CHAPTER XX
MATES
The sleepy river murmurs low,
And far away one dimly sees,
Beyond the stretch of forest trees,
Beyond the foothills dusk and dun,
The ranges sleeping in the sun.
A. B. PATERSON.
Autumn was late that year at Billabong, and the orchard trees were still green, though a yellow leaf showed here and there in the Virginia creeper, as David Linton lay on the verandah and looked out over the garden. From his couch he could see the paddock beyond, and here and there the roan hides of some of his Shorthorns. They did not generally graze there; but Jim had brought some into the paddock the day before, remarking that he was certain his father would recover much more quickly if he could see a bullock now and then. So they grazed, and lay about in the yellow grass, and David Linton watched them contentedly.
From time to time Mrs. Brown's comfortable face peeped out from door or window, with an inquiry as to her master's needs; but he was not an exacting patient, and usually met her with a smile and "Nothing, Brownie, thanks—don't trouble about me." Lee Wing came along, shouldering a great coil of rubber hose like an immense grey snake, and stopped for a cheerful conversation in his picturesque English; and Billy, arriving from some remote corner of the run, left his horse at the gate and came up to the verandah, standing a black statue in shirt, moleskins and leggings, his stockwhip over his arm, while Mr. Linton asked questions about the cattle he had been to see. Afterwards Mrs. Brown brought out tea, having met and routed with great slaughter Sarah, who was anxious to have the honour that up to to-day had been Norah's alone.
"It's dull for you, sir," she said. "No mistake, it do make a difference when that child's not in the house!"
"No doubt of that," Mr. Linton said. "But I'm getting on very well, Brownie, although I certainly miss my nurses."
"Oh, we can make you comferable an' all that," Brownie said, disparagingly. "But when it comes to a mate, we all know there ain't any one for you like Miss Norah—though I do say Master Jim's as handy in a sick-room as that high-flown nurse from Melbourne ever was—I'm glad to me bones she's gone!" said Brownie, in pious relief.
"So am I," agreed the squatter hastily. "Afraid I don't take kindly to the imported article—and I'm perfectly certain Norah and she nearly came to blows many times."