“Go on, Blazes,” she said cheerfully; “you once told me it did you good to work your tempers off, you know. Don’t mind me.”
“Ah,” he said, solemnly shaking his head. “But a temper’s no good to me if I can’t swear. An’ ’ere’s your breakfast, Miss.”
“What are you going to do this morning?” she asked.
“Drive right through to the Ridge,” he said. “There’s no water this side of it, so I can’t do anything.”
“And will the men have to go on all day without tea?” she said.
“They will so,” he said, “an’ all night too, if they don’t get the sheep to the ’ills. It’s tough, in that dust an’ all, but wot’s to be done for it?”
“Couldn’t we carry some water from here,” she suggested, “and at least make tea somewhere on the road for them?”
“Nothing to carry it in,” he said; “a pail or two, and a keresone tin bucket, an’ we’d spill most of it in the cart.”
“Let me take them in the buggy,” she said eagerly. “I could drive slowly, and the plain is level and smooth enough. You could fasten my horse behind, or to your cart.”
Blazes seemed inclined to grumble at the suggestion, but she cut short his objections. “Do let me, Blazes—please,” she said earnestly; “I know it will mean work for you boiling the water, but I would so like you to—won’t you, please?”