“She is that, indade. Sore an' her swate face toold me so before she spoke to me at all, at all.”
“Then you must look after her wants yery carefully, Mary. She will only be here for a few weeks.”
Mary's angry eyes softened. “I will that ma'am. Sure she's a sweet young lady wid the best blood in her, I'm thinkin'.”
Miss Trappème sniffed.
CHAPTER VIII ~ MYRA AND SHEILA
There was nothing mysterious about Sheila Carolan; her story was a very simple one. Her parents were both dead, and she had no relatives, with the exception of an aunt, and with her she had lived for the last five years. The two, however, did not agree very well, and Sheila being of a very independent spirit, and possessing a few hundred pounds of her own, frankly told her relative that she intended to make her own way in the world. There was living in North Queensland a former great friend of her mother's—a Mrs. Farrow, whose husband was the owner of a large cattle station near Dalrymple—and to her she wrote asking her if she could help her to obtain a situation as a governess. Six weeks later she received a warmly worded and almost affectionate letter.
“My dear Sheila,—Why did you not write to me long, long
ago, and tell me that you and your Aunt Margaret did not get
on well together! I remember as a girl that she was somewhat
'crotchetty.' I am not going to write you a long letter. I
want you to come to us. Be my children's governess—and I
really do want a governess for them—but remember that you
are coming to your mother's friend and schoolmate, and that
although you will receive £100 a year—if that is too little
let us agree for £160—it does not mean that you will be
anything else to me but the daughter of your dear mother.
Now I must tell you that Minerva Downs is a difficult place
to reach, and that you will have to ride all the way from
Townsville—250 miles—but that will be nothing to an
Australian-born girl 'wid Oirish blood in her.' When you get
to Townsville call on Mr. Mallard, the editor of the
Champion, who is a friend of ours (I've written him), and
he will 'pass' you on to another friend of ours, a Mr.
Grainger, who lives at a mining town called Chinkie's Flat,
ninety miles from here, and Mr. Grainger (don't lose your
heart to him, and defraud my children of their governess)
will 'pass' you on with the mailman for Minerva Downs. The
enclosed will perhaps be useful (it is half a year's salary
you advance), and my husband and all my large and furious
family of rough boys and rougher girls will be delighted to
see you.
“Very sincerely yours, my dear Sheila,
“Noba Fabbow.”
With the letter was enclosed a cheque for £50 on a Sydney bank.
As the girl descended Melton Hill into hot, dusty, and noisy Flinders Street, she smiled to herself as she thought how very much she had stimulated the curiosity of Mrs. Trappème—to whom she had, almost unconsciously, taken an instinctive dislike.