Well, I think it was just about three weeks after my first opening of the shop that I was standing one evening at the door feeling pretty downcast; the sun was setting over the blue hills and the thickening shadows made the landscape look for all the world like a dried-up primeval ocean bed, and the weird scattered gums like the masts of old sunken wrecks, that through some strange freak of nature had burst into leaf. Suddenly on the distant range I saw a moving speck; my astonished eyes gazed steadily and then brightened with enthusiasm; it was a lonely horseman! Surely he would not pass by my shop without buying a pound of tea, thought I. What on earth could I do to attract him? A happy thought struck me. I rushed to my old sea-chest, out came my old bugle-horn, and placing it to my lips, I stood at that lonely shop door and gave three tremendous blasts, then watched. To my huge delight, as the echoes reverberating faded away over the silent steppes, the horseman altered his course; he was coming towards me!
He was a burly, brick-coloured, dusty-looking fellow, and as he sat astride by my shop door gazing first at me, then at my shop, and then again on the surrounding country, he coughed twice and spat over his shoulder. I felt extremely riled by his manner. Then he said, “How’s biz?” With good business forethought I replied, “Pretty good the last two days!” Then suddenly making a bold effort I asked, “Would you like to try a pound of my Pekoe?”
With a kindly look in his grey eyes he said, “Good tea I ’spose?” “Nothing to beat it,” I answered quickly.
Looking quietly across the country he remarked, “No complaints about its quality round these parts I bet.” Without another word he gave me two shillings, took the tea and galloped away.
I think it was about four days after selling that pound of tea that I spotted the Agent coming down the hill-side track right opposite my shop. The month was up, and the rent due!
“Well,” he said as I stood at the door and boldly faced him, “I’ve called for the rent.”
For a moment I fumbled in my pocket. I knew, to be an honourable citizen, I should pay my way and let all earthly considerations of sustaining existence and thoughts of the future go to the winds, but I had only fifteen shillings in the world, and the month’s rent was four pounds, and the cost of the agreement two pounds ten shillings. Pulling myself together I said, “Can you give me another month?”
“Not a day,” he answered hotly, and then looking up quickly asked, “Where’s the agreement money?”
Then I saw that my first boyish instincts were to be relied upon—the man was a hard-hearted scoundrel. I answered quickly, “Where’s the Township you spoke of?” At this he almost spat with rage, and thrusting his pointed whiskered chin in my face said, “Do you expect me to supply you with a Town as well as with a shop?”
I pretended to see some fine logic in that remark, quieted myself down, and then said, “Parrots, magpies, ’possums and mosquitoes do not buy tea, so how can I pay the rent?”