“Yes, I know,” declared Eileen. “I’ll just live and die here, like I’m going on, and nothing will ever happen, and I’ll never want sums or nothing else.”
“You might get married and go away,” said Mollie.
“No, I won’t. If I do get married, I suppose it’ll be to some cockie about here, so I don’t want to know anything for that!”—emphatically.
“You mustn’t call them ‘cockies,’” said Mollie, severely. “They’re all selectors or lessees about here.”
“Well, whatever they are, I won’t marry any of them. I’ll die an old maid, or go right away and marry a rich man and have a motor-car.” Which showed that Eileen was not very consistent, and would say anything for argument’s sake.
Things had been going from bad to worse on the Hudsons’ selection for the past year. A run of bad luck seemed to have struck them, and sometimes after a long day of toil Mr. Hudson would sit far into the night, under the silent stars, smoking grimly, while he wondered how long he could stand it. Already he was deep in debt to the bank, and the loss of some valuable stock during the year had made things look blacker. He was of a hopeful nature, and determined to stick to his land through thick and thin till better times came. But to the children the good times seemed a very long while coming.
Mollie was fourteen, and had big, deep blue eyes and red-gold hair. She was bright and animated and fond of fun, and eagerly grasped any little brightness that came within her reach, and in her kind, tender way, eager to share it with others.
Eileen, with her big dark eyes and thick brown hair, was fond of luxury, only she never had a chance to gratify her wishes. Her greatest wish was to become “a fine lady,” with everything at her command.
Eva, with her nine years of experience, was somewhat old-fashioned. She desired very much to be clever, and “some day” meant to learn everything. Then came Doris and Baby, who never did much except play with dolls and sticks and tins and bottles.
A big fat porter bottle, with a red ribbon round its neck, was Doris’s pet “dog,” and she would tie a string to the ribbon and lead “him” everywhere. Although she had many favourites among her dolls, her special pet was “Rose,” a big rag doll, with a very dirty face and eyes like two “daubs of the blue-bag,” as Eileen often said. For all her dirty face and “blue-bag” eyes, she was taken everywhere, and even slept with her fond little mother. When the annual picnic was held in the little township Doris disgusted them all by rigging out Rose in the wax doll’s white muslin and pink ribbons, and carrying her to the picnic. It was a very dirty-faced Rose and a very draggled muslin frock that they found in the bottom of the buggy on their return, for, in the excitement of meeting new people, Doris had quite forgotten her treasure for the time being.