mary's reflection in the window again, so I took the window out.
I reckoned that she was just a big-hearted, impulsive little thing,
as many Australian girls are, and I reckoned that I was a fool
for thinking for a moment that she might give me a second thought,
except by way of kindness. Why! young Black and half a dozen
better men than me were sweet on her, and young Black was to get
his father's station and the money -- or rather his mother's money,
for she held the stuff (she kept it close too, by all accounts).
Young Black was away at the time, and his mother was dead against him
about Mary, but that didn't make any difference, as far as I could see.
I reckoned that it was only just going to be a hopeless, heart-breaking,
stand-far-off-and-worship affair, as far as I was concerned --
like my first love affair, that I haven't told you about yet.
I was tired of being pitied by good girls. You see, I didn't know women then.
If I had known, I think I might have made more than one mess of my life.
Jack rode home to Solong every night. I was staying at a pub
some distance out of town, between Solong and Haviland.
There were three or four wet days, and we didn't get on with the work.
I fought shy of Mary till one day she was hanging out clothes
and the line broke. It was the old-style sixpenny clothes-line.
The clothes were all down, but it was clean grass, so it didn't matter much.
I looked at Jack.
`Go and help her, you capital Idiot!' he said, and I made the plunge.
`Oh, thank you, Mr Wilson!' said Mary, when I came to help.
She had the broken end of the line and was trying to hold
some of the clothes off the ground, as if she could pull it an inch
with the heavy wet sheets and table-cloths and things on it,
or as if it would do any good if she did. But that's the way with women
-- especially little women -- some of 'em would try to pull a store bullock
if they got the end of the rope on the right side of the fence.
I took the line from Mary, and accidentally touched her soft,
plump little hand as I did so: it sent a thrill right through me.
She seemed a lot cooler than I was.
Now, in cases like this, especially if you lose your head a bit,
you get hold of the loose end of the rope that's hanging from the post
with one hand, and the end of the line with the clothes on with the other,
and try to pull 'em far enough together to make a knot.
And that's about all you do for the present, except look like a fool.
Then I took off the post end, spliced the line, took it over the fork,
and pulled, while Mary helped me with the prop. I thought Jack
might have come and taken the prop from her, but he didn't;
he just went on with his work as if nothing was happening inside the horizon.
She'd got the line about two-thirds