Chapter Twenty.
Leather’s Other Side.
“Well, Nic, what does all this mean?” said the doctor on the following day. “Brookes has been complaining to me that he was busy yesterday dressing those sheep, when he found Leather, as they call him, my assigned servant, lazy, careless, and insolent. He was speaking to him rather sharply, when you suddenly appeared from behind the fence, flew in a passion, abused him, defended the other man, talked in a way that would make Leather disobedient in the future, and finally ordered the man to go away and leave Brookes to do all the work himself. Now then, my boy, is this true?”
“Well, about half of it, father.”
“I’m sorry to hear it, Nic, though I’m glad you are so frank,” said the doctor, rather sternly. “You own to half. Now how much of the other half would be true if judged by an impartial observer?”
“I don’t think any of it, father.”
“Humph!” ejaculated the doctor. “This is a great pity, my boy. I cannot have dissension here at the station. Brookes is a valuable servant to me, where men with a character are very scarce. He is, I know, firm and severe to the blacks and to the convict labourers I have had from time to time, and I must warn you these assigned servants are not men of good character. Has this Leather been making advances toward you, and telling you some pitiful tale of his innocency to excite your compassion?”
“Oh no, father,” cried Nic. “He has been as distant and surly to me as could be.”
“Ah! There you see! The man is not well behaved.”
“He works well, father, and was doing his best; but Brookes does nothing but bully and find fault, and he went on so yesterday at the poor fellow that at last I felt as if I couldn’t bear it, and—and I’m afraid I got in a terrible passion and talked as if I were the master.”