Joe Wilson and His Mates [98]
that there's nothing here that will make liars of us.'
He looked through the letters and papers by the light of the fire.
There were some letters from Mrs Baker to her husband,
also a portrait of her and the children; these Andy put aside.
But there were other letters from barmaids and women who were not fit
to be seen in the same street with the Boss's wife; and there were portraits
-- one or two flash ones. There were two letters from other men's wives too.
`And one of those men, at least, was an old mate of his!' said Andy,
in a tone of disgust.
He threw the lot into the fire; then he went through the Boss's pocket-book
and tore out some leaves that had notes and addresses on them,
and burnt them too. Then he sewed up the packet again and put it away
in his saddle-bag.
`Such is life!' said Andy, with a yawn that might have been half a sigh.
We rode into Solong early in the day, turned our horses out in a paddock,
and put up at M`Grath's pub. until such time as we made up our minds
as to what we'd do or where we'd go. We had an idea of waiting
until the shearing season started and then making Out-Back to the big sheds.
Neither of us was in a hurry to go and face Mrs Baker.
`We'll go after dinner,' said Andy at first; then after dinner we had a drink,
and felt sleepy -- we weren't used to big dinners of roast-beef
and vegetables and pudding, and, besides, it was drowsy weather --
so we decided to have a snooze and then go. When we woke up
it was late in the afternoon, so we thought we'd put it off till after tea.
`It wouldn't be manners to walk in while they're at tea,' said Andy --
`it would look as if we only came for some grub.'
But while we were at tea a little girl came with a message
that Mrs Baker wanted to see us, and would be very much obliged
if we'd call up as soon as possible. You see, in those small towns
you can't move without the thing getting round inside of half an hour.
`We'll have to face the music now!' said Andy, `and no get out of it.'
He seemed to hang back more than I did. There was another pub. opposite
where Mrs Baker lived, and when we got up the street a bit I said to Andy --
`Suppose we go and have another drink first, Andy? We might be kept in there
an hour or two.'
`You don't want another drink,' said Andy, rather short.
`Why, you seem to be going the same way as the Boss!' But it was Andy
that edged off towards the pub. when we got near Mrs Baker's place.
`All right!' he said. `Come on! We'll have this other drink,
since you want it so bad.'
We had the drink, then we buttoned up our coats and started across the road --
we'd bought new shirts and collars, and spruced up a bit.
Half-way across Andy grabbed my arm and asked --
`How do you feel now, Jack?'
`Oh, I'M all right,' I said.
`For God's sake!' said Andy, `don't put your foot in it
and make a mess of it.'
`I won't, if you don't.'
Mrs Baker's cottage was a little weather-board box affair back in a garden.
When we went in through the gate Andy gripped my arm again and whispered --
`For God's sake stick to me now, Jack!'
`I'll stick all right,' I said -- `you've been having too much beer, Andy.'
I had seen Mrs Baker before, and remembered her as a cheerful,
contented sort of woman, bustling about the house and getting
the Boss's shirts and things ready when we started North.
Just the sort of woman that is contented with housework and the children,
and with nothing particular about her in the way of brains.
But now she sat by the fire looking like the ghost of herself.
I wouldn't have recognised her at first. I never saw such a change
in a woman, and it came like a shock to me.
Her sister let us in, and after a first glance at Mrs Baker
I had eyes for the sister and no one else. She was a Sydney girl,
about twenty-four or twenty-five, and fresh and fair --
not like the sun-browned women we were used to see. She was a pretty,
bright-eyed girl, and seemed quick to understand, and very sympathetic.
She had been educated, Andy
He looked through the letters and papers by the light of the fire.
There were some letters from Mrs Baker to her husband,
also a portrait of her and the children; these Andy put aside.
But there were other letters from barmaids and women who were not fit
to be seen in the same street with the Boss's wife; and there were portraits
-- one or two flash ones. There were two letters from other men's wives too.
`And one of those men, at least, was an old mate of his!' said Andy,
in a tone of disgust.
He threw the lot into the fire; then he went through the Boss's pocket-book
and tore out some leaves that had notes and addresses on them,
and burnt them too. Then he sewed up the packet again and put it away
in his saddle-bag.
`Such is life!' said Andy, with a yawn that might have been half a sigh.
We rode into Solong early in the day, turned our horses out in a paddock,
and put up at M`Grath's pub. until such time as we made up our minds
as to what we'd do or where we'd go. We had an idea of waiting
until the shearing season started and then making Out-Back to the big sheds.
Neither of us was in a hurry to go and face Mrs Baker.
`We'll go after dinner,' said Andy at first; then after dinner we had a drink,
and felt sleepy -- we weren't used to big dinners of roast-beef
and vegetables and pudding, and, besides, it was drowsy weather --
so we decided to have a snooze and then go. When we woke up
it was late in the afternoon, so we thought we'd put it off till after tea.
`It wouldn't be manners to walk in while they're at tea,' said Andy --
`it would look as if we only came for some grub.'
But while we were at tea a little girl came with a message
that Mrs Baker wanted to see us, and would be very much obliged
if we'd call up as soon as possible. You see, in those small towns
you can't move without the thing getting round inside of half an hour.
`We'll have to face the music now!' said Andy, `and no get out of it.'
He seemed to hang back more than I did. There was another pub. opposite
where Mrs Baker lived, and when we got up the street a bit I said to Andy --
`Suppose we go and have another drink first, Andy? We might be kept in there
an hour or two.'
`You don't want another drink,' said Andy, rather short.
`Why, you seem to be going the same way as the Boss!' But it was Andy
that edged off towards the pub. when we got near Mrs Baker's place.
`All right!' he said. `Come on! We'll have this other drink,
since you want it so bad.'
We had the drink, then we buttoned up our coats and started across the road --
we'd bought new shirts and collars, and spruced up a bit.
Half-way across Andy grabbed my arm and asked --
`How do you feel now, Jack?'
`Oh, I'M all right,' I said.
`For God's sake!' said Andy, `don't put your foot in it
and make a mess of it.'
`I won't, if you don't.'
Mrs Baker's cottage was a little weather-board box affair back in a garden.
When we went in through the gate Andy gripped my arm again and whispered --
`For God's sake stick to me now, Jack!'
`I'll stick all right,' I said -- `you've been having too much beer, Andy.'
I had seen Mrs Baker before, and remembered her as a cheerful,
contented sort of woman, bustling about the house and getting
the Boss's shirts and things ready when we started North.
Just the sort of woman that is contented with housework and the children,
and with nothing particular about her in the way of brains.
But now she sat by the fire looking like the ghost of herself.
I wouldn't have recognised her at first. I never saw such a change
in a woman, and it came like a shock to me.
Her sister let us in, and after a first glance at Mrs Baker
I had eyes for the sister and no one else. She was a Sydney girl,
about twenty-four or twenty-five, and fresh and fair --
not like the sun-browned women we were used to see. She was a pretty,
bright-eyed girl, and seemed quick to understand, and very sympathetic.
She had been educated, Andy