He went across to the high stand from which the bell hung. It was swaying back and forth in a kind of mad dance, and below stood Mrs. Macleay, her muscles swelling under her thin blouse as she tugged at the rope.
"I'd nearly forgot the bell," she panted. "'Tis two years since we had to ring it—and then 'twas for a bush fire. Go in, laddie—there's food waiting for ye in the dining-room, and Mr. Macleod said ye were to eat."
Dick turned away heavily. The black girls were gathered round, staring and chattering. At the moment even their friendly ebony faces were horrible to him, and he brushed past them as quickly as he could. The food in the dining-room seemed to choke him at first; he gulped down a cup of strong tea, and then found it easier to swallow. The clanging of the bell never ceased; he felt as though it were beating inside his head, paralysing him. And he was suddenly terribly lonely. A great longing for companionship came over him, and he went out again.
Mrs. Macleay had given the bell rope to a black girl, and was speaking hurriedly to nanna, who had run to the house with the children when the bell began to ring. Her kind face was white.
"Think what you're saying, nanna! Miss Merle gone out on her pony! Where?"
Bobby piped up.
"Merle's gone to meet Dick and the boys," he said. "Out over the Miggle Plain towards the Ten-Mile. We tole her dad would be jolly angwy, but she would go."
"That Missy Merle bad pfeller, mine thinkit," said the black gin, stolidly. "Ball she let me stop her—she kicking yarraman, all same jump away quick."
"Bobby!" Mrs. Macleay's voice was a wail. "Are you sure she went towards the Ten-Mile?"
Bobby nodded decidedly.