"Oh!" said Garth, somewhat disappointed. "I thought you were going to mend her; and it would be such an int'rusting job."
Tom laughed.
"Well, that was rather what I was thinking myself," he answered. "If I had nothing else to do I would like nothing better than to patch up the old thing. But then I have about fifty-seven other jobs waiting for me, most of them not nearly so interesting, but all more important. So I'm afraid the old dinghy must stand aside, son. Perhaps, if work is slack in the winter, I may get at her."
"I wish you would," Garth said. "I love helping you with carpent'ring jobs."
"Well, we'll see," said Tom. "But really, I'm afraid she's too rotten." He hauled the dinghy to the end of the jetty and moored her to a post, returning to his task of cleaning the skiff and the motor-launch. It was an idle morning, and to overhaul the contents of the boathouse had been a good way of using a few hours.
February had come, with a last burst of heat, after a cool January; and February heat has a vicious quality all its own, perhaps because it comes when people are beginning to hope that summer is over. Therefore, it induces much slackness, and makes a toil of work that in ordinary weather is only pastime.
The little household of Gordon's Farm had felt the influence of the weather. Garth's ability for work and play had slackened, and Aileen had begun to administer a tonic: herself white and heavy-eyed, and with little inclination for work. The cottage was stifling in the long, hot days; luckily, the nights helped them, for they all slept on the veranda, as they had done throughout the summer, and the fresh night breeze from the lake never failed. Tom watched his wife carefully, knowing that her spirit would keep her going long after her tired body needed rest. His own work in the paddocks was lessening as the season advanced; he had more time to give to the house, and spent many days ostensibly in the garden, but, in reality, ready to lend a hand at a hundred tasks. It was the constant thought, even more than the actual help, that carried Aileen on from day to day.
'Possum helped, too. There was little outside work for her, but she rode over often, and delighted in forcibly compelling Aileen to rest while she made light of housework and cooking. To cook with Aileen's patent stove was always a peculiar joy to her, and no inducement would draw her from the glass-fronted oven while she could watch her scones or pastry developing from dough to crisp perfection. To Aileen's remonstrances at being forced to be idle she turned a deaf ear.
"Just you don't worry," she would say. "You got to remember you've had a hard summer—workin' like a carthorse, an' you never used to work in your life before. It's bound to tell, 'specially with this beastly heat. You'll be all right once we get the autumn."
She came over early to-day, and hearing from Aileen that Tom was working at the boats, rode down to the jetty with a message. Nick O'Connor was going to a farm at Metung to look at store calves, which they both needed: he proposed to ride over presently and ask Tom to accompany him, making the journey in Tom's motor-launch. Macleod assented heartily.