CHAPTER II
TOGETHER
And you and I were faithful mates.
HENRY LAWSON.
Afterwards—when the blow was a little less heavy as Norah grew accustomed to it—they talked it over thoroughly.
Norah's education, in the strict sense of the term, had only been carried on for about two years. In reality it had gone on all her life, spent mostly at her father's side; but that was the kind of education that does not live between the covers of books. Together, David Linton and his daughter had worked, and played and talked—much more of the former condition than of either of the latter. All that the bush could teach her Norah knew, and in most of the work of the station—Billabong was a noted cattle-run—she was as handy as any of the men. Her father's constant mate, every day shared with him was a delight to her. They rode together, fished, camped and explored together; it was the rarest occurrence for Mr. Linton's movements not to include Norah as a matter of course.
Yet there was something in the quiet man that had effectually prevented any development of roughness in Norah. Boyish and offhand to a certain extent, the solid foundation of womanliness in her nature was never far below the surface. She was perfectly aware that while Daddy wanted a mate he also wanted a daughter; and there was never any real danger of her losing that gentler attribute—there was too much in her of the little dead mother for that. Brownie, the ever watchful, had seen to it that she did not lack housewifely accomplishments, and Mr. Linton was wont to say proudly that Norah's scones were as light as her hand on the horse's mouth. There was no doubt that the irregular side of her education was highly practical.
Two years before Fate had taken a new interest in Norah's development, bringing as inmates of the homestead an old friend of her father's, with his wife and son. The latter acted as Norah's tutor, and found his task an easy one, for the untrodden ground of the little girl's brain yielded remarkable results. To Mrs. Stephenson fell the work of gently moulding her to womanly ways—less easy this, for while Norah had no desire to be a tomboy, she was firmly of the opinion that once lessons were over, she had simply no time to stay inside the house and be proper. Still, the gentle influence told, imperceptibly softening and toning her character, and giving her a standard by which to adapt herself; and Norah was nothing if not adaptable. Then, six months previously, the old man they all loved had quietly faded out of life; and after he had gone his widow could no longer remain in the place where he had died. She pined slowly, until Dick Stephenson, the son, had taken her almost forcibly away. The unspoken fear that the parting was not merely temporary had merged into certainty. Billabong would know them no more. The question remaining was what to do with Norah.
"I want you to have the school training," Mr. Linton said, when they talked the matter over. "You must mix with other girls—learn to see things from their point of view, and realize how many points of view there are outside Billabong. Oh, I don't want you to think there are any better "—he laughed at the vigorous shake of the brown curls—"but the world has wider boundaries, and you must find them out. There are other things, too"—vaguely—"dancing and deportment, and—er—the use of the globes, and I think there's a thing called a blackboard, but I'm not sure. Dick didn't know. In fact, there's a regulation mill, and I suppose you must go through it—I don't feel afraid that they'll spoil my little girl's individuality in the process."
"Is it a big school, Daddy?"
"Yes, I believe so. Several people I know send their girls there. And it's a great place for sports, Norah. You'll like that. They're keen on hockey and cricket and all sorts of things girls never dreamed about when I was young. Possibly I may live to see you a slow bowler yet, and playing in a match! Honestly, Norah, I believe you'll be very happy at school."