“Lee Wing would be sufficient guardian for any place,” said Wally, who cherished an undying affection for the stolid Chinaman, who did not return the feeling at all. It was not certain that Lee Wing loved any one, though Norah was wont to declare that he wrote sonnets to a girl in China. So far as Australia was concerned, his heart seemed to be given to his onions, and he regarded Wally with a dubious eye.
Mrs. Brown came in, favouring the company impartially with her wide and beaming smile.
“Will you be boilin’ the billy, sir?”
“Yes, decidedly,” said Mr. Linton. “It is going to be hot enough to make tea a necessity, I fancy. And Wally is aching to carry the billy—aren’t you, my boy?”
“Personally,” said Jim, “I should have thought it was the breakfast he’s eaten, on top of about a hundredweight of cherries. Give him some more coffee, Norah—he looks pensive!”
“That’s because he has had two cups already—and I don’t allow him three, as a rule,” said Norah, callously. “However, he’s had a hard morning, so I’ll be weak—and so will be the coffee. Pass his cup, Jean.”
“I don’t know why I come to stay with the Linton tribe,” said Wally, surrendering his cup and sighing heavily. “I’m not appreciated, and it’s blighting my young life. Mrs. Brown, may I stay with you to-day and hold your hand?”
“You can’t. I got a fair amount to do with it,” rejoined Brownie. “Not but I will say, Master Wally, you’re the good-temperedest ever I see! And gimme a boy as laughs!”
“Well, I’ve thrown myself at your feet often enough, but you won’t pick me up!” said Wally, much aggrieved. “Some day I will wed another, and then you’ll know what you’ve lost!” At which Mrs. Brown bridled, and said, “Ah, go along now, do!” and aimed a destructive blow at him with her apron. Murmuring something about lunch, she retreated to the kitchen.
“I’ll go and run up the horses,” said Jim, pushing back his chair. “Young Wally, see that you have the saddles out by the time I get them in, and bring the bridles down to the yards.”